The Woodlands

When we were finished, we were told to sit on the benches bordering the large, grassed field and watched the rest complete their tests. Girls and boys separate. No talking. We all just stared out into the green, watching our companions push themselves to their limits. I wondered if I should have tried harder but I never wanted to be placed in a physical, laboring type class. All was quiet until we saw one girl throw down her weight and shout at one of the Guardians, “I can’t do it! I’ve already tried twice, stop asking me!”

It was so fast. Blink and you would have missed it. Menacingly swift and efficient, the Guardian whipped out an extending metal bar from his belt, cracked the back of her knees so that she fell forward, and then struck her with full force on the back of her neck. I’m sure I heard it snap and she fell to the ground, lifeless. I heard sharp intakes of breath and a few hushed whispers. This was to remind us of our place. This was not to be taken lightly; this was not going to be enjoyable. The Superiors were ever-present and ever cruel. One mistake and your life could be forfeit.

“You two there,” the Guardian pointed to two boys who were working close to the girl. “Pick her up and take her to infirmary, from there they will direct you to the crematorium.” The boys moved towards her but hesitated, unsure of how to lift her, scared to touch the body. “Don’t just stand there. She’s not hurt—she’s dead—just pick her up!” The boys picked her up gently and started walking towards a building at the back of the grounds that had a red cross over the door.

“Wait!” The boys paused. The Guardian walked over to them, held up the girl’s limp wrist, and sca

When everyone was finished they asked us to form lines, boys to one side and girls to the other. Two female Guardians dressed in black skirts and wide-shouldered jackets marched over to us. They looked very similar, light brown hair pulled back into a tight bun pi

We followed the curve of the garden wall in the opposite direction until we reached a platform. We waited there in the line, as a whisper quiet train pulled up. Everyone still seemed on edge after what had happened, and of course, there was no talking. I walked right at the back of the line as we boarded the train and ended up in a rear carriage with only one other girl on it. The train whizzed away from the platform and rounded the bend.

I peered out the window at the garden as it rushed past. It was thickly wooded from the outside, but through the trees I could see glimpses of other beautiful plants. As we continued I caught sight of what appeared to be pens—I think I saw a goat, and some other animals that I wasn’t sure of the names. We stopped suddenly and I bumped into the seat in front of me. The girl shot me a reproachful glare as I stood up to disembark the shooting bullet of a train. I didn’t like it. It felt like we were going too fast with not enough time to take in the scenery, but maybe that was the point. We weren’t here to sightsee.

The tidy woman turned to face the line and said, “These are your living quarters for the next two years. My name is Mischka Baron and this is Stasia Krepke. You may address us as Guardian Baron and Guardian Krepke.”

She went on to read from a very long list of rules. Things we could do and things we couldn’t do, mostly the latter. I was surprised to hear that we were afforded some leisure time and quite a bit of freedom to walk the grounds. I was itching to get into that garden. Visiting the boys’ quarters was strictly forbidden. We were allowed to socialize, to a point, but there were curfews. We were reminded that we were always being watched and any inappropriate behavior would be dealt with severely. The very fresh memory of the curled up, lifeless girl flashed before my eyes. I prayed there would be a list of these rules on the wall somewhere because as soon as she said we could wander around the grounds, I had only been half-listening. Looking with longing to that wooded area.

We were led through big double gates and I realized we were to be living in one of the eyes of the surprised face we had seen from the air. The walls were as a high as those in Pau, shutting everything out, keeping us contained. Guardian Baron gestured to the relevant buildings as we passed them. The sun was going down and a low chill was floating across the grass. There were bathrooms, laundry, and lounge areas. We were required to do our own laundry and there was a schedule for when we were allowed to shower. Through to the big main building there was a list on a sidewall. There were three levels and our names and numbers were printed on the list next to a level and room number. There would be girls from last year, and the last four quarterly intakes up until this one, living together in the one building. All the first years were on the top level. I felt young. Everyone else was eighteen years or older.

Once we got to the top, we were led along a hallway and through more grand, double doors. It was a vast, open room with rows of beds. The polished floorboards were scuffed and worn from the hundreds of boots that must have walked up and down these rows over the years. It smelled musty and it was freezing cold. I could see my breath as I exhaled. On each stretcher bed there was a number stuck on a pile of blankets, bedclothes, pajamas, and our new uniforms, all grey-green. We would no longer wear the tree emblem from our hometowns. We were wards of the Classes and our new uniforms bore a simple emblem of eight concentric circles embroidered in black. I used to think my room was pretty basic; this was a whole new level of simplicity. Completely devoid of privacy.

As we walked around trying to find our beds, the great metal lights hanging from the ceiling shone like spotlights, swinging slightly from the vibrations of shuffling feet on the floor. I found my bed, which was thankfully by a window. I sat down and surveyed my neighbors. Scared, nervous girls, missing their parents, and trying so hard not to end up like the girl in the yard. I felt sure that the over-reaction to her subordinance was a message, a warning to all the newcomers not to step out of line. This was going to be very hard for me.

“Change into your uniforms and be ready for di

We changed and I noticed we had been provided with a small toiletries bag with some basics in it. I decided I would go brush my teeth and fix my hair before di

When I arrived at the bathrooms, there were other girls in there. Three of them were talking about the girl, Ana.

“It’s awful but she shouldn’t have yelled like that. She made us all look bad,” the tall, blonde one said.

“I suppose,” piped a small mousy girl, “but I think the punishment was rather harsh.”

“Rather harsh?” I was, as always, shocked by people’s reactions to the violence. “I think that’s an understatement. She’s dead—that’s not a punishment, that’s an execution.”