Souls Below

God the world sucked. And not in the normal way where people were horrid and food was scarce. It sucked because the Uppers were the reason people were horrid and food was scarce. They horded their resources, using their power and money to control the lower levels, restricting how much food, water and clothing were available. How you had to work to earn most, if at all, these "luxuries". And work I did. Endless work. From the moment I was found to now, I had worked hard and relentlessly just to have enough food, water and shelter to keep me alive, and strong enough to work at a level that I could provide for myself. Now, staring at the guards from the Upper levels, my hands in the air while their guns and torches were pointed in my direction, I thought back to how the hell I had managed to get into this situation. I worked in the pipes, fixing and maintaining them to keep things like water flowing to all areas in the Upper and Lower regions. I was small and petite, which allowed me to get into tight and tiny places, which was mainly the reason I had been given this job. Four years ago I was found wondering the streets of the Lower City, dirty and wounded with no recollection of who I was or where I had come from. The old man, Jerard, who was almost like a leader figure to the Lowers, patched me up and assigned me a job. He didn't turn me over to the authorities, or sell me off to the trade market, something that was very common down here. Instead, he brought me in and treated me like his own. The downside? I didn't have papers, or a Lower ID number that we receive at birth to identify who we were, that we belong down here. It was more so that the Lowers couldn't get above and pretend to be an Upper. The best way to keep the classes separated, the slaves below and the masters above. One guard was shouting for those papers now. My nervous eyes darted between the men as I tried to think of a way out of this situation, anxiety trying to start a panic attack. Getting fake papers was possible, and the punishment for being discovered with fake papers was death. But faking a Lower ID number was impossible, each number was on file which the guards used their security device to scan the numbers, and they didn't make a mistake. A guard strode forward, striking me on the face, causing me to stumble and fall to the ground. My vision went white, ears ringing as I struggled to comprehend what just happened. While his gun was pointed at my head another guard grabbed my arm and yanked it upwards at an uncomfortable angle. I gave a cry of pain only to be struck in the face again. We were nothing more than vermin to them, to be treated however they pleased. I heard the digital beeping as they looked for an ID on both arms, but found none. I was in big trouble. "She has no ID number Sir" the guard holding my arm informed his superior. A man dressed in a fancy suit, boots too shiny to have been down here for long, stepped forward, his handsome face scrunched into a scowl. He looked no older than twenty-two, and yet he was the commanding officer to this group. Impressive for an Upper "Who are you?" he demanded. I locked eyes with the man and returned the scowl, spitting on his boots in defiance. That earned me another strike to the face, this one harder than before. I felt blood enter my mouth, head ringing from the impact. The Commander crouched down, his blue eyes intense and hair slicked back, face to perfect to be natural. He must be one of those designer babies the Uppers create. Apparently they were costly, but it allowed the parents to pick what their child will look like, act like, and how smart they will be. Made sense why he was a Commander at such a young age. "I will ask once more, filth, who are you?" his voice was low and commanding, but he held no authority over me. I was treading thin ice, these men would not hesitate to kill me, or do worse and have fun before killing me. I glared at the man, mouth tightly closed, but this only made a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth "I see. Unfortunately for you I will have to arrest you, and bring you in for interrogation. No ID is a crime, not reporting your lack of number is irresponsible and punishable, and seeing as it is your parents responsibility at birth to arrange for your assignment they will be punished as well" panic swept through me at the thought of Jerard being in trouble, as I didn't know my birth parents, he was the next closest person to a father I had. He stood and indicated to one of his guards "Take her blood sample to have on record" I felt my arm twisted behind me, forcing me to the ground as a guard walked forward with another device. I struggled against my captor, only to be struck again, this time in the side so hard I swear I felt a rib c***k. I felt a prick as the needle pierced my skin, but the pain was lost as a sound drifted to my ears; a long and low whistle. That was the rebels. Before I could register what it meant, there was an explosion which sent myself and my captor flying. My head connected with something hard, knocking me unconscious.