The Circadia Chronicles: Omnibus: The Complete Colonization Sci-Fi Series by Heather Heckadon (portable ebook reader .txt) 📕

"Is this where we were supposed to end up?" I asked.

"Yes. We made it. We’re only a few blocks from Flora Fountain. We need to blend in with the people outside, so make your appearance dirty and tired." As he spoke, he grabbed some of the dust and dirt off the floor and ground it into his pants and shirt.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Do it, unless you want to get caught."

I swiped some dust off a nearby shelf and gently ran it through my brown hair. Then I used my index fingers to create the appearance of dark shadows under my eyes. I sat on the ground and rolled in the dry and dusty dirt for a moment, then rose to my feet.

The bodyguard approached me and grabbed a pocket knife from his side. I yelped as he tore two holes in the knees of my jeans and cut off the hem of my shirt. "Is that really necessary?" I asked. It was my favorite t-shirt.

"I won't be seen outside these walls with you unless we do this. Understand?"

I nodded. I wasn't sure what would happen if someone found me out. Would they capture me? Who would “they” be, and what would they do with me? What would they do to anyone with me? The questions were vague and possibly misguided, but I still couldn't fully comprehend the situation. It felt like something was missing.

The bodyguard stood at the building’s exit. "Are you ready?"

I looked down at my tattered clothes, threw my hands in the air, and laughed. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess!"

He winked in an uncharacteristic show of humanity and opened the door to the street.

Chaos. That's the only way I could explain it. I thought back to the Hollywood movies and the way they portrayed India. They always made it seem so full of bustling life. The reality now was chaos without the enrichment. It was as if all the vibrant colors I thought of had faded out, and angry, hungry looks had replaced the smiling faces that celebrated culture. It was desolate. We quickly closed the door behind us and slowly walked down the street in an attempt to blend.

The more we walked, the more I noticed. What seemed like pure chaos with no rhythm turned out to have a clear system. It all revolved around food and money, but mostly food. Children begged in the street for either. Pickpockets ran rampant. Men did hard labor like hauling heavy loads of dried goods. Children cut small incisions in the bags to steal a morsel of food. At the middle point of the street on one side, a large food stand stood tall with fresh fruit and vegetables. When we passed, I saw crazy large amounts of money exchanged for a small piece of fruit. We were talking one hundred dollars for an apple. We thought eating fresh was expensive before Circadia, but we had no idea. Everyone worked or tried to get food one way or another.

The bodyguard and I moved through the thousands of people shuffling through their lives as best we could, but it took longer than I expected. A distance that should have only taken ten minutes was now forty-five. Every street and side road was like this. Filth, people, and vehicles covered the pavement. It was packed. After resigning myself to the fact it would take time to reach Axel, I took in the scenery and tried to understand the cacophony happening in front of me.

While intently watching, I caught the eye of a young boy on a mission running in and out of the crowd. I focused on him out of curiosity and followed his every move as he zoomed around in front of us. Once he was about three car lengths in front of us, I watched as he held his pocket out to catch rice from the bag he had slit open. A slight grin tugged my lips as I shared the accomplishment on his face. Then, it abruptly ended. A large man grabbed the boy by his wrist and yelled. I couldn't hear his words over the hustle and bustle, but the kid looked scared. I rushed ahead to find out what was happening. The bodyguard followed closely behind while yelling for me to stop, but I had to know what would happen.

When I was close enough, I heard the man say, "You fucked up.” The child's face turned wet with tears nearly instantly, and he frantically tried to pull away. The man dragged him down the street, and I launched into a run. When I caught up with him, I grabbed his shoulder.

The man turned on his heels with the boy still in tow. Once he faced me, I panicked. He didn't look that big or tall from a distance, but he did now that I stood directly in front of him. I took a moment to gather my reserve, then cleared my throat and spoke up. "Excuse me, sir. What will happen to the boy?"

"Law of retaliation," the man said.

"And that means?"

"He stole food from someone. That person might miss a meal because of it. For the next three days, this boy will be locked away and not fed so the punishment is equal to the crime." The man grinned and puffed out his chest as the boy dangled by his arm on the ground.

Now that I was closer, I observed the boy a little better. He was skin and bones. Obvious malnutrition issues were present, and his lips had chapped from dehydration. I looked up at the man and back down at the boy, trying to signal him to look at his condition, but he blatantly ignored the social cue. "Sir, I don't think he would survive three days without food."

The man growled. "Maybe he should have thought about that before he decided to steal this