Taste of Freedom

I was asked how old I was.

"Eighteen." the stranger answered for me. I looked at him funny.

"N-"

"Nineteen! Sorry, kid. I forgot you just turned nineteen the other day." I was confused. That wasn't my age. I was barely fourteen at the time.

"Is this true?" the man asked me. He was holding a notebook and tapping a pencil against it. I could tell he was getting annoyed at the delay.

I looked back to the stranger. I had no idea what his name was or where he was from and he's lying about me? I didn't get it. And, where was Pa?

"Well?"

"Y-yes. I am nineteen." The man nodded and wrote something down.

"Go in."

I did as I was told.

I walked around and looked at everything. There were long, but short in height, houses. These houses seemed to be partially underground, seeing as there are steps going down to the make-shift front doors of all of them.

I walked a little further.

The ground was half covered in dead brown grass and the other half was covered in rough dirt. There were some rocks, every now and then. The land around the camp was dense with trees. It was amazing how many trees there were. You wouldn't be able to see a man ten feet away from the fence because of how dark the trees made everything look.

Some men, both old and young, started to walk out of the houses. There were so many of them. They looked skinny and no one had hair.

"Hey." Someone grabbed my arm. "Next time I cover for you, just play along, won't you?" It was the man before. "The name's Bruce by the way." He stuck out his hand and I shook it.

The question was burning inside me. "Have you seen my Pa?"

"Kid, I don't know your Pa. What does he look like?"

"He's tall, has graying brown hair . . . a stubble. . . he was with me before. Didn't you see him? He was talking to me."

"No. I don't recall anyone talking to you before. Sorry. Maybe he's still in line there." Bruce pointed to the still flowing line of men entering the fenced-in area.

"Yeah, maybe." I said.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Joaquin." I told him, still looking at the line. "I'm going to wait for him."

"No, you're not. You're going to do exactly what these leeches want you to do . . . if you value your life." he said.

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? What-" Then he just stopped. He stood there for a while, just looking at me, just as confused as I was. His face began to soften a little and just said, "Kid, listen. This is . . . a game. And if you don't play right, you lose. Got it?" I nodded. "Good. Just . . . do what they say and watch out for yourself, okay? They tell you to jump, then jump. Sit, then sit. Run, well, then run. Am I clear?" I nodded again. He left, giving my shoulder one last pat before he did.

. . .

I just wish they didn't have to shave my whole head.