Five FiveExhausted, Dana walked into an abandoned city. Its ruins surrounded her as she strolled along the cracked pavement. Her foot hit something metallic. Carefully, Dana picked up a rusted sign with one word on it: Omaha. She dropped it. The name was unfamiliar to her.
Her shoes crunched on pieces of the crumbling asphalt as Dana continued into the city among skeletons of once magnificent buildings. It seemed like a perfect haven for ghosts.
She stopped. A bobcat darted across the road. Chiding herself for being easily startled, Dana continued. The deafening silence wore on her. Still no people.
Crash!
Dana whirled around. A steel girder had finally collapsed under the weight of the building it had been a part of. Calming her nerves, Dana continued onward.
The wind picked up. Shivering, Dana watched as trails of sand snaked across the ground, guiding the path of a tumbleweed. She felt isolated, alone. With only the wind for comfort, Dana wandered the maze of streets as she explored the ruined city.
“This must have been a lively place at some point,” she said to herself. “I wonder what happened.”
She came upon a vehicle stripped of its paint and tires. The windshield had been smashed long ago. The find excited Dana. It meant that when people had once lived in this place, they couldn’t have been much different from her.
Not liking the silence, Dana decided to sing a song that she had heard once as a child. She did not understand the meaning behind the words, but she knew that they were important, as though they described a time when destruction reigned over hope.
As Dana sang the song, memories flooded her mind of the time when she first heard it. Before her sixth birthday, many had gathered to peacefully protest new regulations concerning their ability to heat their homes in the winter and cool them in the summer. The new regulations restricted energy usage for each individual, all in the name of preserving the planet and precious resources. Many froze in the winter or roasted in the summer even before the new rules. Only those with connections escaped the rationing.
Others who joined the protest wanted the right to elect their own leaders, stating that it was wrong that President Klens and First Councilman Seth Michaels inherited their positions of power. They wanted to determine their own fate.
Dana’s grandfather had joined the protest, stating that “man was never meant to be ruled.”
Dana had been forbidden to go, but had snuck out of the house anyway. Her first regret in life. She wandered to the square where the protest had taken place. Many just held signs, stating their right to determine how much heat their homes had, how much they ate, or where they worked.
Then, the marching boots came. Dana remembered watching as armed officers stormed the gathered crowd. Without warning, they opened fire with machine guns. She watched in fear as people dropped to the ground, never to get up again.
Dana remembered screaming as she hunkered behind lifeless bodies, covering her ears. Somehow, her grandfather had found her. He scooped her into his arms and tied his scarf around her eyes to block the horrible scene. But the scarf didn’t hide it all.
Weeks passed before she was able to sleep without being held by either her parents or grandfather. Dana pushed the memories from her mind as she sang the song that the protesters had sung that fateful day. It dated back to a time before Dystopia existed, but its true origins were unknown.
Fires burning,
children weeping,
the Lady stands alone.
Riots raging,
people yelling,
why this madness come?
Gunfire exploding,
women screaming,
tears escape her eyes.
Soldiers marching,
people running,
the Lady watches all.
Above them towering,
her torch shining,
she’s forgotten in her harbor.
Freedom dying,
darkness falling,
she mourns the loss of her friend.
“Have I not,” she asks,
“stood here proudly?
Why do you ignore me?”
Now she’s crumbling,
her torch fading,
still for us she stands.
One girl searching,
she is treading,
upon the Lady’s bed.
A rare finding,
forgotten and lying,
the Lady’s torch is unearthed.
The girl’s arm lifting,
torch light blazing,
the Lady sees and smiles.
“At last you remember me.
Take my fiery light.
Carry it with you always.
Take up the torch.
Lift it high.
Let fear be scorched.
Let tyranny die.”
Her voice echoed across the area, bouncing off the buildings. Still no sign of life. Darkness settled around her. Not wanting to spend another night exposed, she approached a small building, its door hanging precariously from its hinges. Cautiously, Dana stepped inside.
“Hello,” she called.
No answer. She didn’t think she would get one, but decided to try anyway. Dana walked through the small interior over rusted aluminum cans. She found a small corner and curled up there, eventually falling asleep.
“Nothing,” said a harsh voice. “Pickings keep getting less and less.”
Dana bolted upright and carefully peeked out around the door. Four men stood yards away from her. Filthy, tattered rags covered their bodies. Dana smelled their stench. They hadn’t bathed in weeks. She wondered if they even knew what a bar of soap was for.
“I’m telling you we need to go somewhere else,” said a second man.
“No,” raged the first.
“There isn’t anything here. Even the people we garner our things from have stopped traveling this area,” continued the second.
A part of Dana was overjoyed at seeing people. She started to go to them, but stopped. Their mannerisms seemed odd. She decided to exercise caution. Taking a step back inside, her foot crunched a can on the floor, sending it flying across the room. Cringing, Dana remained, still hoping they hadn’t heard.
“What was that?” The men turned in her direction.
Fearful, Dana bolted through the door and into the streets away from the four men.
“Get her!”
She heard feet pounding the crumbling pavement behind her. Though tired and weak, Dana found the strength necessary to run. Her breathing grew harsh as she fled.
One of them men jumped in front of her. “Boo!”
Dana skidded to a halt and turned. She continued down a path she didn’t know. Still, the men pursued her.
Another popped up before her. “Where are you going, sweetheart?”
Frightened, Dana turned in another direction. They’re everywhere! Panting, she continued racing through the unfamiliar territory. Her foot struck something. Hopping, Dana regained her balance and kept going.
She veered to the left. One of the men waited for her. Startled, Dana turned around to find the others. She had been surrounded. Her eyes darting from each of them, she looked all around for a way to escape.
Dana tried to dart between them. Instantly, strong hands snatched her, pulling her off her feet.
“Let me go!” screamed Dana as she struggled. She kneed one of them in the groin. In response, he brought his fist to her face, causing another large welt to form.
“Hey, sweetheart,” said one. “What’s the hurry?” His ragged clothing hung from his scarecrow-like body.
“Yeah, we only want to get to know you.”
Dana detested the way he said that.
“Let me go!”
“Now hold on there,” said the man who was clearly in charge. “Who are you and how did you get here?” His six-foot stature towered over the others. Blackened teeth filled his mouth.
Dana looked at him, trying to discern if his intentions were honest. In the back of her mind, she knew she was in serious trouble. “Dana.”
“What brought you here?”
“My feet.”
“Don’t get cute with me.”
“I jumped off a train and have been wandering since,” said Dana, knowing there was little use in lying.
“Hopped off a train?” said one, tugging on the greasy strings that made up his hair.
The leader silenced him. He examined her clothing and a wicked smile appeared on his face. “What we have here is a runaway. Another one of those people from that country. So you thought you could make it out here, eh?”
Dana kept her mouth shut.
“We’ve run into many of your kind,” continued the man, “Most of them die out here. Seems like you’ll do the same.”
“Let me go!” Dana struggled some more.
“You think you can make it out there alone?” scoffed the man.
Dana preferred to take her chances rather than remain with them. She did not like the way they looked at her.
“We should take her with us,” said a small, swarthy man, “and have a little fun.”
“I saw her first,” protested another. “She’s mine.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Enough!” yelled the leader. “She’s coming with us.” The man stroked Dana’s hair. “Perhaps she can provide us with a little entertainment before we carve her up.”
Immediately, a gag torn from the leader’s jacket was shoved into her mouth as her hands were tied. Dana tried to resist, but was no match for them.
“Let’s get out of here.”
The men left the ruined city, taking Dana with them.