Our City
- 15 minutes read - 2995 words“This is our city!” Julian shouted.
John patted his brother’s shoulder and pulled him close as they walked.
The guard ignored them, as all guards did. Julian’s voice may not have even made it the distance to the fence. Either way, the guard didn’t care. They had been here for well over three years, as far as John could guess, and after the first year, none of the guards cared. Those that cared stopped coming around.
He even used to know a few of their names. There was Carla, who would sneak them snacks, sometimes even chocolate, when it wasn’t too hot. Gladys, was always good for a hug. Maria told them stories, told them about the city their parents were building for them. Sometimes, there was even cake, for birthdays. Now, there were no more first-named guards, only names like Miller, Smith, and Walker.
Their parents had told them about the city they were all going to build, a place for themselves. Building the city was dangerous, though, too dangerous for children. So, John and Julian had ended up here, with all of the other children. Here, the walls were not made of stone or concrete, they were made of cloth, sometimes plastic. The fences were chain, typically just around the outsides. Once, they had been farther away, but their city had grown. Beyond the fences there was little to see, just more brown.
“Do you remember the colors?” Julian asked.
John nodded. They had spent days on a bus with their parents traveling here, coming from the north, through the mountains. The trees were vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows, smearing together as they drove. Julian would draw them, when John was able to scrounge up some paper for the crayons he kept hidden. Such things were coveted in their city. “Yeah, I remember,” he said.
The drive had been long and uncomfortable, but their parents had made them pay attention, pointing out different things. One day, they said, perhaps they would return home. John remembered the green, missed the green, longed for the color. There was no color here, very little green. Once, a few of the older kids had tried growing things, but there was barely enough water for them to begin with.
Now there were few older children, John was one of the oldest. Julian was almost five years younger. John had introduced his brother to some of the better kids his age, but he wanted little to do with them, always sticking by his side. So, he began making sure Julian knew the city, knew where things were. Their tent was just big enough for the two of them, with little else than their clothes and a blanket. They were lucky, though, when it rained, as rare as it was, they were spared, somehow atop a hump where the flash rivers didn’t run.
“How do you know which is what direction?” John asked his brother.
“The sun rises in the East, sets in the West.”
“Okay, tonight we’ll look at the stars again, make sure you know which way is North.”
“The mountain is North,” Julian said.
“Good, that’s right. But, if you move, once you leave here, that mountain won’t be there. You need to know that star.”
The city changed, sometimes making it hard to navigate, and the tents were often the same colors. From the gates, one in each of the cardinal directions, John had taught Julian how to find his way home. He had even made him do it on his own, following behind. Julian had been so proud of himself, and had made it into a game, always taking the lead. It reminded John of how his parents had made them remember things, like their phone number and address. Julian knew the city, knew where to get food, where to go to the bathroom. Most importantly, he knew where to take cover, where to hide.
No one had anything, so there was little to take, little to steal. Still, things had to remain hidden if you wanted to keep them, even things like crayons, and a book to help teach Julian to read and write. The tent lock did nothing, if someone knew what was inside of your tent. Even then, one had to be creative, hiding things in their own tent, just in case. They had dug out a hole, broken off the handle of an old tin coffee pot, and lowered it down with a coat hangar, out of sight. Anything of value they had fit inside.
“When’s the best time to eat?” John asked Julian.
“Anytime after the line goes away, you’re not a sitting duck.”
“Mix it up, too, make yourself less predictable.”
Everyone had to go to eat at the same place, an area that bulged in from the outside fence. You weren’t supposed to take food, although sneaking it out happened. There wasn’t a lot for for them to eat, so bringing something out meant you went hungry. Still, not a bad idea to stock some of the longer lasting stuff, just in case you couldn’t make it for a day or two. Once you got into the rhythm, it was nice to have a snack, anyway, eating things before they spoiled and replenishing them with something fresh.
Life in City Camp was all about getting into a rhythm, it helped stave off the boredom. Every so often, a film was projected onto a the concrete wall that made up the north wall, sound blasting across the camp. Beyond that, the only entertainment was a few balls that floated around, mainly soccer balls, and some board games, or decks of cards that had been passed down. When they had arrived, there had been school, teachers coming inside to give lessons. But, they disappeared with the nice guards.
Outside of the occasional patrol, few guards were seen away from the fences. Things had been more amicable years ago, now they seemed to be getting more dangerous. New kids showed up, typically once a month, although sometimes a month was skipped. There was no one younger than seven or eight, these days.
“Do you have to go?” Julian asked.
John looked ahead, nodding. “Yeah, you know we don’t have a choice.”
“But, you just turned fifteen, some kids don’t leave until they’re almost sixteen.”
“Our family may be short, but we’re stocky, we grow early and stop. I’m done growing and big enough.”
“I don’t want you to go,” Julian lamented.
John stopped, turning Julian toward him. “I don’t want to go. I really don’t want to leave you. But, like pretty much everything here, we don’t have a choice.”
Julian looked at his feet, muttering, “I know.”
“I’m hoping they’ve made some progress on the city, that I’ll see Mom and Dad. Hoping we can start building a house of our own, have something ready you to move into when you leave here.” Even as he said the words, he hated himself for repeating Mom and Dad. He had given up on the tale a couple of years ago. It was repeated often enough by the guards back then, when they actually talked to the children. Some of them may have even believed it. But, John hadn’t seen his parents in nearly four years, and he doubted he would see them when he left tomorrow. Now, though, he had to give Julian hope, hope that he would see him again, that he would see his parents. Maybe, he even needed that hope himself.
“I’m scared of being alone.”
“I am, too,” John replied. “This is going to be rough, I’m not going to lie to you. If I can do anything to get you out of here faster, I will damn sure do it.”
“What about Brian?”
“Stay away from him, as much as possible. Don’t be afraid to run, you’re faster than anyone here. Find other kids to spend time with, safety in numbers. Walk with the patrols if you have to.”
Julian sighed, he knew the answer, John had been repeating it for months.
“We’ll all be together again, someday, somewhere,” John said, hugging his brother. “Until then, find the North Star. Whenever you look at it, know that I’m looking at it, too, from wherever I am.”
Julian hugged him back tightly. “I love you.”
“I love you, little brother. Mom and Dad love you.”
They ate as the sun set, the sky ablaze in pink and purple. Once a guard had called this place the Land of Enchantment. John couldn’t make sense of it, given the endless, spotted, rolling brown. The guard must have meant the sky when the sun was setting, but why didn’t she call it the Sky of Enchantment, it was the only thing enchanting here. Barren was not enchanting.
John noticed Brian looking over at them, smiling. He pulled up his sleeve, showing his brand. There was something wrong with Brian, he branded his gang. Someone had done it to him when he had arrived and, when they left, he had taken over. Brian pointed to the brand and nodded his head toward Julian. John didn’t react, simply returned to his food.
As the sun set, they walked back out into the city. “Why is the sun setting earlier?”
Julian knowingly smiled. “Fall is coming, it’s going to get colder.”
“Yeah, just make sure you keep my blanket, you’ll need it without me sleeping next to you. Now, where’s the North Star?”
Julian looked around, trying to get his bearings in the sky. He cheated a little by looking toward the mountain, finding Cassiopeia in the sky, he drew his finger till it crossed the star. “There.”
John nodded. “And, its name?”
“Polaris.”
“What was dad’s favorite star?”
“Saiph, the foot of Orion.” Julian spun around. “But, I don’t see it.”
“It’s below the horizon, but will be more visible as winter comes and the Earth tilts toward it. Later tonight, we should be able to see Orion’s belt.”
“The hunter?”
“Yeah, the hunter will come tonight.”
Together, they looked up at the stars, the vastness. There were no lights in the camp, only a few that shined near the fences, some others beyond the north wall. The Moon was out, though, not quite full, shining across the city of tents. When they had arrived here, some people had lights, solar panels, even some electronics. All those seemed to be gone now, either broken, stolen, or confiscated. At the very least, it made the night sky all the more beautiful, unpolluted by the light.
“And, what’s that?” John asked, sweeping his finger across the sky.
“The Milky Way, our galaxy.”
When they returned to their tent, John pulled the stubs of crayons up from hiding. There was just enough light from the Moon for Julian to color. As he drew, John fished down deeper into the hiding hole, snagging a string with the hangar and pulling it up. His father had given him something just before getting off of the bus, making him promise to hide it and only use it if he ever had to. John stuffed it into the pouch of his hooded sweatshirt.
Everyone was searched upon coming into the camp, to make sure there were no weapons. Most possessions were discarded, new kids only allowed to bring in a minimum. Even with the metal detectors, they had not found what his father had given him, though. He realized then why his father had taken it with them, why it had been special. Sometimes the old had advantages over the new, even if they weren’t strength.
When Julian was finished drawing, John placed the crayons and paper back into the can and lowered it down, returning the coat hangar to the seam of the tent. They laid down on their backs and listened to the wind pushing its way through the camp, blunting the whispered conversations in the tents all around them. Julian rolled over and held onto John.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” John reassured him.
Julian softly cried, his body shaking ever so slightly.
John cried quietly, keeping his tears from Julian, not allowing himself to close his eyes.
Waiting until he was soundly asleep, John slipped away from Julian. It was early in the morning, even the patrols would not resume until dawn. John had snuck out the last few nights, ensuring he knew every step he had to take. Throwing a large teeshirt over his hoodie, he stepped out of the tent. As he locked the tent behind himself, he noticed Orion’s belt above the horizon. Slipping his hand in the pouch of his sweatshirt, he held the smooth bone handle.
Few people were awake at this hour, most confined to their tents. John made sure he crossed paths with no one. A collection of tents to the South ringed around a small courtyard, where sometimes they even found wood for fires. John had been watching Brian for weeks, even along the walks he had taken with Julian. He had hoped to reason with him, but quickly found it was not possible.
Brian lived alone, in a tent easily large enough for five. Big tents were a risk, though, especially if you did not pay attention. John was able to sneak in through a hole he had slowly cut over the last couple of nights. He squatted in the darkness listening to Brian breathing, allowing his eyes to adjust, the Moon banished from within. Softly, he ran his fingers over the chipped stone blade, touching the point with his thumb. Once ready, he took one small step at a time, making sure he touched nothing, made no noise.
Someone coughed in the next tent. Brian opened his eyes. John lunged at him, covering his mouth and shoving the obsidian blade into his neck, blood pouring out and over his hand. John felt the gurgling gasp of air struggling beneath his fingers, felt the vibration of Brian twitching through the blade, the hands grasping fistfuls of his shirt. His feet kicked, wrapped in the blankets, unable to free themselves or sound an alarm. Then, with a solitary last spasm, it all stopped.
John breathed out slowly. He whispered, “I’m sorry. The choice between you and my brother is no choice at all,” reassuring himself he had done the right thing. Julian would be safe without Brian around, he knew that. His death might even serve as a warning to anyone like Brian, there should have been no place for it here. If the guards had done their job, John wouldn’t have needed to go to this extreme.
No one around moved, the coughing had stopped, all was silent. John used the blanket to wipe off his hands and the knife. There was no point in taking anything, it would only serve to implicate him or his brother. John snuck out of the tent. Quickly, he took off the bloodied tee-shirt, wrapping the knife in it. When he passed a trash can, he shuffled them to the bottom. The knife was an heirloom, the last thing he had from his parents, but it had served its purpose, given them a chance, given Julian a chance.
John thanked Orion and snuck back into their tent, slipping under the blankets with Julian, who didn’t stir. He didn’t think he’d be able to fall back asleep, but listening to his brother breathing lulled him into peace. When the sun came up, they organized things and went to breakfast, one last meal together. No one was allowed to leave early this morning, though.
As they sat there, listening to the names called, Julian slipped John a piece of folded paper. “Just in case, for later,” he said.
John nodded, putting the paper into the pocket of his hoodie. Switching to the other side of the table, John put his arm around Julian’s shoulder. “I love you. I’ll see you, again, someday.”
John’s name was called out.
Together they stood, embracing one another in one last hug.
John stepped away from Julian, took a deep breath, and kept going toward the gate. Others had lined up, all about the same age. Just outside of the gate, an empty bus waited. When the list of names had been exhausted, they all walked through the gate and boarded the bus, roughly a dozen of them. When the outer gate closed, the inner gate opened, the children excused from breakfast.
John looked out of the window, watching the children return to the tents. Julian had not moved, he was still standing where they had embraced. As the bus drove off, they waved to one another, each a hand raised, until the bus turned the corner and drove behind the North wall.
For the first time, John saw beyond the wall. There were some other small buildings, but nothing one could call a city. A single road led from the tents toward the mountain. They drove through a couple of different gates, guards opening the chain fences for the bus. At the end of the road, one final gate, this one made of bars, was opened, and the bus drove into a tunnel leading into the mountain.
John gasped, and ran to the back window, looking up into the sky. The moon was still visible, Venus not far from it. A moment later, the sky itself was eclipsed by the tunnel, artificial lights becoming the only stars. Sitting down, he realized there would be no night sky, no stars. The tunnel kept going, deeper and deeper into the mountain, farther down. He had been right, there was no city.
He pulled his hands up, buried in the hoodie, to wipe a tear away, and felt the paper crinkle inside the pouch. Pulling it out, he unfolded it slowly, finding what Julian had drawn for him. The North Star would shine after all, even beneath the mountain.