No Barrier Strong Enough

By Ron Lindsay

Jaelyn had considered slashing herself with the toothbrush shiv she’d fashioned. But if it were found on her it would be confiscated, and her venture would be over before it even started. The jagged rocks that formed the margin between the exercise yard and the camp’s caustic fog wall would have to do the job instead.

Before the end of the inmates’ rec time, Jaelyn slipped away from her group and sidled toward the rocks. She had to act quickly, before a sentry droid intervened. Looking at the knife-edged rocks, she reminded herself of her vow. “My baby, I promise I’ll come for you no matter what.”

She took a deep breath and let herself fall forward, ducking her head to the left. Jaelyn yelped as she hit the ground, pain exploding into her skull. The left side of her face throbbed. She opened her eyes. Blood streaked the rocks, but not enough. Jaelyn grabbed one with her right hand, jabbed it into her left cheek, making sure the sharp edge penetrated her skin, and dragged it.

One of the overhead drones scanned Jaelyn’s face, and an announcement immediately blared over the camp’s sound system: “Inmate Jaelyn Jones, 8932, in need of medical attention.”

In a moment, a sentry rolled up on all fours, its treads covering the ground rapidly. The sentry compressed its back into a flat surface, transformed two of its treads into grasping arms, and lifted Jaelyn onto its back, securing her with spider twine. Then Jaelyn was off to the infirmary. To Nuria.

Inside, the sentry carried Jaelyn past Nuria’s bunk. Nuria merely blinked in response to Jaelyn’s nod. It was all she could manage.

They had become friends soon after Jaelyn arrived at the camp. The two shared a deep commitment to the resistance against the military takeover, and in time, Jaelyn confided the reason she found her internment so difficult to endure, why her heart ached. Jaelyn had to get out, no matter the obstacles she had to overcome. For a while, there was little Nuria could do to console or encourage her, but when Nuria was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer, she persuaded Jaelyn to see the silver lining.

Once in the infirmary, Jaelyn adamantly refused stitches, so the medic droids heavily bandaged her multiple cuts. Jaelyn would need the bandages’ adhesive later.

That night, the rattle in Nuria’s throat let Jaelyn know it was time. She glanced around to confirm there were no sentries in the infirmary and then took the pillow off her bunk. She straddled Nuria, her arms shaking. She hesitated. Nuria met her eyes.

Barely breathing, Nuria mustered her remaining strength and hoarsely whispered, “Do it, girl. Make my death count for something.”

Jaelyn’s stomach churned. She pressed the pillow over Nuria’s face. Nuria’s body kicked violently, involuntarily protesting her previous consent.

The spasms stopped. Nuria’s chest was still.

“Thanks, friend.” Suppressing a sob, Jaelyn kissed Nuria’s forehead, soon to be Jaelyn’s forehead if all went according to plan…

The shiv proved sharp enough for removing the skin from Nuria’s face, as well as two fingers from her left hand.

The grim surgery completed, Jaelyn ripped the bandages from her face. She then started a fire in her bunk, using smuggled paper as tinder and potassium permanganate and glycerin from the dispensary to ignite it. When the alarm sounded, she donned her bloody mask, using the adhesive from the folded bandages to secure it.

A sentry hurried in and herded the inmates into the darkness outside. Once there, drones scanned the inmates’ faces.

“Jaelyn Jones, missing,” came the announcement. Jaelyn’s heartbeat accelerated. Her plan had passed the first test.

Immediately afterward, two sentries entered the infirmary to search for Jaelyn, leaving two sentries outside with her and the other inmates. She had estimated it would take fifteen seconds to run the hundred meters to the fog wall. Jaelyn broke for it. The drone overhead scanned her face.

An alarm rang out, “Nuria Tamim, escaping.”

The two nearby sentries charged after Jaelyn. As they drew near, she tore off the remnants of Nuria’s face and tossed it to her left. She then threw the fingers to her right. Tracking Nuria’s DNA, as they had been programmed to do, the sentries veered left and right.

Seven seconds gone.

Her mask removed, Jaelyn’s bloody face was now exposed to a hovering drone, which immediately recalibrated. The sentries that had paused over Nuria’s body parts now turned and sped after Jaelyn, but her tactics had delayed them just enough—maybe.

Ten seconds gone. More than halfway to the wall. Jaelyn strained, willing her legs to move faster.

Twenty-five meters from the wall, the grassy ground changed to sharp rocks, among which were scattered caltrops. Jaelyn braced for the pain, reminding herself what was on the other side of the wall. Whatever the pain, she had to continue.

Two, three, four strides, then the piercing impact of a spike in her left foot. She ran on. Close enough to the wall to smell its acrid fumes, she heard the dull thud of a tranquilizer dart launch from one of the sentries. Jaelyn counted one-Mississippi, then rolled on the ground, lodging three caltrops in her body as she did so.

The dart passed over her. She sprang up. Before her loomed the fog wall, a hissing, undulating, chemical mist, five meters in thickness, which would coat anyone who tried to pass through it with scalding droplets. A wide river of agony. Inmates had been informed that the pain would stop any living thing in its tracks.

Jaelyn whispered to herself, “Nothing can keep me from you, my darling.”

She plunged into the wall, every inch of her skin instantly on fire. She felt her body hesitate, double over, then start to crumple to the ground. But a memory held her up, and she forced her legs forward.

Somewhere on the other side of the wall was her daughter.

Can you guess which song from the 1970's inspired this story? Share in the comments!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ron Lindsay has worked for most of his professional life as a lawyer and philosopher (JD, University of Virginia; PhD, Georgetown). But recently he has embarked on two new paths: writing fiction and returning to college as a physics major. The Lost Song of Goliath, just released in March and available through Amazon, is his debut novel. A Boston native, Ron currently lives in Alexandria, Virginia with Debra, his wife and inspiration for four decades.

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