The smell of unwashed humanity and fear is horrendous. With no real light to see by, I close my eyes and try to breathe through my mouth, but it only makes me gag as the smell coats my tongue. A body sways into me as the container we're all packed in like sardines sways back and forth.
If it wasn't for the overly loud growl of the engine, I'd believe we were on a ship. Something bumps my foot so I huddle my knees closer to my chest, holding my legs as tight as I can. Tears tickle the back of my throat, but I won't cry. It's my own fault that I got caught out during selection day, the day that the higher-ups send their goons to gather up all the street runners.
I can feel my hands shake at the thought of what could happen to me. Not that I have any idea what it could be. Nothing but whispered rumors told on dark nights while I hid under discarded tarps or laid on the debilitating roofs of homes that survived the quake.
The thought that even half the rumors are true fills my mouth with bile that I swallow back before adding a new scent to the overcrowded vehicle.
The sound of the engine changes, making me tense my muscles and squint my eyes open a little. The vehicle slows before it jerks to a stop, throwing people off balance and into each other. I grab my hood tighter over my head, hoping to somehow protect myself from the flying elbows and legs that are knocking into me everywhere. Before anyone can right themselves, a giant door is rolled open.
Sunlight streams into the darkened container, blinding us all and causing the smell of fear to escalate. I watch through squinted eyes as people are jerked roughly out of the metal box and led out of sight. I feel my ears flutter nervously under their wrapping and pray that the binding hasn't come undone.
A rough shove has me losing my balance and I catch myself with my hands, claws extending instinctively at the sudden violence. A woman next to me gasps and I look up into her startled face, seeing her eyes widen as they take in my features. I watch as she closes her mouth quickly and seems to come to some sort of decision. Bending down, she grasps my upper arm and helps me to stand, shoving me quickly under the folds of her cloak.
Not understanding why she's hiding me, I freeze against her. Moving only when she does. When we make it to the front of the truck, she pulls me in front of her quickly and hunches over. She looks like she's holding her stomach when really she has her arms wrapped around me tightly. Her huddled form is smothering, but I try to help her hide me as she's half lifted, half dragged out of the container.
The arms around me jerk and we're dragged roughly to the side of what I can see now is a large white box truck that people during the Tech age used to move large amounts of cargo. The woman slowly shuffles us towards the gap between the container and the driver's cab.
Turning so she's facing away from the truck; she shifts me so I'm standing behind her.
"I know what you are, little one, don't be afraid. When I tell you to, you need to climb on top of the container and lay flat, so no one sees you. Soon as you get the chance, run, and don't get caught again," she whispers to me.
Shock at the woman's confession and her willingness to help me escape consumes me. No one has ever helped me, and I feel a need to do something for her in return. Before I can say anything to her, she taps my side and I crouch down, silently climbing into the small gap and up to the roof of the container.
Before going over, I glance down at where the woman who rescued me was, but she was gone. Quickly going over the side, I pull my cloak around my body and listen as someone below starts barking orders.
"Women to the left, men to the right. Children are to stay here."
I can hear children and women screaming and crying as they're separated from each other. The sounds of flesh meeting flesh signal a fight has broken out and I can't help but peek down to see what's going on.
Three Collectors are trying to restrain a man who looks like he's trying to get to the group of children that have been herded closest to me. A little boy is yelling in the arms of another Collector, kicking and screaming to go back with his dad.
Unable to witness the heartbreak going on below me, I roll onto my back and stare at the stars overhead with my hands over my ears. A shooting star streaks across the sky and I remember a nursery rhyme I'd heard about wishing on stars.
Closing my eyes, I wish with all my soul that things were different, that they were safe.