File 66

He moaned while I fucked him. He whispered. 'I'm gonna take you out of here. We'll get away from here. Ah! Oh God!' I buried my face between his shoulder blades and reached around to stroke his thick cock. It was the first time we had been so rough, but he had been hard as steel, moaning and thrusting back into my cock.

After love, we snuggled in the bed. His head rested on my chest, and I could feel his breath there. He told me that he couldn't tell me when, but soon an agent from the Community would come up to drive him to a safehouse. From the safehouse, we would travel to an airport in Mexico, one of the few countries that had not been hit by nuclear weapons or biotoxic weapons in the Great War. From the airport, we would go to the Community. I still remember him telling me.

'I can't tell you where it is. When we're in the safehouse, I'll tell you everything. But it's somewhere warm. You and me, we'll climb rocks in the desert and watch the cactus flowers bloom.'

I remember embracing him tight to me, and seeing my tears trickle into his dark hair. In my darkened flat, his hair looked black. In the sunlight, he had highlights the color of rubies. I always wanted to touch his hair when it looked like embers, but I never could. In flat indoor lights, it just looked brown, and in the darkness it was dark, but I could never touch him, look at him, kiss him in the sunlight. Now I'll never get the chance.

I have to stop. I'm shivering, and I only have a little bit of pencil left.

FOLLOWING THIS, THE NOTES ARE TRANSCRIBED IN BLOOD

December 22, 2121

Ever since I had to pry the last half-inch of graphite from the pencil and write with the tweezers, I've been keeping my eyes peeled at roll call. One morning, early on, the field was covered in loose feathers from two crows that had been fighting. I've been looking for feathers for the last seven days, and I finally have a couple. They don't naturally work as quills; I had to figure out how to mess with the tips of them to open them up.

The ink is my blood. I don't think I'll ever have the self-control to stab myself a wound with the tweezers, as I feared I would have to do. Thanks to Manet and Smith, I wont have to.

Two days ago, I was beaten by the both of them. Manet is in his fifties, so he tired easier. Smith is in his thirties so he can go longer but he can't punch as hard. I picked open a scab that his ring cut into my stomach. He wears a ring with the symbol of the Unitarist Church on it, a stylized dove. Taylor always said that it reminded him of the eagle on the Nazi SS uniforms. When I asked him what a Nazi was, he laughed but his eyes were sad. What else don't I know that he'll never be able to tell me?

My face feels hot and bruised and swollen and cut. As I write, I have to keep dipping the tip of this feather into the little bloody cut on my stomach. It isn't like a quill, like I pictured. I can only write a few letters at a time. But I have to write, or I will go insane. After every side of every page, I have to stop, and let it dry. It gives me a break.

I'm almost done with

December 25, 2121

I have a scab on my arm to pick, and it works a lot better. I almost feel like it's an ink well. It helps. I had to stop the last entry in a panic. I barely got the journal into the shit-bucket in time. I didn't think that they would torture me again so soon. It was only two days since the last time. It's Christmas today. The holiday doesn't exist in the Unitarist Church, but Taylor told me such amazing stories.

He couldn't tell me when we were going to escape, but he told me that we would be in the Community in time for Christmas. He told me that we would have a pine tree, decorated with popcorn and brightly colored ornaments. We would exchange gifts and eat a meal. He became obsessed with that meal. He spent several minutes describing it's every detail. I had to beg him to stop torturing me with food so lavish it seemed imaginary. He talked about a giant turkey that would be stuffed with bread and onions and giblet gravy, a mountain of fluffy mashed potatoes dripping with real butter and peppercorns. Rolls made of bread so soft and hot that it would melt in our mouths. Just thinking about it makes my stomach curl in on itself. I better stop.

What I was going to say in the last message. I'm almost done with the story of Taylor and I, and I need to finish it before I go insane, or before they break my hands, or before they kill me. It's only seven more days until my trial, and after that, who knows how much time I have left. They'll sentence me to death. Sometimes I wish that they would just do it, so the torture would stop and I wouldn't have to worry about Nikolaus anymore.

But if they killed me now, I wouldn't be able to remember Taylor.

It was early November. I was at his flat. My asshole was loose and warm and slick, and his seed was running down my thigh. It was a good feeling. He was curled up behind me.

The door opened and the Peacekeeper came in, just one. He called us freaks and brandished his club at us, telling us to get up and 'cover our shame'. He was brandishing these metal cuffs, and they were shining in the light from the streets. They were jangling, the sound hurt my ears and the flash hurt my eyes.

Taylor stumbled and bent down for his clothes, covering his groin with one hand and begging the man not to hurt us. When he rose it was in a smooth machine-like movement and he jammed something sharp deep into the Peacekeeper's gut. He covered the Peacekeeper's mouth with his hand and removed the sharp object from his gut to slit his throat. I cowered on the bed, holding a blanket around my shoulders and moaning low in my throat. There was so much blood and I was starting to freak out. Taylor's eyes were dead the whole time. For the first time, I realized how deadly he was. The Community seemed real.

He washed off his hands in the sink and spoke in a harsh undertone. He told me to get dressed, and to gather up any food we had in the cupboards. 'We don't have any time. We have to hide outside the city until the agent from the Community gets here.'

I remember saying something stupid, like 'He's dead' or 'you killed him'. He was pulling his clothes on and he pulled me to my feet. When we were both standing, he was a few inches taller then me. I looked up into his amazing blue eyes. He smiled, and it was strained and panicked, but still his smile.

'We have to go. Get your clothes on. Listen Tam, we're going to make it. Just trust me.'

I can still hear him. Jesus, I can still hear his voice if I close my eyes. I put on my clothes and we ran into the street. He told me to run through the shadowy streets until I got to my flat. He told me to pick up anything that was too important to leave, some clothes, any food, and to meet him at the primary school by the south gate of the city. He said that he knew a way out, that he was going to shake anyone tailing us.

The Peacekeepers got me by the primary school. I screamed and struggled at first, but by the time they dragged me to the van I was numb. They put a bag over my head, and by the time they took it off, I was in the gaol. The last thing that Taylor said to me, was 'I love you, good luck'.

My thoughts have been getting more and more confused as time goes on. Sometimes I'll lie down and I'll just remember the smell of his skin. Like sunlight and musk and earth. I'll be running, staggering in roll call, and I'll hear his voice in my ear. The last time I was tortured, my head was ringing and I was crying and blood was streaming from my mouth. I Felt his hand on my shoulder, felt it's warm weight, felt him squeeze.

I'm going insane. But at least I get to Feel him again. It's not even near as good as the real thing, but it's better then nothing. I'm glad I write. Even if I have to scribble in blood. It brings visions of Taylor.

December 27, 2121

Later in the day when I did my entry, Smith and Manet brought me to the shower room and hosed me for hours. I was almost glad they did. It hurt so bad, and I was screaming and my skin felt like it would split and curl off of my body, but now I'm clean. It feels so good to be clean.

I'm done writing my story, but I want to write anyway. It helps. I'm surprised by how lucid I've been recently. Taylor told me stories about Tibetan monks, or Indian fakirs. They meditated for days and days with little food and constant prayer and punishing physical exercise. Maybe in this gaol, all they are doing is strengthening my mind.

When Smith and Manet were questioning me, Smith got angry. He's the younger one. He took the hose off of me for a moment and asked me if I was glad that I had been 'snared by a terrorist'. He told me that Taylor obviously didn't love me, that Taylor just wanted someone to fuck. He told me that I had been nothing but a tool, an accomplice. It doesn't matter how many times he says that, it will never be true.

When they were pulling me down, and I was semiconscious, Manet swore, and murmured. 'This kid would have been better off if this damn terrorist had kept his dick in his pants.'

Would I have been better off? All I know, is that if I had a choice between living for fifty years, or living for one day with Taylor, I know which one I would choose.

Today I saw my reflection. I was cleaning out bedpans, and I turned one over and it had a smooth shiny ceramic bottom. I could see my translucent reflection. My hair has grown out, but it's brittle and lusterless and greasy. My face is a gaunt skeleton, with wild dark hollows instead of eyes. My cheekbones jut, and my cheeks are so thin that I can stick my finger into the hole under my cheekbones. My mouth is cracked and swollen. I'm so ugly.

I have to go, lights out

December 31, 2121

Tomorrow is my trial. I wonder when I'll be executed. Maybe Taylor will hear about it in the Community. I hope he's safe.

The defendant only has one chance to talk. They have to put it in their records. I'm going to try and say something that will make a difference.

I love you Taylor. I love you with every bone in my hollow body. I love you for every brick in the gaol. I love you for every stone in the earth, and every drop of poisoned water on this sick, dying planet.

FROM THIS POINT ON, THE PAGES ARE HEAVILY STAINED WITH BLOOD. MANY OF THE ENTRIES DO NOT HAVE DATES, AND THEY BECOME SIGNIFICANTLY SHORTER

They pulled out my fingernails. I can't write.

It hurts so bad. I want to write, but I can't.

I made them angry.

I love you Taylor.

Nikolaus fucked me today. And the day before, and the day before that. I just want it to stop.

I wish I was dead already.

January 15, 2122.

It hurts so bad to write, but I have wrapped my fingers in tape. I need to write or I will go insane. I am going to be executed tomorrow.

I love you Taylor. When I was at the trial, and I had the chance to speak, I said that I loved another man. I said that the Unitarist church would fall. I called them a bunch of ignorant fucks who would die with the stink of their own shit in their noses. I was so scared, but I felt so powerful when I was up there. I know that it meant nothing, that I was just as helpless as before, but I had a voice, and people heard me. It was a public hearing. There was an uproar at my words. I feel like I made a difference, no matter how small, how worthless.

To pay me back for my insolence, Smith an Manet pulled out every one of my fingernails. They are bloody and swollen, and it hurts to write. It hurts so bad that I'm crying even now.

I was given my last meal earlier this evening. The soup has some meat in it, and it came with half of a green apple. My friend from the infirmary pulled some strings to make it possible.

To whoever finds this notebook, I just want to say. I lived, and I loved. I will die tomorrow, and all I can hope is that my words will make one last difference before I hang.

I love you Taylor.

Tam Berling.

END OF JOURNAL.

SEGMENT FROM THE TRIAL OF TAM BERLING

JUDGE RAIMUS: For gender treachery, treason, and accessory to murder, I sentence Tam Berling to execution on the sixteenth of January in the year of our Lord 2122. May the good Lord have mercy on your soul. Does Tam Berling have anything he wants to say?

(Shuffle, the accused stands up and walks to the podium, flanked by a single guard)

TAM BERLING: I am accused to die because I wanted to change our lives. I fell in love with a man who wanted to bring down our Government. There are women who die in agony because we wont help them with medicine. The Unitarists have been lying to you. It was the Nuclear blasts that caused infertility, not modern technology--

(an uproar, the guard attempts to pull the accused from podium, but the accused strikes him and continues to speak)

TAM BERLING: They are lying to you! They say that technology is evil, but somewhere they have a mainframe computer. They have morphine and penicillin, but it's only for them. They lead you by the nose because you are ignorant! Rise up! You don't want to die like dogs in the gutter, surrounded by the stink of your own shit! You can be who you want to be, love who you want to love, live like human beings, just rise up, and don't let the Unitarists win!

(accused is grabbed by two guards, yanked away from the microphone. A bag is put over his head and he is hurried away)

JUDGE RAIMUS: This is just a sad example of the lies that the terrorist and pervert Taylor Bashke put into this poor young man's head. He is brainwashed and delusional. He accuses the Church of cardinal sins, while ignoring his own. He is an example of what happens when we allow foreigners to try and tell us what we already know better.

END STATEMENT, JANUARY 1, 2122

FOLLOWING IS AN EXERPT FROM THE INTERVIEW OF GLORIA STEIN, CITIZEN OF RALTING, WHO WITNESSED THE EVENTS OF TAM BERLING'S EXECUTION ON JANUARY 16, 2122.

MANET: Alright, the machine is rolling. Testing, this is agent Frederick Manet with my partner agent Alec Smith. Today we will be conducting the interview of Matron Gloria Stein, citizen, mother of four healthy children, age 71.

STEIN: Is that machine safe? The Church says that machines can give you tumors, and I have friends far younger then I who have succumbed to the wasting disease.

SMITH: No need to worry Matron... This is one of the oldest machines, with a tape. The newer digital models are the dangerous to be near. Other countries know of the risks, but their Governments hide the truth. Here, no one lies to the citizens.

STEIN: Oh yes, I'm grateful. May I have a drink son? My throat is awfully dry.

SMITH: Of course Matron.

(Sound of water being poured)

STEIN: Thank you son, you're a good boy. Where should I begin?

MANET: Whenever you think is best madam. We appreciate your cooperation greatly.

STEIN: Well, that morning I was off to see my second child. She's expecting. I was so excited. Very few people have the opportunity to be a Grand-parent anymore. I was going to visit her and give her a few of my ration chips. I'm old, and I don't eat as much anymore. I wanted to make sure that my grandchild would have the best of everything. I was going to give her some milk and fruit chips. I can get by on potatoes and bread if need be.

MANET: You will be a fantastic grandmother when the child comes, pray to the Lord that the child is born whole.

STEIN: Yes, yes, Lord I worry. But I came to the county hall and there was a massive crowd. I thought that maybe there was an announcement going on. I tried to get closer, the crowd was so big. Then I saw it was an execution. I'm sorry agent, I realize that he deserved to die, and I'm a patriot, but I hate watching the executions, especially with such a young boy.

SMITH: Don't worry Matron... Many people don't like to watch the executions. All life is sacred. It just means that you are more of a believer. Here, have my handkerchief.

STEIN: Thank you son, you remind me of my youngest boy. Anyway, I shoved out of the crowd as they were reading his offenses. I didn't hear them very well because it was windy, and the microphone was acting up. The boy looked so young, he was crying and his hands were all bloody and awful. I hurried into this alley that led to my daughter's flat. But then I could hear the boy shouting, so I waited for a minute to listen. He was saying... He was saying some simply awful things.

SMITH: Ma'am? Could you please tell us what he said?

STEIN: Fine, but I don't believe anything he said. He kept shouting things like. 'The Unitarists are lying to you' and 'It's better to die then to live in the Unitarist Church any longer'. He told people that we were dying because we believed in the government.

MANET: He did say some pretty horrible lies. We're sorry you had to hear those Ma'am.

STEIN: Well, I started to walk again, when a young man shouldered past me and nearly bumped me to the ground. I can't see as well as I used to, but I'm pretty sure he had--(unintelligible mumbling)

SMITH: What was that ma'am?

STEIN: (very quietly) A gun.

MANET: Ma'am, do you remember what he looked like?

STEIN: Well, my eyes aren't as good as they used to be, but he was young, I know that. No more then a big boy. He had brown hair, broad shoulders. He was very handsome, I guess. He had blue eyes, very bright blue eyes, like how they say the sky used to be. He ran past me and I brushed the snow off of me and continued on my way when suddenly I heard many loud bangs behind me. I thought that they were gunshots, but later on when they had a public announcement they said that they were strange foreign grenades.

SMITH: Yes, it's a kind of foreign trickery that they call 'flash-bangs'. They create a huge light and a loud high-frequency bang. It can temporarily cause people to become deaf and blind.

STEIN: Truly the devil's work then. I heard people screaming, and I didn't know what to do. I was just standing there, worrying, wondering if I should take shelter or if I should try to get to the Peacekeeper barracks. When several men came running back. The one who had bumped into me and several others. The one who had bumped into me had the boy from the stage in his arms.

MANET: Are you sure matron? You said that your eyes...

STEIN: I know what I saw officer. I saw that skinny little boy curled up in the other boy's arms like a skeleton. A few moments later Peacekeepers came and I pointed them to where the terrorists had run a moment before.

SMITH: Thank you for your testimony Matron Stein, it will help us greatly.

STEIN: Have you caught them yet?

SMITH: Nope, they had a van that went off into one of the polluted areas. The Peacekeepers weren't equipped to follow and by the time they were, the terrorists were go--

MANET: Smith! Shut up.

STEIN: Oh, don't worry young man. I can keep a secret.

MANET: You're a pure fool Alec. Turn that damn thing off.

END INTERVIEW, JANUARY 20, 2122

OFFICIAL PEACEKEEPER REPORT.

Terrorist Cell left building through an underground passage that had been dug under the south wall. Peacekeepers were in pursuit, believing them to have access to an ordinary car. However, the Terrorist Cell had a lead-lined van and proceeded to go down Ralting's County Rd 16 into Restricted Sector 78.

Peacekeeper units were in pursuit after proper equipment and vehicles were arranged. Telegrams were sent to adjacent counties of Restricted Sector 78, but new evidence has shown that the Terrorist cell cut all communications lines. Taylor Bashke (a.k.a. Undesirable #1) and his accomplice Tam Berling have not been sighted since. Investigation still pending.