by David Webb
People would begin to wonder today. It wasn’t often that the power would go out for more than half a day at a time. The last Black Day was eighty-seven days ago, and the blackout had only lasted for three hours. The longest one had been for fourteen hours, but the Lightbringers later released the same statement they always did: routine maintenance.
But Aniya knew that this one wasn’t maintenance.
She tiptoed across the room and lit the kerosene lantern on the table, glancing toward her parents still in bed.
No movement.
After taking the lantern from the table and placing it on the floor, she dragged the rug away from the middle of the floor, folded it up haphazardly, and placed it against the wall.
Aniya opened the trapdoor, and sure enough, there was her brother, his eyes already open.
“William?”
It strained her heart to see his withered face, his shriveled body, his bloody bandages. But the smile that crept over his face at the sound of his name was enough to spark a warmth in her heart that nearly made her forget his injuries.
“Hey, you.” She returned his smile, but only for a moment. “I know what you did, William.”
An inexplicable expression clouded her brother’s face, and Aniya could not tell if it was impatience or anger.
“Nicholas hacked into the government’s radios. I heard them chasing you. I heard them—” She halted, her eyes drawn again to the moist, red bandages taped to William’s hip. “I heard them shoot you. I heard you take out the power.”
William nodded slowly.
“Why?”
No response.
“People need that power, William. They need light. It’s the only reason that we live the way we do. That’s why I have to choose a husband. That’s why Nicholas is wasting his life doing manual labor. That’s why you—” Aniya checked her voice, suddenly aware of her increasing volume. She looked up and sighed in relief at the sight of her sleeping parents. “That’s why you paid the Citizen Tax, William. Why would you take away the one good thing we’ve all paid for with our freedom? I thought that you’d get that better than anyone.”
William remained silent.
“Do Mom and Dad know?”
He shook his head. “They can’t know.”
“Would you have told me if I didn’t already know?”
“No, Aniya. I wasn’t going to tell any of you anything. The less you know, the better. The Silver Guard will be coming for me, and if they think you know anything, they’ll take you too.”
Aniya bit her lip in frustration. “Are you staying here, then?”
Another shake of the head. “Gareth is coming by later today to help move me. It’s not safe here.”
“Are you coming back?”
“I really don’t know.”
Aniya’s heart fell. She had gone three years without seeing her brother. To watch him be taken away again so soon seemed cruel. “When is the power going to come back?”
William only stared back at her.
Her heart stopped as she realized his implied response. But she had to hear it for herself. “Is the power going to come back?”
“I don’t know. That was the plan.”
Aniya muttered a string of curses under her breath, imagining the Web in permanent darkness.
With a look toward the clock in the corner, forgetting for a moment that it had no power, she backed away from the trapdoor and stood up, taking the lantern with her. “I have to go to Assembly soon. Please, if you have any say in the matter, don’t leave before I get back. I want to see you again before you leave.”
A slow nod.
“Be safe, William.”
Aniya closed the trapdoor just as an incredible flash of white light blasted throughout the entire sector, piercing through every crack of the Lyons’ shed and blinding her.
Annoyed, she closed her eyes and tried to shield herself with outstretched hands. The only downside to waking up early was witnessing the full power of First Light in all its glory.
Backup generators. With the exception of the oxygen recyclers, the Lightbringers didn’t bother to use the backup generators to power the Web during the Black Days, but they wouldn’t risk losing another day of work, so the flash of light was deemed important enough to wake everyone up for work and Assembly.
“Aniya, did you wake up early?”
She opened her eyes as the light dissipated, and she turned to face her waking father.
“Just woke up, Dad. Power’s still out.”
Theodore got out of bed and lit the large torch hanging from the wall. “That’s odd. The power went out about thirty-six hours ago. This must be the longest Black Day yet.”
Aniya held her tongue. “It’d be nice if they’d let us stay home until the power comes back on. The half-day off was nice.”
“Trust me, I wish all work was delayed as well.” Theodore looked back at Catherine, who rubbed her eyes and sat up slowly.
“Still out?” she asked.
Theodore nodded. “Go back to sleep, honey. I’ll just make something quick before I leave.”
“Nonsense,” she said, walking to the icebox. “Can you imagine if the Silvers came by and saw you cooking for yourself?”
“Aniya, did you move the rug?”
Her heart skipped a beat, and Aniya spun around to her father’s confused stare.
“Yeah, I was just about to wake up William when we got First Light.”
Her father quickly grabbed the rug, dragging it back into place. “He needs his rest, Aniya, and you need to be more careful. It’s only a matter of time before the Silver Guard comes looking for him, and this place has to look like he never made it here. We’re lucky enough that we found him in the middle of the Black.”
She nodded absentmindedly.
“I don’t want you talking with him before we do anyway.”
Aniya put her hands on her hips. “Why?”
Her father ignored her question.
For a moment, she considered telling her parents what she already knew. They would have to listen to her then.
But with a glance toward the rug and what she knew lay beneath, she changed her mind. He had his reasons for not telling them.
“Here you go, Aniya.” Catherine handed her a candle and a paper bag. “Be careful on your way to Assembly.”
She took the items offered to her, but hesitated. “Can’t I eat breakfast here today?”
Her father shook his head. “You always eat on the way to school.” Grasping her arms firmly, he looked at her with unblinking eyes. “This is important, Aniya. You must act completely normal. Do nothing different. Say nothing to draw attention to yourself. Besides us, the only people you can trust right now are Gareth, Roland, and Nicholas. No one else.”
Aniya raised her eyebrows. “Nicholas?” She never told her parents where she actually went last night.
“Go to Assembly, skip whatever classes you usually do, go to Axel’s house, say hello to Violet at her stall in the market, and then come back here at a casual pace. Will you do that for me?”
She nodded.
“Now, here’s the most important thing.” Her father lowered his voice. “If you come back and there is no candlelight coming from inside, do not enter under any circumstances. Turn around, go find Gareth at the bar, and do not look back. Do you understand me?”
Another nod. “Just wait until I get back to move him,” she said. “I know you’re going to hide him again, and I want to see him again before it’s too late.”
Theodore embraced her and stroked her hair. “My dear Annelise, the light of my life. Everything will be fine. You’ll see your brother again, I promise.”
After a long moment, Aniya pulled away and moved toward the door, where her mother was waiting with open arms.
“Be safe, Aniya,” her mother said as she hugged her daughter. “We’ll see you this evening and make sure you have a chance to see your brother as well.”
Aniya nodded into her
mother’s shoulder and backed away. With a hopeful heart and a forced smile, she said goodbye to her parents for the last time.
6
William studied the darkened detail of the wood just inches above his face, counting every knot, divot, and crack for the umpteenth time. It seemed like an entire day had gone by since Aniya had left for Assembly, but it may as well have been just an hour.
As he continued tracing the underside of the trapdoor, he found himself marveling that his parents were able to afford such a material. With no more trees left to create wood, it was a rare commodity indeed. Even the artificial wood the Lightbringers manufactured was uncommon, especially this far out in the Web.
The hidden door above him must have been a late addition to the shack, using materials that he could only assume were stolen. The only other pieces of wood the Lyons owned were the two swords William had made out of scraps Aniya had managed to “find.”
He winced as a sharp object pricked his index finger, and he closed his mouth as blood dripped down onto his lips.
Squinting, William brought his hand closer to his eyes. In the dim, orange light that poked through the floorboard above, he spotted a large splinter embedded in his skin.
He took the splinter out and simply stared at his bleeding finger. The initial shock had gone, and he no longer felt any pain from his hand. Whatever pain he should have felt from the small injury was dwarfed by the damage inflicted by the three gunshot wounds across his body.
Though he could barely see, William traced a bloody pattern on the wood above: a four-fingered hand. He smirked.
He probably thinks I’m dead.
William moved his hand away from his face and let the blood slowly drip onto his bare chest, watching the red droplets course down his atrophied skin and toward the wound on his hip, where they merged with fresh blood oozing from underneath the bandages that had been applied the night before.
Noticing the old bandages for the first time, William sighed and knocked on the wood above him.
He heard feet shuffling along the floor above, and seconds later, the trapdoor opened.
“How are you feeling, Will?” His mother beamed down at him.
He motioned to the now-ruined bandage. “Still not great. I’m bleeding again.”
“Let’s get your bandages changed,” she said, extending a hand to William’s good arm and pulling him up and out of the hole with a grunt. “Lie down on the bed. I’ll get another cloth.”
William slowly took a few steps, wincing, then gently sat on the bed. With another grunt of pain, he leaned back, allowing the blood to collect on the sheets.
“It’s a shame Gareth didn’t have all of his equipment with him last night,” she said, digging in a cupboard. “He could have cauterized it and stopped the bleeding. It would definitely hurt more for now, and the mark would not be very attractive, but you wouldn’t lose any more blood.”
To be honest, William didn’t care. He wasn’t entirely confident he would make it until tomorrow without another injury, or worse. But he wasn’t about to tell her that.
“Remind me to give you some jerky before you go back down there. We saved some from the mole last night.”
William remembered the days when he would complain about having mole meat for dinner yet again. It seemed like a lifetime ago. But right now, it sounded like a feast.
His mother returned to the bed with a fresh bandage in hand. She carefully peeled off the old, soaked cloth from his hip, wrapping it in a towel.
“In a few days, maybe—”
Her voice came to a halt as a bright, white light pierced through the cracks in the walls.
“The Silver Guard,” his mother whispered, terror washing over her face. She pulled William off the bed, helping him to his feet and hurrying him to the hole in the floor. “Stay down.”
The trapdoor above him closed but opened again a few seconds later as his mother tossed bloody sheets on top of him, hiding the evidence and her son at the same time.
William slowed his breathing down as best as he could, trying to make his presence unnoticeable as well as calm his racing nerves. He heard his mother blowing several times, and as the sheet over his face grew darker, he realized that she was blowing out the various candles around the house in a desperate effort to guarantee his safety.
A moment later, the door to the shack opened, ignoring a knock of courtesy.
Even though William was covered with a sheet stained with his blood, he could see several bright lights poking through the wood from above, bobbing about the room.
“Catherine Lyons, how are you doing today?” A calm, deep voice spoke pleasantries in an unpleasant tone.
His mother responded, her voice with a slight tremble. “I’m fine, thank you, Alpha. How can I help you?”
This will be over quickly.
“Where is your husband’s work assignment?”
“The mill.”
“Fetch him, Officer.”
The door opened and closed.
“Has your son contacted you?”
“My son? He paid the Citizen Tax three years ago.”
“We are well aware of that, Mrs. Lyons. But I can’t help but notice that you didn’t answer my question. Have you seen or heard from your son?”
“No, of course not. The last time I saw him was the day he left for the Hub. Why are you looking for him?”
His mother’s voice grew stronger, its quiver now gone.
Maybe there’s hope after all.
“Tell me, why are your lights out? It is a Black Day. Shouldn’t your candles be lit?”
“I was about to take a nap.”
“With no sheets on the bed? That must be uncomfortable.”
“I-I was finishing my laundry.”
“You must have remarkable confidence in your skill with a washing board to clean your sheets with no light.”
His mother fell silent.
“Refusal to pay the Citizen Tax bears harsh penalties, as does harboring fugitives. Imagine if you and your family were found in breach of such regulations. Not a very pleasant thought, is it?”
“I assure you, Officer, we wouldn’t dream of committing such open acts of rebellion against the Glorious Bringers of Light. But now you’re the one who hasn’t answered my question.” Catherine’s voice grew stronger. “Why are you looking for my son? I may never get to see him again, but I have a right to know that he is well.”
What followed was a silence so still that William could hear his mother’s steady breath quietly whistle through clenched teeth.
When the man spoke again, his words were slowly drawn out, emphasized firmly. “Your rights, Mrs. Lyons, like your electricity, are afforded to you out of the Lightbringers’ good graces, and it is within their rights to give them and take them as they please. You would do well to remember that.” The man’s tone deepened. “And a little respect is in order. I am no officer. As you know, I am an operative sent by the Chancellor himself. Know that rebellion against me is treason of the highest order.”
After a few more minutes of back-and-forth that went nowhere, the door creaked open again.
“Ah, Mr. Lyons. So good of you to join us. Please, sit.”
A loud thud indicated that William’s father indeed sat, but with firm help.
“Theodore Lyons, have you heard from your son?”
“He was assigned to relocative servitude three years ago.” His father’s words were already much steadier than his wife’s testimony.
“That’s not what I asked, Mr. Lyons. Your family seems to have a penchant for avoiding my questions. Please be direct, and this will all be over before you know it. Now, have you heard from your son?”
“No.”
Another pause.
“I would like to believe you, Mr. Lyons. I really would. My job would be a lot simpler. However, we understand that the farther out we go in the Web, the less . . . forthcoming the citizens are. We honestly don’t care. As long as you pay the Tax and
do the jobs we assign you, we really don’t care. But in matters such as these, the truth, I’m sure you can appreciate, is imperative. Get her on her knees.”
Another thud accompanied by a shriek from his mother.
“Don’t touch her!”
William’s eyes opened wide in panic.
“So long as you answer me honestly. Where is your son?”
Please father, just tell them.
“I haven’t seen him, I swear!”
His mother sobbed. “Please, there’s no need for this. We haven’t seen him.”
“One more time, Theodore. Where is your son?”
“He’s not—”
Squish.
The sound would haunt William for the rest of his life. The gun, completely silenced, made a quiet clacking noise, but what he realized later to be the sound of the bullet spinning deep into his mother’s skull echoed in his ears over and over again.
Squish.
7
“One more time, Mattias.”
The teacher’s impatient tone perked Aniya’s ears, and she looked up from her half-asleep state for the first time since class had begun.
The boy to her right slumped back in his chair and rolled his eyes.
“Up, boy.” The elderly man pacing back and forth at the head of the room did not seem to enjoy the class any more than his students.
The boy stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Article X, Section A, Subsection E: If a man is chosen for relocative servitude, he shall report to the Hub immediately for service to the Glorious Bringers of Light.”
“You made the same mistake again. Permanent service, Mattias.”
“Permanent service,” the boy mumbled before sitting back down.
“Very good.” The professor turned and looked for another student. “Annelise, how about Article I, Section E, Subsection D?”
Just coherent enough to recognize her full first name, Aniya stood up, shaking her grogginess away. “Article I, Section E, Subsection D: Each family must produce two children for the advancement of the Web, and they are limited to only two children, both of which—”
