by Eliza Green
Anya almost tripped in her haste to hide behind a Monorail stilt. In the deep shadows, her heart hammered. She wasn’t ready to face Sheila. But she felt new emotions stirring within, urging her to start something.
She watched them pass.
Sheila’s whiney laugh.
Dom’s lips to her ear, whispering something.
Her eyes blurred on the way up to the Monorail platform. A dozen people created a buffer between her and the pair. She couldn’t go home. Dom’s friendship with Sheila hurt more than the hateful things Sheila had said to her.
As the train moved off, Anya gripped the railing nearest the door. She stayed on when the train reached her stop. She stayed on when Sheila disembarked at the last stop for East. When Dom got off at Southwest again, Anya followed.
She kept her distance as before, the fading light helping to hide her in the deep shadows.
When Dom neared the residential area near the factories, he checked his watch and turned around. She froze and held her breath.
Then he turned back and kept walking. She steadied her nerves and kept up with him, past the factories, towards the bungalow with the faded-green door. When she was certain he was inside, she crept around the back.
Muffled voiced reached the garden. She made a quick plan. A large leafy bush could act as camouflage if there wasn’t time to run. The tin can. Move it? They’d know she’d been there. Leave it.
She didn’t need to look inside this time. She recognised the second voice as the older man’s, and kept her head well below the window.
‘How long before you’re locked in?’
‘Soon. They brought me in today to tell me. They said they “require the participants to remain on-site to prove their commitment to the programme”.’
She pictured him air-quoting Arcis’ message.
‘Participants.’ The man grunted. ‘Is that what they’re calling you?’
‘Well, we are participating in a skills programme, so the name fits, Charlie.’
Anya imagined Dom shrugging his shoulders.
‘So, what are we talking about? A couple of weeks before we lose contact?’
‘Something like that. I might be able to stretch it out to the next rotation. I’ll try to stay on the outside as long as possible, but at some point they’re going to insist.’
There was a pause. Anya heard someone pacing.
‘If the team can configure the communication signal to pass through the force field,’ said Dom, ‘I should be able to get a message out. I just need to figure out a few things, like timing.’
The pacing stopped. ‘Skills programme.’ Charlie grunted a second time. ‘What a joke. We both know it’s more than that.’
‘And I promised to find out what. But things have become complicated. There’s someone I need to keep safe.’
Anya craned her neck to hear better.
‘A girl?’
Dom didn’t answer. Did he mean Sheila? She ground her teeth together.
‘Does she know what’s going on with you?’
‘No, and it’s not the right time to tell her. I want to give her the antidote. Can Max get me a shot?’
Charlie paused. ‘Will she be of help to you when the time comes?’
‘I can’t be sure.’
Sheila? Helping?
Anya almost laughed, but the word ‘antidote’ threw her.
‘Not until you’re sure,’ said Charlie. ‘She’s better off half-caring than caring too much if she can’t help. You understand?’
‘Yeah. But I’ll need people on my side while I’m in there.’
Another pause. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
Anya readjusted her foot; it brushed against something solid. The tin can rocked back and forth. She held her breath and steadied the object with her hand. The conversation fell quiet. She considered diving into the bush for half a second.
Anya didn’t go far, just back to the street that ran alongside the factories. Anywhere but the back garden where she felt trapped. Where did Dom really live? Who was the older man? She needed answers.
Dom emerged from the narrow gap between the houses. He jogged towards her. She hid behind one of the Monorail stilts, only peeking out when he passed by. He took a sharp left towards one of the food factories. Where is he going? Her curiosity forced her to catch up.
Normally, her unclear thoughts would nag at her to go home. But her new clarity told her to shut up and stop playing it safe.
She stayed close enough to see Dom enter one of the factories by a side door. She moved in but hesitated at the door. She gave herself a pep talk until she worked up enough courage to open the door and step inside.
She entered a small square room with blue lockers on one side and a sink and a door on the other. She wondered if this was the factory where Jason worked. She closed the door softly and waited for her eyes to adjust to the almost non-existent light.
A series of thudding sounds came from an adjoining room. Faint yellow light slipped underneath the ajar door. She walked towards it and peered through at the factory floor.
Dom stood in the near corner, with his back to her, dressed in a black T-shirt and black cargo pants. His brown tunic top was in a heap on the floor beside him. He wore a set of red boxing gloves and punched a blue padded bag suspended from a chain in the ceiling. Anya held her breath, so not to disturb the air around her.
Dom’s arms flexed, and he grunted as his fist found the bag. Anya could see his muscles, his strength, his solid frame—normally hidden underneath the loose clothing he wore in Arcis. He continued to punch the bag, oblivious to her presence. She stood frozen and stiff by the door, just watching. If he even hinted at turning around, she would step back and dissolve into the shadows.
Finally, he stopped punching. Sweat stained his T-shirt and dripped off his neck. He stood facing the bag, and ran a palm over his short hair.
‘Are you going to stand there all night or are you coming in?’
13
Anya froze. She coaxed the door open a little wider.
Dom turned, his olive skin glistening from the physical exertion. His T-shirt was pressed tight against his well-defined muscles. Her eyes swept over a body that was more man than boy. His deep-brown eyes watched her. A hint of humour tugged at the corners of his mouth.
‘You look like you’ve never seen someone punch a bag before.’ Her shock melted away and she fully opened the door.
Too many questions, too many questions. None that she had expected to ask that night.
‘How did you know I was here?’
The laces on Dom’s gloves were undone, and he used the crooks of his arms to pull the gloves off. He let them drop to the floor, then leaned against the wall and studied his tape-bound hands.
‘I’ve been waiting for you to come and find me this past week. Couldn’t have made it easier.’
Anya frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
Dom folded his arms. ‘Anya Macklin, how long are you going to pretend this is the first time you’ve followed me?’
She wanted to deny listening at the window of the house with the faded-green door, but her face betrayed her feelings. She pressed her clammy hands to her burning cheeks.
‘Fine! I followed you. Once.’
‘Calm down, Anya. I’m not angry with you.’
But his words only made her face burn hotter. ‘Why would you be angry with me? I don’t answer to you. I can go where I like.’
Dom’s smile faded and he rolled his eyes. He pushed off from the wall and punched the bag again, this time without the gloves.
She moved further inside the room. Four large machines lay idle, one with empty pots lined up on the side. A sharp, acidic smell burned her nose; the pungent smell of vinegar. But the thicker scent of sweat reminded her of her own hard training sessions. She’d had to literally boil her clothes after.
But the smell wasn’t quite the same as when she trained. The air smelled musky and sweet.
‘Why were you expecting me, then?’
Dom stopped punching and turned to look at her. ‘Because you’re curious.’
‘About what?’
‘Me.’
She snorted. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Dom Pavesi. I don’t think of you like that.’
She noticed his shoulders sag a little before he squared up and turned back to the bag. ‘God, I didn’t want you to come here for that. But maybe I should at least pretend to be a little offended that the idea repulses you.’
‘I’m not. I didn’t mean...’
Breathe, Anya.
‘I just don’t like the company you keep.’
‘You mean Sheila? She’s harmless.’
‘A harmless snake who uses words like a weapon.’ Her irritation forced her lips together.
Dom turned around again. He managed a smile through his heavy breaths. ‘Anya, you are the most frustrating person I have ever met. But you are very predictable.’
‘Predictable?’ Anya stepped in closer. Dom’s breathing slowed but his eyes never left her face. She felt her body tingle. ‘What makes me so predictable?’
‘You’re here, aren’t you?’
She scoffed. ‘A week late, according to you.’ Her desire to fight faded.
‘Well, I had to do something to make sure you would show.’
‘What did you do?’
Dom smiled. ‘Another time, perhaps.’
Anya’s groan did little to persuade Dom to give up his secrets. So she changed the subject. ‘What are you doing here, anyway?’
‘Letting off some steam. I thought you might like to join me.’
‘I don’t know how.’ The lie came easily.
Dom snorted.
‘What?’
‘You’re no shrinking violet. Not like the way you portray yourself to others.’
‘I don’t do that.’
‘I saw the way you handled Sheila today. You’ve had training.’
She stared at him. ‘You set that up?’
‘I had to be sure.’
‘You stupid, selfish—’
‘Hey, channel some of that anger over here.’ He patted the side of the bag.
That small action sent an unexpected thrill through Anya. She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed training. She had stopped after coming to Essention. Exercise had always been her way to cope at home with Grace and their difficult relationship, and her insistence she be matched.
Dom waited. His hands were wrapped, but there were two extra rolls of white bandage on the floor, like he’d been expecting company. He reached down and picked up one.
Anya held out one of her hands. Dom unravelled the wrap and hooked a loop over her thumb, then coiled the fabric around her hand. He took care not to touch her, she noticed. He wrapped her other hand using the second roll. She saw several mistakes in his technique but said nothing.
‘It will be easier without the tunic. You should take it off before you start.’ He steadied the bag from behind.
‘Er, no. I’m fine.’ She settled for rolling up her sleeves. No way would Dom see the old T-shirt she wore underneath.
A surge of adrenaline raced through her as she pulled on one of the red gloves. Dom placed the second on her other hand. They were too big, but she could work around that.
‘Just get a feel for them first.’
Anya held the gloves up and flexed. It felt like he’d done a good job with the wrapping. She hit the bag once, twice, to test it. Dom pressed his weight into the other side.
‘You can hit harder than that.’ She noticed he was barely holding it.
Anya hit the bag again and again and again. She had no idea why she held back. She knew basic boxing techniques. But something didn’t feel right.
Dom straightened up. ‘If you’re not going to take this seriously, you should just go.’
Anya ignored him and pulled off the gloves. She unwrapped the tape.
‘I thought you were different, Anya. I didn’t expect you to quit so easily.’ He sounded as disappointed as he looked. She glanced at him, noticing how his mouth turned down naturally.
She avoided the urge to retort with something smart. Instead, she kept unwrapping until the fabric was almost off both hands, with the loops still around her thumbs. She started to re-wrap her left hand, pulling the fabric in the opposite direction to her thumb and to the way Dom had done it. She felt Dom’s gaze on her, and a thrill shot up her spine.
You don’t know anything about me, Dom Pavesi.
‘You have to wrap away from the thumb,’ said Anya. ‘Otherwise it gets loose in the punch. Then, you should go around the wrist a few times, around the thumb, the knuckle... Then between each finger and finish at the wrist.’ She secured the Velcro end.
She repeated with the other wrapping and flexed both hands into fists.
‘Now my fingers won’t break if I punch something hard.’ She lifted both brows at him.
Dom stared at her hands, then at his own. The wrap was already coming loose. He uncoiled it and held it out to her, smiling. ‘Do mine.’
He extended his left hand, palm facing down. Anya held her breath and tried to imagine him as one of the classmates she used to practise the wrapping technique on.
She stepped closer to him. His sweet, musky scent filled her nose and she absorbed it with a discreet sniff. She placed the looped end around his thumb then pulled the fabric out, coiling it around his wrist.
The tips of her fingers held his hand steady. The sound of his rhythmic breathing filled the room. His chest rose and fell in time with his breaths. She hoped he couldn’t hear her own heart pounding in her chest.
His proximity caused her hands to shake—different to how they did when she was hungry. She slowed down the wrapping.
‘Watch what I do,’ she said to cover the change in speed. She pulled the tape across his broad palm, using her fingers to steady him.
His fingers twitched when she touched him. He narrowed the gap between them and a shiver caught her off guard.
Anya sped up, looping the fabric between Dom’s fingers. He spread them apart so she could feed it through easier. They stood close enough for his fingers to graze her skin. Her own fingers twitched at the thought. She stood back as soon as she finished. His other hand needed wrapping, but she couldn’t do it.
Dom inspected her handiwork.
‘You can do the other one yourself.’ She tried to sound casual.
While Anya gloved up, Dom unwrapped his other hand and rewrapped it in half the time it had taken her. He was a fast learner.
She waited for him to steady the bag before she punched it the way she knew she could. Her power forced Dom to set one foot behind him, to anchor his stance.
He grinned at her. ‘I knew it.’
Anya punched the bag until she’d depleted all her adrenaline and her arms burned. Then they swapped over. She leaned into the bag and absorbed Dom’s hits. She couldn’t imagine Sheila doing this.
Dom’s conversation with Charlie from earlier forced her to stop. Dom paused his next punch in mid-air.
‘What’s wrong?’
It’s Sheila he wants to keep safe. Not me.
‘Nothing. I have to go. Jason’s expecting me.’ She pulled the wrapping off her hands.
Her heart sank when he didn’t talk her out of leaving. She coiled up the wrapping as fast possible and dropped it to the floor before rushing out the door.
‘Swing by tomorrow,’ said Dom. ‘Maybe I can teach you something.’
Ω
East wasn’t that far from the food factories, but the inner walls dividing the city into eight sections made it difficult for Anya to take a direct route home.
She found Jason at the kitchen table with a broken kettle—the kettle had been working perfectly that morning—laid out in several parts. Jason had always been fascinated by how things worked. Anya knew his real passion was in electronics, not the food factory.
‘I wish I had my soldering iron.
And some resistors and capacitors would be nice. A couple of circuit boards. A backlit magnifying glass and my heat resistant mat to work on.’
When the people from Praesidium had rescued them from their radiation sickness hell, she and Jason hadn’t thought to take much from home.
Anya sat down opposite him, glad he was home for once.
‘It’s broken,’ he said, studying the parts.
Anya smiled. ‘It’s broken, or you broke it?’
Jason ignored her. ‘Your shift finished an hour ago. Where were you?’
‘Out.’
The bottom of the kettle popped off in his hand. He glanced up at her. ‘It’s not safe to be out after dark. You need to come home when your shift finishes, so the scanners can verify your whereabouts.’
They weren’t due to scan for another half hour. ‘I’m back in plenty of time. I don’t need a babysitter.’
He pinched something, pulled his fingers out and squinted at them. ‘The scanners will report back if you’re not where you’re supposed to be. I don’t want you to get in trouble.’
Anya folded her arms. ‘I don’t need a parent, Jason, so stop pretending to be one.’
His eye twitched; a sign she’d hurt him.
‘You never said where you were.’
Anya hesitated. ‘I was with Dom.’ She left out the details.
Jason raised an eyebrow. ‘So you two are together?’
Blood rushed to her face. ‘No, we were just, um, hanging out. Running.’
Jason turned the metal bottom upside down. ‘This isn’t Praesidium tech. It’s worse than the stuff we had at home. Probably salvaged from the towns.’ He leaned back in his chair and sighed. ‘Do you miss it?’
‘What, hot water?’
He smiled. ‘No, sports. You used to be quite good at them.’
‘I guess so. Arcis isn’t exactly set up for exercise on the premises.’
‘And the programme. It’s going well?’
Anya had been there a month and it was only the second time Jason had asked her about it.
‘Fine. I push a mop around a floor. It’s not brain taxing.’
‘Arcis will give you proper guidance. It’s also the safest place for you to be right now. There’s talk of fresh rebel activity on the outside.’
