Dystopian Utopia

The murmur of voices and the mechanical whir of MagTrains and hover vehicles blended together into a soothing lullaby. The sun was so bright it was almost blinding but there was just the right amount of breeze to keep things cool. A group of kids played tag, dancing across the swirled sidewalks and getting dangerously close to the MagTrack.

A well-dressed teenage girl didn’t really stand out in the masses of fashionable, prosperous people.

That’s what Wynn had been planning on. The strap of the backpack dug into her shoulder, but she ignored it. There were more pressing things to worry about, like the men watching her from the other side of the MagTrack.

Two of the children darted in front of her and Wynn smiled, but didn’t break stride.

Just a hundred more yards. The thought wasn’t any more comforting than the signs plastered to ever available inch of wall space that read Peace is the answer, or Be kind.

So far, it was only Wynn’s boots that clicked across the slick, marble sidewalk. She muttered a quick prayer that it would stay that way, her words matching the rhythm of her steps.

Fifty. . . fourty. . . thirty. . . twenty. . . ten. . .

The soft thuds of multiple boots cued Wynn into the fact that she wasn’t alone anymore. She doubled her speed, wishing she was wearing lev-boots even as her own slipped and slid. The happy shrieks of the children covered up her own cry.

Wynn struggled to keep her balance as best as she could, but the backpack swung to one side. She stumbled and her momentum carried her forward, right onto her face. The marble was unforgiving against her cheek; but it was nothing compared to the sharp pain that jolted up her back as a result of the boot planted on her spine.

Rough hands grabbed her arms and neck, while others worked to remove the backpack.

“Let me go!” Wynn screamed, even though she knew they wouldn’t. “Somebody help me!”

The men didn’t even bother to cover her mouth--there was no need. The pedestrians moved to the other side of the MagTrack, eyes averted, voices falling quiet. The children suddenly vanished and the MagTrain sped up, a silvery-blue blur. It came to an earsplitting, screeching halt, and everyone hurried onto it. Faces appeared at the window before just as quickly disappearing. It was an unspoken rule that you minded your own business.

And everyone did. Who didn’t want to maintain the illusion of peace?

Wynn thrashed around, adrenaline coursing through her veins like a drug. Biting one of the fingers that covered her mouth, she simultaneously managed to free one of her legs. She kicked out, catching one of the men in the shins. Wynn then half-lunged, half-crawled forward, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the swirled, smooth surface that might as well have been a riptide, sucking her back to drown. It wrapped around her ankles and twisted around her waist, squeezing and pulling until she couldn’t breathe.

Gasping for breath, she tried to curl up into the fetal position to protect her torso from the lethal kicks.

They’re going to kill me, they’re going to kill me. Everything was already going hazy while her instincts still screamed at her to get away. Each blow sent a jolt of pain through her body. She was relieved when her body could no longer feel them.

In that one moment, hanging between consciousness and darkness, the most obscure things seemed to stick out to Wynn. The mens’ boots were the expensive leather ones, now stained with blood. A small insect--an ant? a beatle?--skittered away from the awful scene.

I wish I could run away, too. For some reason, this thought struck her as funny.

“I got her!” A rough, male voice shouted.

A pair of arms wrapped around her waist, and Wynn couldn’t help the scream that escaped her lips.

“I’m sorry,” whoever it was said, shifting her body over his shoulder.

What?

Confusion flooded Wynn’s body as she looked downward. All the blood rushed to her head and the running feet seemed to hypnotize her into a dizzy stupor.

GET AWAY!

She mustered the last of her strength, curled her fingers into hard, bloody fists, and hit the man’s back. Her blows were weak and had no effect on him. Wynn exhaled, choked, and started coughing. Ragged pain seized her lungs and stole her breath. Her eyelids started to feel heavy, and she was mesmerized by the beautiful red pattern that seemed to trail after them from the sidewalk, snaking down the alleyway, and spattering up the metal-wooven stairs.

Wynn’s eyes slowing closed despite her struggle to keep them open, and slowly, her fingers unfurled from their loose fists. Her head flopped painfully against her captor’s shoulder but she was past the point of caring.

Her captor knew the network of alleyways and rooftops intimately, and he never faltered. The route he took was longer than what he would have taken, but he didn’t want to risk anything, epsecially with the girl on his back.

Heat rippled off the rooftops, and the sun beat down on his back. His sweat mixed with the girl’s blood, his shirt sticking to his back.

“Artemis!”

He turned in the direction of the sound, eyes still locked on sloping tiles beneath his feet.

“They chased Vyxen and Jareth for a little ways but they gave up; we’re good,” Angel called.

Artemis followed her down the vine-covered stairs to the dank space between two buildings. Angel swept her blonde hair to the side and took Wynn from him. As small as she was, Angel was exceptionally strong.

Sliding down the rough wall, Angel craddled Wynn in her lap. Artemis removed the backpack and set it to the side, not even bothering to look inside.

“Is she still breathing?” he asked.

His voice was out of place in Wynn’s dream of being held in her father’s arms while he carried her from her carseat to her crib.

Who is that? What is that metallic smell? She struggled to open her eyes, blurting out the first words that came to mind. “Daddy? Where am I?”

The sweaty boy crouched in front of her frowned. “That’s the first time I’ve ever been called that.”

“She’s alive,” a female voice--Mommy?--said.

Wait, no, that wasn’t Mommy. Mommy and Daddy were dead, and. . . it all came back in a horrifying rush, mingling with the pain attacking and hammering every part of her body.

“Who are you? Where am I?” she gasped, trying to get out of the arms that held her.

They tightened, pulling her back, while their owner tried to convince her that she was alright. The young man, who was actually kind of cute, frowned and moved closer.

“I’m Artemis, and Angel’s got you now. Everything’s gonna be fine. The men are gone and your backpack is right here.” Catching the frantic look in her eye at the mention of her backpack, he picked it up and handed it to her.

Despite the pain in her arms and the inability of the one to even move, she pulled it to her chest. The food and money was still inside.

“As to where you are. . . you’re still in Utopia.”

Wynn started laughing a raspy, hacking laugh that quickly turned to coughing. But she still couldn’t stop.

Utopia.

What a joke.