It was a pleasant, sunny day. The birds were singing. Children were playing.
The Jones family left their suburban home with suitcases. They were ready for the Trip.
“Lovely day, isn’t it?” said Pamela Jones to Mrs. Brown.
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Mrs. Brown replied. Her husband stood by her.
Their two boys were no longer there. They used to be active youngsters. But the doctor helped them.
Now both were pale, withdrawn, and small for their ages. Wherever they were today.
“Have you heard from Sarah?”
“No.”
Sarah Armstrong and her two kids had been on the last bus out of the town with ten other families. They had known she wouldn’t last long and avoided her since she spread Conspiracy Theories.
She hadn’t written. No one did.
The authorities never said where they were being sent. Just that it was essential to go.
Aside from the Smiths and the Connors there were no families left in the suburban area. They were not ready yet, but they’d be leaving on the bus too. Then the area would be empty for whatever They wanted to do with it.
The first several busloads had been for the poor, the sickly, and the disabled. Starting with the mentally disabled and all with a psychiatric diagnosis. Many had not wanted to go and were very vocal about it.
Those in charge of the Relocations had assured those around them who weren’t being sent away to ignore them. They would receive excellent care by Experts. Care those around couldn’t or wouldn’t provide. They were annoying.
Pamela recalled how sad it made her to see their faces and hear their calls for help as they were loaded–some left of their own free wills–onto bus after bus. But the people were unpleasant. Things would be better with them relocated Somewhere Else.
Then the elderly were relocated. First the sickly and poor. The kind they assumed were headed for nursing homes. Though Pam had heard one of the drivers say, no. It was Somewhere Else.
A lot of the people were tired of looking after their aging grandparents and parents. So they let them get taken as well.
Next they took the kids nobody wanted. The foster kids, the disabled, those born into poverty, Next they started advertising for any kids whose parents no longer wanted them. Doctors, nurse practitioners, teachers, lots of social workers urging parents to consider giving their kids away. To be relocated and cared for. In that proper way that only Experts know.
The Brown’s sons had gone. Their mother had been persuaded to send them.
The lady who had loaded them on the bus had promised they would write. But they never sent so much as a postcard according to their mom. Which was odd, Pam thought, but Mrs. Brown never said so. Nor did her husband.
Finally not one but two vehicles arrived. Not buses. New vans. The other for the Connors and Smiths.
This was perfectly normal, Mrs. Jones assured herself. She took a breath and climbed in after her husbands.
lookingupliving 