Outside

 

Prompt 1: Freedom | Word count: 1200 Words Exactly | Due Date: Jan 27, 2021

 

Pexels Photo by Enrico Preini

 Something has awakened me. A noise from my chamber, perhaps, though I can see the room is empty. My body is drenched in sweat. My senses filled with foreboding, like a premonition carried over from nightmare. 

I was dreaming of being hunted. I don’t even know what that means, to be hunted. I’m vaguely familiar with the term, from conversations overheard during my shifts in the cooking chambers. In my dream, I was being chased, threatened by someone unseen who intended to harm me in some unknown way.

I know that hunting is a thing that’s done Outside. But only a select few are ever allowed out.

 There’d been talk last night about the Outside. Discussions around the evening meal that must have stayed in my subconscious and trickled into my dreams. People rarely speak about the Outside. It’s not taboo, it just isn’t done. Even the stories of how we came to exist in this subterranean homeland are mostly forgotten now.

 And yet, I’ve heard more talk about Outside in recent days than I have in all of my sixteen years.  Whispered suggestions that we’ve been fed on lies.

 “Outside isn’t the dangerous place we’ve been given to believe,” they said. “There’s freedom Outside, even if our Forefathers believed otherwise, when they locked us all inside.”

“It’s been more than four generations. Hasn’t it been long enough?”

 I sit up in my bed, pushing these thoughts aside. The sleeping chamber is empty and my sister is gone. I notice her chest is open, the contents removed. Not just her everyday clothes, but her ceremonial dress is gone, and her jewelry as well.

 “Darie,” I think, “what have you done?”

 Darie’s always been a rebel. A nonconformist, as Mother would say.  Yet, Darie is the one Mother chose to take her place as the next faction leader when Mother eventually steps down.

 I have an idea where I will find Darie, though it seems early for such a venture. I suspect she will have gone to the same place I followed her yesterday; an unused section of the subterranean where I found a surprising number of people gathered.

 “We know there are others living Outside,” a man had shouted from the front of the crowd. “We know this to be true. Why do we allow ourselves to be trapped inside this subterranean land? Why shouldn’t we be allowed to experience life Outside?”

 They crowd had grown more agitated as the gathering continued. They were riled up and edgy when the meeting adjourned. I hoped Darie knew what she was getting into, and not just following a group of dissidents for the sake of having something different and exciting to do.

 I dress quickly in a loose tunic and snug leggings, soft soled shoes for my feet. I don’t bother trying to tame my hair, just pull it back into a loose knot as I hurry from the chamber.

 The place is a bustle of activity, a typical morning for most of the faction. Here in the main passage there’s a constant stream of people, moving in the direction of the eating chambers or the washing pools. They’re going in the opposite direction, paying little attention to me as I pass them on my way to the meeting place my sister led me to yesterday.

After traversing several long passages, I finally reach a narrow path that leads down into a level of the subterranean that’s rarely used. I grab up a lit torch when I reach the end of normal living space, before moving deeper into this unused network of caves.

 I hear murmurs of speech as I approach the innermost chamber. Torches have been set in notches in the wall, so I extinguish mine before taking several steps into the room. Pressing myself against the rough wall inside a small alcove, I blend in with the semi-darkness.

 Voices are raised in excited agitation. I can tell that something is about to happen. It takes but a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. The impatience I hear in the crowd is reflected in the restless way the people are fidgeting, shifting from foot to foot, barely constrained as all eyes fix on a point along the southern wall.

 That’s when I see my sister, standing at the wall, dressed in her ceremonials. Two women in similar attire stand beside her. Before them is the man who spoke at the meeting yesterday, also dressed in official costume.

“Oh, Darie,” I think again, “what are you doing?”

 “The time has come to take back our freedom,” the man calls in a voice loud enough for all to hear. “The time has come to act.”

 He motions to the women, who respond by turning to face the wall, raising their arms high above their heads, taking hold of something I can’t make out. Whatever it is causes their muscles to strain with effort as they pull it down towards themselves. I don’t understand the purpose of their actions.

But in the next moment, I do understand, and the foreboding I felt when I awoke this morning suddenly flares to life in my mind. Light is penetrating our sanctuary from Outside.

 My sister is opening a forbidden door, tricked into thinking there is freedom Outside.

 The light is gradual at first as the door rises slowly, until the women gain momentum and the door rises faster. Higher. Blinding light shines through the doorway, shattering the darkness of the subterranean sanctuary that is my home.

 Beyond the brightness of the doorway is the Outside, exposed for the first time in more than a hundred years.

 The crowd has become alive with excitement and feverish curiosity. They shield their eyes and press in on one another to gain better vantage with which to see.

 Seven armed warriors, silhouetted against the brilliance of the Outside stand there, waiting, as if they knew this door would open at this time. Rushing in with maddening cries, with long, wicked blades, they begin wounding and killing my people.

The people start yelling in fear.

 I go berserk with anger and frantic energy. I put aside my fear and push my way into the melee of slaughter, past the people who allowed this terror into our subterranean home. Somehow I am able to forge a path to the southern wall where my sister had been and make my way to the mechanism she had operated when she opened the door.

 Darie and the two women are lying grotesquely in a pool of blood. They would have been the first to be killed by the warriors, stabbed and trampled and left behind. My heart aches for Darie, but I can spare her no thought. I can see the mechanism that opened the door, can see that there are three. Even if I can manage one, which I doubt, since I’m not nearly as tall as my sister, I can only work one at a time. Will I be alive to work a second?

 At least I will die trying.