RECOMMENDED READING
The Outlands. BY TYLER EDWARDS
Fiction | Self-Published | January 2021
The black silhouette of a vulture circles overhead, its large dark shape contrasting with the bright afternoon sky. It flaps its outstretched wings a few times before returning to its casual drift, hovering in circles far above the city as if weightless. Its flight looks almost effortless. What a sweet freedom that would be. “Come on!” Victor shouts, shoving a large sack into my arms. The light stubble that covers his square jaw makes his expression even more pronounced. He’s not messing around. His voice is loud and forceful. Time seems to slow down. I am too lost in thought to really process what’s happening. Instead of running, I freeze. It’s stupid. Here I am standing around awkwardly, twiddling my thumbs, holding a bag of stolen goods. Seems like a good time to move. Instead, I am acting like a lawn ornament. 44
FEBRUARY / MARCH 2021
Despite his forceful shove, I remain frozen, holding tightly to the sack he’d just handed me. I look down at it and then back up at him. I can hear the sounds of angry voices and the thumping of boots against pavement getting closer. Victor may have gotten away with the prize, but he brought some unwanted guests. I can see it now. No, officer. I don’t know where this bag came from. I was just doing my famous statue impersonation, and it showed up. Oh, I’m going to the Justice Block? Awesome. “Jett! Come on!” Victor pulls at my arm. My legs spring to motion. Nothing like a little adrenaline to ruin a perfectly good daydream. My cargo makes running awkward. Victor shouts for me to run faster, and I look over my shoulder. Three men in black uniforms with red accents on the shoulders and collar are
charging after us, their heads covered with the traditional red beret of the city guard. “Stop! Thief!” they shout. The sound of their approach encourages me to speed up. Victor slides to a stop in front of me, nearly causing me to crash into him. At the end of the alley, I see two more guards with their bright red berets. We are boxed in. The guards in front of us turn to face us, blocking our escape. There’s no time to think. The shadows of the guards