The Banished (Chapters 1-10)



  The Banished

  A dystopian story

  By Drew Avera

  All rights reserved 2014

  Chapter 1

  David Langstrom

  The taste of sand entered my mouth despite my closed lips. The fine granules filtered through everything and burrowed themselves into the most obscure places on my body, some of those places more sensitive than others. But still I stood watch outside of the hangar, waiting for my relief which was hours away. The desert beckoned for me to abandon it, to seek shelter from the torrential downpour of wind and grit. 

  I wasn't going to fall for it, though. Like many things, that beckoning was a yearning of my human nature and it threatened my safety, and the safety of my family inside.

  The colonies thrived after years of nomadic wandering, but it's hard to stifle a people used to moving. This was the most hospitable place in at least a hundred years for my tribe and settling down was probably for the best, but still I wondered what else was out there. What awaited us in the fields of sand, covering the past and burying her secrets?

  A stiff wind built up again and I closed my eyes against the onslaught of debris showering the air around me.

  “It might help if you had a pair of these,” Javier said, shouting over the howling wind. I felt him stand next to me, but I kept my eyes tightly shut until I felt the calm return. When I opened my eyes he was standing there smiling at me, his teeth caked with the desert sand. He held out a pair of tinted goggles.

  “Thank you,” I said, taking the goggles and placing them over my eyes. “I didn’t know you had patrol today too.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I took Williams watch, he and his wife won the lottery and he’s kind of shaken up about it. I figured it’s better to stand extra duty than run the risk of missing an oncoming attack because he’s too distracted to think straight.” Javier spit some of the grit from his mouth to the dust below.

  “Good thinking, even though we haven’t had an attack in over twelve years.”

  “Hmm, you remember that do you?”

  “I was a kid, but it’s hard to forget something like that.”

  “True.”

  “So why is William having problems dealing with the news? I thought he and his wife wanted a baby.”

  Javier took a mouthful of water and swished it around before answering with a spit. “He said they do, but the sacrifice is kind of hard for him to handle.”

  I could understand the sentiment. Our laws were written in a way to benefit the colony’s survival. Unfortunately, we had to sacrifice an elder before another mouth to feed was reared. We called it “the Lottery”, after the birth of a child one of the elders was banished to the sands, never to return. The only exception to this law was if someone in the colony died, then the remaining family members could procreate without waiting for the Lottery to draw their names. It was cold hearted, but effective.

  “Did he mention who would be banished?” I asked, I already had an idea, but kept it to myself.

  “I think the writing is already on the wall, David.” I shook my head knowingly. “Ever since his father died his mother has been a wreck. The sad thing is I think she wants the banishment.”

  “It’s not her decision though,” I replied.

  “I’m sure it will be a factor in the decision. Both of Tara’s parents are young and William doesn’t want his mother to suffer any more. I guess even if that means he has to lose both of his parents in a little more than a year’s time.”

  “What a shame,” I said, I could feel tears begin to well up in my eyes, but I blinked them away.

  “Yeah, well keep your head up, David. Only a few more hours and we can go back underground. I’m going to go make my rounds.”

  “All right,” I said as he walked away and disappeared amongst the scattering dust plume forming nearby. Alone I waited for something, for some change, for some relief.

  Chapter 2

  David Langstrom

  The dark tunnels under the desert sands wound for miles. There was a stench of mold in the air that hung about like an uninvited guest. My steps echoed off the cold floorboards as I approached the next checkpoint. The only lights provided through the tunnels were at these stations roughly four-hundred yards apart from each other. It wasn’t paranoia, but a dark past that prompted the several security points between the dwelling and the hangars above. How many lives had been lost those many years ago? I didn’t know, but I could fathom that sixty percent of any colony was a great amount.

  “Quiet patrol?” the guard asked as he unlocked the gate. His name was Jeremy and was known in the colony for being a talkative kind of guy.

  “Aren’t they all?” I replied with a smile. Jeremy had an infectious way of making a person feel welcomed by his presence. It was almost as if he never lived in the darkness, or experienced the dead landscape above.

  “Lately, I presume. It wasn’t always like that.”

  “I know,” I said. The patrols and everything else we did to secure our home was a constant reminder that you could never trust the other colonies in the region, no matter how closely related we once were. “How has it been on your end?”

  He grinned as if he were stifling a laugh. His boyish charm never faded. “Quiet…like they all are.”

  I nodded and stepped through the gate as he held it open for me. The iron bars groaned from the movement and there was a shrieking noise as rusted metal scraped against more rusted metal. I noticed a sprinkling of dust hitting the flooring below the hinges. “Stay warm and I’ll see you at dinner.”

  “Alright, thanks, David.”

  “See you,” I said as I turned my back on the final checkpoint and found my way back towards the dwelling, the robust cluttering of our underground society.

  Chapter 3

  Rubia Blake

  The dissonance of loneliness is like a double-edged sword. Though I longed to be with my deceased husband, I had always dreamed of seeing at least one grandchild before I died. That is what banishment was, a certain death, a decaying of bones in a wilderness of desolate earth.

  “Mother,” William said as he stepped into doorway. He filled the entire archway with his body and even had to duck his head down to keep from scraping it against the stonework. He was a spitting image of his father and that made my heart hurt all the more. Where did youth go?

  “Come in, son,” I said as dismissively as I could manage. I knew what he was doing was hard for him to begin with; I just hoped that I could widen the gap between us to help him make the right decision. Tara’s parents were not separated by death; they deserved to live a few years more.

  William took my hand is his own and I felt his warmth, a stark contrast from the cold underground. “I cannot do this,” he said, causing me to look at him. It was a mistake to do so. His eyes were wet with tears and I could see the streaks as dust was cleared from his face with each gentle wipe of his hand. I squeezed his hand and choked back a sob.

  “I do not want to hear it, William,” I said as I looked away from my baby boy. I could feel a stab of guilt as I did so, but I had to be strong for him. “The decision, the right decision, is to let me go.”

  “But I don’t want to!” he almost shouted the words at me; pain flowed through his uttered words. I exhaled deeply and closed my eyes. “I don’t know how to live without you, Mother.”

  I pulled his hand closer to my own and looked at him as he knelt beside me. Our faces were close enough that I could smell his breath and hear the rush of each exhale. I looked him dead in the eye and spoke. “You have to let me go, William. It’s what I want.”

  “What about what I want, Mother? Does that not factor into the equation at all?”r />
  “No,” I spat the words from my lips and stood up, releasing his hand from my own.

  “Be reasonable, woman!” I could hear the hurt and sorrow in his voice.

  “I am,” I said as I left him alone. I swallowed the words that I wanted to say, “I’m doing this because I love you.” He didn’t need to hear them now. He needed to be angry with me, to purge himself of me. It was the only way to coax him into doing the right thing. A mother does not raise a son without knowing which buttons to push in order to make him act as she sees fit.

  I just hoped that I could die in peace knowing what I have done to him to bring him to this point.

  Chapter 4

  Mayor Donovan 

  They say a good leader knows when to push their people and when to pull back, but for the life of me I don't know if I have the strength to do either. Every aspect of life in the colony was atrial due to the dwindling shortages of resources that no amount of banishments could curtail. I was fooling them all by smiling as the winners were called, but maintaining a population of three-hundred and six people presented enough reasons to plan for failure than it did for success. 

  I turned the corner leading to one of the emergency tunnels. A glow of sunlight permeated the abyss ahead of me and I watched as particles of dust scattered like dried leaves in the wind. This was the safest place for a man of my station, deep in tunnels, far from the dwelling. 

  I stood in the beam of light and looked up towards the sky. It was overcast and grey, but the beauty of the world above was still evident. A man could forget about the dangers while tucked below. 

  "I thought I could find you here," a voice said behind the shadows. 

  "Yes, I'm comfortable here," I answered without showing how startled I was by the company. 

  "Eric, do you really think you can hide what you're thinking from me?"

  I shrugged my shoulders, refusing to answer. 

  "We have been together our whole lives. You can confide in me."

  I didn't want to. "This is not a family problem, Erica," I said without looking at her. A bit of dust fell into my eye and irritated it. I wiped at it with a finger. 

  "It doesn't have to be," she replied as she stepped into the light with me, licking her thumb and wiping the particles from my eye."

  "Stop," I said irritably. She always wanted to mother me, ever since we were kids. It was like she assumed the role because we didn't have a mother to raise us. "You know I hate when you do that."

  She put her hands across her chest and glared at me. "I was just trying to help. I didn't want you to scratch your cornea rubbing at it like that."

  "Whatever, can't you just let me be?" I asked turning away from her. 

  "No,"

  She was so annoying. As if having a thirteen minute older twin sister wasn't bad enough, she had to be stubborn to boot. "Fine," I said. "The lottery isn't efficient anymore. We need to purge more citizens in order to maintain enough resources to ensure our survival. Maybe it's too many years toiling at the same soil, but food isn't growing at the rate it once did. By every calculation we will be starving in a few years’ time."

  She stepped back away from me with hurt on her face. The lottery had taken our uncle and mother so that we could both survive. We had been raised by a father who mourned for his loss and eventually died from grief. Erica hated the lottery with a passion that not many would understand. I thought she hated me for continuing the lottery when I was declared mayor. It was duty, it was for survival, but she never accepted that. 

  "What are you going to do?" She asked. 

  I lifted my empty hands and held them out. "I don't know, but either way I'm condemning someone to die."

  Chapter 5

  David Langstrom

  The dining room was mostly empty this time of day. Most of the civilians avoided eating during patrol changeover in order to ensure we were able to get something to eat and report on time. My relief had been early so I took advantage of the alone time, lost in my own thoughts. 

  For nineteen years I lived in this underground colony. I didn't know life outside of its cold walls and cramped spaces. When I was sixteen I joined the patrol and was able to "live" above ground in eight to twelve hour stretches. I couldn't imagine the sun rising or setting before that time. I couldn't imagine the feeling of the wind blowing and the smells that accompanied it. I couldn't imagine anything outside until three years ago. 

  That was when curiosity and hope filtered into my mind. I questioned the system. I questioned a lot of things. But most of all I questioned whether or not the banished could live out there and for how long. 

  "Is this seat taken?" Moira asked as she sat in front of me, pulling a loose strand of hair behind her ears. 

  "It is now," I smiled at her and she returned it warmly. 

  "How was your patrol today?"

  "Just like all the others. Javier gave me a new set of goggles," I pointed at them atop my head. 

  "Oh, aren't we fashionable?" She laughed at her own joke before I caught on to it. 

  "These babies are essential if you want to keep the sand out of your eyes," I said. 

  "Or look like a bug," she laughed again. 

  "Or that, I guess, how was your day?"

  "Well, let's see. First I served breakfast and then I went to do some laundry. Oh, let's not forget changing the filters in the water main on Tunnel 24. That's always fun."

  "Still a lot of junk collecting in the piping?"

  "Yeah, it's really gross."

  "Other than that, how was your day?"

  "Fine," her lips curled into another smile as she brought her cup of water up to sip it. 

  "Well that's great."

  "Yeah," she answered.

  I looked at her as she brought her fork to her lips to blow cooler air over the hot soup. I have loved her since we were just kids. The fact she was two years older than me did nothing to deter that. I just hoped she felt the same instead of looking at me as a kid brother. Other than thoughts of living outside the tunnels, I often thought of her. How her lips would taste, how the soft skin of her hands would feel against my own. 

  I was lost in that thought as I reached out and grasped her hand gently, rubbing my thumb along her fingers. 

  Her eyes lifted to mine and just then I realized that I was no longer living in my imagination. 

  Chapter 6

  Kevin Falls

  Life trickled slowly as I sat in the corner of the library. The tomes were as dust-covered as the ground above the colony, but the smell of a time long since passed filled my nostrils with its sweet fragrance. The book before me was torn along the spine from years of use and I had read it many times before. "Brave New World," read the title in a fading ink. 

  I wondered what the future in Huxley's eyes truly represented. Was it about the dangers of losing knowledge, or freedom, or moral code? What kind of world did the man live in to imagine such a vibrant world?

  I often wished that I could leave the hardships of the colony and live in his vision of the future. Even if I was classed as an Epsilon then at least I could have the feeling of the sun beating against by shoulders and the wind blowing through my hair. 

  What joy would the soma bestow upon a crippled man in Aldous Huxley's utopia?

  My imaginings tore me from this world for only a brief moment. I was a man of dreams, not content with my life in the here and now. I wanted more. I needed more. 

  I wiped a tear from my right eyes and rose from the chair. I grabbed my walker from beside me and hobbled away from the desk to leave my dream world behind for another day. I looked behind me at the shelves full of neglected stories and turned out the light. I stood in the door way and waited until the vision in my lone eye adjusted to the darkness before leaving. 

  I wished that the fantasy would follow me to my dreams instead of the recurring nightmare that wakened me every night. It was twelve years ago, but every nerve in my body felt the explosion like it
was only yesterday. Each step inflamed my body and wrought havoc on the parts of me that remained. 

  I released a breath of thankfulness. At least I could read and gain access to a world outside these tunnels, to a life outside my own. Giving up was an easy concept with the pain. I thought of how many times I wanted to give up in the past. Sometimes I wished I had. 

  Chapter 7

  Rubia Blake

  It's been over a year since I've seen his face yet I can still remember the light blue of his eyes, the dark stubble of a days’ growth on his face, but most of all I remember his smile. I ran my fingers along our wedding photo taken thirty years ago. We were so much younger then with no thoughts of banishment, no daunting fascinations of what would happen if we were to lose one another. 

  We were happy. 

  I knew that it would not last forever, but deep inside I buried the thoughts. They stayed covered for years. 

  Life is full of moments like these. First kisses, marriage, the birth of a child, the thrill of watching that child grow up to find love. But life is full of other moments as well. The banishments, the tears, the heart attack that strips your husband away from you and the longing need to hold his hand once more just to know your love has not gone away. 

  I wanted to turn the page a see the images captured later in our marriage, but my heart would not let me. It knew that to turn the page would bring me closer to my loss. It could not bear it, not now, not with the impending conception of a grandchild that I knew I would never get to know. 

  Instead I lay my hand over the photograph I let my emotions carry me to another place, a happier place. I place where I would feel his warmth again. 

  I hoped for death to take me in these moments, to sweep me from this dust ridden life in the tunnels and carry me to my husband. 

  The banishment would commence twenty-four hours after the birth of my son's child. I would hold the baby knowing that he or she would never remember me. A tear rolled down my cheek as I thought about it. Banishment was not just death; it forcibly removed you from the colony and tore you from their memories over time.  

  I wondered how long before I would cease to exist in their thoughts. 

  I couldn't handle the thoughts anymore so I brought the bottle to my lips and swallowed its contents, the burning elixir flowing down my throat. It would leave me numb for the rest of the day and allow me to sleep with the ghosts of my past, and the doom of my future.