Little British Girl...

- Decide where you belong -

In a world split into two zones, north and south live separately. The sole-superpower, America in the north, and every other country lives in the south. Trespassing is punishable by death.
When Elia, a British citizen, wakes up in the northern zone she is forced to trust local cop Daniel to keep her safe. With no memory of how Elia came to the north, and no recollection of why, she and Daniel decide to try and figure it all out. But along the way secrets are uncovered, allies are made, and Elia begins to play dangerous games, with tragic costs.

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4. Chapter 4

“There are four levels of security access up her in the north,” Daniel began, we’re sat at his laptop, he’s had an idea about how to get me home, “Level one is community access, granted to all US citizens. You can use the police service, and are required to abide to all laws. Level two is local force access, that’s what I have. It’s granted to all cops, it gives us access to most files and data, but grants us no legal immunity or anything like that. Level three is higher law enforcement access, I’d get that if I got a promotion, important politicians and higher cops have it, it’s the same as two but gives them access to everything. Level four is only for really important people, like the president, or heads of security, you get full access plus national legal immunity and partially international legal immunity. I can use my level two access to find out more about the night you got here, maybe if we can find out how, or even why, we can get you back again. Sound cool?”

“It does sound like our best option.” I agree. Nobody has successfully trespassed before (as far as me or Daniel know) so the chances of me simply getting lucky in my attempts to go home are extremely slim. I have to be practical, as much as I want to leave, I need to do so safely. I get a small pain in my chest when I admit this however, because I know that being practical will coincide with being patient.

“Right, well you came here on the eighth...which was pretty much a normal night.” Daniel speaks at the same time as scrolling through the data, “Locally, there were no more arrests than usual. No riots that week, barely a whisper of rebellion, nothing special whatsoever. Do you remember if there was anything going on in the south around that time?”

“The week was normal there too.” I shake my head, “On the evening of the eighth I was out with friends, it’s a all a bit of a blur really, but I don’t remember anything at all past nine pm.”

“The time helps, we can narrow it down.” Daniel says encouragingly, filtering his search, “Let’s see...if it all started at nine then you’d have arrived here between ten and twelve…” I don’t listen to him after that, he’s mostly speaking to himself anyway. Somehow, I find myself staring at him. He has nice eyes, they haven’t changed much since he was a boy. They’re the same chilled blue colour as in the photo albums. I wonder if the boy behind them has changed though? “Still nothing, sorry.” He apologizes, I jolt myself back into the room, regaining focus.

“It’s fine, don’t worry. Would it have needed to have been an extra-ordinary evening for me to have gotten into the north?” He seems very set on the idea that the eighth was a special night.

“Not necessarily, but it would make it all a lot more explainable. You had no motive for coming here before the eighth.” I hum in response, and let him get back to searching the files, not that I think he’ll find anything. What could have happened in a matter of hours to make me want to break the 1st law? It would have had to have been more than a few units of alcohol.

“...What if it wasn’t my motive, but somebody else's?” I suddenly think, speaking hesitantly.

“What do you mean?” I’m not really sure what I mean, it’s like my thoughts are mist and I’m trying to catch them.

“Well, I can’t see why I’d ever want to come to the north, no offense. So maybe I never did find that all important motive, maybe someone else had a motive for getting me here?” I’m just trying to think outside the box, we’re getting nowhere with the other idea.

“Why would anyone want to send you to the north?” He asks me, and I sigh. We’ve hit another brick wall. The most likely reason for trying to send someone between zones is if you wanted them killed, but I had no grudges in the south, and to develop a grudge of that strength would take weeks, not hours.

“No clue” I shrug.

“Well...what’s your life like at home? Do you have a lot of friends? How about your parents?” He’s pursuing this, which is kind of a good sign, what if I am on to something?

“I have a group of around five friends, and I’m close with all of them. I trust them, they wouldn’t do something like this, they just wouldn’t. Parents...well, it’s actually parent for me. I never knew my Dad, he ran off the moment he discovered mum was pregnant apparently, but I-”

“Bingo.” Daniel cuts me off, “Something personal and secretive. It’s got to be linked somehow.”

“Wait. You think my dad has something to do with this?” I catch up with his train of thought.

“I know it sounds odd now, but a lot of crimes have personal reasons behind them. Plus, you know nothing about him, for all you know he could be a criminal mastermind.” Daniel tries to explain, but I’m still unsure.

“You think my dad sent me here?” I check.

“No...maybe, well, I’m not sure. I think he’s involved somehow, whether he’s the perpetrator or the victim, or something else entirely.” He attempts to clarify it for me. I think I understand where he’s coming from, he thinks that because my dad is an aspect of my past I know nothing about, he might be an aspect of this incident (which I also know nothing about). “What’s your full name?” He’s got his business tone back on, but there’s excitement in his voice too.

“Why?”

“I can search up your family records and find out more about your day, but I’ll need your full name, age, and nationality.” I bite my lip, my full name is a bit overly-british in my opinion. I wonder if he’l laugh at it…?

“Elia Jubilee Watson-Smith” I confess, blurting it out. Daniel smirks, but he doesn’t say anything, I look down at my feet, embarrassed.

“Can’t be many of those around…age?” He continues.

“Twentyfour” I have no shame in admitting that.

“One year younger than me then,” he grins, “Alright, let’s do this.” He presses the ‘enter’ key and the programme gets to work. Within minutes, it is finished, and my record pops up on screen. “Let’s see...Mother, Kristen Watson-Smith. Father, unknown. Huh. That doesn’t happen very often. Normally even if the child doesn’t know one half of her parentage the government do.” He moves the cursor so it hovers over ‘unknown’ and clicks down on the mouse. The profile for my father is much smaller. I just has one fact. ‘Nationality: American’.

I see it at the same time as Daniel does, and we both have the same reaction. My breath is cut short, and I freeze both mentally and physically. My dad was American…

I am half American.

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