The Containment Zone

The district here used to be great. A thriving metropolis in the heart of the country. The buildings were of bright vibrant colors. They stood tall and together painting a beautiful skyline of dark reds and velvet blues. It was a beautiful dome of houses that flowed into the nearby mountainside.

The canals in the central part of the city streamed from the mountains with great power and force. The streets were cramped and full of life. Each street was lined ever so perfectly with shops and houses. It was in this way that the community worked and thrived. Everything seemed to be set up to perfection.

It was almost like a giant machine. Every gear and small bearing had a purpose. And of course what is a machine without an engine. The thing about an engine is that it requires fuel. Without fuel the engine will die and without the engine the machine will die as well. Ridden by plagued fuel the engine stopped running and with it the machine.

The district began to fall apart and so did its residents. They say the plague came from a boat arriving from the south east district. It didn’t even originate here. The food plagued the people and the people plagued the city. Now the district was dead. Only the rats and maggots inhabited the empty shell. People eventually gave up and figured it couldn’t be saved. They figured it could be used as a containment zone. A place to dump and leave the bodies.

Henry tried not to look at their faces as they took the long drop below. He was afraid he might recognize one. Henry was a young man about 25 or so. He was haunted by a good memory and a pitiful heart. He was one of those who could remember exactly how it used to be. What was where and who did what. He could picture the lively streets. The way the sun pierced the rooftops in the day and the moon glazed the streets during the night.

A full moon was a delightful sight at night. The streets would light up amongst the oil lit lanterns revealing the darker shades of the city. The reds and blues would turn dark and the moon a crisp white. The colors would contrast each other shading in the dark spots with lighter tones. It was like walking through a garden of light. A beautiful city of fire lit by the moon.

Now the lanterns were all pitch black. There was no one there to light them or with the will to do so. The district and the moon were in this way disconnected. Without the light, the bright vibrant buildings were not visible at night. The cities outline was barely visible amongst the mountainous terrain. The city canals ran still and the streets were empty or filled with the dead. The moon was covered with a sheet this night. It shined brightly but left the ground in the dark.

Henry had been there in the day before but he mostly remembered the city by the dark as all runs were around midnight. That’s what they called trips to The Containment Zone; runs. Bodies would arrive in carts on the old monorail used by the city. It would stop by the town square and dump the infected bodies there. The carts used to be used for transportation of trash but since the plague The Lower Watch had no choice but to use it as a way to transport the dead.

The carts were sleek with large stained stainless steel doors. The cart was designed to tilt to empty its contents. The large door would slide open releasing the dead into The Containment Zone. The process was mostly automatic. It required only two to operate the carts; the door operator and the spotter.

The door operator would sit in the observatory and control the carts automated functions. It used to be an old watch tower before the plague. It was one of the only buildings The Lower Watch was able to secure when the district fell into dismay. The spotter was to stand on the tracks platform and ensure all the bodies made it to the ground. It was always a little intimidating being up so high but Henry got used to it after a while.

The man in the watch tower was Charles Woodstock, a new recruit for The Lower Watch. He was 17 and one of the youngest recruits. Henry supposed this was his first trip to the district. He said he didn’t want to see the bodies and would prefer to operate the carts. Henry being there for about seven years now agreed. It was always hard to keep track of time these days. Routine was crucial to survival. Especially as a member of The Watch.   

The Watch was essentially the guard of the city. They were employed by the queen and were sworn into oath as such. Ever since the plague there has been a constant need for new recruits. The age limit used to be 18 but standards have decreased since then. Although many are recruited almost a third die from plague or riot.

Not only did The Watch establish order but it was also a form of plague control. Along with violence, the dead would began to pile up in the streets. Death tolls have more than tripled in the past year and living in the city can often be as bad as living in The Containment Zone. It was The Watch’s duty to dispose of the dead and thus The Lower Watch and The Containment Zone were created.

The Containment Zone wasn’t only for the dead though. Parts of the district still had people living in it. It was a hard choice to make but the bodies had to go somewhere and sadly this district was the first out of all to go. It got so bad that making it a containment zone was the least they could do in its honor. The Containment Zone was perfectly isolated from the other districts and the capital. The mountains created a barrier for plagued victims and kept them out of the main cities.  

Anyone with symptoms were brought here. The Lower Watch would bring them to the south east entrance of the district through the city sewers. People would beg and plead but orders were always clear. Failure to follow them meant prosecution and disbandment from The Watch. Henry had done the job before. Some complied while others got violent. Violent ones were often killed.

The last cart had arrived and was dumping its final contents to the city floor. The sound of the carts was the only sound to be heard throughout the whole district. The creaking of the large doors echoed across the city filling the silent streets. Henry was almost sure the alive plagued victims could hear it. Sometimes he thought he could almost feel them watching him from the abandoned buildings below. If you looked close enough you could see fires burning in the now broken windows. They were flickering pale lights amongst the dark night.     

There would always be three distinctive thuds after the bodies had left the cart. The doors would hit the sides exactly three times. Henry didn’t keep count but it became apparent to him after a while. Three thuds and then on to the next. The first would rattle around in your head a bit and shake around your thoughts. The second was much quieter than the first and could almost be soothing in comparison. The third would fade away into the distance leaving nothing but a soft cry in the night air. Then the creaking would began again and the process would repeat itself.   

Looking down was a horrific sight. The ground was no longer visible. Heaps of bodies lay piled over the city streets. The square was filled with the composing dead. Henry tried to not look down but curiosity always got to him first. He couldn’t remember the last time it looked like the pit was actually getting bigger. Now there were so many bodies it looked as if it stayed the same.

Finally the job was done. The carts rolled down the tracks back towards terminal 16. There were 24 terminals connecting all 12 or now 11 districts. It was truly one of the greatest modern innovations of the century. Trains would run from every district uniting all of Bellmore. No one takes the trains anymore though. In fact it is was now illegal to travel to any district without a royal permit. Royal permits were normally only granted to The Watch. For instance The Lower Watch had unlimited access to The Containment Zone and all other districts. All Lower Watch members kept their royal permit on their personnel at all times. Being caught without it could mean jail or worse.  

Henry began his way up the tracks and to the observatory. It was connected by a small bridge on the tracks platform. He always wondered how long it would hold. It was small and made out of simply planks and rope. Henry always felt uneasy walking across it. The platform would creak when walked on and echo into the bodies below. It was old even though it had only been in use for a year or so. Time was slow now a days yet everything seemed to age twice as fast. The clock was simply a cycle and every day seemed to master it quicker than it did the day before.

When across you had to side step your way across a narrow ledge to the closest window on the right. The main entrance was down below but was boarded up for security. Not to mention going to the city floor would certainly be a death sentence. Henry began his walk across the ledge; slowly inching his way to the open window.  

When across he pulled himself up through the window. The tower was simply built. A narrow staircase flowed up to the top floor. There were a series of rooms on the way up but they had all been trashed. As well as a watch tower it was also used as a sort of small barracks for The Watch. Henry remembered coming here when he was 18 and just a new recruit.

The tower was a grand landmark back then. It was tall, made of stone and lined with blue and red to match the city’s painted color scheme. It looked like something from a dream. The rooms were decorated with threaded silk and fine furs. The bunks were lined up in a symmetrical fashion, adorning the shape of the circular rooms. Below was a small recreational space for Watch members. It included a kitchen and a small place to eat. The tower didn’t hold many people but it was one of the main security posts in the city.

Something that Henry remembered most from the tower was its grand fireplace. He couldn’t remember a winter’s night where the cold was able to pierce the stone walls of the tower. When you entered you would be engulfed in the warmth of the fire. The frost on your clothes would melt and the vapor from your breath would evaporate into the dense heat. The smell of cheap food and mead would fill the air and laughter and singing could be heard above and below. It was in a way a tavern of its own; a place where the men would come to rest after a long shift.