Margarth and Ren strolled beside the meandering river in companionable silence, where the serenity was broken only by the gentle lapping of the waves against the bank and the noisy rattling of a discarded drink can as it rolled in the gutter. A playful breeze hovered around them and the draft lifted more than Margarth's hair as she looked at Ren occasionally from the corner of her eye, a shy smile on her rosebud lips. The deserted street was bathed in an inky gloom (mandatory lights out took effect at ten and it was already past eleven) but the reflected light from the moon allowed them to see one another in an indistinct glow. They stopped under a tree, a gnarled giant of a tembusu, arrested by the sight of the tree in full citrine bloom — a tiny sun shining valiantly in the murky darkness. Crimson berries crunched noisily underfoot as the couple moved closer together.
Without warning, a beam of light pierced the night, throwing the twosome into sharp relief. Before they could react, a strident voice blared from a megaphone. "All individuals must obey the Curfew Rule! Anyone found disobeying the Curfew Rule will be sent for training!"
It was Margarth who recovered first.
"Quick," she yelled into Ren's ear, "they'll release the canines next!"
They broke into a sprint, the pounding of their feet as clear as pistol shots in the dead of the night. Behind them, Margarth heard the excited barks of the dogs who would be set upon them soon. The yelps were muffled now but the canines would draw nearer eventually. Routinely starved, the dogs knew they would only get a good meal out of fallen prey. Margarth saw an opaque structure rising in the shadows, as welcome a sight as the Carpathia must have been to the weary survivors of the Titanic. Her arm reached out to tug Ren's sleeve.
"Shelter there," she panted, pointing at the building urgently. Ren nodded in agreement. They could not stay ahead much longer. It was better to hide in a large anonymous building than to keep running. No one they had known had ever outrun the canines or the Pax Keepers. With a sudden cry of pain, Ren tumbled to the ground. Margarth gasped in shock and saw that he had been shot in the calf. Blood was pouring out of the wound and in the dimly lit street, Ren appeared even paler than a ghost.
"Leave me here," Ren said thickly. Margarth knew from weekly Community Education lessons (compulsory from the age of six) that the drug from the bullet would already be coursing through his veins, and in five minutes, he would be unconscious.
"And leave you to the tender mercies of the Pax Keepers?" Margarth asked cheerlessly. She draped Ren's arm around her neck, and continued resolutely towards their sole hope of salvation. All those Physical Education lessons which the teachers had insisted on were coming in handy now, she thought grimly.
As a result of Ren's injury, the short walk was akin to crossing the perilous Gobi Desert on foot. When they reached the building, Margarth looked up, sending a quick prayer to whichever god still existed nowadays. The building remained hard and impassive, looming over them like a stern headmaster. The Pax Keepers would expect them to move upwards, so she decided to hide in the basement. 'Hurry up, Ren will be out cold soon!' she screamed in her head. Lurching forward while supporting Ren's sluggish form, Margarth spotted a janitor's room with its door ajar. It would have to do for now. She pushed Ren, who was almost comatose, into the room and followed suit.
The chamber was pitch dark and she uttered a stifled cry of pain as she toppled over what felt like a bucket. She sat down gingerly on the floor with her back against the door, listening for anything that could portend the unwelcome arrival of the Pax Keepers. She trailed one finger tenderly against Ren's chiselled face as he lay immobile in her arms. Other than Ren's ragged breathing, there was complete silence. Even so, she decided to stay under cover longer; she did not put it past the Pax Keepers to feign departure and lie secretly in wait instead. In any case, she was sure to attract attention if she dragged Ren out into the open now. She itched to use the flashlight in her mobile phone to examine their surroundings but mindful of the beam that would spill under the door and into the corridor, she resisted the temptation.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she noticed a pinhead of light in the ceiling. It was so small that she blinked, thinking that her eyes were playing tricks on her. Moving Ren's inert form gently to the ground, she upturned the bucket and stood on it, running her palms and fingertips cautiously on the ceiling panels and screwing up her eyes to examine what she thought she had seen. To her tremendous shock, one of the panels moved inwards silently and a solemn face peered at her. She gasped in surprise and fell off the bucket with a clatter. She looked up to see that a gun had materialised out of nowhere. 'It's a Pax Keeper' was Margarth's last thought before drifting into unconsciousness.