A Time to Speak

by Nadine Brandes

  We’re in a giant round room painted with warm colors. A curved bench runs along the wall with spaced coat hooks a few feet higher. Enforcer uniforms hang from several of the hooks, with boots shoved beneath the benches. The heat covers me in a suit of goosebumps that almost feel colder than outside, but I welcome them. If only I could urge my body to warm up quicker.

  “Through here.” The Enforcer opens a door to the right. “Hurry up! Ugh! I can smell you through my mask.”

  I don’t smell anything, either because my nose is too cold or because I got used to it in the container. I’m closest to the door and take this chance to claim the lead. I step after the Enforcer.

  Mother is directly behind me. “Parvin.”

  I shake my head. Someone has to go first and it ought to be me.

  Inside is a grated metal staircase curving out of sight. The Enforcer leads, leaving his mask on.

  My feet are anvils, crashing onto one step after the other. I clutch the handrail on my right and drag myself up. After only ten steps my muscles spasm, firing pleas for rest. Mother nudges me from behind and I force myself forward. If only I had my Vitality suit.

  We climb past closed doors, both on the left and right, always circling. Circling. Circling up. The air is thin and cold in this stairway. I suck in gasps.

  Just keep going. Keep going.

  Why?

  Keep going.

  Why am I submitting so easily to these Enforcers? Is Cap right? Are we acting like pigs heading to slaughter? Should we fight?

  The Enforcer finally stops on a landing and opens a door to the left. I look back. The rest of the group isn’t even in sight around the curved corner yet. I don’t have time to worry for them. Instead, I brush a stray clump of hair from my face and look at the Enforcer.

  “Can’t you let us go? It’s not right to send us through the Wall.”

  He looks at me. “You’re Parvin Blackwater, aren’t you?”

  I nod.

  His hand shoots out, grabs my hair, and throws me into the room.

  Okay, so negotiation won’t work.

  Five more Enforcers are inside this room. Three slouch against the wall, another fiddles with his gun, and the fifth yawns loudly. A taller man in normal clothing—if you can call a parka, goggles, bright orange gloves, and a woolen hat with earflaps normal—jumps to his feet when I tumble in.

  “Sir.”

  “Not now, Reece.” The Lead Enforcer who threw me steps over my crumpled form and pulls an Enforcer off the wall. “Go check in with maintenance. We had a flicker. I want a report.”

  “’Kay.” The Enforcer walks into the stairwell.

  I scramble back onto my shaky legs and that’s when I see the entrance. The door is already open and a long, white tunnel stretches out in front of me, curving out of sight into darkness. The ceiling before the stone is a peak with curved glass panels as a roof, letting in cold light. Icicles and snow chunks coat each supporting beam. Lumpy sheets of snow cover the inside walls. Even the floor is icy with snow built up on each side. A long thick rope swoops through a line of cold metal rings, sagging from the weight of absorbed snow, a sad excuse for a railing.

  A harsh wind blows up the tunnel. My hair flies away from my face and my cheeks burn. We’ll all have frostbite by the end of the day . . . if we don’t have it already.

  “Why is there even an Opening here?” I blurt.

  “Sir.” The tall man in mix-and-matched clothing steps closer.

  “Shut up, Reece.” The Lead Enforcer closes the door to the stairwell, keeping any other Radicals from entering. Then he turns to a screen in the wall, taps a few things, and pulls me in front of it. “This is for you.”

  Before I can ask, before I can close my gaping jaw to swallow, before I can even think, a screen comes up with Elan Brickbat in the center of it. It’s not a video, it’s a real-life connection.

  He glances around for a moment, then his eyes settle on me. “You look disgusting.”

  He linked in to Antarctica to tell me this? “I’m not changing my mind.”

  “You liked the journey that much?” Already, a vein in his temple pulses.

  I turn my back on him. “No matter what you offer me, it won’t be good enough, not unless you agree to bring everyone back home.”

  “Oh, I’m not here to offer you anything.” His wet voice prompts me to clear my own throat.

  I turn. “Then why are you here?”

  “I’m here to take things away from you.” His eyebrows come together in a sharp V. “Skelley Chase should have skipped the bribes. If you don’t return, we’ll hunt down your father and your sister-in-law. Then we’ll burn Unity Village to the ground. We’ll send every Dead City and Low City citizen to Antarctica—Clocked or not. And . . . we’ll bring Willow in for testing.”

  “You’re the one who sent me away!” I scream. “I was there, in your Council room, and you had your Enforcers haul me back to Unity Village.”

  “Those are the terms.”

  My veins shriek No! It’s the dreaded one-or-the-other option. Willow, Father, and Tawny . . . or every Radical here.

  Can I do any good here? Do I really need to be here? Solomon’s here. Solomon could lead them.

  STAY.

  Oh gosh. Really? Really? You want me to stay?

  I AM HERE.

  But Willow! Father! Tawny!

  I AM THERE.

  “This is your last chance, Parvin Blackwater.”

  Did I hear right? God wants me to . . . stay. But how can I–?

  No, wait.

  I take a deep breath. Listen again. Yes, He wants me to stay. So . . .

  How can I not?

  The Council has taken their power too far. They don’t own us. They don’t own me. God is stronger.

  “Good-bye, Brickbat.” I turn my back on him and face the tunnel. The Lead Enforcer shuts down the computer and a whoosh of air leaves my chest. He opens the door to the stairwell again and my weary people tumble inside.

  Who knows how much they heard.

  “Sir.” The parka-and-earflaps man—Reece—gives a salute. “I’d like to speak with you.”

  “Reece, get back to your books and antifreeze creatures.”

  Reece scrambles forward, shoving aside an Enforcer much taller than him. “You can’t send all these Radicals through the Wall!”

  I perk up. Someone willing to fight for us? Someone on our side?

  “It’s not your call, Reece.”

  “This land is precious.” Reece rips off his earflap hat, as if to provide the Lead Enforcer with a better view of his determination. A few hairs, combed to one side, top his bald head, “Thrusting a thousand worthless Radical corpses through will ruin it!”

  So much for an ally. He cares more about . . . wasteland than human lives?

  “Your precious endangered penguins can go nest somewhere else.”

  “Did you know that it used to be illegal for anyone to even relieve themselves on this continent? Now we’re talking about thousands of dead bodies!”

  “We’ll see how many die before we put them to work. Council’s orders. It’s the start of summer, they’ll last a while. The work these Radicals will do here is for the good of the world. Besides, you have this side of Antarctica, Reece.”

  Reece crumples his earflap hat in his two fists. “How can this be allowed—?”

  “Stations from other countries approved this. President Garraty wouldn’t be able to send ship after ship of Radicals through this Wall if he hadn’t passed it through the United Assembly. Just get back to your research.”

  “While we destroy Antarctica from the other side?”

  “The other side doesn’t matter!” The Lead Enforcer gestures to another Enforcer. “Get him out of here, will ya?” Then he nudges my shoulder with his rifle. “Get go
ing.”

  Mother is behind me. The rest of Unity crunches tighter into the room. Did she overhear what Brickbat said? Did she hear that they’re going after Father and Tawny?

  Then again, Brickbat said hunt them down. He doesn’t know where they are.

  “Get going!” The Lead Enforcer shoves me.

  “Wait, can’t you—”

  He kicks me and I stumble forward. “You gave your answer to Council member Brickbat. You heard him—no changing your mind.” He grabs a thin gun, presses it against Mother’s arm, and presses the trigger.

  I scream too late.

  “Calm down!” the Lead shouts. “Everyone gets a tracking chip.”

  “Why?” I notice he doesn’t give me one.

  He thrusts Mother after me and the rest of the Unity group gets the idea. “To monitor your deaths, why else? Council said you already got one. Now go.”

  Before I can respond, another Enforcer shoves me into the tunnel. I regain my balance and focus my attention forward. I step lightly down the tunnel, keeping my hand wrapped around the strap of my pack. What do I have in here? One rope. That’s all that could possibly help us right now. What if the other side’s a cliff like Opening Three?

  Am I doing the right thing?

  The walkway turns into carved stone and the light above ends in the dark. We’re in the Wall. The rope railing continues and I run my fingers along it.

  I walk ahead—first in the line of Radical sacrifice. Everyone follows. I imagine them looking to me for an answer, for life, for guidance.

  What can I give them?

  Dusten mutters from behind. “Eight months. Eight months. Eight months.”

  Is that right? Is his Clock his assurance to survival? Jude’s voice in my head wars with my lifelong beliefs that the Clocks are never wrong. But just before Jude died—just before he inserted the pirate chip into his skull to save me from a toxined death—he said, “I don’t have faith in your Clock like you do. And I can’t risk your life . . .”

  Then he died. Solomon said it’s because Jude let the pirate chip terminate him.

  So who’s right?

  Who’s right?

  Darker. Darker. I walk forward, oddly comfortable with the black mystery ahead. Despite the chill, this is familiar.

  We reach the end and the exit door is closed. The rope railing is tied in a now-frozen knot to the last metal ring. I place my palm on the door and ice shoots through my nerves. We will freeze before we can even argue about survival.

  The door slides open and I step back, away from the shine of light. After several blinks I make out the exit. Just like Opening Three, it’s a long drop to the white winter earth below. Only instead of the door opening to an earthen cliff, this door is placed somewhere in the mid-range of the Wall. The drop is at least five hundred feet. Below are piles of trash, gunk, wood scraps, and tossed waste.

  The rope in my pack is like a hair-ribbon compared to what we need to survive such a height. Mother’s harsh breathing quickens, hitting the back of my neck. “W-what do we do?”

  That is the question. What do we do before the Enforcers start shoving us out?

  “It’s easy,” Cap growls. “We jump out and die until the pile of bodies is large enough to soften the fall for everyone else.”

  “You’re sick,” Dusten says.

  Cap may be sick, but his comment is the most probable outcome unless we think of something fast. “We need to hurry. Anyone have an idea?”

  Silence. I look up, and their faces petrify my heart. Every expression is one of frostbitten fear—pale and blank, with wide eyes. It is up to me.

  “Wait here.” I shove past them back toward the entrance of the tunnel.

  “Wait here?” Cap screams from behind me. “For what? Our doom? Where are you going?”

  I pull one of Father’s chisels from a side pocket in my pack while sliding between the crowd of Unity villagers and the cold tunnel wall. I enter the lighted tunnel and get as close to the Enforcer room as possible. Six people stand between me and the Lead Enforcer. Kaphtor is one of them.

  “Kaphtor,” I breathe. I don’t know why he’s here, but I have to trust it’s because he’s on our side. His eyes slide from the heads in front of him to my face. I hold up the chisel. “Block me from view.”

  His brow corrugates, but I step to the rope railing, turn around as if I’m in line, and pick at the rope with minute movements. This rope is long. If I can free it from the first ring, I can slide it through the rest of the rings and we can use it to climb down.

  Kaphtor steps close behind me so he’s between me and the other Enforcers. The chisel just rebounds off the chunks of ice. The Lead Enforcer’s voice echoes down the tunnel. “You have one day to build shelters for yourselves. Then we put you to work!”

  My hand trembles and my fingers are cold. I find a new spot—a softer spot of rope.

  “What’s taking them so long?” an Enforcer asks from the entrance room.

  The Lead laughs. “You’ve dumped enough waste there to know what’s ahead of them. They’re staring at their deaths right now. Give them a minute to accept it.”

  I chip through a piece of ice and a few threads come apart. Faster. Faster. Even if I finish it in time, the rope still may not be long enough.

  “Sir, I beg your pardon but . . . they stink, can’t we start pushing them through? The next load will be here soon anyway.”

  Oh God, no! Please! I pick at the strands, making little progress. It’s frozen all the way through. Why oh why do I have only one hand?

  “You’ve got a thirst for zeroes, don’t you, Enforcer?” The Lead laughs again. “All right, go ahead.”

  21

  Kaphtor yanks the chisel from my hand and hacks at the rope without a shred of secrecy. He has a rhythm: power and force. It takes him only a few strikes before the rope detaches from the frozen knot on the first ring.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” an Enforcer yells.

  A gunshot boxes my ears. Kaphtor drops the chisel and stumbles against the wall. Blood splashes the ice. Splashes me.

  “Kaphtor!” He’d never been a friend until he started hacking the rope for me, but I don’t want him to die.

  The rope.

  I grab the frayed end, shove it through the ring, and then run up the tunnel to the exit, pushing past frightened people. God, please protect Kaphtor. Protect us all. I reach the next ring and pull the rope through this time. It’s getting heavy for a one-handed girl.

  “Help me!”

  No one does a thing. They just trample each other.

  I approach the exit, dragging the rope along. It’s looped over my arms, my neck, my shoulders. Freezing into my skin. It must be long enough.

  The mob surges forward and several screams sever my control. The screams start loud and grow distant, until they’re cut off.

  “Stop shoving!” Dusten stands at the very edge, holding his hands out toward everyone. “You’ll kill us all!”

  But everyone’s wide eyes tell me no one can control it. The Enforcers are doing it.

  “Dusten,” I gasp.

  He doesn’t look at me. I take the rope and toss it over the edge. It’s knotted to the last and largest metal rung in the wall. Please let it hold. Please let it be long enough.

  The rope yanks against the rung and then rests. “Okay, go!” I point to the rope, but don’t push anyone in case someone else falls.

  Cap shoves through those at the edge and grabs the rope. “Is it long enough?”

  “Climb down and check.”

  He folds his arms. “Hmph!”

  “For time’s sake! If you won’t save your own life, let someone else go!”

  His glare would incinerate Wilbur Sherrod’s Fire suit, but he climbs down anyway. Harman goes down a minute after him. People seem to process wha
t we’re doing and they fight for the rope, screaming. Another gunshot echoes down the tunnel and Frenchie jumps off the edge in a panic.

  “No!” I reach for her, but she flails, managing to grab the rope mid-fall. She slams into Harman who’s partway down. From far below, Cap screams. And I mean, screams.

  I dare a glance. He’s a twisted crumpled form on the pile of Antarctic rubbish below. He screams again. Good, he’s alive.

  “Harman, Angelique, help him.” I don’t wait to see if they heard. I can only hope Cap doesn’t have a fatal injury. I catch my breath, then urge Mother and Dusten toward the edge. “Go. Go!”

  The rope crackles and chunks of ice fly off. Dusten reels back. “It won’t hold all of us!” The bodies press harder. Soon Dusten won’t have a choice. Any minute he might be the one hurtling toward the icy ground. The crackles from the rope instill deeper mayhem.

  “It’s breaking!”

  Frenchie and Harman scream.

  Dusten clutches my shoulders. “It won’t hold! What do we do?”

  This is getting out of control. I shrug off his hands and give him the hardest stare I can muster. “It will hold.” It must hold. “Now, climb down.”

  He faces the drop-off, pale. Trembling. It’s amazing how easily he follows my command in this weakness of fear. I want to shriek at him to hurry, but am I any less terrified? He inches over the edge, sliding like a child and reaching for some sort of hold with his toes.

  A loud pop comes from the rope.

  “Parvin!” Dusten’s screech is high and frantic. I’m struck by the weight of his reliance. Any ounce of logic would tell him I can do nothing to help, but he’s looking to me. And I have only one option to which I can turn.

  I place my hand on the knot—which is, more accurately, a bowling ball of ice—around the last metal rung and do the only thing that makes sense.

  I pray over a nasty, frayed, frozen rope.

  It stops making noise. The climbers stop screaming and resume their descent. I take my hand away and breathe a thank you to God.

  Pop. A cord snaps, unfurling near the knot. I clutch it again. Deep breath. Okay. I won’t stop until all these people are down safe.