273

• Isla Pearson, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2022

“…any women who are unvaccinated between the ages of 18 – 35 are asked to comply with new Government rules and will be directed to the DC19RF Holding Bay. If any signs of defiance are displayed, you will be shot immediately…” The television continues to blare, but it fades from my mind.
I grasp for my phone, hastily typing in Emberlynn’s number with sweaty fingers, but I pause. A vociferous bang resonates through the walls of the living room. The front door is demolished, revealing three soldiers, looking much like the ones on the television.
“What’re you doing?” I holler. They march inwards without hesitation, and grab hold of my biceps. They yank me towards what was now just a rectangular hole in my wall with such force that I feel tingling reverberate up my arms.
I’m shoved into the back of a black van, shrouded in darkness. The smooth hum of the engine arises as we begin moving.
After what seems like hours, the van doors click open, bringing with it excruciatingly bright light that invades the quiet darkness. A soldier pulls me into a room with hundreds of young women, packed together in a tight, misshapen circle. ‘DC19RF’ reads a billboard. Its burlywood colour stands out vibrantly against the grey walls.
“Hello, women of Lyptinia. You might be wondering why you are here today, what you will be doing. You are here because you are our only chance to repopulate the planet with healthy human beings. We thank you for your service and cooperation at this time.”
Ten years ago, the COVID-19 pandemic hit. It was agonizing. Eventually, scientists developed a vaccine, which was injected into billions of eager citizens. Years later, the mutations started. Any women who were vaccinated began to give birth to disfigured…deformed children. To this day, there hasn’t been a cure.
I’m shoved into the overwhelming crowd, staggering over endless pairs of legs.
“What’re they gonna do to us?” I whine, not to anyone in particular. A girl turns around, her eyes locking intensely with mine. I make a pleading expression, longing for her to answer, but she ignores me.
“Hello, women of Lyptinia. You might be…” the robotic voice replays again.
Suddenly, the warped circle disbands, shrieks and shouts rising around me. Before I can even fathom what is happening, a lightning bolt of pain streaks down my skull and my legs collapse. Firm hands close over my shoulders, dragging me into a room with white walls, a bed and a table. And there’s a sign – ‘Reproduction Facility No.273’.
“No!” a sound gurgles from within me. With an unpredictable burst of adrenaline, I rip free of the soldier, out of No.273, unaware that my legs are taking me away from the exit. With all the strength I can summon, I power through halls of parallelism.
‘I came from around this corner, right?...’
I pivot left. In front of me – another hallway.
‘Reproduction Facility No.318’.
‘No.319’
‘No.320’
A gloved hand grabs my ankle.