Beyond the perfect rows of identical homes and at the edge of everything stood the Wall. Within it smoke billowed forming a ghostly barrier, swirling from milky white to roiling black. No brick, no mortar held it together, but it towered there nonetheless, closing in the community of Pleasant Valley with four, ninety-degree corners — the Communities devoted champion. It hummed like a constant blaring danger sign – do not pass, turn back, or a bloodthirsty communist will destroy you. The warning ingrained into all the residents on the day the elevator doors opened and their parents selected their crying bundles from the glass bassinets.
Only the Recruited had permission to go through the Wall, and only on their Recruitment day, and at the allotted room somewhere deep within the courthouse.
Able McCants knew that.
He didn’t care.
Age hadn’t yet made him a man, but he’d long since shaken off his childhood. Though on occasion, youthful thoughts, like now, still ruled his spirit.
He swallowed hard, squinting into the abyss, willing his mind to see beyond, to see the unending war, but only opaque darkness stared back at him. So instead, he set his toes at the edge of the mist, as if to get any closer it might eat through his black leather shoes like acid.