The Hourglass
Authors: Casey Donaldson
The Hourglass
By Casey Donaldson
Text Copyright © Casey Donaldson 2014
Contents
The Survival Wars
A Brief History
It is generally
accepted amongst historians that the world’s population became unsustainable
one hundred and twenty five years ago. Supplies of food and fresh water became
ever-dwindling as farming land and natural resources disappeared, only to be replaced
by residential developments. Overcrowding was a major issue. Governments could
no longer provide for their own people. There were uprisings. Countries fell.
Then the horror came.
Overpopulation
resulted in an outbreak of a whole new range of unprecedented, horrifying,
zoonoses viruses that infected people and animals alike, wreaking havoc and
chaos across the world. In order to overcome this new horror, the World
Government was created, commonly known as the Collective. However, as more and
more humans were affected by the various viruses, the Collective effectively
split into two: the Covenant and the Accord. The Covenant and the Accord
differed in their opinion on how to treat the infected. The Accord demanded the
construction of camps, where they could house the infected and study the
disease. This prolonged the diseased individual’s survival, but also their
suffering. The Covenant believed that this would only serve to encourage
further mixing of the viruses, and would be a ruining drain on their resources
and would bring about the ultimate demise of the populace. They called for an
all-out extermination of anyone infected. The Covenant argued that it was
kinder, as it decreased the suffering of the people and saved further people
from becoming infected.
The Covenant and
the Accord soon became more than political ideologies, and waged war. Either
through isolation in the camps, or because they were killed, the majority of
the infected were wiped out. This, combined with the devastation wreaked during
the wars, decreased the population to a sustainable level. Yet the war between
the Covenant and the Accord waged on, each faction vying for ultimate control;
to become the new Collective. Farming land, which should have been reclaimed
and worked as the population decreased, turned into battle grounds. Overpopulation
may have no longer been an issue, but food and water supplies still were. Overcrowding
in the cities still persisted, as people were too afraid to leave the cities
claimed by either one of the factions. To venture out meant to risk finding
oneself on a battle ground.
The deadly viral
outbreaks may have been a thing of the past, but the new order of the day was
very much the same; survival.
One
A Pie
Sarah Underhill
crouched across the road from the pie shop. Her back was resting against the
rough brick wall of what used to be a butcher’s, but was now just another
apartment. The smell of freshly baked pies wafted towards her. Her stomach
rumbled. She glanced down at herself ruefully. There wasn’t much there. That
was something, she thought, that could be remedied by one or two of those pies.
She looked back up at the pie shop. Like most of the shops in that area, the
actual display and counter area were outside on the street. The inside of the
actual shop was comprised entirely of the kitchen.
A middle-aged
man and woman slowed down as they neared the shop. Sarah watched enviously as
they made their choices and selected two of the pies. The pies, she knew, would
still be hot to the touch. She had watched them bring them out of the kitchen
twenty minutes ago. Her stomach rumbled again. She didn’t care that the meat
they contained came from questionable sources, or that some of the pies were
filled out with chopped up bits of protein bars. They still smelt incredible.
They would still taste good. And, more importantly, they would make her feel
full
.
The couple paid the woman over the counter, who checked their money carefully
for evidence of forgery before nodding at them pleasantly and slipping it into
a pouch at her waist. Sarah closed her eyes just before the man was about to
take a bite. She just couldn’t bear to watch. Her stomach rumbled noisily. When
she opened her eyes the pair was gone. She imagined herself marching up to the
store and carefully browsing all of the products, as if she had all the money
in the world. She would then select the freshest, largest, most fulsome pie
that she could find. One with real meat. Then she would pay the woman, receive
the nod of a transaction well done, and go home. Once home, she would sit it
proudly in the middle of the kitchen table, and just watch as her mother and
uncle stared at it in surprise and wonder.
Of course, that
would never happen. She sighed. Sometimes she wondered what the world was like
before the Survival Wars. The idea of having plenty of food and living space
was intoxicating. She had even heard that you used to be able to have water
that didn’t taste like chlorine, but she wasn’t sure if she believed that one. After
all, if it didn’t taste like chemicals, what would it taste like? A movement
across the street drew her attention and she snapped out of her daydream. There
was a boy leaning on the wall across from her. He had been there for about five
minutes. Every now and then he would glance over at her. He looked to be about
her age but he was smaller and skinnier. He had black spiky hair and was
wearing old black jeans that were a bit too small and a bit too ragged. He
winked at her. Sarah blinked in surprise and then looked away quickly. After a
moment she glanced back. He was still staring at her, a small grin turning up
the corners of his mouth. Sarah frowned, unsure of what he was playing at. A uniformed
soldier strode past, holding a rifle in one hand and Sarah stiffened
automatically. People gave him a wide birth. Her city was claimed by the
Covenant. Regular soldier patrols were meant to make the citizens feel safe,
but they served the dual purpose of reminding everyone just who was in control.
A sudden shout and the sounds of a fight breaking out from somewhere at the end
of the street drew the soldier’s attention. He straightened his shoulders and
ran towards the noise, weapon drawn. Sarah stood up out of her crouch and
peered towards the commotion. Two boys in their early twenties had started a
fist-fight. They were drawing quite a crowd. The pie store owner had drifted
to the edge of her store, obviously wanting to get a better view of the fight
but not willing to leave her goods unattended. Sarah didn’t want to watch the
fight. She had seen too many of them already and just found it depressing. She
glanced back longingly at the pies and to her surprise she saw the skinny boy
in the black jeans walking casually towards her, a pie in each hand. She
glanced back at the shop owner. The woman hadn’t moved, still angling for a
better view on the fight. The soldier had just started to spray a noxious gas
into the fighters’ face’s, making them cough and their eyes stream. The boy reached
her and with the same half grin shoved the pie in her hands before she could
protest. He had stolen it. She knew he had stolen it, yet she still found her
hands wrapping around it automatically. Multiple thoughts flew through her mind
simultaneously. Giving it back to the store owner wasn’t an option. If she did,
she would be arrested for sure. Shop owners in her city regarded pretty much
anyone in the vicinity of a shoplifting crime to be guilty by association.
Having the stolen pie in her hands would in their eyes be just as bad as if she
had stolen it herself. Dropping it was even less of an option. You did not
waste good food. Her mother had drilled that into her enough times for it to be
imprinted heavily in her brain. Besides, she was too hungry. That was it then,
she decided, she had to eat the pie. She had a second to anticipate how good
the pie would taste before a short, high-pitched yell cut through her
concentration. The grin fell from the boy’s face as if struck by lightning and
he bolted. Sarah looked around desperately, trying to find the source of the
yell. It didn’t take her long. The pie-maker was pointing an accusing finger at
her.
“Thief!”
Sarah’s stomach
plummeted and she rocked on her feet in disbelief and shock as the accusation seemed
to reverberated in her head. She ran. She didn’t bother to turn around to check
if they were after her. Adrenaline coursed through her body and her heart pounded
so loudly in her ears that she could hardly make out the street noises around
her. She was two blocks away and in no threat of slowing down when an arm
reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder. Her feet flew out from beneath her
as she was yanked to a stop, and she had to scramble to remain upright. The
hand on her shoulder was heavy. She looked up at the owner. It was a Covenant
soldier. A different one to the soldier who had broken up the fight. This one
was heavier. A chipped front tooth was on display on his rough face as he grinned
at her, before speaking into his radio-mike.
“Skinny, about fifteen,
short brown hair and wearing boots?” He paused as he listened to the response.
Sarah couldn’t hear it as the speaker was plugged into his ear, but she knew it
wasn’t going to be good for her by the way his grin grew even wider. “Yeah, I
got her.” Her heart sunk down past her boots. She struggled in his grasp but it
was pointless. He had a grip as strong as iron. He placed his spare hand on her
other shoulder and swivelled her around to face him completely. Keeping one
hand firmly wrapped around her upper arm, he frisked her quickly and
efficiently. From a deep inner pocket in her vest he pulled out the greasy and
now misshapen pie. Sarah stared at it. She had automatically stuffed it into
her vest when she took flight. It was a stupid thing to do. The crust was
broken and gravy had leaked out, spilling over the guard’s hand. She hardly
recognised it and for an insane moment she thought that he had planted it on
her. It looked so pathetic, so insignificant, and she was going to get into so
much trouble because of it.
“I didn’t steal
it,” she said.
The soldier
ignored her and gave the pie a disgusted look before he tossed it over his
shoulder, wiping the gravy off his hands onto his pants. The pie splattered on
the pavement. A few seconds later a rat ran out from the shadows and started
nibbling at the chunks of protein bar it had contained.
At least the rat was
happy
, she thought miserably. The soldier pulled out a small handheld
device from another pocket. He slid the hand that was griping her forearm down
to her hand, where he straightened out a finger. He applied the device to her
finger and pricked her skin, drawing in a drop of blood into the machine. He
entered some data with his thumb.
“Don’t move your
arm,” he ordered.
Sarah knew what
he was going to do. She had watched soldiers do it often enough to people in
the streets. He was going to tag her, and once he tagged her she would be in
the system. They would charge her and sentence her, and there would be no
reprieve.
“Don’t,” she
said quickly. “I didn’t steal it.”
“Then how did it
end up in your pocket?” He looked her up and down. “I doubt you paid for it.”
“Some other kid
stole it and passed it to me.” She answered his next question before he even
asked it. “I don’t know why.”
The soldier
raised an eyebrow. “What’s his name then?”
“I’ve never met
him before. But he was tall and broad with blond hair.” She wasn’t willing to
get prosecuted for something she didn’t do, but the boy wasn’t trying to hurt
her. She didn’t have to identify him.
“So some random
stranger risked everything to steal for you, someone he doesn’t know, a pie?”
The scepticism in his voice was brutal.
Sarah shrugged
her shoulders. She knew it sounded ridiculous.
The soldier
lifted his radio to his mouth. “Any reports on other suspects from the pie
heist?” he asked, eyes on Sarah’s. He sounded bored.
“The shopkeeper
says there was a boy there as well, but only the girl had a pie.”
The soldier
considered her.
“See!” said
Sarah, glad her story was backed up, although she was confused as to why the
shopkeeper didn’t notice the pie in the boy’s hand.
“Have we found
the boy?”
“No, sir.”
He looked at
Sarah. “That doesn’t tell me anything except that there was a boy near you.”
“Look,” said
Sarah desperately, “I’ll apologise to the shop keeper. I’ll work for her to
make up the cost.” The soldier paused and raised an eyebrow at her. She kept on
talking, hoping he would listen. “I don’t have a record. I’ve never been
involved in anything like this before.” His gaze softened. “It was just a pie.”
As soon as she said it she knew it was the wrong thing to say. His gaze
hardened again, any chance of reprieve gone.
“Stealing is a
serious offence. You are taking what others have worked and paid for. Don’t
expect pity for that.”
“But-”
He cut her off
with a raised hand. “If you’re not guilty, which I doubt, then you’ll be found
innocent.”
He yanked at her
forearm, pushing her sleeve up. He stamped the exposed flesh on the inside of her
forearm with the same device that he had used to analyse her DNA. The result
was a semi-permanent black ink-mark. It didn’t hurt physically, but emotionally
it was as if she had been stabbed in the gut.
“Attend your
hearing.” He strode away. Sarah rocked on her feet, shocked. She hadn’t even
been aware of him removing his hand from her arm. Her mind whirled.
Attend
your hearing
. The words repeated themselves in her head, growing more and
more damning by the second. He hadn’t needed to complete the rest of the
sentence. Everybody knew what it meant.
Attend the hearing or we will come
for you, and if we don’t find you, we will find your family.
The details
were also unnecessary for him to say. Her case number and date of hearing were
stamped on her arm. It would stay there for a month. She wouldn’t be able to
get if off by any means short of scraping it off with a knife.
Sarah felt her
knees wobble beneath her. She glanced around quickly. A few people gave her a
passing glance, some even with pity, but most were just blank. She drew in a
deep, shuddering breath and felt her vision waver as her eyes started to fill
with tears. This wasn’t good. She had to get away before she started blubbering
in the street like some little kid. But where to go? She could hardly face
going home now. What would her mum and uncle say? She could picture the look of
incomprehension and fear in their faces. No, she couldn’t go home just yet. To
the tower then.
