Jonas was blindfolded, handcuffed, and dumped into a large SUV as all the soldiers got back inside the vehicle, leaving Jonas’ mother unconscious.

Half an hour after they were gone, his mother twitched and called for her son in a weak voice, “Jonas…”

When she did not hear a response, she tried to open her eyes and get up. She was still swaying, and when she touched her forehead, her fingers were red and slick with blood. However, none of that mattered.

Scared, she ran across the house, but could not find her son. And then, she recalled what had happened. Martha knew where her son would have been taken to; there was only one place where they would take the special ones to – the Capitol.

Tears streamed down her face and she immediately rushed to contact her husband’s office, the number she had been getting calls from every month. She had been warned not to, but now, she had no choice.

The phone rang, but nobody answered.

♦♦♦

Meanwhile, after what felt like hours, Jonas woke up in a cell. He had been drugged with chloroform to make him unable to track his way back home and dumped unceremoniously into one of the cells of the large fortified building known as the Capitol.

His eyes still felt heavy and his brain foggy due to the drug that had been given to him in a high quantity. While trying to rub his eyes, he realized that he was still handcuffed and in a small cell with a bed, a commode and a basin. It was pretty much like a prison cell. He dragged himself up into a sitting position and then slowly got up to splash some water on his face before he moved to the iron door to take a look at his surroundings.

What he saw horrified him. There were rows upon rows of cells in front of him, as far as his eyes could see, and each of them was filled with young people like him. Some were sleeping, some sitting idle, and some staring back at him. But there was one thing common in all of them – they all had a blank look on their faces, as if they did not know what they were doing there or why they were even alive.

Jonas’ eyesight was exceptionally sharp, so even if the opposite prison cell was a good fifty feet away from him, he could still see who was inside it. And what he saw was shocking to say the least.

If he was right, it was Amy, his classmate from kindergarten before ‘they’ had appeared. He could recognize her due to the mole on her cheek that had earned her the nickname ‘molar bear,’ her large beady eyes, and her blonde hair. He used to call her that playfully and soon the entire class had followed suit.

But this made no sense. What was she doing there? Were not all the newborns killed? Had they not wiped out every single child who had any intelligence and left behind only a herd of sheep that would mutely follow their orders? His mother had hidden him in their home her entire life and his father had risked his life to keep him off the radar for as long as possible.

It did not make sense. He had many questions, but no answers.

However, seeing a familiar face gave him a small ray of hope. He tried to call her name. “Amy… Amy, it’s me, Jonas!”

His voice rang through the silent prison and he was surprised that there were no guards or soldiers who came running at him. It was probably lunch time.

The girl did not move, so he tried again, “Amy… molar bear, it’s Jonas! Remember me?”

He cried and banged his hands on the iron gates, but they would not budge. He was beginning to lose hope. And then… she stirred.

The smile was beginning to turn into a frown as Jonas stretched his hand out through the small gap in the iron beams. The girl slowly turned her head and looked at the door, unsure if her ears were ringing.

It felt like an eternity until someone had called her that. She slowly got up from the cold floor, her blonde hair fallen all over her face. Her walk was like a mechanical robot. She swayed and lost her footing, but managed to reach the door nonetheless.

As she came forward slowly, several people suddenly got up too, as if woken up from a deep slumber. They all got to the doors of their cells. Jonas could not believe his eyes.

He recognized half of those faces!!

All of his childhood friends, all the kids he had even seen once in his life, they were all there, rotting in the Capitol, while their families had been told that they were dead and ‘the God’ had weeded them out because they were too weak.

In reality, all of them were here, caged, weak, and devoid of their freedom. Jonas could recall their names as if they were written on the back of his hand.

Megan, George, Lucas, Steph, Darcy…

One by one he called them by their names and they all broke into a smile as if they had been under a spell, as if their mind had been put in a deep slumber, only to be woken up by the voice of Jonas.

Some began crying, some cried out in relief, and soon the quiet prison echoed with the voices of the humans who had lost their will to live, their hope to fight.

They had forgotten who they were and what made them human. However, when Jonas addressed them with their names, something within them stirred, as if their brain had woken up, screaming at them to realize that they now had hope.

Hearing the voices, a group of ten soldiers came rushing into the prison, all of them carrying two rods in their hands.  The smile was wiped off Jonas’ face when they all switched on the rods that were actually high-power tasers and tased all the prisoners who had been standing by the door.

In a matter of minutes, the voices all quieted down and Jonas quickly stepped back so as to not let the soldiers get suspicious of him.

Now, he had found a way to overthrow ‘the God.’

Now, he had found the manpower to finally usher in an era of freedom and prosperity. As the guards tased his friends, Jonas’ mind began devising an elaborate strategy for coming face-to-face with ‘the God’. And the sooner he found him, the better!!!

…now that you’re here

As you might know, Ameya runs on a purely non-profit basis. With no tangible products on offer, advertisements and donations are our only two sources of keeping this blog up and running. You could convey your support to us with something as little as $5 - that's less than what an average Starbucks would cost!

Anagha Aglawe, English poetry writer at Ameya
Anagha

Anagha likes to make the most of her creativity to come up with intriguing stories. To know more about her, feel free to get in touch with her over her Upwork profile here.