My mind raced thinking about where my friends could be. When the takeover had hit, I'd watched all of them descend into the woods while the three-hundred ‘crew’ members had headed into the woods after them. I knew it would be hard to get through the crew, but I had to find my friends. It was like everyone had vanished. The possibility of all of them being dead wasn’t plausible to me, but I couldn’t comprehend what else had happened.
That night, I lay awake hungry, drenched in sweat, and restless, recapping the day prior's events trying to make sense of it all. Nothing ever came from it, and my loss of sleep made me even more confused.
The next day wrapped its long claws around us early, with the heat choking us out before the sun even had a chance. We sat on the floor, up against the walls, our clothing at a bare minimum in an attempt to stay cool with no success.
We heard a thud and glanced over to see one of the women in our group drop to the floor in a slump, unconscious. Everyone rushed to her aid. One man called out, “She’s not sweating. Her breathing is really fast and shallow.” In my mind, I knew it was a heat stroke, but there was nothing we could do. Her brain would swell and cause damage, but there was nothing we could do for her.
We had tried to call for help, tried to listen for any sign of life beyond the walls, but there was nothing. People tried with all their might to help her anyway. They waved shirts in the air for her to create air movement only to exhaust themselves, and yelled at the top of their lungs for help or water. No one ever came though.
Hours passed, then her seizures started. Her body went rigid for moments at a time, one arm outstretched in the air, until she went limp. This happened for hours on end. I watched as people hovered her, trying to help; turning her onto her side to prevent choking, but it didn’t matter. I sat against the wall watching, emotionless, as her breathing stopped with one last seizure. She seemed to choke on nothing for a few seconds until everything ceased. They checked for a pulse quietly, as I closed my eyes and waited for my turn.
“Please!” one man cried at the door. “Please...” His loud pleas for help turned into quiet whimpers and sobs. The night passed slowly.
The morning of the third day, someone opened the door. It was Smith. “Anyone thirsty?” he asked.
I looked at him through tired eyes and was too weak to reply. It was amazing what heat and dehydration could do to a person. I felt unable to do anything.
“Let’s go, come on. Let’s go get some water,” he said.
No one moved.
“Come on! Move!” Smith yelled.
Still, no one moved.
I spoke up, “We’re too weak. I don’t think I can stand up, Smith.” My voice shook as I tried to explain our situation. “A girl died. She had a heat stroke. It's been too hot in here,” I said. I was desperate. “Please help us...” A dry tear fell from my eyes as I almost turned hysterical. I shot a glance over towards her lifeless body and caught his eyes light with panic.
He stepped away and locked the door. Everyone thought he had left us there to die, but I knew better. Smith had done a terrible thing, but he had a conscience. Whether it was stupidity or orders, he had left us in here, but I don’t think he realized there would be deadly consequences. Not until it happened at least.
Immediately after he left, people started talking about how they needed to fight back. Start a rebellion. One man attempted to persuade everyone to overpower the men together when they came back. No one said anything back, just like me, they were weak. Another spoke of waiting until they had strength, then rebelling. While people didn’t sit in silence like the last proposition, it wasn’t met with a lot of enthusiasm. Another sat up and said he would ‘take one for the team’, and take out Smith. Everyone seemed in favor of that idea.
I sat quietly in the corner. It wasn’t that I didn’t want Smith dead, because I did. It was more so an internal battle that I felt like he was still my friend. Yes, he had killed our leader, betrayed us, and starved and imprisoned us—but to me—he was still a friend. Though I was angry, I was scared for him too. I held out hope that he was still a good person, even if he wasn’t.
After we waited for a while, Smith and three other crew members walked in the door with barrels of water for us. They left them in the middle of the floor and left again, returning shortly with soy shakes to provide us with protein and carbs. They left those in the middle of the room too and silently walked out without saying a word or helping us. To most, it would seem heartless, but to me, it was Smith’s mercy.
Two large men walked over to the girl’s body, picking up each end to haul her away. I wasn’t sure what they would do with a body here on Circadia. We hadn’t had anyone die before Leslie took over, we hadn’t even come close. It never occurred to me to think about graves or burials. I hadn’t stuck around long enough after they killed Idris to observe what would be done, I was too busy running. The memory of Idris’ death was unwelcome, but came flooding back in. I didn’t think I would ever forget the look in his eyes, or
