The Chosen

by Taran Matharu

  Cade felt the blood rush to his cheeks. Fear and anger twisted in his stomach like a coiled snake. His last school hadn’t been like this.

  Oh, he’d experienced racism before. The disapproving stares when his mother and father went out together. The “random” selections at airport security. But nothing like this.

  For the briefest moment he wanted to stand up for himself. Wasn’t that what people said you should do with bullies? But this was a new school. He wasn’t that guy.

  Finch placed his clenched fists on the table, then looked up at Cade with an anger in his eyes that Cade could hardly believe was possible.

  “I think he wants to say something, Finch,” Gobbler mumbled through a mouthful.

  But Cade didn’t.

  Instead, he hurried away, even as shame at his cowardice sent blood rushing to his cheeks.

  CHAPTER

  3

  Place:Unknown

  Date:Unknown

  Year:Unknown

  It hung in the air in front of Cade like a glazed sheet of glowing glass. An opaque barrier bisected the chasm, disappearing into the red-dust walls on either side and extending up to their summits.

  Cade had almost run into it, for it had appeared suddenly in front of him, stopping him in his tracks.

  He had been staring at it for the past few minutes, steeling himself to touch its surface. There was no other way out—the creature lay in the other direction.

  Cade tried not to ask himself what the barrier was, or who had created it and why. He just needed to get as far away from the injured creature as possible. It could be following him, even now.

  He extended a trembling finger and prodded the sheet as if it were a sleeping giant. The barrier was smooth. Smooth and chilly, like wet-slicked ice; as soon as he put pressure on it, his finger slipped to the side. It was strange to the touch, and he pulled his hand away, inspecting his finger for frostbite. But his fingertip wasn’t even cold.

  Suddenly, as if it had never been there at all, the barrier was gone.

  “What … the … hell?” Cade said slowly, waving his hand through where the wall had been.

  This was too strange. He tried to stay calm, think logically, even as his heart raged in his chest. He had no choice but to follow the path; see where it led.

  Cade rounded a shallow bend and saw that the passage widened ahead. He stopped, confused. Rubbed his eyes, looked again.

  The chasm ahead of him appeared almost exactly like the area he had started in. The same ledge—the same rocky outcrop opposite.

  Had he gone in a circle? But the path he had taken was relatively straight. There was no way this was possible.

  Stranger still, the wall above the ledge was caked with dust, and the same kind of rock he’d used as a hand axe was there too, protruding like a black jewel. This was all the same … but somehow different. As if the entire area had been sculpted to the same exact design as where he had been before. But how was that even possible?

  He heard a bellow. Loud and far off, like a wounded bull. Only—it sounded human.

  Cade didn’t think. Instead, he hurried in its direction, cursing the twisted ankle that sent shooting pains up his leg. The yelling only got more frantic as he neared it, but he didn’t care. Anything was better than being alone in this desolate hellscape.

  Then he saw them. Another monster, crouched in front of a tall kid, his back against another slick barrier like the one Cade had seen before. He wore only his underwear, using his uniform as a matador’s cape in one hand, his other in a balled fist.

  Strangest of all, Cade recognized him, even in the shadows of the chasm. The pale blond hair was unmistakable, as were the broad, muscled shoulders. Eric. Another kid from his school.

  If Eric had seen Cade, he gave no sign, instead punching at the beast’s face as its claws tangled in the cloth. As he did so, the creature darted forward, and the boy barely managed to evade its snapping fangs.

  Cade wanted to turn back, but he knew that once the monster was done with Eric, it’d be after him. His best chance at defeating it would be when it was distracted.

  So he charged, his heart pounding as he held the hand axe high.

  Ten steps away.

  Five.

  He slipped in the wet mud, slamming onto his back. Ahead of him, the monster spun with a screech, its black eyes narrowed. It leaped onto him, and Cade lashed out, yelling with fear and desperation.

  His hand thrust into its open gullet, the length of the hand axe all that stopped the teeth from clamping on his wrist.

  The creature choked and screeched, its claws sinking into his chest, the points breaking the skin. Blood ran down his arm, the stone’s tip slicing the roof of the beast’s mouth. Desperate, Cade kicked out, and the creature reared up, wrenching the stone from its maw.

  Cade swung blindly, screaming as the monster’s head whipped toward him. But the bite never came. Instead, the beast was yanked back, blood-flecked saliva spattering his face as it choked, crooked claws grasping at its throat.

  Eric had whipped his uniform’s belt around the beast’s scrawny neck, and now he heaved on it, falling to his knees.

  Cade watched as Eric’s knuckles whitened, tightening the loop of leather as he pulled back on both ends. The monster’s black eyes bulged as if they might burst from their sockets. Then there was a snap, and the eyes glazed over in death.

  For a moment they remained that way, Cade panting on the ground, Eric holding the creature upright, the belt still in his hands. Then he let it fall, and stood. He kicked the corpse derisively and looked at Cade.

  “Thank you,” Eric said.

  Cade stared back. It was the first time he had ever heard Eric speak. Not in the entire six months he had known him.

  Eric had kept to himself, back at school, and most of the other kids were too scared to approach him. There were even rumors that he had killed someone. Cade only knew his real name because a teacher had said it in class once.

  “You’re … you’re welcome,” Cade stuttered as Eric helped him to his feet.

  Eric craned his neck to see the back of his shoulder. Cade saw furrows in his flesh where the monster had managed to catch him with its talons. The marks didn’t seem too deep and had already started crusting over, leaving a trail of dried blood down his back. Eric winced as he prodded at them with a large finger.

  “It was fast,” he said, kicking his downed opponent again. “I didn’t think I had a chance.”

  Cade nodded dumbly as Eric fished his uniform from the muddy ground and began to put it on.

  It had been clever to use the uniform to tangle the monster’s claws. As a result, the top half had been shredded, so Eric tied the arms in a knot around his waist, remaining bare chested.

  For a moment they stood there awkwardly.

  “You’re from school too,” Eric finally said.

  “Yeah,” Cade said, holding out his hand.

  “Eric,” Eric replied, smiling at the formality. “You’re Cade, right?”

  Cade nodded, and Eric’s big hand enveloped Cade’s as they shook.

  It was strange only to introduce himself now. They’d been in the same classes and sat near each other for so long.

  “You know what this place is?” Cade asked, hopeful.

  Eric shook his head.

  “Maybe we’re dead,” he mumbled.

  “Like … there was a fire or something?” Cade asked. “We died in our sleep?”

  “Yeah.” Eric shrugged, bending down and unraveling the belt from around the monster’s neck. “Maybe this is hell, and this is one of the devils. It looks like a demon to me.”

  Cade stared at it, his gaze skipping from its translucent needle teeth to the inky black eyes.

  “Its head looks like one of those deep-sea fish, you know? Like a viperfish, I think they’re called?”

  Eric shook his head, as if he’d never heard of them. “A viper.” He shrugged. “As good a name as any.”

  He loo
ked down the chasm where Cade had come from and gave him an inquisitive look.

  “Any vipers where you woke up?”

  “I fought one off,” Cade said. “I hope that was all of them.”

  Eric looked impressed, even a little disbelieving, but Cade felt no pride at what he had done. It had been a desperate, frantic affair. He didn’t like remembering how close he had come to death.

  “Glad you can hold your own,” Eric said, patting Cade’s shoulder. “I underestimated you.”

  Cade winced as he was knocked forward, knowing Eric was just being nice. The kid was as strong as a bear, and built like one too, in stark contrast to Cade’s lean frame.

  Yet Cade couldn’t decide if he was lucky in finding Eric. He’d heard the rumors about Eric’s past—and this kid would have no trouble overpowering Cade if he wanted to.

  Still, he gave off more of a jock vibe than anything else, now that Cade had heard him speak for the first time. He had the build for football too.

  Then, just like that, the barrier behind them winked out of existence.

  Eric stared, then swiped his hand through where it had been before.

  “Yeah,” Cade said. “They do that.”

  For a moment he considered telling Eric about the hand axe, still embedded in the wall somewhere behind them—it could be useful after all. But even as he opened his mouth, he closed it again. Maybe giving a rumored killer a new weapon wasn’t such a good idea.

  Instead, he examined the canyon beyond. This time, the passage looked different, although he wasn’t exactly sure if that was a good thing.

  “I’m guessing there isn’t a way out behind us?” Eric said, motioning the way Cade had come with his chin.

  “I don’t know,” Cade said. “But there’s a viper there.”

  “Then we head this way,” Eric said, wrapping the belt around his fist. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER

  4

  5 months earlier

  Cade stared at the lined paper in front of him while the teacher’s voice droned on. It was strange to be in class, in this place, but he supposed the school had to educate them beyond its constant exercises and marching drills.

  They even had a uniform—the blue shirt and pants worn by most of the students. A far cry from the uniform he had worn at his old school: a striped tie, shirt, and blazer.

  Still, Cade found it hard to concentrate. Life at this new school so far had been one that oscillated between moments of anxiety and mind-numbing, soul-crushing boredom.

  This lesson was a prime example. With the teacher at the head of the small classroom, he felt safe enough. But he wasn’t learning anything new. His expensive private school had been light-years ahead of what they were teaching here. The teacher was currently outlining the very basics of the American Civil War.

  Cade wasn’t going to let himself fall behind, though. They had each been provided with a shiny new textbook. The class hadn’t even cracked it open that month—Cade was pretty sure many of his fellow classmates could barely read anyway.

  He’d heard that the vast majority of juvenile delinquents were functionally illiterate, and knew that many of the kids here would classify as such, having been sent there by court order, like he had, or because they weren’t a “good fit” in mainstream schools. It had seemed impossible when he’d first discovered that, but now he saw it in action, in front of his very eyes. The reality was startling.

  The teacher rarely used the whiteboard, though Cade could see the faded remains of what looked like a half-dozen examples of the male anatomy someone had drawn there in permanent marker.

  With nothing better to do, Cade was slowly reading the textbook from cover to cover, working through the exercises and questions inside. There was nobody to mark his work, but it distracted him from his boredom.

  He made sure to sit at the back of the classroom so nobody would see what he was doing, and he always scrunched up his work and trashed it when the lesson ended. So far, he’d gone unnoticed. He was doing the same with his textbooks in other subjects, but in history, he was on the final pages.

  History was his favorite subject, mostly because his father was a college history professor. In fact, it was Cade’s high grades in history that had led to his being offered a scholarship to attend the private school.

  Even with the grant, his parents struggled to make payments, but they always beamed with pride whenever Cade came home from the dorm each weekend. Of course, that had been before the incident.

  Cade was finishing an essay on the Great Depression’s impact on international politics when a throat was cleared in front of him. He looked up, and suddenly boredom was replaced with gut-wrenching panic.

  Mr. Daniels was standing there, his hand outstretched. The teacher was a bearded giant of a man, with spectacles that seemed to have been stolen from a Harry Potter convention.

  “This isn’t personal time, Carter,” Daniels said, tapping his foot. “You’re supposed to be paying attention. Stop doodling and hand it over.”

  Cade hurriedly scrunched up his paper and handed it to him.

  “Sorry, sir,” he said, earning some laughter from the others. Nobody called the teachers “sir” here.

  “Shall we have a look at Carter’s artwork?” Daniels said, striding to the front of the class.

  Cade felt sweat prickle his forehead.

  “No,” he whispered.

  But Daniels was already flattening out the paper on his desk. He stared at it for a moment, and the guys in the front row craned their necks to see what it was.

  “This is…,” Daniels began, his brows furrowed.

  He glanced up at Cade with surprise, then swiftly swept it into the wastebasket.

  “A letter home,” Daniels said, shaking his head. “Maybe save that for rec time, Carter?”

  “Yes … Mr. Daniels,” Cade said, bowing his head.

  He spent the next few minutes with his eyes fixed straight ahead, ignoring the curious stares of the other students around him.

  It was pure, unadulterated relief when the bell rang, and Cade and the others lined up in the corridor outside the classroom. Teachers barked orders, but by now Cade knew the routine. He stepped into the tight, three-person-wide formation and began to march at their command.

  That was how they always walked between classes, and soon they were left in the rec room, a crowded space full of noisy students and tables and chairs along with a television, foosball table, and several stacks of old comics.

  Cade didn’t spend much time here, though. It was a minefield, where one wrong move could earn resentment from other kids and, by proxy, their friends. Usually he retreated to the library, a far quieter area. Given the choice between fear or boredom, he always chose the latter.

  “All right, boys, let’s have a look at Cade’s letter home to Mommy,” a voice called out.

  Cade spun around in horror, only to see his essay being waved in the air by Finch. Gobbler swaggered beside him, his deep-set eyes daring Cade to provoke him.

  Clearly, Finch had fished the paper out of the wastebasket in class. Already, a crowd had gathered around him.

  Even as Cade made to leave, Finch unfolded the paper and cleared his throat as the others laughed and gathered to listen.

  “Dear Mommy,” he began in an exaggerated tone before turning his eyes to the writing at the top of the page. “The Black Friday stock market collapse of 1929 set off a global…”

  He stopped, confused. The room fell silent, and Cade seethed with fear. This was far worse than Daniels reading it in class.

  “Hold up,” Finch said, scratching his head. “You were writing this … for fun?”

  Cade snatched at the paper, but Finch held it out of reach.

  “I’m just trying to learn,” Cade replied. “Like everyone else.”

  “No, not like everyone else,” Finch said, holding the paper higher as Cade jumped for it. “You don’t see us writing this crap, rich boy.”

  The onloo
kers laughed, and Cade cringed. His parents had never been rich.

  “I’ve seen you avoiding us, all high and mighty. You think you’re better than us, Apu?”

  Cade backed away with his palms raised.

  “I’m just—I’m trying to get by, like everyone else,” Cade said.

  “Listen to him. ‘Get by’?” Finch put on a pompous British accent, though Cade sounded nothing like it. “Why’d your parents send you here; you not clean your room?”

  “Nah, man, he forgot to mow the lawn,” Gobbler chimed in.

  More laughter.

  “I got done for grand theft,” Cade snapped.

  That shut them up. But even as he said it, he realized it was a mistake.

  “Yo,” another boy said, a pasty-faced boy. “Man thinks he’s gangster.”

  “Watch out, boys.” Finch laughed. “Apu here’s a kingpin.”

  “King Apu,” someone yelled.

  “Bow to His Majesty,” said another, bending in mock reverence.

  Finch bowed too, letting the essay fall to the ground. Cade backed away, stuttering denials and shaking his head. Finally, Finch turned around, distracted by a shout from someone across the room. It was his turn on the foosball table. Just like that, the crowd began to disperse, the afternoon’s entertainment seemingly over.

  Cade fought back bitter tears and sought refuge somewhere else. He couldn’t leave—most of the onlookers were now leaning against the wall by the door. But there was a line of ragged armchairs up against one wall. Usually these were occupied, but today they were mostly empty, perhaps because of the kid sitting among them, reading a magazine.

  Eric. He ate alone, and spoke to nobody, not even during rec time. He simply glowered at anyone who came near him, and few did.

  After all, he was a veritable giant, lifting weights in the gym and standing several inches above Cade’s own five-foot-eight frame. No one wanted to mess with him.

  At this point, Cade didn’t care. He threw himself into the seat farthest away from the boy. Only, instead of glaring, Eric gave him a level look. Was that sympathy in his eyes? Before Cade could decide, Eric turned back to his reading.