“Survival of the Chosen, 5”

by Brianna G. Harte

“They can’t possibly know. We’ve all been so careful.”

“Are you sure?” Dad’s voice was still quiet and level, though an edge was added to it. “What about Ivi? You and I both know that she is terrible at keeping secrets, especially under pressure.”

“You don’t suppose that the government knows that, do you?” My palms began to sweat. I combed through my hair, trying to walk around. “I mean, they haven’t been here long enough to know us all, and it’s not like they care about us as individuals anyway.”

Dad brushed Drew’s hairs to the side. Skin sagged as though every minute he aged a year. “We can never be sure.”

“There’s something I’m sure about. They’re not going to leave us alone, but they won’t care if we get hurt in the process.” I willed to look out a window. “I mean, look at my hands. This glue they had us use to repair the pipes is still on them. So dry and sticky. Yuck. And it didn’t help that my hand had splinters from earlier. And yesterday, Kirvani almost lost her fingers to the handsaw, and they didn’t blink an eye.”

“Just ignore them.”

“We can’t just stand by. Someone has to speak when the ones in charge, or trying to be in charge, don’t care.”

Drew’s eyes began to flutter, causing years to lift from our father’s face. “But we have people we need to protect. They’ve got technology we likely don’t even know about, and could easily turn them on us. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me, Dad. They’re not listening. Not right now, at least.”

Fabrics rubbed together as Drew attempted to sit up.

“Very well. Unless you can take out what makes them most powerful. Perhaps then, we can get them to care about us all. But that’s a silly thought. There is no way.”

Copyright © 2016 Brianna G. Harte. All rights reserved.

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