I am old now. It seems so long ago when the dam broke. An act of terrorism, they say. I remember the sound. I remember the sights. I am not to think about it, but it keeps coming back to me. I must tell no one.

I live in Sacramento now. They have built us a new community. It is octagonal with the grand concrete buildings each facing the courtyard. In the square is the fountain. It, too is built in the shape of an octagon. There is no water to fill it any more. They found people drinking from it and stealing it, even after it was poisoned. The birds that landed near it and drank all died. It was part of my work to pick them up in the morning before the others got up. I am an early riser.

I remember seeing this place. We were so happy to have our own home. We share much. Each of us lost everything in the flood. My supervisor tells me that I may get special consideration soon. I had a challenging time adjusting. It was hard to see everyone die, my wife, the kids. I just couldn’t care about life anymore. I suppose that if it was not for Don, I would be gone, too. He took me under his wing. He even once pulled me away from a guard and told the guard that he would take care of me. He could have lost everything for doing that. He is a good man.

I spent twelve months in adjustment. It was hell. I had such a challenging time adjusting. I refused to do my work and I was insubordinate to the guards. That is how I got this scar. I am doing better now. Don makes sure I take my pill and it helps me to concentrate on my work and to think about today. That is what the sign in the square says, “think about today”. I have had difficulty. I spent far too much time thinking of the past. It must be left behind.

I am celebrating my seventy fifth birthday. I am the oldest person in the camp. We still call it a camp, though it is really a small city now. I remember the smell of the trailers and the smell of the mud and death. I need to work on it but it keeps coming back. I tell no one, not even Don. I will not go back to adjustment. I will kill myself first. I don’t think I could live through it anyway. That is the one freedom that we still have. Many have died at their own hands. I understand. I was a religious man. I believed deeply. That is one of the problems that I had with the adjustment. It was so hard to give up such deep belief. The doors to the roofs are all barred now. I suppose that was just too easy and many just ran off the edge and fell to the brick of the courtyard. That was in the beginning. Most are adjusting well now.

I sweep the courtyard each morning. I get to see the children. That is a wonderful thing. Don says that I should feel very lucky. Many are never able to see them. I can hear them laugh and I can see them playing. I am not supposed to speak to them, but I see them through the fence. They will never know about the past. They are taught only the future. The book says that we are not to speak to them so that they may be pure. I failed at that, too. It is not worth it to speak, it is enough to just see them, new life after so much death and so much loss. It is a blessing to have children for those who qualify. They are truly blessed by our leader.

Tomorrow I will find if I get special consideration. It is a wonderful thing. if one works hard and puts forth extra effort, that is communicated to the leaders. If they find you worthy, you may be given special consideration. I have asked to see my home. I hope so deeply, to leave this place, once again in this life, and to see the place where I once lived. They have warned me that it is all gone now, but still, just to be there with Clara and the boys. It would make my life complete.

Don is coming, as I sweep the brick of the courtyard. “Did I get my consideration?” “Yes, you did. You will be able to leave the camp and you will be able to return home. The leader himself signed the order.”

Don took me to a young man. He stood with a backpack and a walking stick. “I am Steve. I am taking you to Oroville.” I followed Steve through the gates. The guards stood and did nothing. We walked right past them. “Oh, my God, Steve, we are free.” “Hardly, old man,” he said, pointing to the drone far above us. “So what?” We are allowed to go back to Oroville, no one has been allowed to see it. It will be a blessing to see my home again. We got into the little aluminum boat. And it was light and fast. Steve opened the throttle and off we went down the river. The guards saw us coming and they never pointed a gun. The leader had said to let us pass and they did.

After a time, Steve let the throttle slow a bit and he took some food and two bottles of water from the back pack. We floated sideways as we ate and drank. Trees lined the banks. They were short and young, but they were coming back. No longer in rows, but I could see the kinds. Life sprung up out of death. It was a wonderful scene. There were a few trunks that emerged from the soil and new branches reached for the sun. The air was clear and I could see the sky. The courtyard has only a little sky. This is how the world should look, open and clear.

Steve started the outboard and off we went again. I thought of the leader and how kind they had been. I was a terrible refugee. They were right, I took from society and all I gave was sweeping the sidewalks and picking up dead birds. I was very lucky. They gave me this incredible wish. Steve was a bad refugee, too. He acted out. I could see the scars and I saw he had bitten his lip badly, too. Therapy! I decided to let his story be his own and I kept to small talk. He had been a young man when the flood happened. Now through the leader’s love, he was getting this wonderful opportunity and he still was full of hate for our leaders. It was sad.

Steve hoped to find dissenters living in the wild. He said that they would hide in the banks of the river so that the drones could not see the heat of their bodies. He was a truly bad refugee. We never saw anyone. There were no dissenters. There was just wilderness, and water, and birds and fish. It was a joyous time for me. The river forked and Steve said, “Ok old man, this is it.”  I looked around and saw nothing. Steve insisted that we were in Oroville. It had been a long day. He turned the boat in slow circles, as I looked for some landmark. He put the boat up onto the bank and I stepped into the trees and brush. There were rocks all around, round rocks. “The dam,” Steve said.

There was a dull thud and Steve stood up a bit and then a second and he fell to the bottom of the boat. I looked on in disbelief. Our leaders had neutralized him. He must have been a bad refugee. I wondered how I would get back. I looked up at the drone. There was a flash.

Scott Cahill