The Flower Girl, Ellie Anne [the little red hen ebook .TXT] 📗

I lived in a dangerous world. Countless countries no longer existed, and entire land masses had slowly been blown to bits, and eroded away, sinking beneath the waves. I lived in what people decades ago would call a "post-apocalyptic" time. Whatever that meant. People today were less hopeful. We knew the end was already here and gone, now we were just waiting for the next big catastrophe.

The world today was perilous, and would kill you without a second thought. Those who didn't watch thier backs were goners, cursed from the start. There were all kinds of things out there, and if you weren't careful, you were a dead man. Things had been mutated when World War III broke out. The stupid people really thought that releasing some biological warfare toxins wouldn't effect them too. They made it air-bourne, and just let it ride on the wind. Morons. They paid the price, and now we do too.

The toxins changed things, and those infected transformed into real-life zombies, vampires, and other "sci-fi" creatures. We got it slightly under control either way, but we still had to live in bubbles. Our towns and cities were built inside of air tight everything-proof glass domes, and had little tubes connecting them all. In the aftermath of World War III, everything broke down. Nothing worked, and people died every second of every day. Guess you could say that's how Earth fixed the population problem. It wasn't until a few years ago that they finally got power plants up and running again. Still, there was no way to cure all of the Mutes -- the ones that got mutated. Some were fixable, but not many.

In the pitiful place we called Jamesonville, everyone had a job. They ranged form piking up trash to farming to actually going outside the beloved bubble. Only a few were Hunters. I just so happened to be one of them. It wasn't super exciting or anything, we work just like a miniature police force. We get a call, we go to the location, we capture or kill whatever Mute is there, and call it good. So many people think we're some super manly force of macho killers. No, just no.

Today, though, was an especially horrible day. It always is, every year. Today is the third aniversary of my parents' death. They were infected by Mutes one day, then the Militia decided to off everyone that was infected, curable or not. They were curable. Ever since then, I was on the Hunter Squad. I wasn't the youngest, and I wasn't the best, but I was one of two girls. Both of us were barely in our twenties, and quite frankly the only non-beastly looking things on the squad. We were best friends, but polar opposites. 

 Mika was sweet, and softspoken, whereas I was well versed in the art of sarcasm and bluntness. She perfected the art of sugar-coating everything, where I am a pro at telling it how it is. We were good for each other though. I had no filter, and she did. I was outgoing and willing, she was reserved and hesitant. We drew our stenghts from different areas and complimented each other. We were also partners on the squad.

I sat in the office with Mika just hoping for a call. Today was the day that I was most anxious to go kick some Mute butt. After twenty minutes of my glaring at the buzzer and her giving me the stank eye, we finally got a call. It was from Outside Pavillion, a place half in, half out of the everything-proof glass. It was a dngerous place, and one of the very few weak points in the barrier. I wanted this call so bad.

I looked up at Mika. "Suit up babycakes, it's butt kickin' time!"

she sighed, as she slid on her armor. "Zeela, babycakes is not okay."

I grinned at her as we put on the thin silver metal, and white mesh suits we were required to wear. They were pretty good looking in my opinion, but the guys complained that they were too dainty and feminine. In minutes Mika and I were on our speedcycles and seconds away from the Pavillion. As we neared, we could hear fighting. Oh, how great. The worst thing a person could do was fight a Mute while waiting for Hunters. Mutes are not easily distracted, and tend to focus on a victim until one of them dies.

When we jumped off our speedcycles, we ran towards the Mute. It was a rather rare one, and would have to be captured for tests. Perfect, that makes it so much harder to get. On top of that, some guy that probably justs wants to show off his fighting skills was trying to fight the Mute with a broken piece of old swing set.

"Yo dude!" I shout. "Stop fighting it, or it'll kill you!"

"Zeela! Please, sir, just do as we tell you." Mika ordered.

We walked toward Mr. Big And Bad and tried to get the Mute's attention, but it just wasn't going to cooperate. Finally I found another piece of dilapidated theme park and jogged over Mr. Tough Guy. I waited for a chance to intervene, as was protocal. I parried the Mute, shoved Mr. Fighter Dude out of the way, and succesfully restrained the Mute. This one was oddly human looking, and probably just got infected. Either way, a Mute is a Mute in the eyes of the Militia. I signaled Mika, and we got the Mute in a container and began questioning Mr. I Don't Know Anything.

"How old are you?" I demanded.

"Twenty-three" answered Mr. I Like To Try And Get Myself Killed.

"Name?"

"Grey Manson." he asnwered.

"Why were you at Outside Pavillion?" I questioned, and glared at him.

"I live by there, and went for a walk."

"Oh, sure. You just went for a walk in the most dangerous part of Jamesonville. Just for the fun of it." I argued.

"Seriously. Then that Mute came out and tried to get me, so I called you guys."

"Oh, so you weren't there trying to, I don't know, get into trouble?"

"Zeela," Mika chided. "Take it easy, it's not like he's a criminal."

"I know." I stated.

"He didn't do it either." she commented.

She didn't know that. He was twenty-three. Three years ago he would've been twenty. Twenty is old enough to work for the government as an Exterminator. He could've killed my parents. I looked at Mika, and she knew she'd gone a little too far and nodded. I left the Interogation Room, and walked down the intense white halls. My white and silver uniform boots tapped on the flawless floor as I walked past the containment cells. I stopped in front of the cell of the Mute I just caught. It was a man, probably in his thirties or forties. His muscles were taught, and larger than usual due to the toxins that infected him. I looked at him through the thick glass and he looked at me. He looked sad, and regretful, like he never wanted to hurt anyone.

"You're just a victim of the times, huh?" I murmur as I look at him. "No one get's it, do they? You never wanted this. You just got what you got, and had no control."

He came a little closer, and put his hand on the glass. The Infection caused rashes, hair growth, and boils, making its victim look somewhat zombie-werewolf-like. I looked at his hands, They were relatively normal aside from the red, iritated color and hair. I looked at his face. It was such a sad face, so lonely. I put my hand on the glass over his, and sighed. We understood each other, but no one else would. We had a bit of a connection that no one else could have. I knew it was wild and crazy, but he was still a person, just Infected. He was probably curable, but that wouldn't stop the government from tormneting him and treating him like a wild scientific project.

I smiled at him, then dropped my hand and walked away. I slowly walked down the hall and got to the Interogation Room just as Mr. Manson was leaving.

"Going so soon?" I teased. "I thought you liked it here."

"Yes, because I like being brutalized by Hunters. It's so great." he retorted.

I chuckled. "Don't get yourself Infected, Manson. It'll ruin you, and every one who loves you."

He nodded, and continued down the hall as I entered the Interrogation Room. 

"What's up Mika Lynn Faffer?"

"Not much, how about you Zeela Anne Pikner?" she responded.

"Same old, same old. So, whats the story with Manson?" I asked.

"Well, I looked up where he said he lived, and it's like right next to Pavillion, so the walk story is entirely possible. That, and his neighborhood is kind of dumpy so, scary places like Pavillion wouldn't be anything new. Other than that, his story matched up with ours." she answered.

"Hmm, guess he's more legitimate than I hought."

I talked with Mika while we walked back to our little cubicle. As soon as we got there, we got another call, this one on the other side of town by the Sill. I looked at Mika and groaned. The Sill was beyond sketchy. It was pretty much the only place in the whole Dome that wasn't in use. The Sill was like a window into the past, hence the name the Sill. That was the part of town left completely untouched. The builindgs were slowly falling apart, and the streets were barely visible underneath all the rubble. The cities were still pretty dilapidated, but this, this was nothing but lost loves, memories, and hopes. This was the Sill. This was the place were hopes and happiness came to die.

Mika and I stared at each other, then decided it was better to go and save the poor soul that would most definetely die without our help. We walked out of the office, and to our speedcycles. It took us more time than it should have to get there, but when we did, there was nothing but gray. We stumbled over the rubble of the Sill. We made our way, tripping and staggering. Finally, we reached the crest of a hill that fell away into a valley of debris. We found the victim. It was a young girl, maybe thirteen. She was trying her