At Least I Had Her

I walk outside and head to the car, waiting for my dad and Lexi to come out. I stuff my hands in my pockets and look up at the blue sky, obscured by the blue hexagonal shapes of the force field. It was sunny, little to no clouds, but something felt weird to me for some reason.

“Alright! Let’s get a move on,” my dad says in his thick Tennessee accent, while struggling to carry his carry on and hold my sister’s hand at the same time. He opens up the door for my sister and I jump in the passenger side seat of his rover and buckle up.

“Hey daddy, when are you leaving for the trip?” my sister asks while I wonder the same thing.

“Well, right after I drop you guys off, I’m gonna head to the airport. The company has some important things cooking up in the lab and I,” he says, fixing his tie with pride, “have to test them, make sure they’re up to code and all that jazz.”

I still don’t know exactly what my dad does for work. All I know is that he gets paid stacks on stacks, and gets a lot of the products that his company oversees, most of them being for security.

We set off to school and I am just dreading the thought of having to sit through 8 hours of teachers talking only to hear themselves talk. I keep wanting to look up at the sky for some reason. It’s the same hexagonal shapes I’ve seen everyday since the day I was born. I guess I’ve never stared up at it this hard but I can see the electricity coursing through it. We learned in school that the force fields were made to keep out any foreign invaders, pathogens, so on and so forth. The only time it opens up is so we can get imports and exports, for travel, so biologists can check on the oceans, military and navy stuff, and once a year, where everyone in the western hemisphere turns their lights off so we can see the galaxy. There is a mutual rule across the world where no one can attack on this day. Every country and territory has a force field and has had one for the last 50 years. Most people alive right now don’t know a life without them. When they were put up, everything changed, ultimately for the better. The U.S. went from using only 20% renewable resources, to 89%. My grandparents would tell me that the air feels transparent in their lungs. I don’t know how air can feel transparent, but apparently it did.

We finally get to Lexi’s school. My dad jumps out of the car to hug her and gives her a kiss on the forehead. He tells her, “Be good for your brother, alright? I’ll only be gone for the weekend.”

I see her run to the door of the school through the side view mirror like I do everyday, making sure she gets up there safe, and her teacher high fives her as she goes through the door. My dad jumps back into the car and clears his throat and drives me 5 minutes to the high school.

“Alright son,” he starts. “You know I’ll only be gone for the weekend so that means go easy on your sister. I know you’ll take care of her because you always have, ever since she was born but she’s not an easy kid to take care of alone.” He laughs a little but I can hear some sadness in it. It’s only been two years since our mom passed away from breast cancer and of course he took it the hardest, so taking care of a little girl who was all mischief and looks just like our mom, cannot be easy.

“Alright, you know where everything is just in case of emergencies,” he says while I roll my eyes. He always gives me the disaster prep talk when he leaves for a while. He continues. “Non-perishables?”

“Basement closet. Bottom shelf along with the water tablets and MRE’s,” I answer.

“Tent?”

“Basement closet. Right side. Along with the air filtration and security field with the biometric scanner. Lexi and I’s biometrics are in it,” I answered again.

“And?”

“And, weapons, gas masks, clothes etcetera are in the closet on the left. Now are we done?”

He nods his head with a slight heaviness to it.

“You’re prepared for anything that could come your way, son. Grandpa didn’t put me through military school for nothing and I taught you everything I could. You’re a good boy. Strong. Capable. Smart. And no matter what happens, as long as you take care of your sister and yourself, you’ll be fine,” he says with an eeriness. My stomach drops. “Alright get to school. Learn some things. I’ll text you with the flight details and Carly’s mom is going to pick you guys up,” he finishes.

“Yes, sir,” I say, saluting him while I get out of the car. But something stops me. Why did he say no matter what happens, the way he did? Why did he seem more worried than usual? I shrug it off but keep it in the back of my head as I walk up the stairs.