Shattered Memories Read online

  Shattered Memories

  By:

  Susan Harris

  THIS book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the authors' imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  NO part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Shattered Memories

  Copyright ©2015 Susan Harris

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-63422-061-3

  Cover Design by: Marya Heiman

  Typography by: Courtney Nuckels

  Editing by: Cynthia Shepp

  For more information about our content disclosure,

  please utilize the QR code above with your smart phone or visit us at

  www.CleanTeenPublishing.com.

  Michelle,

  "Friendship isn't a big thing—it's a million little things"

  Thank you for all the little things.

  1

  “What a shame we all became such fragile broken things.”

  (Paramore: Let the flames begin)

  Once I heard a saying… that memories are what you no longer want to remember. I can’t help but wonder if that happened to me. Even though I can speak, write, and recall lyrics to songs, I don’t know some things about my past. At one time I was training to be a retrieval marshal. Reciting the now redundant Bunreacht na hÉireann is easy and every word in the new United Constitution comes to me without effort. But for all the silly things I remember, other memories of the past year elude me.

  They say that I did terrible things and would never wash their blood from my hands. I was labelled a murderer and sentenced to death. My psychologist holds out hope that I will remember… that my mind has blocked out those recollections for self-preservation. They are memories that may prove me innocent or simply tighten the noose around my neck.

  But time is running out for me. In only two and a half months, I will turn eighteen, the legal age for execution. According to the coalition, whether I remember or not, the date is set. If you had less than six months to live, what would you do?

  Me? I’m stuck… will never see the outside of the prison walls again. I have been found guilty of murdering my family and am going to pay for that crime.

  My name is Alana McCarthy and I’m seventeen years old.

  2

  “I remember it now; it takes me back to when it all first started.”

  (Kodaline: High Hopes)

  Irish history has always been steeped in the bloodshed of our ancestors and our constant struggle for complete independence. We believed that when Ireland had been declared a Republic that it had finally happened. But we were wrong. Foolish decisions by a delusional government paved the way for a future where Ireland ceased to exist and our heritage merely became chapters in a history book.

  In 2023, after years of unemployment, corruption in our banking systems, and complete unrest amongst the Irish people, the government claimed that the country had turned a corner. Ireland had begun to work its way out of economic crisis. But it was all a lie, a false hope so the government could hide the true extent of their debt.

  Behind closed doors, Ireland had begun to haemorrhage money. Repayments of our national debt to the European Union were not being paid in full, and a faction of the government began skimming a percentage off the top. The promise of more jobs, less emigration, and better living conditions for all, not just the entitled, fell flat. The combination culminated in a devastating revelation that began Ireland’s complete destruction.

  When it was revealed, in 2025, that The European Central Bank wanted Ireland to pay back its debt immediately, Ireland was unable to do so and suggestions started to pour in about how to ensure the debt would not cripple the global economy. In an effort to save as much money as possible, the government put a cap on national expenditure. Legislators passed a motion eliminating free public schools. Social welfare benefits for the unemployed were scrapped, as were medical cards, old age pensions, and children’s allowance. Unless citizens could afford thousands for schooling, they simply did not attend.

  Our health service had always been lacklustre, but cuts to try to keep the country afloat resulted in hospital closures, along with decline in those who could afford to attend college to study medicine. Unlicensed doctors and clinics began popping up, leading to more deaths and infection.

  The government passed an Emergency Powers Act, giving power to the Taoiseach to make choices in the name of maintaining Ireland as a country. During his time in charge, the Taoiseach introduced water taxes and increased tax brackets. He revoked the traditional allotment per child and levied a new tax for couples who had more than two children… to stabilize population numbers.

  With the increasing lack of educational growth, investors withdrew hundreds of companies from the country, abandoning the fast-sinking ship. Even though the rest of the country was struggling, it seemed as if the government still lived beyond the country’s means.

  After years of unrest, rioting, and degradation of a once vibrant and hardworking society, Ireland got the unification it dreamed of… but not in any way that was ever wanted. Political parties came together as one with secret meetings and planning under clandestine circumstances. Supporting a political party became outlawed and citizens were urged to follow a newly formed, united government.

  The policing system disintegrated. Corruption within the Garda Shíocána and the government’s secret ‘hit squad’ sought out those who wished to speak out against the ruling government. Many former political ministers were murdered during darkened nights, and any citizen found possessing anti-government propaganda would meet an untimely death. Despite all that, the Irish people held strong and defiant against a government that refused to look after its own people causing a siege that united the Republic and its northern counterparts.

  When thousands of Irish people marched on the government buildings in Dublin in 2030, the so-called men and women in power had nowhere to run. Each member of the current seats of government was slain. Public hangings showed a barbaric side to a now-ruined country. The massacre known forevermore as Baile Átha Cliath Lá an Bháis, or The Dublin Day of Death, left more problems in its wake. Ireland had no direction, no purpose, no clear person or group in charge. The Emergency Powers Act had given the government all the authority it needed to turn Ireland over to the US in order to maintain global financial security.

  Ireland was not the only country to change during that time, but it was the one most likely to be influenced by outsiders. The United States grew in power, amassing large numbers of countries to control. Germany and France signed a treaty with the US, promising their backing of any vote for a reduction in France’s national debt. Germany would maintain representatives from the Bundestag in place to help sustain the currency, no matter what. Turkey backed the newly established power of Russia, finally gaining acceptance into an EU that would change forever. Once that situation was in place, Russia claimed it was willing to withdraw all energy resources from those who dared to compete against them. The US had no choice but to agree to Russia’s terms, leading to a volatile partnership.

  All of the former foes of the US were defeated, so by 2032, the world at large was run by China, Russia, and the US. A new treaty was signed, forging a new parliament and a coalition to enforce the law. The document ensured the world turned in their favour and that all military control was now in the hands of the powerful alliance.

  Public figures, roy
al families, and dignitaries were assassinated using a special covert operations branch of the new United Parliament.

  One aspect of life in the new world did not suffer… technology. Teams of experts, sanctioned by the United Parliament, found new ways to grow the high tech industry, and ways to control those who dared to defy the new Parliament were conceived.

  Currency had long since been forgotten when the Parliament introduced a single exchange into circulation. The United Dollar became the global currency and was distributed throughout the world, increasing financial control of the Big Three.

  No matter what, some parts of society could not be changed. Crime became rampant across the globe for many obvious reasons: hunger, shortage of medicine, gang activity, lack of education, boredom, and a general desire to fight back against a biased, controlling, power hungry parliament.

  The United Parliament met on a historic day in 2036, and an ambitious member of the American counsel presented the leaders with a solution to the issues. He suggested they use the vastness of the Irish country and build a prison which would reach from the top of Derry down to the tips of Cork and Kerry.

  The debt Ireland owed had not been repaid, and in a country full to the brim with anger and hostility, a prison state would be used to pay off Ireland’s debt. It seemed like a good idea. The need for workers to build and maintain the prison would bring jobs and prosperity to the country. Most of the population seemed appeased.

  Ireland was essentially wiped from the world map and renamed as a prison island. A new International Court of Justice was slated to review every crime committed, and a new proclamation of punishment would be established. Sectors of the technology and science communities that had grown in secret were slated to police the prisons.

  This new prison was designed to incarcerate murderers, rapists, terrorists, and minor offenders. A section for underage criminals was planned and the new International Court of Justice deemed it necessary to reintroduce the death penalty in order to preserve the world’s stability. Any offender over the legal age of eighteen was subject to execution.

  Once the proposal was passed by a unanimous vote, the Grand Masters of Justice were given approval to begin construction on the prison. The United Parliament increased jobs in Ireland, using the local Irish people to create their new, state of the art facility. Recruitment officers also held enlistment days much like the ones used when emigration had been rampant. These job fairs promised careers and education in exchange for serving the new government. Those who signed on to became marshals, technicians, wardens, and other staff positions in the new prison, were offered housing, wages, and food. Those who declined offers to work vanished. Their disappearances were officially listed as escapes to the Free Islands of Australia and New Zealand, where they refused to conform to The United Parliament rules.

  In 2038, the prison opened to much grandeur and posturing. Ceremonies were performed by the man whose concept changed the face of justice in the world, Grand Master of Justice, William Johnson. The first execution of a prisoner occurred mere hours later. The elderly man had helped his wife die before her cancer got any worse. Under new law, juries didn’t exist. Grand Masters and Masters of Justice handed down their own version of fairness. Prisoners from all over the world started arriving by ships and planes, lowering crime rates throughout the world.

  And so, future generations of the Emerald Isle, in villages where the sole purpose was to house those who worked and maintained the prisons and training facility, did not know of its rich heritage. They were born members of the United Parliament. Should they step out of line, they would die as prisoners of the Department of Corrections. Life on the once lovely island had become so horrific that some began calling it, in a language now banned, Oileán Ifreann or Hell Island.

  This future, where science and technology were worth more than gold or currency, was more corrupt and power hungry than any past in our history books. Those reference materials had long been destroyed… another indication that Ireland was no more… and politics was very much alive.

  3

  Alana

  “My secrets are burning a hole through my heart and my bones catch a fever.”

  (Bring me the Horizon: Sleepwalking)

  I read detailed accounts of a prisoner once saying that, even after he was released, the sound that haunted him throughout the years was the harsh bang of the metal lock sliding into place, keys clanging together as the cell door locked for the night, sealing him inside with the darkness. He claimed that having time to dwell on his crimes nearly drove him mad.

  Prison life in my time was very different, so I can only imagine.

  You see, during recent days, technology did wonders for the world and especially this prison. The state of the art facility no longer required metal doors, keys or a vast amount of prison guards to patrol. Our cell doors were electronic sliding ones that closed by a key panel outside. Once our inmate number was keyed in, the guards chose to open or close it, or in case of emergency, the control room had the option to open all cell doors at once.

  Privacy remained non-existent. Doors were actually see-through, shatterproof glass panels. If someone were looking for privacy, this wasn’t where they’d want to be. In the section of the jail where I was housed, that wing contained about 500 cells, with most having at least two occupants. Prisoners perceived as dangerous or high risk didn’t share a space. Guess who has her own room?

  My cell consisted of a hard, metal bed with a thin mattress and an even thinner pillow. It wasn’t as if I spent much time asleep because most nights I ended up sitting on the cold floor, knees hugged to my chest, resting my head on my knees, eyes closed. During that time, I hoped and wished that each night would be the one when my memory returned. Plain beige painted walls surrounded me; the only inconsistency from the blandness of the room was the entrance to the toilet. It too had a sliding door that opened when a buzzer was pressed whenever I needed it. That area, also beige, had only a toilet and sink. You might think there would be some privacy there, but if the red blinking light in the corner of the room was any indication, I think not.

  Prisoners weren’t divided up by gender either, except with cell sharing. Prison officials never worried that we might couple up and sneak off and do what teenagers do because the behaviour chip embedded in our shoulders kept us under control. The chip, when activated, sent a series of electrical currents throughout the inmate’s body, causing immense pain. Eventually, the brain would shut down, rendering the victim unconscious. I am fortunate not to have first-hand experience of the effects but have seen it used on others.

  You might have wondered how a prisoner would know so much about the inner workings of the prison. Firstly, at one time my dad was actually the warden of this unit, the Underage Department of Corrections Unit or UDCU. Well, that was before I supposedly killed him. Also, I was training to be a retrieval officer, someone who goes to different countries and takes prisoners into custody and transports them back to Hell Island. I know it’s not the official name, but if the shoe fits, I suppose it works.

  How can I talk so flippantly about my father’s murder? I have no memories of the last year. I remembered going off to the training facility north of the country—and then nothing—until I was arrested, covered in blood. They said I had slaughtered my entire family, my mother, my father, and my baby sister, all dead by my hands.

  So where that man dreaded the nights locked in a claustrophobic cell, I welcome it. Left alone in the darkness with nothing but the faint gleam of moonlight that slips in through the electricity fuelled windows, I have time and space to try and force myself to remember.

  It’s been almost five months since I was arrested and sentenced to death for my crimes. The United Parliament states that if there is irrefutable evidence to prove me guilty, then a trial can be forgone and a sentence handed down.

  Here I sit, until I turn eighteen in two months.

  A few in here think I’ve faked the memory loss, in ord
er to stave off an execution, but believe me… I wish I could remember. If I don’t, then I will go to my grave believing that for some unknown reason I took my father’s gun, shot him between the eyes and then turned to my mother and shot her in the back of the head as she tried to run away.

  For me, the worst is the accusation that I dragged my baby sister, Sophia, from her bed and while she tried to scramble away from me, I wrapped my arms around her, placed the gun to her chest and shot her. Then I supposedly brought her downstairs and turned the gun on myself. Before I had a chance to pull the trigger, the door burst open and the United Parliament Army stopped me. All the details lined up to paint a horrific picture of my unthinkable crimes. But why would I kill everyone I dearly loved? The pain in my chest, when I think about it is sometimes so bad that I wish the army had been a few seconds late so I could have done them a favour and killed myself.

  By now, I’m resigned to the fact that unless I have a miraculous memory recall, once I turn eighteen, that wonderful execution chair and I have a date.

  Things haven’t run smoothly around this place since I got here. Inmates were well aware that when I arrived, I was barely shy of becoming a retrieval officer. They turned their hatred for the warden and her officers on me. Guards assigned me a single room when my cellmate tried to strangle me during the night, and I got my first glimpse of how the behaviour chip works. One second my cellmate had me locked in a headlock, and I could not breathe. Instantly, she was writhing in agony, a bloodcurdling scream ringing in my ears and her body flailing around—then nothing—she just lay there. One of the guards lifted her into his arms, walked out and locked me in. I’ve been on my own ever since.

  Depending on your crime, UPDC has specific schedules and activities lined up for inmates. If prisoners are to be reintegrated back into the world as functioning members of society, they are provided all the tools needed to do so. Some courses of study offered range from learning construction and woodwork to cooking, first aid and more. Since I’m going to die in two months, I guess I just don’t qualify to learn any of those things.