The moment Roker ceased to speak, the armed ranks that had amassed behind him launched into action.

The first thing they did was relieve the guards of their duties. Weapons were confiscated, and destroyed with their owners being placed under arrest (even though most of them offered no resistance). They tried to placate us, telling us all that they would simply be interviewed and nothing more. None of us believed that. The blood that still marred their uniforms screamed nothing but brutality and oppression.

Secondly, all points of entry to the compound surrounding the building were blocked. No-one was allowed in, and no-one was allowed out. Several tents were quickly erected, and more soldiers flowed into the crowd. They swiftly began corralling us into several neat lines for the ‘registration’ of each individual.

I grabbed Aly’s arm before two of the malevolent figures roughly shoved us into line. Her wide blue eyes were fixed on the dark canvas tent ahead of us. I grabbed her hand and held it tight. There was little I could do to reassure her now.

As the queue shambled forward, an atmosphere of unease had settled over the courtyard. Most people clung to those they knew in fear. Others glared at the menacing soldiers who paced here and there.

A scream erupted from the queue to our left where a woman was refusing to enter the tent. Soldiers rushed towards her, but didn’t manage to pin her down. She thrashed and made a run for the front gate, but her attempts were obviously in vain. I shoved my hand over Aly’s eyes just before gunshots once again sprayed vivid red over dull brown. No-one made any attempt to resist after that. Fear choked everyone into mute obedience.

I pulled my hand from Aly’s eyes and grab her hand again. We were only a short distance from the tent now. A panic began to rise inside me: what was going on in those tents? What if they were just trying to distract us before executing us all? I start breathing faster and my thoughts become scattered. The world looks hazy. Like I’m watching things happen from a distance.

“Adam are you okay?” Aly is looking up at me, concern and fear written all over her features. I have to keep it together. I have to keep her calm.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” I force a smile.

“Next!” barks a voice from the other side of the tent my heartbeat kicks up a notch as we approach the dark structure. For a moment I don’t think I can face it. Part of me just wants to cut lose and make a run for it.

The canvas swings to one side and a brown haired woman glares out at us. Her cold grey eyes take a long sweep of us both. “One at a time.” She grabs Aly’s arm and turns back to enter the tent. Aly looks back at me, her face pale. Her eyes fix on mine in a sort of pleading gaze.

I try to move, to stop her but it’s like my limbs have turned to ice. I swallow and a strangled cry escapes my throat, “Wait! Wait, please” The woman turns back to me, her frigid eyes meeting mine. “Please, just let me through. She’s my sister. I’m not going to do anything I just want to make sure that she’s safe. Please. Please I promise.”

For a second I see her eyes flicker to one of the guards and I think she’s going to call for help, but miraculously she seems to relent, “If you dare make one move against me and what I’m doing, I will not stop myself from getting them,” she inclines her head at the nearest soldier, “to shower you in a hail of bullets. Understand?” I nod. “Then get inside and sit down.” she hisses, holding back the heavy canvas for us all to pass through.

Inside, there isn’t much. A steel chair and table stands to one side of the room with various complex medical instruments laid atop of it, across from it is a thin looking bed with a small yellow bin standing at it’s foot, and other than the dull gray light from outside a small fluorescent bulb casts a harsh blue-tinged glare across the space. The room also has an overbearing scent of detergents. My stomach churns. I do not like this.

The woman pulls Aly over to the bed and directs her to sit down. She pulls the chair up to the foot of the bed and grabs a clipboard from the desk, and begins a complicated interview with Aly. I try to pay attention but the questions are mundane things like, “What’s your name?”, and “How old are you?”

I look at the desk more closely. Rows of spotless utensils have been placed along it but I can only recognize some like a scalpel, syringe, and gauze padding for wounds. Many of the other instruments however, are completely alien to me. Large plastic tubs have been placed toward the back of the table with names that offer little meaning to me like “Sleep”, “Relief”, and “Regenerate”. The woman seems to be very involved in her line of questioning so I take a step closer to get a better look inside the strange pots. Within them are numerous small white packages with strange symbols on them. I frown. All the medical equipment I’ve seen has not even closely resembled this.

Next to the pots sits several unlabeled jars with liquids of varying shades of gray, neatly ordered in a line. In front of them lays a syringe much longer and much more complex than the others I noticed. Across it’s barrel is written, “FOR USAGE WITH NANOROBOTIC CONVERSION GEL ONLY.” I tilt my head to one side. What the hell?

The chair squeaks behind me and I turn around. The woman stands up, approaching the table. Her hands hover over the small gray jars for a moment, fingers fluttering over them before her right hand delves into one of the plastic tubs at the back. “I’m going to need blood samples from both of you.” She produces two small white packets and rips one open. A small white square with rounded edges tumbles onto the table. She curses and picks it up. The closest thing it looks like is some kind of plaster. I don’t understand seeing as all the blood samples I’ve ever had taken from me have involved a maliciously long needle, and several painful pokes to find a vein.

I look over at Aly. Her face is contorted into a picture of confusion. “What’s she doing?” she mouthes at me. I shrug and take a seat next to her.

The woman moves to stand in front of us, holding one white square between two fingers. It’s only now that I register the name Andrea sewn into the upper right-chest of her uniform in small, neat stitching. On her arm is a patch saying “Arescet armed forces medical staff”. Her clothing is all tinged in various shades of brown, for camouflage probably. Not that these people would need it, as their strategy of brutal murder in broad daylight so openly displayed.

Andrea holds out her left hand to Aly. “Give me your arm.”

“What are you gonn-”

‘I said give me your arm.” Aly frowns and gingerly offers her right arm to Andrea. She sticks the patch just below the crook of her elbow, and it lights up softly with the rim gently glowing blue. Andrea grabs a tube hooked up to a small clear pot and hooks it into the patch. The light then pulsates, turns bright green and dark red starts to flow down the tube. My mind fails to understand how that is even possible. This technology is beyond anything I’ve seen.

“What the heck is this thing?! How is it taking my blood?! I thought you had to use needles to do this sort of thing.” She runs her fingers over the small plastic patch in a sort of awe. Aly always hated needles.

Andrea moves over to the table and rips open another packet. “I’m afraid I didn’t design it, so I can’t tell you how that blood extraction patch works.” She returns to us, another plastic square pinched between her fingers. “But I can tell you that it’s far less invasive or painful than anything you people use.” I catch the note of disdain in her tone. Hatred coils tighter in my stomach.

She places the patch on the same part of my arm and it begins to collect my blood. Andrea goes through the same mundane questions again with me, frantically scribbling what I say on a clipboard. Strange. I would’ve thought pen and paper to be a bit primitive for these people given their technological prowess.

Then she checks our patches. Both of them have stopped glowing. “Okay these are done. I’ll get rid of them.” She pulls each one off and throws it along with the plastic tubing into the small bin by the bed. The pots have somehow sealed themselves. I ask her how and she gives me a haughty look before launching into some rambling, complicated explanation of something called ‘smart plastic’. I don’t listen.

Andrea fills out more papers on her clipboard. The three of us sit in silence. I grab Aly’s hand and give her a grin. She smiles back at me weakly. Guilt momentarily replaces the hatred that has so deeply settled in my stomach. She’s seen so much today. She doesn’t deserve this. None of us do.

“Right, so you two will have to report back here in two days time once your blood tests are done.” says Andrea monotonously.

“Why?” I say.

“For a full physical evaluation. The blood samples going to be analysed and from that we’ll be able to detect any diseases or conditions in your bodies, and we’ll cure them for you. There’s nothing sinister to it. I promise.” She seems to brighten up at the last to words. Sincere. She sounds sincere. “Oh but there’s one last thing I have to do.” She thrusts a hand into her pocket and produces a small white pot, one that usually has pills inside. Unscrewing the lid, she tips two deep purple ovals onto her hand. “You’re gonna have to take these.”She extends her hand.

Apprehensively I take one and swallow it. Aly follows. We don’t really have a choice in the matter. Andrea returns to her clipboard, scribbling more stuff down. “Would you mind telling us what those are?”

“Uh yeah sure,” she says, eyes still fixed on the clipboard. She finishes off another sentence and looks up, frowning slightly. “They’re really small compute- you know what computers are, right?” we both nod, “Well that’s what they are. Only so small you can’t even see them. They’re going to assemble themselves into a tiny computer inside your palm that tells us where you are. A tracking beacon is what we call it.” She returns to her clipboard again. Anger flares up within me, white hot and seething. I feel filthy for letting them anywhere near me and my sister. We’re no more than livestock to them. Things to be used and killed. Objects and nothing more.

There’s the sound of paper ripping and Andrea extends her hand once more. Two small pieces of paper are clutched between her fingers. “These are your identification numbers. Don’t lose them. You two are free to go now.” She returns to her seat with a tired sigh.

I grab Aly’s hand and pull her through the tent doors again once more. The lines outside had gotten longer and people gawked at us. I tug Aly’s arm faster and we half-walk, half-run into the safety of the block. Inside the musty air which I usually loathed gave me a strange comfort and reassurance. It was familiar. Familiar and safe.

We enter the stairwell and we ascend the steps. Everything is silent apart from the sounds of our footsteps reverberating across the walls.

I shove through the door into the our floor and even the vile smell that lingers in the hallway seems mildly comforting to the point where I don’t even notice it much. We reach the door to our apartment and I put the key in the lock and turn. We’re home. They can’t get us here. For now anyway.

Aly kicks off her shoes, laying down on our battered, threadbare couch. “So, what do we do now?”

I shut the door and turn to take my own shoes off, “I don’t know. We’re just gonna have to do as they say for a while. There’s not much else we can do.” I catch sight of myself in the cracked mirror on the wall. Dark brown hair is jutting out from various angles on my head. I run a hand through it. It doesn’t help much.

The couch creaks and I turn to face it. Aly stares at me skeptically. “What d’you mean there’s nothing we can do?”

“I mean that there’s nothing we can do to escape these people right now. Unless you want a hail of bullets to rain upon us?”

Her expression is incredulous, “We can’t just sit here and let them walk all over us Adam we have to do something! We can at least try to escape!”

I place a hand over my eyes and will myself not to lose my temper. Keep it together Adam, keep it together. “Look I’ll try and think of something. It’s just been a really long day so can we just forget all this until tomorrow, please?” She opens her mouth to speak but then thinks better of it. “I’ll take that as a yes.” I move into the kitchen and open the pantry. All we have left is a half loaf of bread and a half dozen vegetables. I sigh and grab them all. We’re running low on food. If only I’d gotten to the market earlier..

We spend the rest of the evening in silence. It’s times like this when I wish our parents were still around. They’d know how to get us talking or cheer us up or forget our troubles. Everything was so much simpler when they were alive. My mind flicks to happier times, times when they protected us, played games with us, tucked us in at night.

But the pain of those memories is too much to bare so I push them down, deep down inside myself and lock them away and throw away the key. I take long deep breaths and will the pain away.

Through the windows I see that the sky is now an inky black. Over on the couch Aly has already fallen asleep.

I lay on the floor and shut my eyes, too exhausted to move to my bed. Maybe she was right. Maybe we should try something and it’s then that I decide: tomorrow, we run.

Pale light streams in through the streaky windows, illuminating the room. I’m still laying on the floor, and on the couch Aly is still asleep, breathing softly.

My mind takes a few moments to pull itself from the haze of sleep, but when it does I remember my decision.

I rise slowly and carefully. I’m glad woke up when I did - it’s only a little after dawn, so we should have enough time to escape. If my plan works that is.

I move into the bedroom that Aly and I share. There isn’t much inside: just two mattresses on the floor with tattered bedding and an old wardrobe placed in between them. On the right wall is the door to a small closet, on the left are a few more dirty windows. I have to be fast. The sun is almost all the way up.

I open the closet and the familiar smell of mildew greets me. I sweep aside the various pieces of clothing inside and grab a duffel bag from the back. I’ve always kept it for carrying larger amounts of food back from trading. Never did I think I would use to escape an entire army.

Scooping up an armful of t-shirts, I dump them into the bag. I do the same with trousers, underwear, and pretty much anything else we’ll need. I swing the bag onto my shoulder and I creep back into the kitchen and place it carefully on the counter. In the kitchen, I’ve been smart enough to build up a stash of long lasting food in the cupboard under the (broken) sink. A couple of years ago I discovered a loose floorboard underneath, and now it’s mainly filled with canned goods, dried fruits and meat which is the sort of stuff that expensive and rare. My whole reasoning for it all was to keep it as a sort of insurance should Aly and I not be able to trade for food. I remove the plank of wood and take all that I can fit inside the bag. Whether it will last us long enough to escape I do not know, but at least it’s something.

When I dump the bag onto the counter, only then does it strike me that no matter how many supplies I bring with me, we won’t be getting far at all with those ‘tracking beacons’ in our hands. I stare at my palms, looking at them closely, feeling each one carefully. I press my fingers down gently in the palm of my left hand and meet the unfamiliar resistance of a tiny square of hard material. This must be it.

Grimacing, I open a drawer and pull out a long knife. The blade is long, and glints menacingly in the weak dawn light. I bring the tip to rest just beneath the tracker, and take a deep breath. Never have I had a high threshold for pain or gore, and the ghastly visions I’m having of blood spattered walls and a knife wedged into my hand aren’t exactly helping me.

But I have to do this. I have to. It’s the only way I’m going to survive. With that firmly lodged in my mind, I shut my eyes tight and roughly shove the blade in.

Instantly I feel a pain so blinding I almost let go of the knife, but somehow I keep the presence of mind. Gingerly, I open my eyes to survey the damage, and what greets me is a horror show of red, beige, and grey. My first instinct is to drop the knife and throw up, but I force myself to wedge the chip from my hand. Though it takes a few moments, eventually I manage to work it free, it and the knife then hitting the floor with a loud clatter somewhere near my feet.

I’m hunched over now, and it’s taking all the will I have not to scream from the pain. My right hand is clamped over the left but it isn’t stopping the blood. I can’t see much near me that can be used for a makeshift bandage either.

Then the bag on the counter catches my eye. I rest my arm up against my chest to slow the bleeding, and wrench opend duffel bag. I grab the first thing I see - a T-Shirt - and wad it up around my left hand, and place it above my shoulder. Hopefully that will help the bleeding too.

“ADAM WHAT THE HELL?!” Aly is standing over me, hands on her head and incredulity written across her features.

I’d really hoped she wouldn’t see me like this. “I-I can explain really I-”

“Then why is your arm covered in blood?!’ Her eyes dart to the knife, still slick and dripping. “Why is that knife there?!”

“I-I-Look, I’ll tell you In a sec, just help me bandage up my hand first okay?”

Exasperation plays across her features, “Fine.”

Aly grabs another T-Shirt from the bag (so the other one can soak up the blood), and tears off a long strip. I’d made a point of teaching Aly how to bandage a wound before. She’d always get cuts of scrapes somehow and I wanted her to know how to take care of that on her own if ever she needed to. This situation isn’t exactly the one that I pictured however.

We then worked the garment free from my hand, and the waves of agony I expected never came. In fact, there was nearly no pain at all. “I doesn’t even hurt that much now.” I say.

She looks at my hand more closely, “There’s still a lot of blood on here.. maybe if we was that off we can see how to fix this…” Confusion clouds her tone.

As Aly dabs the remains of the torn T-Shirt across my hand, I think of how we had no wounds after we got back from the market, even though both of us were bleeding before we got back. “..it’s almost as if this blood has come from nowhere..” Sarah herself had said that. There were no marks, no scars, nothing. What if the same was happening now? A deep sense of unease swirled within me.

“Adam.. there’s nothing here. No wounds or anything. Is this some sort of joke?” , and sure enough, my hand is spotless. I trace the spot where I had wedged the knife minutes before, and the unease swirls faster within me.

“No no at all.. I-I was trying to get that tracker thing out of my hand, so I cut open my palm, and I, I don’t know..”, my eyes are still fixed on my palm. I don’t like this at all.

“Well at least you got the tracker out,”, she holds out her palm, and nestled within is a tiny green and grey square, “now would you mind explaining why you went and did all this?” I catch the faint note of terror in her voice.

Through the windows I notice the sun creeping higher and higher.. Sighing, I fix my gaze back on my sister, “I’ve had a change of heart since last night. I want to get out of here, escape.”

“So that’s why you decided to wedge a knife into your hand?”

I roll my eyes, “How else was I supposed to cut out the tracker?”

“Touché. I’m guessing that’s why there’s a bag of supplies too?”

“You guess right. Now if we’re going to escape we have to get your tracker out.” My eyes flicker toward the knife.

“No. No way. You’re not jamming a knife into my palm-”

“Do you see any other options here?” For several moments I can practically see the cogs in her head whirring together to concoct another plan, but she comes up short just as I expected, and gives me her palm.

“Just.. Just do it quickly, alright?” I nod. Trying to make this a little less messy than my own handiwork, I make sure to keep Aly’s arm raised at first to slow the blood flow a little. After a little while I have us sit opposite each other on the floor, her palm in front of my knees and the knife poised above it.

“Okay, on the count of three: 1… 2 … 3” Aly lets out a shriek as I bring down the knife. I try to be fast, so I make a small cut and gently flick the tracker out.The torn strip of t-shirt is still on the counter so I grab it and make a quick bandage across the wound. Aly whimpers quietly so I give her a hug, “It’s done now. You took it much better than your jackass brother.” She lets out a strained laugh and I pick up the tracker from the floor and place it with the other on the kitchen counter. They look peculiar, two small green squares criss-crossed with hundreds of tiny gold and silver lines. They look like old computer parts that people scavenge ruined buildings for, and they’re often extremely valuable.

I pick one up and turn it over in my hand, it’s stained with blood but otherwise it’s pristine, “These could be our ticket out of here, Aly” I murmur. If I trade these with the right person, we might just get out alive, and hopefully trick the occupiers into thinking we haven’t left in the mean time.

“Well we should cover them in something. Keep them safe y’know?” I nod. I tear another strip of fabric (first cleansing them of the blood) and we tie them up in a neat bundle before placing them in the bag. “So.. What now?” Aly’s head is tilted to the side, a quizzical look plays across her face.

I look back at the duffel bag and wonder if there’s anything else that we could possibly need: clothes, food.. Water and shelter are the only things we don’t have but if we escape the city then that shouldn’t be a problem. I turn back to her, “We have everything we could need for now.. the next thing to do is to find a way to escape.”

She shuts her eyes gives a quick nod. We move around the apartment and grab some last minute things. Aly pulls her shoes on, I raid the cupboards for any food we have left, even if it is perishable. Once we both finish I shoulder the duffel bag and grab the keys and we leave. Oddly I fail to feel any sentimentality toward our little flat at all. I lock the door and as we exit down that filthy hallway, and descend those long concrete steps, my mind is focused only on escaping. Everything other than that is a blur.

The heavy doors at the end of the staircase greet us once more, and we push through. On the other side, the entrance hall is quieter. Curiously, these people from Arescet have still allowed us to have control over this area. Beyond the dull glass fronted entrance I can see that they’re still ‘registering’ people outside. If we’re quick, we might be able to slip out before they invade the space even further.

I look around and decide that maybe seeing Sarah is the best option. Being on the ground floor this whole time might’ve given her the chance to see where other escapees might have gone. I jog other, Aly in tow behind me.

Her door is shut, so I bring up my fist and knock sharply three times. No answer. I knock again, “Sarah. Sarah it’s me, Adam, just open the damn door for a second I nee-”

The door swings open, “Shutup! Just get in here okay and be quiet Adam, for **** sake…” She disappears back into the room and I frown. Sarah never did like being bothered.

Aly and I follow her in and shut the door behind us. For several seconds there is an uneasy silence. I open my mouth but Sarah cuts in first, “I know what you want. You want to get out of here, escape.” she lights a cigarette and takes a long drag before speaking again, “and yes I can help you, but no it’s not very safe, and yes you might get caught. It’s your call.” She looks at us expectantly.

Aly’s eyes narrow, “But.. But how did you know I don’t ge-”

“Oh please, Alyssa” another drag from the cigarette “look at what your brother has slung over his shoulder. That massive bag just screams ‘I wanna escape’ now doesn’t it?

“I.. I guess..” says Aly.

“Well we’re definitely leaving so yeah, we’ll do whatever you say,” I reach into the bag and grab the small bundle, “I just need you to take these, Sarah. They use them to track where we are.. Just hide them somewhere in the building. Move them every so often. Fool them into thinking we’re here.” She eyes the small white bundle suspiciously, but sighs and grabs it anyway, giving me a nod of assent.

“Okay” says Sarah “this is how we do this, further back in here is an old sewer tunnel. You two climb out and follow the tunnel until it veers left. You’ll have to walk down there until it stops. Then you’ll climb up a ladder and that’s it. You’re free. Any questions?” We remain silent. “Okay. Then lets go.”

Before we go, Sarah has me push a battered old bookcase filled with medical items in front of the door to stop intruders. Then she walks to the back of room and opens what I previously thought was a closet door. In actual fact, it opens out along the side of the building. Luckily, the wall surrounding the block is so close here that no-one should see us.

Sarah leads us a little way down the side and then stops around circular piece of metal lodged in the ground. I’ve been told that before the bombs fell, these pipes are where sewage and waste was transported. I feel slightly sick.

We pry the metal cover off and place it to one side. Below there is nothing but a dark tunnel, and a very rusty ladder. Sarah hands me a torch. “It’s dark down there so you’ll be needing that. There should be enough juice in there to last you the walk.”

I sweep her up in a big hug, “Thank you. Thank you so much” I let go and Aly pretty much copies me. I hitch the bag higher on my shoulder and begin to descend the ladder but Sarah stops me.

“Wait just one more thing: stay there until sunset. If they can’t see you, you’ll have a better chance of getting out.” I nod and carry on climbing down.

I continue climbing down and Aly joins once there is enough space. The metal lid clangs shut over us and all there is now is the clank of our shoes against the rusty ladder. For now, we are safe.