What happens when the world goes blind for two years…

Door.

3 steps.

Swing right.

Down 14 stairs- don’t get caught on the last bit of carpet.

For the thousandth time I make my way through my house using nothing but memory and the occasional gliding my fingertips on the walls. When I make it downstairs I make a left to the kitchen, running my hands on the borders of the pictures hanging from the walls.

February 13, 2023

My first summer camp group photo.

May 1, 2020

The birth of my baby sister.

December 23, 2017

My parents 20th anniversary.

The photos get older as I slowly walk by them. I would give anything to see them again.

November 17, 2016

I pause feeling the old, splintered frame on that one and fight back the sting in my eyes.

It’s better not to dwell on things that can’t be fixed.

I step by the kitchen, deciding I’m no longer hungry, and go to my parents room. Little feet pad the wood floor when I assume Carey makes her way out of her room. When I sweep her up before she can hurt herself she lets out a squeal.

Not being able to see never bothered her; she was too young when it happened to remember how it was to see in the first place.

She tugs on my hair and gets comfortable on my hip.

“No running or you’ll hurt yourself, got it?”

I can practically feel her pout when she responds “Fine.”

Taking a moment to remember where I am, I turn back to the kitchen to at least get Carey something to eat.

The lights must be bright when I set her down in a kitchen stool from the island.

When was the last time the brightness bothered me?

The thoughts flit out of my head when Carey starts up again, asking me little questions like What day is it? or When will we go outside? She might not be able to see but she must love the feeling of the sun on her skin. I rub at my eyes as I get on my tippy toes to reach the glassware on the high cabinet.

“Mei Mei, can you do my hair after thisss?”

Amazing. She still cares about her hair even in the event that no one will see.

She reminds me more of someone else than I’d like her to.

“Sure I will.” That’s harder to say than I’d like it to be. It’s difficult to find motivation these days.

Putting the glass bowl on the marble counter fills the room with a sharp but soft clink. I spin back around to the fridge, grabbing the cold metal bar and tugging on it until a cold blast hits my face. My eyes burn a little more than I’d like them to.

I pull out the government issued food that every family in America has been provided because it’s “safer, healthier, and easier!”. The government helped most struggling families after the Great Blinding- until about a year ago. Only priorities get certain help and it doesn’t surprise me after what they did to him.

Don’t ask questions.

That’s how you stay safe here.

The persistent beeping of the microwave drags me out of my thoughts. I take it out and juggle it in my hands, trying to avoid the heat. Emptying out the contents into the glass bowl I step behind Carey and run my fingers through her hair.

When she was born it was a dirty blonde like mine, I wonder if it got darker over the years.

There’s an ache right behind my eyes I just can’t place.

Sweeping up all the loose strands, I wrap them into a high messy bun. The corresponding giggle is enough to tell me Carey’s satisfied with the hairstyle though she can’t see it.

There’s a ringing- is something on fire-

Before I can finish my thought a blinding light fills my vision and I can’t help but gasp. Panic starts to rise in my throat when my eyes become blurred- then perfectly clear.

“MEI!”

I can’t help but jump, she must’ve been calling me for a while now. But I can’t respond when I realize I can see her.

Dark, dirty blonde hair and all.

She looks so much like me-

RED.

So much red at the corner of my vision.

I turn left and right and simply freeze.

On each surface.

Each wall.

Each bowl, counter, brush.

Even on the fridge.

“DON’T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE” is scrawled in messy handwriting absolutely everywhere.

“Yes.” I absentmindedly reply to Carey, walking over to the fridge to drag my hands over the paint.

Still wet.

“Today’s the day, y’know…”

She’s always careful of my reaction to her mentions of that day.

She knows it took more from me than just sight.

I wipe my hands on my pants to rid them of the insidious red and rush around the kitchen, really checking if it’s the same message everywhere.

“Don’t worry about that. Let's go outside.”

I can do it.

Simple instructions will keep me alive.

When I get outside with Carey the sun feels far too bright but she looks happy as could be.

If only she could see the cameras in the corner of every block.

Don’t tell them you can see.

I can do that.

Avoiding the cameras I lead her to the center of the yard, trying not to react seeing the military trucks milling about the street.

All the “work” they said they’ve been doing has actually been these trucks-

“Excuse me? Can I help you?”

A soldier.

Looking right at me.

Stop staring, act like you can’t see.

I hollow out my gaze to look like I’m not looking at anything in particular.

“Mei…?”

Carey’s grip tightens on my hand.

Don’t be dumb.

Don’t get her killed.

I squeeze her hand tighter and answer him.

“Who’s that?”

Oblivious. Act oblivious.

He falls for my trick and visibly lowers his gun.

“Just the mailman, handing out handbooks- new subscriptions in braille. I heard you and was wondering if you were lost.”

Lies.

All of it.

“Oh, okay then.” I try my best to act nonchalant and turn the other way, rounding the corner of my house to the backyard, just out of sight.

When I’m totally sure there’s no cameras and glance down at Carey.

She looks scared. I hate that.

I tug on her hand gently, “You okay?”

“That didn’t seem right. Right?”

It’s hard not to freeze up a bit.

I kneel before her and take both her hands into mine.

“We don’t say that, okay? Got it? We don’t say that.”

I can’t tell if she realizes it or not but she looks more confused before letting her questions fade. She knows I’m serious, at least.

“I got it.” She might be reluctant but she knows just as well as me where those types of questions get a person nowadays.

I take the opportunity to stand up again and truly look around.

A wasteland.

That’s what it feels like after two years of not seeing it.

The playset is still here, with the rusted old swing.

“You’re going too fast! I’m gonna fall off!”

“No you won’t. It’ll be fine!”

I shake off the memory and decide it’s better to cheer Carey up.

“Wanna go on the swings?”

She instantly brightens, “Yeah yeah!”

I lead her over to the swing and set her on the still vibrant, red seat. Moving behind her I almost miss the letters carved into the front bar about three feet off the ground.

M+Z

Don’t go there. Not now.

I leave it untouched and start pushing Carey on the swing, it’s not long until she’s giggling and shouting “higher!”.

I don’t get to reply until three pops scare me, Carey screams but I don’t because I don’t see anyone.

I catch her swing and shush her, looking left and right-…

No way, just breathe.

My voice comes out barely a whisper, “I’m gonna go somewhere, stay in the bushes. Don’t come out till I say so and until you’re sure it’s me.”

She nods barely and I pick her up and lower her into the bushes until she's hidden.

I barely make it around the corner before I see the three holes.

And then my legs are moving faster than I meant them to, rounding the bend and coming to the front of my house.

Nausea hits me so hard I don’t have it in me to act blind in front of the cameras.

Bursting the front door open I make a beeline for my parents room.

It’s there again but it’s different.

Darker, more messy.

“DON’T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE”

I walk closer and nearly gag.

I run my thumb over the word just to make sure.

Blood.

Their blood.

I don’t realize when I’ve made it to the floor, or when I started rubbing my hands on my clothes so hard- even though the red still stains them.

Dragging myself back up I decide I have to see to believe.

But some part of me already knows they’re gone.

I grab the handle tight and twist, pushing the door open slowly.

I can’t hear over the blood pounding in my ears, or over the forced steady breaths I’m taking.

3 bullets.

One through the floor in front of the bed.

A missed shot.

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.

One through her heart.

One through his head.

She looked like she suffered more, that’s not fair.

I don’t bother with walking over to check their pulses, I just turn back around and sprint for the sink, dry heaving even though nothing comes up.

Soap catches my eyes next.

Their blood is on your hands.

I pump way more than needed and drown my hands in the water.

When did I start crying?

“Stupid stupid stupid-“

Crying from outside.

Carey.

The sink doesn’t get turned off before I’m running back to her, picking her up out of the bushes and holding her probably far too tight.

I don’t know how I’m still standing, let alone speaking,“I’m so sorry- I shouldn’t have left for that long.”

I wipe at the old tears on her face,”I just got scared. It’s really quiet.”

She’s-…

She’s looking right at me.

I swear I’ve been holding my breath.

“Carey, can you see me?”

She just freezes.

“You can tell me…”

It would be so much better if she could see.

Or worse.

No 5 year old should have to see inside that house.

She looks directly at me then finally opens her mouth.

“Yes.”

And my world is over as I know it.

We can’t stay here anymore.

I make it back to the front of the house with Carey and go inside.

We don’t go into their room.

It’s easier that way.

“Get whatever you need. Need. Got it? No stuffed animals.”

I glance back at her and almost shatter.

She looks so hollow.

I can’t help but soften.

“One stuffed animal.”

Padding over to her room, she avoids the stained door to her left.

By the time I come back downstairs I find her packed with a purple backpack on the couch.

“Ready?”

Carey hops off the couch and walks over to the door with me.

“Remember the plan?”

I help her lace her boots.

She recites it from memory,”We head west to California, when we find Zane’s family we ask if they can help.”

Bingo.

“One more thing…”

I rush to the other side of the house and grab the photo hanging on the wall, taking it out of the splintered frame and carefully placing it in my backpack.

“Yep, you’re coming too.” the words float out under my breath. I take the one next to it as well. Before I realize it we’re already stepping out the door.

My dad’s Chevy Truck is the first thing I see. A bit rusted from little to no use since the great blinding but otherwise in good condition.

The bad thing is the cameras surrounding each way to get into it.

The soldier must’ve taken the day off because the roads are clear so at least there’s that.

Timing. We need timing.

Glancing up at the flashing red dots on the corners of the cameras I realize two things after waving a hand in front of one.

One; They’re motion sensored.

Two; Someone is watching at this moment.

That means no mistakes or missed opportunities.

We slip up, it's over for us. Maybe there’s a chance but it’s incredibly stupid to even consider risking that.

I look back to check on Carey and notice she’s thinking. She’s always been brighter than me in her own way. There isn’t a puzzle she can’t solve.

“Eight point seventy five.”

I have never felt dumber in my life, it must show on my face because she elaborates.

“The distance between the camera's maximum view and the wall. Eight point seventy five inches. We can squeeze then…”

And her idea is genius,”Crawl under the car to the other side and sneak in.”

We must be thinking the same thing because our backpacks hit the ground at the same time then get slid across the expanse of the seven foot wall underneath the camera.

Carey goes first because she’s smaller. Scooting across the expanse with her back to the wall, just under eight point seventy five inches.

When she gets to the other side she slides under the car and mouths “Come on!” from on the side of the hubcap.

Sliding my backpack over, I wait until Carey catches it until I start moving.

Head to the wall.

Don’t look down; not enough space.

About 4 feet across I feel it.

3 holes in the wall.

I can’t help but run my hands over the holes blackened by gunpowder.

A rifle.

I can’t help but let out a small sob.

I don’t remember making it to the other side or how the rest of the way went but I did it.

Sliding to the other side of the car with Carey we sneak up and into the front of my dads truck. I put Carey in first, strapping her in tight.

I can’t help but grin while doing it, “Just know once we get a different ride,” I pull the belt as tight as it will go,”this isn’t happening again until you’re old enough.”

And she chuckles.

So very worth it.

Driving through town feels like driving through somewhere where time has simply stopped, leaving everyone’s lives out on display- or at least what used to be everyone’s lives.

It’s so empty.

Cars are lining the streets, sidewalks haven’t been swept in ages, bushes are far overgrown and blocking streets.

Every once and a while I glance over at Carey just to check on her.

She must be counting the trees or maybe just staring out the window.

I turn back to the road but can’t keep the slight worry out of my voice. “You okay?”

She looks as if she was just zoned out, “Hmm?”

At least she’s somewhat there.

“Nevermind.”

By the time we reach the highway it’s just sand and a gas station so far I’m not even totally sure that it’s not a dot.

“What’s our map status, Carey?”

“Hold on,” she fidgets with the paper, wrestling to get it open. Laying a finger on the map after looking about for a bit she proclaims,”Just entering Nevada, Wells.”

“So only a fifth of the way there…” I loosen and tighten my grip on the wheel. “Gives us some time to think.” I throw a pointed glance her way. “Or talk…”

I could see her mouth set from the corner of my vision.

“Come on… don’t do that.”

Her words are unintentionally clipped,”Do what?”

“They were my parents too.” I don’t stop my foot from pressing harder on the gas.

A missed shot.

One through his head.

One through her heart.

Their blood is on your hands-

At that she finally turns her head to me.

“You don’t get to go there either,” Closing the map fills the truck with the sound of crinkling paper,”We didn’t even bury them-“She stops as her voice titters.

“We didn’t have time.”, Just stay calm.

“What do you mean ‘We didn’t have time.’? We had enough time to think. Enough time to process.” Her voice borders on yelling. “Enough time to come up with a plan and leave them there-!”

“WE DIDN’T HAVE ENOUGH TIME.”

And then she’s quiet.

But I know she’s right.

So I floor it.

The needle behind the wheel is beeping.

We need gas.

Thankfully the gas station is coming into view.

She’s still not speaking to me.

We’re getting close.

Something runs into the street.

Is that a person?

“Stop!”

I fumble with the wheel and slam the breaks.

The truck skids to a rough stop just barely missing the person.

Before I can even think about what happened a guy a few years older than me runs out of the station.

“Jesus Christ, Dev!” he hollers.

The girl is standing like a deer in headlights in front of the truck with her hand braced on the front of the hood.

She finally looks up.

She looks…small, but her build tells me she’s still a bit older than me.

Her hair is dark and pulled back into two french braids that end at the nape of her neck.

I barely catch her mumble,”I’m sorry…”

The guy finally catches up to “Dev” and pulls her into a hug so tight I fear for her ribs.

But she hugs him back.

I finally look over at Carey and that last thirty minutes suddenly don’t matter.

We’re both starstruck.

They can see.

They’re like us.

I carefully get out of the truck and round to the front where they still stand.

“Excuse me..?”

And he looks up.

His eyes are just so piercing.

He must notice my slight shrink back then draw the same conclusion me and Carey did: We all can see.

Finally, he says something.

“What zone are you from?”

Dev finally steps out of the guys arms to face me, and I can see her better.

But what does he mean by zone?

“Uhm… I don’t…”

Dev then proceeds to elbow mystery man until he corrects himself.

“Just…where are you from?”

“Utah.”

Both of their eyebrows shoot up their foreheads.

And it looks like they’re perplexed.

“So we’re not the only ones…”

Carey’s voice nearly makes me jump and both Dev and mystery man glance down at her.

Dev finally pipes up,”Is that your…”

I almost can’t get the reply out fast enough,”little sister.”

She steps closer.

She’s not nearly my height but she manages to look intimidating.

Her coffee skin catches the light when she bends ever so slightly to close the distance between her and Carey and sticks out a hand.

“I’m Devany, but you can call me Dev. And no- you’re not the only ones.”

To my surprise, Carey takes her hand,”I’m Carey."

This must not be normal for Dev to be so nice because mystery man is nearly frozen.

He shakes it off and steps closer to us,”I’m Conner.”

“Do you guys live here or…”

“We do.” Conner says first.

“But where are you guys heading?” inquires Devany.

“California.”

“What for?” Conner asks harshly, probably more harsh than he meant to. But this time Devany doesn’t hit him. She just spares him a loaded glance.

I can’t help but pay more attention when I see her reach the back of her neck like there’s something bothering her there.

Deciding to leave it alone, she tugs back up the collar of the light blue button up.

“I just met you guys. I'm sorry if I don’t automatically trust people who run into roads but…”

“It’s fine.” Devany whispers as she turns heel and starts walking into the station, letting Conner follow her.

“You coming or what?” She hollers from the front.

I guess we could spare some adventure time.

In the front of the store it’s just shelves but once they pull back a door it expands to whole rooms.

A back door is open and Conner rolls his eyes and shuts it, earning him an apologetic glance from Dev.

Before I realize it Carey is already sitting at the kitchen table looking around.

It’s getting dark outside.

“We have a few extra rooms, you guys could stay for tonight.”

“We really couldn’t-“

“It’s not good to drive in the dark for too long,” Dev argues.

“Or all night. Which I know was your plan because you look like a reckless type of person.” Conner calls from the fridge.

A people reader.

There’s a soft knock on the window far back and Conner stops.

“Dev…”

“Jesus, I know I know. I’m going.”

I haven’t a clue what’s happening but I can tell it’s likely something that’s none of my business.

Or maybe it’s not because no one is shooing me.

When Dev reaches the window she pulls back the curtains just enough to fit her head, leaving the rest of us with not much of a view.

She opens the window, letting the cool night air in, she might be whispering but the air carries her voice,”I can’t talk tonight-“

Another voice cuts her off,”But you promised…”

A girl.

She gives one last pleading look to Conner and it looks like he might be reconsidering whatever this is before making up his mind and mouthing ‘No.’

Heaving a sigh, Dev reaches out the window, leaving her lower body inside.

She continues to whisper but this time it doesn’t carry.

All I catch is a mumbled ‘love you.’

At this, Conner’s eyebrows rise sarcastically once the girl leaves.

“Oh so now it’s ‘I love you’. You know what will-“

She shuts him down coldly,”That’s my problem, not yours.”

I was hesitant to ask who she was, maybe I’d ask later.

My car.

“I’ll go and get some gas I guess…” No matter how I would’ve said it, it was going to be awkward after that.

”I’ll come with you.” Whispered Devany.

ZANE

The red buzzer on the wall flashes like everyday.

When we file out of our rooms we all see each other but none of us says anything. We just walk like the perfect tools we are.

I try not to itch at the new ink tainting my wrist.

073.

That’s my number; that's all we are here.

When we all reach the cafeteria in our perfectly ordered lines we wait for our sector number to call us individually.

The corner of the room has mirrors plastered to each spare square foot.

Likely two way mirrors.

“Good morning, children.”

His voice doesn’t fail to send chills up my spine.

”Good morning, 001.” The words rot in my mouth and likely every other child's here.

After being dismissed I have some time until I’m called for DRT so I go back to my room. Once I shut the door and get out of the view of the camera I pull the old paper from a slat in the wall.

Old newspapers from before I came here.

BREAKING NEWS: THE PRESIDENTS DAUGHTER GOES MISSING AFTER A LATE NIGHT WALK. PREDICTED DEAD.

I can’t help but smile, she was always dramatic.

I flip to the next one and get caught on those same eyes staring at me a few seconds ago printed on the page, on someone else’s body.

MAJOR SCIENTISTS OLDEST SON-

“Open up, 73!”

A kick to the door follows and I shove the papers back into the wall.

”Reporting!” I shove on my boots and try to look like I’m not terrified.

Some people don’t have the right build for DRT so they simply don’t make it out.

It’s been far too many times where I’ve almost been that person.

Before I even get the door fully open my sector manager is dragging me out of my room and down the white hallways.

There's screaming coming from other rooms.

They sound so young.

I was young.

We make it to the door and I get numb.

There are but so many ways to test.

I’m just a normal person. Let. Me. Out.

When they toss me inside I do my best not to knock over the short metal table holding all of the doctor's tools.

I just hope they won’t be used on me.

It always feels too clean in here and it really manifests the evil-doctor vibes.

I hear my fate set in the form of locks being clicked into place.

A few seconds later I hear his voice over the speakers.

”It’s been a while, Townsend. We’re not sure you’re exactly…stable due to recent events with other subjects. DRT will take place after this short, mandatory, test.”

”What-“

There’s this horrid ringing from the walls that follows.

I don’t realize when I scream or when it stops.

Some time later I discern the ringing from the ringing in my ears and reach for my head.

God, I can barely hear.

I take my hand from my ear and it comes back red.

As expected.

When my personal scientist comes in it's not hard to notice with her blood red, high heels.

She drags me back into the chair in the center of the room and doesn’t spare my ears a glance, save handing me a tissue with cold detachment.

“Just protocol,” she mutters under her breath as she straps my left arm down with a tight leather band.

”Besides, I know you know better than to run.”

I was told when I first got here that I was diseased, that not being affected by The Great Blinding meant I wasn’t human.

But going through files got me information, even if it did mean nights in solitary confinement and days…being spent how you don’t want them to.

Turning my wrist up she rubs her thumb over the raw skin, getting a wince out of me.

“It’ll heal.”

When I went through the doctor’s notes I found that the kids here are human…

She sticks the needle in until it catches a nerve and starts drawing blood.

But based on their proximity to the base, it affects just how human they are; it affects their very DNA.

DRT is just that:

DNA

Reconstructive

Treatment

I watch as the blood leaves my body for testing.

Then I prepare for the real test.

She removes the needle and staunches the bleeding.

”Today,” Snapping off the leather belt roughly, she tugs me up,”We’re doing a little field test.”