“I suppose I don’t. At least, no more than you do.” She eyed him defiantly. He wasn’t an elder yet, but he lorded his future status over her like he was.
She knew what was coming as she watched him pull his fist back. Despite the fact that she braced herself, the punch still knocked the wind out of her. The shove that followed was all it took to send her to the ground.
On your feet, or he’ll start kicking, she thought. But she couldn’t get up, not until she found her breath.
Of course, she’d been right. The kicks came hard and fast, so she rolled into a ball, protecting her head and giving him her back. He relentlessly pounded her with kick after kick.
Before he could land another, she got up.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“Better than what?” She gripped her side, assessing the damage. Three years of experience had taught her what to look for. She thought at least one rib was broken from the sharp pain that shot across her side with each breath. “Nothing’s happened to make me feel bad, right?” she gasped.
His smile contained no joy “So, you can learn.”
She maneuvered herself so the kitchen island was between them, spying the butcher knife that lay in wait, ready to be her savior. He made his way around it, and she backed up against the wall.
“You seem to think that being an elder’s match affords you some privileges. It doesn’t. You will smile for the islanders and do your duty, but I get the glory. Make no mistake about that.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t even know the truth, do you?” She chuckled to herself. “They don’t consider you any worthier of their secrets than anyone else on this island.”
It was all he needed. He rounded on her again. She held the knife out with a shaky hand, and he plunged himself onto it. It slid into his gut easily, surprising them both. He made an otherworldly gasp as the handle jammed against his skin.
He drew back, squealing like a stuck pig as he pulled himself off the knife. Against her will, a scream escaped her own lips as she looked at the warm, slimy blood on her hand.
That was when Mason came in.
“Hey Ashley, I heard something, so I just wanted to make sure…” Mason trailed off as he entered the kitchen. “What the hell is going on?”
He had been walking home from work when the sound of screaming drew him into his best friend’s home. The last thing he’d expected was for Ashley to be the one holding the knife. He watched, mesmerized, as blood dripped from the tip of the weapon.
“Seize her, Mason. She’ll be tried for treason,” Wesley yelled as he gripped his stomach with one hand and braced himself against the counter with the other.
Mason knew about the abuse, and he’d always feared Wesley would kill Ashley one day. The way the scene before him reversed that expectation wasn’t something he was mentally prepared for.
Wesley leaned against the island, clutching his middle. He eyed Mason before returning his gaze to Ashley. “I see. You two are in this together. You figured you could kill me and be together, didn’t you?” He took a weak step toward Mason.
“Please, Wesley.” Ashley’s voice was no more than a shaky whisper.
“Please what?” he demanded. “Please hurry up and die so you can move on with your life? I don’t think so.” He lunged himself at Mason.
Although Wesley was weak, he was nearly two hundred pounds of dead weight coming at Mason full force. He didn’t have time to move out of the way, so Mason braced himself for the impact.
Wesley came at him low, barreling a shoulder into his stomach. Mason tried to get a grip on the bleeding man, but he was too slippery. Wesley knocked him off balance, slamming his back against the kitchen counters.
The force knocked the wind out of Mason. As he slumped over to catch his breath, Wesley stumbled toward him, blood still streaming freely from his wound. By the look of it, Ashley had nicked an artery.
Mason held a hand out toward his attacker. “Listen, Wesley, I don’t want any trouble. I just came in here to check on Ashley. Let me get you some help.”
“I don’t need help from the likes of you.” He pulled back to punch Mason, but he was getting weaker by the minute, the color completely drained from his face.
This time, Mason easily avoided the hit, and Wesley tumbled to the ground face-first.
“Well, isn’t this perfect?” he said from the floor. “Now you guys… can have your… happily… ever…” He stopped talking and didn’t start again.
Ashley walked over to him, kneeling down beside him. She hesitated before reaching over and touching Wesley’s back. His chest had stopped its rhythmic rise and fall.
Shaking her head, her wide eyes filled with tears that didn’t fall as she finally looked at Mason.
For a few moments, silence reigned in the room. They were afraid to move, to face the consequences of what they’d done. Before they were ready, Ashley’s neighbor burst into the house, saying he’d heard a commotion. He saw Wesley lying on the floor, Mason looming over him, covered in his blood, and jumped to the wrong conclusion.
Ashley knew she was the one who deserved to be punished. But shock held her tongue in a vice-like grip. He called more neighbors in, and soon, they took on a mob mentality.
Before the situation could escalate much further, the two head elders arrived. Mattli and Alkoff made their assessments in silence, while the group of islanders watched.
“What happened here?” Alkoff asked after taking in the scene.
Ashley shot a desperate glance at Mason, fear and shock holding her tongue. Someone, at some point, had draped a blanket over her shoulders. She looked away, trying to hide her shame under the scratchy wool.
Words seem to fail Mason as well. He leaned against the kitchen counter, a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face, and crossed his arms.
While Alkoff was waiting for an answer, Elder Branneth burst through the front door.
“What happened? Is Wesley okay?” she demanded. A tall and slender woman who was young for an elder, she maneuvered easily through the crowd of people gathered in the front hallway. When she spotted Wesley facedown on the floor, she went to him and collapsed by his body.
Her voice turned cold and menacing. “What happened here?” She turned her icy gaze on Ashley, who retreated even further into her blanket.
Ashley’s neighbor put an arm around her. “She’s had a bit of a shock, Elder Branneth. We all know Ashley wasn’t the one who started this fight. Go easy on her.”
“Go easy on her?” she shouted. “A future elder is dead. And I know she had something to do with it.” Her eyes narrowed as she stared at Ashley, willing her to confess.
Ashley again turned her gaze to Mason, silently pleading with him to rescue her. He’d helped her so many times before. He always knew what to do, always had the right answer. But now, he just leaned against the counter, staring straight ahead, an unfamiliar hint of fear tugging at his expression.
Branneth turned her wrath on Mason. “You. I always knew you would be a problem.”
The accusation loosed Ashley’s tongue. “No, you don’t understand,” she squeaked.
The sound of her voice snapped Mason out of whatever world he was in. “There’s nothing to understand. I’m responsible.”
His confession wasn’t much, but it was enough. Two elders seized him roughly and hauled him away like a sacrificial lamb.
Ashley stared hard into the mirror. She couldn’t let Mason take the fall. He was a master welder, and he contributed to the island in a big way. Many people depended on his skills.
“What have I done?” she asked her reflection.
Resolved, she walked out of her home and went straight to Mason.
Mason was at peace. The only thing he regretted was not being at Wesley’s funeral. He would’ve liked to spit on his body. That motherfucker hadn’t deserved so much luck in life. Mason had scraped by for years, and for what? He was about to be executed for killing a son of a bitch who’d
spent each day of his life beating and lording over people. Nope. No regrets. If that was how they ran the island, so be it. He didn’t want to be a part of it any longer.
Mason had been alone his whole life. Not alone like Ashley was. His parents were still alive, but they weren’t one of the so-called lucky pairs. They tolerated each other at best. When it had come time for them to contribute to the population, the duty had been perceived as a burden, not a privilege. As the product of their burden, they’d treated him as an inconvenience. He’d moved out of his family home as soon as another place became available, and he’d been on his own ever since.
Mason’s match had died before they could be paired. The girl had been gangly, awkward, and not terribly likable. She’d seemed as put off by the pairing as he was, and he hadn’t missed the dreamy way she looked at Wesley and other islanders who had a higher social ranking. He hadn’t been terribly certain he’d be able to fulfill his duty if it came to it. When an illness took her, Mason was almost relieved, although he would have never admitted it. He had been in line for a new match before everything went to hell.
Ashley had always been Mason’s only constant… well, her and his work.
He loved metalworking. Welding was something he did to keep the island running. Metalworking was something he did for himself. If the elders knew about the extra flourishes he made on the leaky pipes he fixed, he would be punished for wasting time and resources. He always made sure to hide it well, but he enjoyed knowing that small bit of beauty was there.
He wondered just what he could do with his hands if he had unlimited resources, but his daydream was cut short by the sound of footsteps in the leaves.
The dappled moonlight made it hard to see, but he recognized her shadowy form anyway.
“What are you doing here?”
“I can’t go through with this, Mason. I can’t have your blood on my hands.” She grabbed the bars of the primitive enclosure made of glorified sticks. Mason was sure he could break out if he wanted to, but where would he go? The island was small, and it had very wet, finite boundaries.
The prison enclosure was just at the edge of the woods. The nearest homes were not even a hundred yards away, so each one of them had eyes on him. The elders hadn’t even bothered to post guards. The sensation of being watched made his skin crawl.
“You have to.” Frustrated, he ran a hand over his shaved head. The last thing he needed was for her to be an emotional wreck about what had happened. The thought of her living on, of her being free of that man, was all that was keeping him going.
She put her face right up to the wooden bars, mere inches from his. “No.”
Her pointy little nose nearly touched his, and he could feel her warm breath on his skin. He stared into her gray eyes, his square face the perfect opposite to her delicate oval one. “What do you want me to say? Sure. Go tell the elders the truth right now. Certainly, they’ll let me out, and we’ll all live together as one big, happy family. You know that won’t happen, Ashley. Get it together.”
“I won’t let you die.”
“You don’t have a choice. If you tell them what happened, they’ll kill us both—you for the crime, and me for keeping quiet about it. What good would that do?”
He was right, and in that moment, she hated him for it. She stared into his dark brown eyes, getting more and more frustrated with what she saw there. “Well, what am I supposed to do now? My match is dead. You’re as good as dead. I have no place here. Elder Mattli told me…” She trailed off, hesitating to say it out loud.
“I can guess what Elder Mattli told you. And no doubt, he’s right. Make sure they think you’re indispensable, or they’ll find a place for you on that pyre. Branneth will be gunning for you now.”
“Like she wasn’t already?” Branneth had loved Wesley for years. If she ever found out he’d died at Ashley’s hands, it would turn her contempt into blood lust.
She sat down heavily on the damp ground. “And how exactly am I supposed to make myself indispensable?”
“First of all, stop being so difficult!” He turned away from the bars and threw his hands in the air. “Quit asking so many questions and getting on the elders’ bad side. Lay low for a while, do what they say, and you should be fine.” Taking a seat on the other side of his prison, he dug at the ground with a stick. “Everyone knows you’re one hell of a net maker. I don’t think the fishermen on this island could live without you. Keep that up.”
He made it sound so easy. Ashley looked up at the cold night sky, thinking of all the times they’d looked up at it together, trying to solve the island’s problems, not to mention their own.
“Remember when we were kids, and we decided the stars were other islands with people on them who could see us, just like we could see them? We used to make up stories about them.”
He chuckled. “Yeah. My favorites were the Gladsteins.”
Squinting as she stared at the moon, which was trying to peek through the night’s clouds, she tried to summon the memory. “Which ones were they?”
“They had three arms. The women found the extra arm useful for completing more tasks, and the men found it useful for obvious reasons.”
“Is it always about sex for you men?”
“If the glove fits, put it on three times,” he said with a healthy amount of mischief.
“Oh Ashby, you’re hopeless,” she said, tossing a handful of leaves at him.
They were silent for a moment, both staring up at the night sky.
“I always liked our time together in Alkoff’s library. I’ll miss that,” Mason said.
The comment surprised her. “You don’t even like to read. In fact, I don’t remember you looking at those books once, except for the ones that helped you build things.”
Ashley had always loved Alkoff’s library. She would spend hours in there, searching for the truth among the titles. All the delicate, old volumes were from the time before, and they gave her small glimpses into what life had once been in the form of history, psychology, medicine, and science. The books always held the answer to some unasked question she didn’t know was buried deep inside of her. Because of that, the library was one of her favorite places.
But Mason always acted bored when they spent time there together. Reading never interested him much, so he would build elaborate structures from the chairs, pencils, and whatever else he could find in the library. Once, he’d even incorporated the rug into his sculpture.
“Yeah, well. It was the one place I was allowed to be completely creative,” he said quietly.
She watched him leaning against the back of his enclosure. She had always thought him handsome in a rugged kind of way. Unlike most men on the island, he kept his head and face clean-shaven. He said it was one less thing to catch fire when he was welding. His skin was darker than most islanders, and his body was muscular from years of hard labor. In another life, perhaps they would have made a good pair. But today, she was simply glad to call him her friend, her family. Even if these were the last moments they would share together.
“And what kind of life would it be if I just… obeyed?” she asked, barely able to choke out the last word.
“It would be a life. One you won’t have if you don’t quit picking at the elders.”
“I can’t abide by complacency, Mason.”
“Goddamn it, Ashley!” His voice rose with frustration. “It’s not complacency. It’s contentment. Remember the Rosenberg boy? He got his tongue cut off for asking too many questions of the wrong people. Or the group of islanders that went snooping? They all turned up missing. Everyone says a bear attacked their campsite while they were out having some fun. I’ll bet it was a bear,” he said sarcastically.
Mason’s anger had never frightened her or quieted her questions, not even when they were kids. Unlike Wesley’s, there was no menace behind it—no wild animal waiting to strike. “Oh, come on. The bear story is just a legend. I’ll bet those islanders never even existed. It’s just a s
tory the elders made up to keep us in line. And the Rosenberg boy lost his tongue to some kind of infection. You know that.”
The only person who had ever frightened her on the island was Wesley, and she was tired of living in fear. “Anyway, if you really believe the elders would hurt me for asking questions, isn’t that proof that they’re hiding something?” she asked. Leaning in toward him, she said, “Don’t you think there’s something out there beyond the island?” Once the questions started, she couldn’t stop them. “And today, at Wesley’s funeral, it occurred to me that we never see what they do with the bodies. Do they burn them? Do they sink them into the ocean? What? And why does that have to be a secret?”
“I’m sure they have their reasons. Why can’t you just accept the way things are and live your life?” He sat down heavily on the cold ground. “No, I don’t think there’s anything else out there, Ashley. And if there is, it can’t be anything good.”
She hadn’t thought of that. “Why assume the worst? What if there are others out there, and they’re just like us? Controlled by fear-mongering leaders who brainwash them into dependency?”
“Stop it. That kind of talk is just the excuse Branneth is looking for to eliminate you. There is nothing out there. You need to be careful. I’m not going to be around to help you anymore.”
The reminder of the fate that awaited him sent a wave of desperation through her. “Mason, why don’t we run away?” she blurted out. “I bet we could find others.”
“Oh Ashby. Not this again.”
“Come on, we could make a raft in the woods and launch it before sunrise. We’d be long gone before anyone noticed, and then we’d be out of their hair forever. Really, we’d be doing them a favor.” She believed in the plan, and she’d suggested it to him more than once. But this time, he wasn’t dabbing at her face with a cold washcloth on the front porch of her home after Wesley had beaten the crap out of her. This time, he was the one in trouble.
The Dead Room Trilogy Page 2
