X Rated. That’s what the box says, in loud red letters. The box is empty. It won’t be for long, not once she’s received the package. Then the box will be filled and passed along to the proper authorities to be destroyed. At least that’s what the law says.
In reality, her contact at the other end will conveniently drop the box; maybe kick it under a desk to be picked up later by the cleaner during the night. He will pick it up, shake it and declare it empty to any waiting ears, throw it in his rubbish bag and continue cleaning. He will take it out back of the building to the industrial bins where, under the cover of darkness, he will pass it back to the person who dropped it in the first place. This is how they get things across the border, yet she does not know the names or faces of the people she is passing the package to. She only knows that they will do their job and the package will be passed along a chain of willing volunteers until it reaches those that need it most. If it doesn’t get there, if someone gets caught, she will never know. She may see something on the news but she will not know that person. They will be labelled a terrorist and beheaded at dawn.
She is not a terrorist but if she gets caught that’s what they’ll call her. Maybe she’ll accept that label even if she’s never caused a second of terror in her long running fight to help those on the other side of the wall. Terrorists no longer deal in fear like the old days. Now they fight silent battles; information and packages passed to those inside the wall as stealthily as possible.
She hopes she doesn’t get caught but if she does she’ll meet her end with her head held high knowing she did what was right, what was best. She remembers the old days and she will go to her death knowing she was instrumental in the fight to bring them back.
Tales written from a prompt in just 10 minutes.
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