The ARC

The world had grown thin.

The dark thought echoed in Laura’s mind as she trudged through the husks of burned-out cars, past shards of glass ground into the asphalt by thousands of footsteps and seasons of slow decay. The highway stretched to the horizon like a scar on the landscape, encroached by wild grasses and patches of weeds with no one to trim them back. With every step, sunken eyes watched from behind windows or tents along the side of the road, but few dared give more than a glance. These days, the idea of safety belonged to a bygone era of fresh produce and cheap electricity.

Her daughter Evie walked a half-pace behind with chapped lips and labored breath. She clung to her mother’s shadow and moved with the cautiousness of someone who had never known abundance, shaped instead by dust and tight rations. Laura paused every so often to adjust the frayed strap on her backpack, or to glance back and watch Evie’s steps, though the girl rarely lagged. They didn’t speak; there was nothing to say.

In the distance, a massive building stood out against the sallow skyline. In the wake of the fertility crisis that had destroyed the economy, the federal government had set up a number of facilities they called ARCs, or Assisted Recovery Centers, publicly touted as the last hope of humanity. Although the delusional acronym had been mocked by many when the program was first announced, the crowd of refugees now waiting for a chance to enter the ARC showed how rapidly the cynicism had turned into desperation.

After another hour of walking, the ARC now loomed before them, rising high above the societal decay that surrounded it. Evie’s hand found her mother’s as they approached a chain link fence and joined the long line that slowly trudged towards the entrance. On either side of main gate, armed guards stared expressionless at the rabble. The mood in the queue was a glacial hush, punctuated only by the scrape of boots and low whispers. The citizens all wore similar patchworks of worn-out coats, pants with the knees patched, and shoes with the soles taped together. Laura could not find a single baby among the crowd.

Above them, flickering screens ran an endless loop, showing footage of starving people and violence in the streets. A woman’s voice narrated the displayed devastation. “Global fertility rates have dropped by 82 percent in just five years. Supply chains have fallen apart, the population is dwindling, and it feels like the end of the world. But there is still hope! Together, we can restore our country to its former glory. Each day, thousands of people choose to make a difference.” The screen changed to show smiling families in pale blue uniforms working in hydroponic gardens, laughing together over bowls of simple grain. “By enrolling in the ARC, you become part of the solution.” The footage switched to a young pregnant mother beaming as a technician drew her blood. “All it takes is a moment. A simple test. Join us, and help revive the world.”

The video ended, then restarted in a different language. Evie tugged on Laura’s sleeve. “Are we going to work in those gardens, Mom?”

Laura blinked. What could she say? “I don’t know, Evie.” She didn’t want to give her daughter false hope. “They might not even let us in.”

Evie’s gaze fell to the ground, and she squeezed her mother’s hand more tightly.

The line advanced slowly over the next few hours. By the time they reached the entrance, the sun had dipped behind the smog, and the temperature dropped to a dull chill.

A commotion broke up the monotony of the wait; the main doors had opened, and two guards were dragging an older man back out of the building. With wild eyes and bedraggled hair, he pleaded with the soldiers.

“Please, you have to let me stay, I’ll do anything! Where is my wife? Is she still in there?”

The guards tossed him on the ground. One answered in a firm voice. “Your wife passed her tests and chose to join the ARC. Now get lost.”

The poor man lunged at the guard in panic and anger, only to be struck with the butt of a rifle. He crumpled to the ground unconscious, blood streaming from his head.

Everyone stared. No one said a word.

Laura squeezed Evie’s hand, trying to reassure them both. When they finally reached the end of the line, a man in a navy jumpsuit and clipboard gestured for Evie to step forward. Laura tried to follow close behind her daughter, but was stopped by the gloved hand of a guard. “One at a time. It’s protocol.”

Laura’s chest tightened. She tried to keep her voice steady. “I’m her mother. She’s only—”

The guard cut her off. “Everyone goes through testing and intake alone. You’ll go next.”

Evie looked up at Laura for reassurance, still holding her hand. “Mom?”

Laura leaned down until their foreheads touched. “It’ll be just like the doctor’s,” she whispered. “They’ll check your temperature and your blood. Answer their questions, and be brave, alright Evie?”

Evie nodded, blinking back tears from her eyes. “Okay, I will.”

As the guards guided Evie through the main entrance, Laura clenched her jaw. She tried not to let panic overwhelm her. She watched Evie disappear down a corridor, and hoped to god that it wouldn’t be the last time she saw her.

Then the clipboard man waved her forward, and it was Laura’s turn. She was ushered down another hallway and into a white room. It appeared to be a generic medical clinic, and a woman in scrubs greeted her with a tired look. “Name?”

“Laura Miller.”

The woman tapped the tablet, nodded. “Any allergies? Illnesses? Medications?”

“No, nothing. When can I see my daughter?” Laura asked.

The woman shrugged, didn’t look up from the screen. “If you pass the medical screening and intake process, you’ll be taken to your quarters. Your daughter will be there.” She reached for a plastic tray. “Roll up your sleeve.”

Laura did as she was told. The woman dabbed her arm with something cold and clear, tied a band tight around her bicep, and slid home the needle. Red blood immediately filled the tube.

“This will only take a minute.” The nurse said without looking up. She placed the blood sample into a machine on the wall. It started humming, and after a minute of impatient waiting, a green light appeared along with some numbers on the screen. The nurse looked them over with mild surprise.

“Looks like you’re a genetic fit for the ARC! Which means your daughter will be as well, assuming she’s not adopted.”

Laura breathed a sigh of relief. They were finally safe.

The nurse continued with the process. “Next step is a brief physical exam. Please disrobe and lie down on the table.”

Laura hesitated. There was nowhere to hide the hunger and exhaustion beneath her layers, but there was nothing to do but comply. She peeled off her coat, then her patched shirt, feeling the chill of the room gnaw at her skin. The nurse’s eyes did not linger or judge her underweight and bruised body.

“Please lie back,” the woman said, already rolling on a fresh pair of gloves.

The table was cold and hard. Laura’s skin prickled as she stretched out, as exposed as she’d ever been. The nurse’s hands were methodical and clinical, probing beneath her ribs for the telltale signs of organ failure or disease.

“You’re in relatively good shape! Rare to see these days.”

Laura tried to smile, but only managed a grimace. “Just lucky I guess.”

“Aright, last step is a vaccination to prevent disease from spreading in the ARC. Just a small poke, and then we’ll get you to your daughter.”

Unease started to rise in Laura’s subconscious. She tried to object, “Is that really necessary?”

“Oh, it’s very quick, and then you’ll have nothing to worry about!” The nurse seemed almost too excited now, but Laura couldn’t turn back, not without Evie.

The nurse swabbed her shoulder, then produced a preloaded syringe. The injection was quick and painless, but Laura flinched at the burn of the liquid as it moved through her bloodstream. “You might feel a little lightheaded,” the nurse warned.

Laura sat up too quickly. Darkness started to creep around the edge of her vision. “I don’t…” She tried to stand up. “…feel so…”

The nurse opened the door and poked her head out of the room. To Laura, her voice sounded far away.

“Hey, we have another one for the Barn in here!”

That didn’t sound right.

“Wha… barn…?” Laura’s voice was slurred and slow.

The world went sideways. Laura’s body slumped back, knees buckling, but a pair of arms caught her under the armpits and lifted her onto a gurney. The ceiling tiles slid past overhead, each one a white rectangle in a grid that seemed to go on forever. She was fully unconscious before they had finished moving her.

“Mom! Mom! Are you alright?”

Evie’s voice was the first thing that Laura’s brain registered as consciousness began to return. The sound echoed, compounding with a throbbing headache. Laura opened her eyes, and her vision was immediately filled by Evie’s face looking down at her with a scared expression.

She tried to sit, but her limbs felt dead. Evie held Laura’s hand tightly, as if she was afraid her mother would disappear again. Laura tried to squeeze back, but her muscles refused to obey. The cot beneath her smelled like old sweat, and as she rolled her head to the side she saw that they were in a small room with a heavy door that was bolted shut. No windows, and no other way to tell what time it was, or how long she’d been out.

She tried to ask, “Where are we?” but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, dry and swollen, and the words came out as a croak.

Evie hovered over her, eyes red from crying. It took Laura a moment to realize that they were both completely naked; no one had given them their clothes after the exam room. She forced herself upright, arms shaking, and pulled Evie close, both for comfort and to shield her daughter’s nakedness from whoever might walk through the door.

Evie pressed against her, skin bare and vulnerable. She’d always been small for her age, but now Laura could count each rib beneath that taut skin, and could see how the malnutrition had kept her chest almost flat. Laura’s mouth opened, but comfort died on her tongue. All she could do was wrap trembling arms around her daughter and hold on, the gesture more desperate peer than protective parent. The only warmth in the room came from each other.

“They left us here after the shot,” Evie said, tearing up. “You wouldn’t wake up for hours. I thought— I thought you were…” She couldn’t finish the thought.

Laura hugged her daughter tightly, simply relieved that they were both still alive. “I’m not. I’m okay, Evie. We’re okay.”

Evie hugged her back. “Mom, I’m scared. Why did they put us here? Where are the gardens?”

Laura hesitated, holding her daughter close, as if the force of her embrace could stave off the bewilderment and dread churning in her chest. “They must be doing more tests,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe this is just… some kind of quarantine.” The idea barely seemed plausible, but she didn’t want to think about the alte