Chapter 6: Welcome to Garrenbuck

We arrived at GarrenBuck in the middle of the night.

The G.S. soldiers threw open the door and began barking orders. Two soldiers jumped into the back of the truck, they fiddled with a small remote which unlocked our shackles and then proceeded to push us out into the cold. Snowflakes drifted from the black sky and melted in the gnarled knots of my hair. I stood on my tiptoes, afraid to get my flats wet from the slush covering the road and wrapped my arms around my waist.

"Two lines! Girls on the left, boys on the right," shouted a man in a black polyester uniform- it was the uniform of a Commander. He paced back and forth while smacking a baton in his hand.

We ran as the lights flickered on, illuminating the courtyard with a blinding white light. After spending several hours crammed in that truck, with my arms and legs cuffed, I found it strange to use my limbs. I stumbled over to the line on the left with the grace of a baby giraffe. Glancing behind me, I tried to find the girl with the short black hair and orange bangs but she was swallowed by the mass of people. There were two other trucks that followed behind ours, dropping off their supply of teenagers. My hands curled into fists by my sides as I watched the gated entrance close.

I was trapped.

"Welcome to GarrenBuck," said the Commander in a tone that was not unkind, just apathetic.

"You are now and henceforth property of the United States Government until we can rejoin you with your people."

He made it sound like we were sick animals and they were nursing us back to health before releasing into the wild. As if they were doing us a favor by stealing us from our homes and locking us up in this concrete hell. Perhaps, I was a little spoiled but I didn't see the appeal. Twenty G.S. soldiers stood on the flanks of the Commander, ten on one side and ten on the other. They were dressed in matching silver polyester uniforms, with the eagle crest sewn above their hearts. They stood absolutely still with their hands sanctioned on the guns at their hips.

"The United States Government has a treaty with your people, an agreement, of sorts." My teeth began to chatter. I wanted him to shut up so I could get out of the cold but he continued. "We will feed you, we will house you and we will help you find out who you truly are but in return you will follow our rules."

It sounded so simple. Like we were little orphan kids who had lost our way and he was going to help us. He was even chivalrous enough to add in a nice bed and warm food. Really when it's put like that, it sounded too good to be true but, he wasn't telling the complete truth. He would provide us with everything he offered, all we had to do was give up our freedoms and humanity. They don't like to put that last part in the brochure because then they would look like the bad guys.

And they weren't the bad guys.

At least they didn't think they were doing anything wrong. If anything they probably thought they were being quite nice for sparing our lives. Heck, I would have thought they were being too nice if I was at home, watching the whole thing from the comfort of my living room and not experiencing it for myself. But I was experiencing it for myself. I stood in line, shaking, partly due to fear and partly due to the cold. Behind me, I could hear the unease of several kids become vocal. To the right, in the boy's line, two boys began to shove at each other until one of the boys gave up. He threw his hands in the air and walked to the middle. To no man's land.

"Step back in line." The Commander clutched his baton tightly, his knuckles turning as white as the snow falling from the sky.

"No." The boy said quietly. He didn't look very confident in his decision. His hands were twitching by his sides and he refused to look up from the scuff mark his on brand new high-top sneakers. But still, he didn't return to the line.

"I will give you one more chance. Step back in line," The Commander said through gritted teeth.

The boy didn't notice the Commander gesture to his firing squad. The automatic rifles, previously attached to their hips now hung in midair, aimed at the boy. Gasps filtered from the crowd but still the boy did not move. If anything he seemed empowered by the sound. It was as if he thought we were impressed by his actions. He had no clue what was about to happen to him.

It was like watching a horror movie. The boy was just like every protagonist, feeling heroic and a little too cocky. He opened the doors that were clearly marked for danger and called out to the monsters lingering in the shadows and somehow, he believed he would survive. But, he didn't. The G.S. soliders fired round after round, not stopping even as his corpse collapsed to the ground.

I would never be able to forget him. I would never be able to forget how he bled into the snow, staining it crimson. Nor would I be able to forget his face. He was smiling, his eyes closed, it was a perfectly captured moment where he thought for one second he was the hero. I stepped forward. It was a stupid, knee jerk reaction but I just wanted to hold him.

"Don't," the girl behind me grabbed my arm. "They'll shoot you too.

With one swift glance at the Commander, I knew she was right. The Commander was fuming, the baton clutched so tightly between his hands I swore it would have broke if it weren't metal. The tension shifted in the air as he began to walk between the two lines, stopping at least a foot away from the dead boy. He leaned forward, inspecting the bullet-sized craters in the boys chest and then spat on his face. Then, he stood up and swiftly strode back to his former post.

"That was not a suggestion when I said you will follow our rules. When I say jump, you ask how high. When I tell you to run, you say how far. And when I tell you to stand in line, you stand in line!"

A frigid gust of wind swept across the courtyard as the snowflakes began to triple in size. My skin was pebbled with goosebumps but it was not because of the cold. We stood in line like dominos, one behind another, just waiting for the next to fall. The gusts of wind carried the scent blood, it was a foul smell and I wanted nothing more than to cover my nose but I didn't dare move. The Commander paused, noticing the shift in mood. From where I stood I could not clearly see his face but I had no doubt he was pleased with the change.

"You are all disgusting vermin," He chuckled as if he had just told a witty joke. I must have missed it because nothing about what just happened sounded funny. "Get out of my sight.

The G.S. soliders abruptly turned on their heel and began to march towards the large brick building that loomed over us. It was the first of several brick buildings contained on the OSCF lot, however, the other buildings looked like dollhouses compared to its grandiosity. We chased after the soldiers, running frantically into the sterile, white building and out of the cold. Unfortunately, the building was not any warmer, if anything it felt as if they had turned the air conditioning on. The main floor was a chaotic mess of men in white lab coats typing vigorously away on glass tablets and a series of rotating G.S. soldiers who filtered in and out of the hall, carrying suspiciously large black bags. The girls were collected by a young woman, who wore a gray smock and a white collared dress. I noticed a golden eagle pin attached to the patch above her heart; she was a nurse. Not like the ones in school who gave out lemon lollipops and rainbow bandages but the kind of nurse who exclusively worked for the United States Military, cleaning bullet wounds and changing bed sheets for ill soldiers. She offered us a curt nod, acknowledging our existence and then led us down another white, tiled hallway.

There were no chairs, so we were forced to continue to stand in single formation as each girl was individually dragged into an unmarked room. As the line grew shorter, I became restless. The girls weren't returning. They were disappearing behind a particularly mundane looking door as if it were the portal to the Otherworld. Normally, I would have rationalized the scenario before jumping to any conclusion but after the past day, I found I was no longer capable of doing anything 'rational.' So, I had convinced myself that the door led to a butcher room, where a cackling man in a blood-stained apron was waiting for me with a knife in hand. I imagined that all the other girls were lying dead in a puddle of blood and loose organs. They weren't going to move our bodies until every last one of us was dismembered.

My stomach lurched at my thoughts but I didn't doubt it. These people were psychotic and blood-thirsty. They had no qualms about killing a sixteen year-old boy for simply standing out of line and I believed they would find more reasons to pick off the rest of us. It was just a matter of time.

"Next!" The nurse barked as a green light appeared above the doorway.

It was my turn.

To my immense surprise, when the door opened there were no knife-wielding maniacs or hidden stacks of dismembered teenagers. The walls were once again completely white and bare except for one singular window that offered a view of the frozen courtyard. A man in a white lab coat sat behind a desk covered in manila folders and wire baskets filled with multi-colored brochures, each detailing various diseases. An examination bed sat in the middle of the room, with a sheet of translucent paper covering the padded seat. On the far wall there was a row of cabinets, each left slightly ajar revealing plastic tubs filled with syringes. It looked like a fairly normal doctor's office and it even smelled like sanitizer, however, there were two soldiers who stood off to the side with automatic rifles in hand. That was new, and so was the steel, vault-like door behind them. The man behind the desk didn't notice my presence until the door closed behind me.

I squealed, flinching at the sound.

A click sounded as the G.S. soldiers tested the triggers of their guns. I didn't dare turn around, my posture returned to a straight line.

"Oh, hello. Do come in." The man behind the desk looked up, upon hearing my pig-like squeal. He tilted his head to the side, looking behind me, at the soldiers. "Thank you boys but you can relax on those triggers. Everything's fine."

He looked back at me and smiled, "Right?"

Frantically, I nodded. He stood and I was finally able to see this oddly kind man in perfect detail. He was short, with a stocky build and a pudgy gut. He had a weak jaw and two deep-set, muddy brown eyes. However, there was a warmth within those eyes and regardless of my instincts, I found myself relaxing in his presence. He smiled once again revealing a row of crooked, yellow tinged teeth. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I hadn't seen a single smile since Barry's party and I doubted I would be seeing more henceforth.

"My name is Dr. Piddleton and I would like to assure  you that this is not going to be like a typical doctor examination. For starters, I will need you to strip."

"What?" I clutched my hands to my chest. All the warmth, I was previously feeling began to drain from my body.

"I will need you to take off your dress and shoes and place them in this hamper," he gestured to the plastic bin beside the examination table.

The bin was overflowing with a pile of shirts, dresses skirts and jeans and shoes ranging from every style and and every color. A few pieces looked familiar and I wondered if I had seen them in stores or maybe on tv. And then, I saw a pair of red ballet flats covered in rhinestones. Those were the same ballet flats the girl in front of me was wearing before she entered the examination room.

"It's cold."

"Don't worry. You can wear this," he pulled open a cabinet and grabbed a white jumpsuit from the dwindling stack.

When I made no move to grab the article of clothing from him, he jerked his head to the left. A click sounded as the G.S soldiers fingered the triggers on their rifles and I jumped to action. Without thinking twice, I dropped my dress to the floor and snatched the jumpsuit out of his grip. The suit was no warmer than my dress. It was made out of a thin, windbreaker-type fabric. There were no pockets or zippers, it simply stretched over my body like a sock. He held out to me a pair of simple white boots and I shrugged them on. The boots were a size too large but they were comfortable and insulated, so I couldn't complain.

"See," He enveloped my hand with his, "Nothing to worry about. Now hop up onto the table."

I followed his directions to the tee, knowing the guardians were just itching for me to mess up. Whilst sitting on the examination table, Dr. Piddleton checked my vitals. He made a brief comment about my blood pressure being high but didn't seem worried at all. High blood pressure was probably normal for all his patients. Despite how nice he seemed, no one could ever truly be comfortable while trapped in a OSCF.

"What's your name?" He asked while checking my hearing.

"Ophelia." His shoulders shook with a silent laugh.

"Parents can be cruel but don't worry," He shoved a needle in my ear, piercing the helix. "Now your name is, #81417."

Stepping away from the examination table, Dr. Piddleton grabbed a bottle of disinfectant spray from his desk and began to vigorously scrub his tools with a cloth. Gingerly, I grazed my ear with the pad of my fingertip, only to find a find plastic band pierced to my helix. I had been tagged like a cow on a beef plantation. The tag, however, was the least of my worries, when I saw the electric shaver in Dr. Piddleton's hand. My nails bit into the padded seat, ripping the translucent paper as the shaver began to emit a soft buzzing noise.

"Don't worry. This won't hurt." My eyes grew wide like saucers as he raised the shaver to my head.

As each lock of hair fell to the floor, I felt a little piece of me die. My resolve, my anger, and my sadness it all seemed to fade into a general feeling of apathy. They stole my clothing and shaved my hair, reducing me to an untouched and unworthy canvas. They even stole my name. I was no longer a person in their eyes, as the commander had put it nicely, I was property of the government. Not human, nor an animal or thing.

I was #81417, an Other.

**Welcome to Garrenbuck everyone...

I don't know why but emotionally speaking, this chapter was so hard for me to edit. It is just so heartbreaking and unfortunately real how some people's lives can literally change overnight in the worst ways possible. The OSCF was heavily inspired by the concentration camps of the holocaust. I started writing this book shortly after reading Night by Eli Wiesel and I have always been grotesquely fascinated in the way humans will dehumanize people as an "other" in order to justify their own evil actions. I think it is the worst possible tendency within human nature and we can see how it really has been at the core of many catastrophic events.

And while this may just be a story about our favorite supernatural creatures it is also important to remember that this book is set in the near future for a reason.

XOXO,

Ro.**