“…why do you run?”
The near-whispered inquiry was directed at nobody in particular as Raz Kalrn looked through the scope of his rifle. Raz had been a coin-toss from these people who operated in horrible conditions who generally got nothing but menial food and water out of it. Raz admitted he had some sympathy, but it wasn’t enough to condemn him to become trapped or on-the-run. Though, even as a member of The Terror he found himself not really more ‘free’ than any of the people they hauled in or the people they told him he had to shoot. Raz didn’t understand why they would risk it all just for a taste—he had heard Doran’s speeches to the others; it made no sense to doom yourself for a day. Perhaps a day of freedom was worth more of an eternity in chains? At least, that was the only thing Raz could particularly think of that made any sense.
He shook his head as he kept his eye on the fence he had a duty to guard.
That’s when he saw a female cat running at full force toward the fence with a group of two. Raz’s heart stopped—they weren’t even adults; they were children. A knot raised in his gut as he flicked the safety off his rifle. Orders would dictate to shoot them ‘non-lethal’ so they could be strung up as an example later by one of the field guards. A sense of restraint and disgust overwhelmed the wolf as his finger hit the trigger for the first time.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Three shots filled the air following his discomfort as a group of guards came barreling in after the suspect escapees—but they only had bodies to bring back. Raz couldn’t bring himself to make them suffer.
What a life.
Doran Karek still shuttered with every gunshot he heard. The sound was like knives to the senses and it reminded the fox of a time less than ideal; a time where he had been like them and so eager to risk the end of a bullet just for a taste—a taste for freedom. Doran’s eyes moved to the male rabbit before him that he had singled out and taken aside to talk some sense into him; though it wasn’t just for the rabbit, he had promised Snowdrift that he’d show her what exactly a manager does and what their responsibilities were.
This was one of them.
“Do you hear that?” Doran remarked as he pointed with one hand toward the direction of the gunshots.
The male rabbit before him didn’t say anything as he scowled at Doran.
“Worksite zero-one-two has nothing to cling to… just numbers. That’s part of the insanity of this walled off place that still reeks of old world ruins and derelict tunnels that go straight into nothingness. The numbers, darkness, and hopelessness takes some time to settle in of course. The air of forced isolation is just one of many facets that is trying to drown you so you will react out of despair or tolerate the lack of freedom. The anxiety of knowing the life you once held would never be yours again despite who you were or who could have been is maddening and I see it all of the time. Your memories bleed like an echo and your shadow becomes your only friend when you realize everybody here doesn’t know you and is blankly out for themselves.”
“But I want my freedom!” The rabbit protested, but Doran wasn’t finished.
“Okay, you could try to escape—but how? You’re on the edge of the world between mountains and metal walls. You could succeed and run into the tunnels, but you’ll either starve or get eaten by the twisted creatures that dwell there. So, you run towards the wall right? The Terror has trained marksman on watch twenty-four seven; are you faster than a bullet? Maybe you’re lucky, yeah, and you find yourself on the other side and maybe get away… but for how long? The Terror employs some of the best trackers this side of the Abarlus River—how long can you hide? If you keep moving, how do you keep yourself fed or prepared? What can you really do?”
“…you’re lying.” The rabbit muttered as a sense of fear rose in his voice.
Doran wouldn’t have believed it if a manager had come up to him at the same age either, but it was something that was so very true. The fox had seen it when he was younger and he had been dragged back here to do as they did. But they didn’t kill him, but they killed his friend in front of him and were very blunt to remind him that it was his fault. This rabbit was going to get others killed.
“Listen, I was like you once and full of these aspirations that I’d get out and get back to my life—but my life wasn’t mine to give. I’ve seen people executed on the spot, dragged out from hundreds of days of ‘freedom’ and they never get a second chance—you leave and you get brought back here for a spectacle that puts others in line. When I first saw it I could feel my ambition cracking and eventually it was just a matter of time before I just accepted my fate.”
“No. No.” The rabbit shook his head in denial.
“Look down at your hands—that feeling inside your wrists from the labor and the stress? The scratching and pounding inside you; the feeling you feel in your bones? It’s a sign of who you are and who I am—we’re not what we were before we came here and you have to just run with that and do your job. It’s worse than any brand or collar—because everybody looks at you and they know what you are.”
“Who are we but… but... worms then?”
“Slaves to our fate—we are nothing but hollow stone to be picked until we’re done. Remember that next time you try to incite a riot or try to get all of us killed over a fruitless ambition.”
“Yes… Manager Karek. I understand.”
“Good.”
As the rabbit walked off—a bit broken, but hopefully defeated in his attempt to raise escapist fantasies, Doran turned to face Snowdrift with a slight frown but not one of sadness but fatigue. “That in part is what we as managers do, Snow—we walk a road to make sure morale is good enough and escape attempts are low.”
“It’s going to be an uphill battle.”
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