~Kenna London~ (Chapter 7)

Men and women and children, all in one room, a vast room, but it would barely hold the volume of its inhabitants. They clung to each other and sobbed, tears blurring the vision of some, but other just sitting in stunned silence, eyes dry, waiting for their impending doom. I was one such person, staring out at everyone. My body felt light, like I was just watching the scene in front of me, not really there. It was shock, turning my already pale face pasty white, and rocking me on my feet. The tension in the air was thick, suffocating, and I felt as though I had to take deep gasps of the stale, musty air in just to breathe. No one knew where we were, no one knew anything. It was the ignorance more than coming death that moved silvery tears out of the eyes of those in the room. There was nothing worse than not knowing.
And then, a man had come up over a balcony that I doubted anyone had known was there. He had a sallow face and sunken eyes that gave him every resemblance to a corpse. And a corpse he was. The grim reaper of the thousands choking in this room. He appeared human, but there was something off about him, maybe his height, which rose over seven feet, or his jet black robe that skimmed the floor, perfectly fitted in every way. And then he spoke.
"People of New York City!" He called, voice rising above the masses without the aid of a microphone, "You, as you may well know, have been selected to participate in our experiment." He spat every word as if it were a disease, although he voiced them with pride. A confusing mixture, but malignant in every way, "Now, to begin, please separate yourselves: minors to the right, and adults to the left."
The crowd had no intention to move. Mothers and fathers clung all the tighter to their children, and adults and minors alike stayed in their places.
From doors, seamlessly flesh with the wall, strode men and women, tall and equally pale to the man on the balcony, with robes of deep burgundy and expressionless faces. They tore children from parents, set brothers and sisters of differing ages apart, and dragged them, crying, to the right side. The air quickly filled with screams and sobs of anguish, so much that it was hard for me to bear. I didn't want to be here. I wanted to be in the shelter, even if I'd have to stay there for fifty years while all the word went to chaos around me. I didn't want to be here.
knowing I wasn't yet an adult, I quickly hurried to the left, not wanting to be touched by the strange people. Then one of them stopped me, closing their cool, skeletal hand around my shoulder, forcing shivers down my spine. It was a man, bald, but with a nasty smirk on his face and a mouth full of perfectly white teeth. He might have been in his forties, but it was impossible to tell.
"State your age." He commanded me.
"Seventeen."
"Adult enough," he said and shoved me off towards the right before nonchalantly walking off and settling himself in the middle, between the halves of the population along with all of the other robed newcomers.
The man on the balcony resumed his speech, "Good. Now that that is taken care of, we will be escorting you through these double doors in front of you in groups of one hundred. The approximate time of wait in between these parties is one hour and thirty minutes." He started to exit through the door behind him, then turned around to meet all of the fearful, confused faces underneath him and uttered one word, the equivalent of death to them. "Commence."
The robed people who had been standing still as statues for the remainder of the man's speech moved forwards towards the adult half and began to count people off.
A sudden surge of panic shot through my bloodstream, and I clenched my fists, muttering quietly under my breath, "Please. Not me. Not me. Please, not me."
But then one of them strode up to me, burgundy cloak swaying silently behind her, and stopped, pointing her thin, bony finger at my face.
"Eighty-Eight. Through the doors." She said, in a cruel voice that shot through me like bullets and I wanted to sink. I wanted her to pick another eighty-eight so I could sit here with everything that was vaguely familiar, with a crowd of people that could comfort me, but she shoved me off towards the front, and I had no choice but to follow the other ninety-nine people making their sad exodus away from what they loved.
And into the unknown I plunged.

~Kenna London~ (Chapter 2)

The wind whistled past my ears, blocking out everything as I ran, arms pumping, full speed ahead. I could make it. I could get to the shelter if I tried.
And. Went. Faster.
My iPod was still in my pocket and the timer was blasting out of the speakers, out of everything the government could possibly tap into.
"One minute, twelve seconds." said a calm, mechanical voice in my ear. Much calmer than I felt.
Just a little bit faster and I could make it. Why did Grandmother have to live so far away from the city? I still had half a mile to go. I could sprint it. She was safe, though. They'd taken her out on a helicopter twenty minutes ago, the speaker in the unmanned vehicle telling me, "I am sorry. This ride is only for the elderly. Please find another means of transportation."
And what other means were there? Just my own two legs, as it seemed. That was one of the reasons I hated the anemetronics they seemed to use everywhere. A human could think, but a robot could only do what it was programmed to. Follow the rules without exception.
"One minute, ten seconds." chimed the speaker. I threw it from my pocket. I didn't need to be reminded.
The shelter was just on the outskirts of the city. I could see the shining buildings that surrounded it clearly now, less than a mile away, I was sure. I could make it. Just maybe.
Every computer, every television and portable electronic device in the city was shouting the same phrase, in the same smooth voice, all simultaneously.
"Zero minutes, Forty-five seconds."
Emotions clouded my head, threatening to burst it. Hot tears ran down my cheeks, misting my vision. The shining city in front of me was blurred. Just one dismal, chrome mess. It numbed my muscles and made it hard to keep going.
Reality was harsh. I wasn't going to make it.
"Zero minutes, twenty seconds."
The asphalt under my feet was rockier, more used. I was getting close. Maybe, just maybe, I could get there in time. It takes a lot of practice to lie like that to yourself. Unfortunately, I had none.
"Zero minutes, ten seconds."
I began the countdown in my head. The countdown until death. I stopped running, finally breaking down. it was still so far.
Three
Two
One.
I braced myself for death, and in that split second I wondered what it would be like. If it would hurt. I figured I would find out.
The voice resonated through every fiber in me. "Zero."
And nothing happened.
I waited for a long time, afraid of what would happen if I opened my eyes, but then I heard the voice again, low and smooth.
"Hello, New York City. You, outside of the shelters, have now been selected to participate in an experiment. You will be escorted to the private location immediately. Thank you."
And with click, the speaker turned off.
There was a low mist on the ground, only a passing white vapor, like dust, I thought. But it made my mind blank, like it was filled with cotton, and the strength leave my legs. And I was falling.
There were two sounds.
One was the thunk of every person trapped outside of the New York shelters as they hit the ground.
The other was the sound of the security mechanisms of the shelter kicking into action, trapping everyone inside.
And then the world went dark.