We Are All Strangers (2 page)

“Correct.” The boy glanced over at me and smiled.

“Do you understand what we are trying to do here?”

“I was told that we’re building a better society,” Hayden replied.

“A better society?” McVeigh scoffed. “Here, at Vesta Corp, we aim to build a
perfect
society.”

“By killing your fellow humans?” I countered. “Because that just makes perfect sense.”

McVeigh lowered his hand to his waist. A black pouch hung from his belt loop. He reached inside of the pouch, and he pulled out a small hard-drive. “We can fix this, Program. We can exchange your hard-drive. We can act as if this never happened.”

“I’d rather you kill me again.”

He laughed. “Did you hear that, Hayden?”

Hayden nodded, choosing to remain silent.

“Well then, I suppose it is time to get this over with. Hayden, why don’t you fetch me the guards from the hallway?”

“But sir,” he whispered. “Can’t we just erase her? Surely she’s still valuable.”

“I believe I just gave you an order.” McVeigh hissed. “Either you fetch the guards, or you’ll be joining Jessica below.”

I watched as Hayden exited the room, leaving me with Charles McVeigh. It’d be easy to kill him. It’d take a few seconds at the most. He wouldn’t be able to defeat me. I could take him out now and possibly escape this hellhole.

Maybe I’d even be able to stop Vesta Corp.

Maybe I’d be able to save a few lives.

Maybe I’d –

There was tugging on my lower back, and I could feel someone yanking on my hard-drive. I tried focusing on what was going on, but I could barely make out where I was. A pair of dress shoes stood in my line of sight. “Is if safe to transport her in her current state?” Someone asked.

“She’s useless like this, I assure you.”

Restraints were secured around my wrists and feet. “We don’t want anyone getting hurt now.” McVeigh whispered in my ear. His hand moved towards my lower back. He pulled on my hard-drive and for a moment everything turned to black.

Something clicked in my back, and I could feel my body restarting. “What did you do?” I tried to sound threatening, but the words barely escaped my lips.

“The last thing we want is for your hard-drive to be accidentally installed on a newer Program,” he smirked. “I changed it back to ensure we get rid of the problem once and for all.”

“You piece of –“

“Now, now, Twelve. Show some respect.” McVeigh slapped me across the face. “Guards, bring Twelve to the deactivation room.”

The guards gripped my forearms tightly as they dragged me from the Pod room.

I made eye contact with their newest monster. Program Thirteen. The poor girl didn’t have a clue as to what she was, or what they’d done to her. I could see it in her eyes. I could see her desire to satisfy Charles McVeigh and his servants.

I remembered that feeling. I remembered wanting to be the perfect Program; wanting to do anything it took to live amongst the humans, because that was what I was created to do, after all. But I knew better now.

I knew that everything they’d said, everything they’d taught us, was wrong.

They erased our former lives and implanted new ones. They erased us in order to gain control. That was all Charles McVeigh cared about: control. And he had control at Vesta Corp. He decided who he wanted for his next Program. He decided what we knew. He decided when we were no longer useful to the company. He decided everything, because as long as our Programs remained intact, we would obey his every desire.

But I wouldn’t. Not anymore. Not now that I knew the truth. Not now when I knew who I was. I was Jocelyn Lawrence, a twenty-year-old resident of Seattle, Washington. I had a family: two brothers, a mother and a father. I had a life before they stole it from me.

And so did she - Thirteen. She deserved to know the truth. She deserved to know what they’d done to her. I tried to push forward, to break-free from their hold, but it didn’t work.

“You can’t control me!” I screamed. “I know who I am. I know what it is that you are doing here! I will stop this. Do you understand? I will find a way to get the truth out there to the others!”

“I’m sure you will.” One of the guards laughed. “I’m sure you will.”

They pulled me further down the hall, away from Thirteen, away from the others. We stopped in front of two large metal doors. “Program identification,” a voiced boomed over an intercom.

“Program Twelve,” one of the guards responded.

“And who ordered the deactivation?” The voice demanded.

“Charles McVeigh ordered Program Twelve to be deactivated.”

“Thank you.” A loud buzz sounded as the two doors opened up. “Program, please enter the room.”

The guards released their hold on my forearms and shoved me inside the room. “Guess you won’t be spreading the truth after all, huh?” He smirked.

I turned around to run after him, but the doors slammed shut before I could reach him

The room was dark, and eerily quiet. I tried scanning for an escape, but the only way out appeared to be the same way I’d come in. And those doors could only be opened from the control room. “Shit.”

“Hello to you, too.” A large monitor beamed to life across from me, showcasing an older man who appeared to be in his sixties. He wore a white coat, like the others, and an identification card that read Rupert Sounders, Head of Deactivation.

“How does it feel to be a murderer?” I asked him.

“Me? A murderer?” he smirked. “By the time Programs like you reach me, they are already dead.”

“One of these days, one of McVeigh’s precious Programs will successfully take down this company,” I warned. “And when they do, I hope you remember my face, because I’m only the beginning of what is to come.”

“I highly doubt that’ll happen.” The monitor died, killing off the only source of light in the room. I could hear footsteps behind me, but I refused to turn and look. “I highly doubt that’ll happen because McVeigh has already taken care of the problem. Jessica is gone now, and the other caretakers are far too loyal to attempt a Program alteration.”

“That’s what you think.” I thought back to the boy in the Security Tube. His bright blue eyes – eyes full of hope. They didn’t see what I did. They saw a boy desperate to impress McVeigh. But he was capable of destroying Vesta Corp. He was capable of ending this. Their own ignorance would be their downfall.

“Goodbye, Twelve.” A voice whispered in my ear. A hand tugged on my hard-drive. I could feel my body shutting down, and I let out one final warning.

“Soon,” I told him. “Soon.”

T
hey brought in a new one today. A boy. He appears to be my age. He’s still dressed in his street clothes: torn blue jeans, a stained red polo, and black Converse hi-tops. Soon enough, they will have him dressed like the rest of us. Wearing a gray t-shirt with black pants, and a name tag pinned to the shirt, reminding us that we’re still alive.

“You know the rules, Harper,” the woman tells me. Of course, I do. No touching, no lingering eye contact, just a single nod and then you are to move along. I nod towards the woman and move off towards the side.

I stop near a window and peer down over the now vacant city. Well, vacant in the sense that humanity no longer lives there. The zombies overtook everything. Our lives. Our memories. Our families. Everything but hope.

The world as we knew it has fallen apart and has been replaced by a shadow of what it once was. I guess I shouldn’t complain, though. After all, I am still alive. Not everyone can say that.

The problem is that we’re not allowed to do anything. We can’t leave the building, although I suppose that is understandable. We are not allowed to form relationships outside of our families; those of us who still have families, that is.

They figure we’re all going to die anyway. What’s the point of forming connections now? We’re just supposed to stand here and watch as society crumbles.

Like most of the people here, my family was killed during the evacuation. I don’t actually remember why. There were no bite marks on either of them. I have seen enough zombies in my lifetime to know that they weren’t infected. They were only trying to get me to safety; to get
us
to safety. But it ended up costing them their lives.

I look back on that day constantly, trying to understand what made the guards kill them.
Maybe it was a mix up
, I tell myself. Maybe the guards were mistaken by their raggedy clothes, and dirt covered skin. It is the only possibility I can think of, and it’s an absurd one at that.

If I look down below, out the corner of the window, I can make out the precise spot where they died. I remember watching as my mother fell to the ground, dread filling her eyes. I stood there frozen, not wanting to leave them. The people I’d been so dependent on my entire life were dying in front of me, and there wasn’t a thing I could do to stop it.

There is no way of stopping death, not here. You can prolong it. But at some point, it is bound to catch up to you.
The joys of living in a zombie infested world.

“Let’s go,” the guard yelled. I could feel someone tugging on my arm, but I couldn’t move. “Harper, go! Get inside!” My father collapsed to the ground, blood covering his pale yellow sweater. “Don’t leave me,” I cried. But they were both gone.

My father’s body was lost in the fury of people running for safety, and my mother had become a meal for the zombies swarming us. “We need to go!” When I didn’t move the guard lifted me up, and carried me inside.

When the guards went back to recover them, at my insistence, the zombies had already consumed their remains. There was nothing left to claim. My parents were gone. And even though I already knew it, even though I’d seen the chaos...I didn’t want to believe it.

But now that I am on my own, stuck living in a government guarded building; it’s hard not to believe that they are actually gone. Which only makes it hurt worse.

I often wonder why it had to be them. Why not me? Why would the guards kill them and leave me alive? I was just as dirty as they were. My clothes were just as raggedy as theirs. What was the difference? I often think it was because they felt as though they couldn’t kill a child.

Maybe that is their weakness; maybe that is what will be the end of us all. A random zombie child running rampant through the facility we consider to be safe.

A scream from the back room breaks my train of thought.
It must be the new boy
, I think. Every new person they bring in must receive a vaccination within a half hour of being here, that is their rule. They insert the vaccination at the tip of your spine, using the same kind of needle they used to use for epidurals – back when people had babies. I notice the same woman that reprimanded me earlier walking over. I must be paying too much attention to the backroom.
Control yourself, Harper
, I tell myself,
or else they’ll throw you back on the street.

“Harper, if I have to speak with you once more, you know what will happen.” I follow her gaze out the window, and down onto the street below us. The street is swarming with zombies now. They have a woman in their grasp. Her red hair stands out against the ashen zombies surrounding her. I stand there watching as they rip her to shreds, because that is all that I can do. “Now I know you don’t want that, am I right?”

“No, no...” I respond, my eyes darting back to the floor; hoping to erase the images of the horror outside.

It isn't as though the rules are hard to obey. I just don’t personally care for them. I long for some sort of bond, a conversation with people other than the guards; especially since they only speak to us when we’re in trouble. I want to be able to look someone in the eye as I speak to them. I want to be able to speak freely. I want my life back. Being alone in a place like this, unable to even so much as befriend a stranger? It can drive a person mad.

As soon as the woman walks away, I lean against the window and close my eyes. There’s nowhere else to go really. The beds are full of the elderly, and the children have taken over all of the chairs. Since we’re not supposed to talk, the children occupy themselves with books. It’s so quiet in here that you could hear the sound of a pin drop, but I guess that’s a good thing. At least we’ll be able to hear a zombie moan if they were to find their way inside. That is one positive.

“I’m Keegan,” a voice to my left whispers. It is an unfamiliar voice.

I look over briefly at the stranger beside me, and quickly proceed to lower my head. The last thing I need is to get in trouble again.

“What, you’re not going to tell me your name?” he asks.

I point to the nametag on my shirt.

“I can’t exactly read it. The ink is pretty faded.”

“Harper, my name is Harper.” I don’t look at him as I respond. I would rather that the guards think I am talking to myself. At least then the consequence won’t be as bad. I hope.

“Nice to meet you, Harper.” He inches closer to me. His hand accidentally grazes mine; at least I think it is on accident. The shock of his touch sends my heart racing. I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. Before he can move any closer, I dart for the other side of the facility where the makeshift patio is.

It isn’t a real patio, of course. A real patio would make it all too easy for the virus to find its way in. This patio reminds me of a jail cell. It is a small white room surrounded by metal bars. It is also the only place that is usually empty; the only place that allows for some privacy. I slide to the floor, leaning my head back against the white stone wall, and close my eyes.

I hear footsteps nearby. They come to a halt a few feet away. I listen as someone plops down on the floor beside me. I open my eyes and see Keegan sitting next to me, his hand on his knee. He’s too close. Way too close. Worried a guard may see us, I slowly begin to inch away from him.

“Do I smell bad?” he laughs.

“You do realize that we’re not supposed to talk, right? We shouldn’t even be sitting this close to each other. If the guards...”

“Ah.” He lifts his hands in front of him to protest. “They’ve told me the rules. I just don’t agree with them.” He shrugs.