To be counted
Dusk was fast approaching and Millie knew that soon the alarm would sound. She was well versed in what that alarm meant. Once the alarm sounded everyone still alive had to stay indoors, close their curtains or blinds, lock their doors and wait for the lights to come on. Once the lights were on, they each had to go to the tiny contraption installed in their homes, place their right thumb on the little piece of glass and keep it there until the green light came on. The green light meant that they were counted and registered on the national database. Once that was done they were free to prepare an evening meal, or watch television, until going to bed. Not following the rules meant that you could not work, could not purchase anything… or that you were dead, in which case a wagon with uniformed men would arrive to load the body in the morning.
When her mother died Millie hoped that she could say her good byes in her own time and perhaps bury her mother in the manner to which she was accustomed. She tried to outsmart the system by placing her mother’s lifeless thumb on the device, but unbeknown to her it registered the coldness of the lifeless hand and before Millie could plan a backyard funeral, the death wagon pulled up to her front door and removed the body. There were no platitudes or expression of sympathy as the men carried the body, wrapped in a white sheet, from the home.
It had now been months since her mother passed and as they were no longer allowed to keep even a pet, Millie was truly alone. If she did not have a job in the factory she would surely have gone mad.
The factory was a sterile place with long and cold corridors and vast rooms in which a variety of products were manufactured or packaged. Millie worked in the garment section folding and packing the small variety of clothing items and marking the packets according to size. It was a strict regime and talking while working was not encouraged, but Millie lived for the short tea or lunch breaks during which she could converse with others in her section or from other sections.
One person, a skinny bespectacled young man, had caught her interest months ago, but as most of her work friends were as starved for conversation as she was, she was barely able to extricate herself from them long enough to approach him. Her friend, Mary had met a young man just over a year ago and they were waiting for permission to marry. Mary, like Millie, had lost both her parents and could not wait to be able to share her boyfriend’s home with him. Millie took in every word of Mary’s many stories and dreamt of one day being able to follow the same process.
The alarm woke Millie from her daydream. Jumping up from her seat she soon realized that the foot she had tucked under her, had gone to sleep. She fell before she could regain her balance. She could not tell how long she had been unconscious for, all she knew was that she had missed the curfew. Dragging herself towards the front windows she saw that the lights in other homes were already on. With one hand steadying herself she used the other to pull the cord to close the blinds, all the time praying that she was not too late to register herself on the device in her kitchen.
She tried to pull herself up by holding onto a chair, but the pain from her ankle and head made her dizzy and she sank back to the floor. Desperate to reach the device she crawled and dragged herself along. As luck would have it, the counter was not too high and Millie could reach the device without getting up. Stretching her arm as far as she could she just managed to place her thumb on the glass, but nothing happened… no green light…
“Come on…come on… I am here, I am alive you bastards!”
Her arm started to ache, but still nothing happened. Finally, she managed to pull herself up by holding onto the cupboard’s doorknob. In desperation she placed her finger on the device again. Still nothing. Her reflection in the kettle showed a thin trickle of blood running down the side of her face. Fear gripped her heart. She did not want the soldiers to take her away in their death van.
Emergency buttons were only handed out to those with chronic illnesses or the elderly, the rest had to wait… Millie did not know what she was waiting for, besides the following day was Sunday, so no one would even miss her at work. Millie was convinced that by the time the death van came around she would indeed be dead.
The night became an endless cycle of dozing off and waking up in pain and fear. Finally, the dawn alarm sounded and the lights in the house went off. Millie was nauseous with fear. She considered hiding, but the house presented no good hiding spots. She knew that it would be senseless to even try, as the various gadgets the men carried with them would soon pick up her heartbeat, body heat or breathing.
Just before midday Millie heard the sound of a vehicle coming down the road. She prayed that it would be anything but the death van, but she also knew that it was unlikely, as no one was allowed to travel by vehicle on a Sunday in an effort by the government to counteract the air pollution left from the nuclear fall-out.
Millie could hear the footsteps coming down her garden path and soon her front door buzzed open. Yes, in this new world you only locked your doors to keep the foul smelling sewer people out. The government, however, had free reign and could enter your home whenever they deemed it necessary.
Millie froze in the chair she slept in. When the first man entered she was so scared that she could not find her voice. Then a second came in, then a third… The third man looked somehow familiar, but in the uniform, hung with so many gadgets and a black mask, it was hard to tell who it was.
“Hey you… why didn’t you register last night? Are you aware of the consequences if you don’t?” the first man barked at her.
“I… I…” Millie battled to find her voice.
“Wait Roger, can’t you see she is hurt?” The third man stepped forward and went down on his haunches in front of her.
Now she could see the eyes behind the glasses.
“What… what are you doing here?”
“I am a volunteer medic over weekends and it certainly looks like you need one.”
While the other men stood watching, her crush from work bandaged her ankle and wiped the dried blood from her face.
“It does not look too bad. It does not even need stiches.” She could hear the smile in his voice, even though she could not see his face. He asked her to stand up and although she still could not step on her ankle, the dizziness of the night before was gone.
“I’ll stop by on my way home tonight and make sure that you get to register… if that is okay with you…”
Millie wished she could tell him that she would like him to register with her every night for the rest of her life, but who knows, this was a good start and perhaps one day soon she will do just that.
Copy Right
Lynne Lexow