A few days behind, but having this word jostle around in my head for a bit helped this one come to life. Glad I didn’t rush it.
Thanks for reading.
Weapon
Alloy straightened her back and squared her shoulders. “Like this?”
Mother looked at her like she did when she was thinking about the past. She shook away her glazed eyes and adjusted Alloy’s new outfit.
Alloy felt like a real Ascension Ranger. And not in a pretend costume kids wore on Halloween back when Mother was her age. The real kind. Mother had told her kids would go outside their houses door-to-door for candy. Alloy didn’t know what candy was, other than something sweet that rotted your teeth or made you fat if you ate too much. But going outside. Could you imagine?
Smelling unfiltered air. Seeing real birds fly and drink from puddles. Saying hello to people that walked by on the street or sharing a smile. Alloy had practiced her smile and wave in the mirror, excited for the day when she’d finally be able to use it. Someday, Mother had always said. Someday.
“You in there, sweetie?” Mother asked, catching Alloy’s waving hand.
“Uh-huh,” Alloy said. “Just practicing.”
Mother touched Alloy’s cheek. Like she did when she put her to sleep. Like she did when she told her stories of better times. Before they closed the borders. Before they forced everyone inside. Before the rules. So many rules. One meal a day. One shower a week. No TV. No reading.
“Good,” Mother said. “Because today is ‘someday.’”
Alloy’s breath caught. The tiny birds that lived in her chest zipped around, beating their wings on her heart.
Mother put her hand over Alloy’s heart. “I feel the little birds in there. I bet they’re more excited than you.” She smiled.
“No, they’re not,” Alloy said.
“You sure?” Mother put her ear to Alloy’s chest. “They sound pretty excited. Like a swarm of bees.”
“They’re not. I’ll show you.”
Alloy went through the motions Mother had taught her with a straight face.
“You forgot one thing, sweetie,” Mother said, and she drew up the sides of her mouth in a big smile.
Alloy found her face locked in a scowl. She fought it, raising her brows and inverting her frown. Mother touched her face again, and what felt forced now felt natural. It felt right.
“Good girl,” Mother said, then led Alloy to the front door. She punched a few buttons on the door panel, which had a device attached to it that Mother said would finally let them open it.
The door swished open. Sparks fell from the panel. Alloy braced for an alarm to sound.
It was quiet. Except for the pitter-patter of something. Alloy opened her eyes. Little blackbirds hopped around a puddle that reflected the sky. A drizzle fell on the empty street, but the birds didn’t seem to mind.
Mother pushed her outside. Alloy stepped back, gripping the doorframe to give her leverage against Mother, who kept pushing.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Mother said. “I’ll be right there with you.”
But she wouldn’t. She’d said Alloy had to go alone. That’s the only way it would work.
Then Alloy saw the procession. A full battalion or Rangers, their armor dripping with rain, assault rifles held to their breasts, heads straight ahead, looking at the “New Beginning” the speakers always boomed outside, marching in time.
Alloy felt her legs move. They took her forward into the center of the street, where the battalion would soon be.
One ranger saw her, looking away from the “New Beginning.”
She eased her hand up to wave, pushed her face into a smile, and pressed the buttons on her outfit in the precise order Mother had taught her.
And everything turned white.
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