Utopia

Get the food. Get the batteries. Get out. Get the food. Get the batteries. Get out.

I repeated the list over and over in my head, drilling it into my mind. I had to get this right. I knew I would get this right. I've been practicing all of these skills my whole life and I knew I could do it.

Food. Batteries. Escape.

I just wish my mom knew. "Don't go in the woods alone, Sera Lynn," she says. "Don't go on raids without me. Don't do anything dangerous. Nothing risky. Just gather firewood like a good girl." It's amazing how much she underestimates me.

We've been running low on supplies and food for weeks, just barely managing to ration until we could trade with other cured who stopped by on their routes. But the traders don't come for another month, and my mom's twisted ankle keeps her from going anywhere. So it's up to me.

You know, I can do whatever I feel like and I'll be just fine. No filthy City Drone is going to get me today, I thought, as I adjusted my face mask.

I shuddered as I thought of being caught by a corpse. The corpses were the beautiful clones created by the Scientists that live in the world of the "New Golden Age". Or at least that's what they all call it.

But the clones are just pawns to the bigger picture. The Scientists control everything they do; everything they think; everything they say. They have no emotions or feeling whatsoever: if they even think words like "happy", "sad", or "love" they are instantly brought into custody and killed. But no one questions it. They don't even notice. It's all perfect when you don't know what's going on.

That's why we call them corpses. They all end up dead.

I trudged slowly through the marsh on the south side of the City, cocking my head every now and then as I listened for anyone approaching. There were no bird calls. No animals rustling in the underbrush.

All other living creatures inside City territory were hunted to extinction years ago, and only the buzz of insects too sturdy to kill with pesticides and a whisper of wind remain. The only natural sounds left. It's sad, but at least it means I can tell when I'm being hunted.

I strained my ears, trying to pick out any noises coming from the City, but there was nothing. I checked the sky and saw the barely visible sun on the horizon. They must still be sleeping 'cause the sun hasn't come up yet. That gives me an hour to get in and out.

I picked stealthily through the marsh until I came to the giant hedge that separated their world from mine. It was green and primly trimmed, a perfect image of what was on the other side.

The Suburbs. They looked just like the neighborhoods from the Old Times, and all had perfectly cut lawns with perfectly modeled statues in the gardens and perfectly colored flowers and perfectly pruned bushes. Except no one even cared to notice them.

The people inside had perfectly styled hair, perfectly white teeth, perfectly shaped bodies, perfectly happy smiles, and perfectly blank stares to match.

It was one of the most dangerous places to be, considering how many clones live there.

I climbed my way through the hedge and into the backyard of one of the little houses, careful not to move or disturb anything. Wouldn't want any unplanned visits to the Lab, now would we? My father's voice rang in my head. He always said that when I went out with him on raids. I wish he was still here to help me... to help our family...

No. Not the time to wish. Just go and get things done.

I made it onto the back porch and slid the door open without difficulty. "Who needs locks when no one would steal from you?" I whispered sarcastically. It was typical of them to not worry. The idiots.

Their kitchen was right inside next to the door. I tip-toed over to the fridge, filling up my bag as I grabbed everything in sight. Food, done. Now the batteries... I went over to the supply closet and pulled out all the batteries I could find in their drawers. Done. Now get out.

By the time the sun began to come up, I was already at the end of the marsh. I smiled slightly and mumbled, "I told you so, Mother. I'm not a helpless little girl." I moved as fast as I could across the spongy ground, but I made too much noise. I couldn't hear the heavy boots breaking through the underbrush behind me. I couldn't hear the heavy breathing that followed me for at least a mile.

I didn't know anything until I hit the ground.

I struggled and fought against the weight on my back, but it refused to budge. I gasped when I felt something hard hit my face, removing my mask. A cold blade was pressed to my neck. I couldn't breathe.

"Don't move." a gruff voice murmured in my ear. Male, I think. "Move, and you die." He sounded like a guard. I bristled in disgust as his breath blew against my neck. Spots danced in front of my eyes as my need for oxygen grew greater, but I refused to submit. Never submit to a guard. My father always told me that this was the greatest rule you could have when raiding around the City.

So I spat on the ground and almost growled back, "I'd rather die than become a filthy corpse. I'd rather rot in the ground than become like you or like everyone else. You have no idea how strong I am! You have no idea what I can do! You and your guard friends can go fu..." A hand was clamped over my mouth, and I realized that I'd started to yell.

I shut my eyes and braced myself for another blow, but was instead flipped over and pinned by my arms. My eyes were still clamped shut, and my mouth was covered by a gloved hand, but at least I could breathe again. I took a long, deep breath through my nose, savoring the air as it went through my lungs.

I opened my eyes tentatively, and was surprised to see that I was looking into the face of a muscular, tan guy, probably eighteen or nineteen by the looks of it. That shocked me. They're making guards this young?

But he was beautiful enough... they only recruited beautiful people for anything... but then I saw it: a long, jagged scar running from his hairline to the bottom of his chin. No guard would have such a large imperfection, especially not on his face.

I could see him waiting, watching my reaction as I took in his features. After a minute of just us staring, I managed to mutter, "You're not a guard." Not a question. Just a fact.

"No," he said, seemingly amused, "I'm not a guard. But I'm just as dangerous if you do anything stupid. If I let you up, will you run?" His almost emotionless brown eyes stared down at me. It was like looking right at winter; his eyes were cold, steely, completely unforgiving. There was no mercy in them at all.

Shaken, I pulled myself together enough to answer him. "Yeah," I replied coolly. "But first I'd punch you in your crap lousy face for threatening to kill me."

"Well, thanks for the honesty."

"Anytime."

He sat up straight with his knees on my arms, and sheathed his knife. It looked pretty fancy for a homemade, with its smooth wooden handle and crisp silver blade. He must have traded for it somehow. He turned back to me and lifted my chin with his fingers gingerly, like he thought I might break, and I visibly bristled in discomfort.

He smiled cruelly, and flicked a piece of his sandy blond hair off of his forehead. "I haven't seen you around my woods before, and you barely have a mark on your pretty little face. What's your name, babe? Where you from?" I swooned slightly when he called me that. Snap out of it. He's just another pretty face. Breathe. I breathed slowly, in and out. In and out.

"My name is Sera Lynn and where I live is none of your business. Your name?" I hoped I didn't sound too breathy... beautiful people always make me nervous. It's like my body automatically responds and says, "Hey, look! A beautiful specimen! You should look like them, instead of being so plain! You should be their friend! You should reproduce with them! Look! Look! Look!"

It's embarrassing, and one of the reasons my mother doesn't like letting me go on raids. "What if you get distracted Sera Lynn? What if you forget to run, Sera Lynn?" She never lets me forget it.

"Well, aren't we a little moody?" He chuckled. "My name is David. Where I live is none of your business either."

I looked at him skeptically. "Can I trust you not to kill me?"

"I wouldn't." David's eyes glinted devilishly. "But you could give it a shot." He slowly backed off of me, and let me pull myself off the ground. But before I could turn and say anything, I felt something hard come in contact with my head.

All I could register was the fact that I was on the ground and my head was throbbing. White spots danced at the edge of my vision, as I began to get groggy. I struggled to keep my eyes from closing - never let your eyes close when you get hit in the head, just in case you have a concussion, father always said - but I couldn't help it.

As my eyes began to shut, I could have sworn a saw a bird fly overhead. Its song was the last thing I heard before everything disappeared.