The
Other Side
Anna-Marie McIntyre
Copyright © 2016 by Anna-Marie McIntyre
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my sister Emma-Rose, who helped me with some of the characters and my cousin Margaretta, whose technical expertise helped me get this book published and whose artistic skills helped make the cover.
Prologue
There was dust and debris everywhere and it was becoming hard to see anything. So it’s a good thing I happened to glance down at the ground just in front of me, because when I did, I saw that about a foot away from me it dropped off, forming an impossibly steep cliff. I skidded to a stop just in time and fortunately the others, who were just behind me, saw what I was doing and stopped next to me. THIRTY FEET below us, the waves of a river churned dangerously, splashing up, sometimes fifteen feet high. There was land on the other side of the cliff and a small strip of it on our side. But it didn’t matter because I knew we wouldn’t be able to jump that far without being badly hurt, if not killed. And jumping to the water, well that would be more than dangerous itself.
“What do we do!?!” shouted Vanissa.
“I DON’T KNOW!!!” I shouted back, my lungs straining to be heard over all the noise.
Just then an especially large rock flew past us, followed by about three more that were equally as big. I felt that at any minute I’d be picked up by the wind, but that was only if we weren’t already killed by dangerous debris. So, I made a decision in my head.
“JUMP!!!” I yelled, with all the strength I could manage to put in my voice, hoping the others would get the message.
Then, I pushed off the ground, and towards the churning waves below.
So how did I come to be in such a situation? Well, it wasn't, as some might say, because it happened to be my unfortunate fate—my destiny. I'd be dead if I'd simply followed the course of fate that had been preordained for me, by my worst enemies. I chose my own fate—but I didn't do so without a price. So who am I? My name is Britta Lockhart. And this is my story. The story of who I was, what happened, and who I am now because of it.
1
I trudged slowly up the steep mountain path. It was a chilly day in early March and it was a lot colder up on the mountain than down on the island below. I pulled my thin jacket close to myself and clutched my bucket tightly in my ice cold hands.
It had been more than seven years since I’d first started working on the mountain. I had been only eight years old then. My job was to collect a bucket of berries, roots, nuts; practically anything I could find that was edible. As long as I came back with my bucket full I’d finished my job. But during the colder months this became harder and harder.
Life had been simpler before I'd turned seven. Of course, it was like that for everyone. I was taken to the island when I was around eight months, same as everyone else. (So, of course, I had no memory of life before the island.) And I wouldn’t leave until I was sixteen. From age three to seven I hadn’t had to work at all. I’d simply gone to the little makeshift ‘school’.
At the school I’d learned regular things like reading and writing, but I’d also learned about the outside world. (Personally, I considered that much more important.)
One thing, which I always found a bit odd, was that the teachers (who were around fourteen or fifteen) had always drilled into our heads that we should trust the people who sent us here. They said we were here for a reason which we would someday understand. And though I didn’t know it then, one day I would understand, but the reason wouldn’t be at all what I’d expected.
When I was younger, I’d taken it for granted that everything they told us was true. But as I got older I began to reconsider; to not trust them. That is, I didn’t think they were trying to help us in any way. After all, the only reason our teachers had made a big deal about it is because that’s what they were told when they were in school. But I couldn’t be completely sure about anything that involved the outside world. For all I knew it could all be a lie.
We had learned that somewhere far away was a place where our parents lived. And in that place, certain children, when they were around eight months, were taken here; an island somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Why us in particular? I didn’t know. They stayed on the island until they were sixteen. Then they were taken away and had to pass some kind of test. (No one knew what kind of test it was.) If they passed they were free to go; to do what they pleased with the rest of their lives. (At least that’s what we were told.) But no one knew what happened if you failed the test. And no one ever returned to the island. This cycle had been going on for more than fifty years and I don’t think it was ever supposed to end.
On the island, everyone had different jobs to do. Whether it was to help supply food or build the tiny houses we lived in or even just to teach at the school. The reason was, since some were too young to work, the older ones divided the food evenly so no one starved. You’d think since we all helped supply food we’d work together on pretty much everything. But many people liked keeping to themselves except for the work they had to do. When I was seven, I did easier jobs like helping cook the food or mend the clothes, which got worn out quickly because we only got new ones when kids were taken to or taken away from the island. (This wasn’t very often.) When I was eight I began working on the mountain.
And so, there I was, slowly making the familiar climb. Ordinarily, I might try to get up as fast as possible because didn’t like being in the open, exposed to the hot sun or cold wind. So I usually enjoyed getting into the cover of the trees. But today, I’d been upset by some news I’d heard in town. (Really, the ‘town’ just consisted of a meeting place, a little ‘hospital’, a building with all our books and a couple storage rooms. But a lot of people passed through town so it was a good place to go for news.) What I’d heard, was that a fifteen-year-old girl named Emily, had gotten some sort of disease. This might not seem like a big deal, but on the island it was because we didn’t have antibiotics; only homemade medicines to help with pain. Also, if a lot of people caught the disease, then there wouldn’t be enough people to both supply food and take care of the sick ones. And we had no idea what kind of sickness it was. Even though we’d been given many books about the outside world, all of which I’d read and now practically knew by heart, none of them said anything about sickness.
Earlier that morning, wanting to see her, I’d peered through the grimy little window and looked into the tiny one room shack we used as a hospital. No one could go near except those taking care of her; for fear that we too would get sick. I’d expected her to look pale or a little feverish but nothing could have prepared me for the ghastly sight I saw.
She was lying on a bed on the wall opposite me. Her face was deathly pale, and she looked like she must have been burning up. But at the same time her hands were shaking violently as if she couldn’t get warm and she tossed and turned in the bed feverishly.
I had jerked away from the window my heart pounding and my own hands now shaking. What would happen if the disease spread? What if I caught it? How would I keep my brother Kendall and my sister Priscila from catching it?
The terrifying sight I’d seen earlier, still lingered in my mind as I made the long, tiring ascent up the mountain. During the winter months, it was hard to find much food. But I’d discovered that as spring approached, the best place to
look was deep in the woods. Among the tall trees, I gathered nuts of all kinds and even a few berries that were just beginning to grow. If I wanted to cut a whole branch of berries rather than picking them one by one, I’d simply cut it off with a small knife that I always carried in my bag. How little I knew then, that having the knife would end up being vital for my survival later on.
After about three hours of tiring work, sometimes even climbing the trees to search for nuts concealed in branches, I sat down for a break, my back against a tall tree. My bucket was not yet half full and I was exhausted. I took a long refreshing sip from my canister of water. Fortunately, water wasn’t nearly as hard to come by as food. That was because there was a spring at the top of the mountain and water flowed down the mountainside making up several ponds on its way down where it eventually made it to the ocean.
The way the island was made up, the mountain was positioned not quite in the center of the island but towards the back. On the side of the island behind the mountain there were mostly woods and then the beach. On the other side of the mountain was an extensive meadow, bursting with flowers, the stream running through it.
The town was in the middle of the meadow but I didn’t go into the town very often other than on my way to the mountain. The only other reason I would have would be to talk to someone or to visit the building with the books. The reason I liked the reading the books so much was because I wanted to find out as much as I possibly could about the outside world. I’d read that in the outside world you could travel long distances quickly by traveling in a car or plane. You’d be able to buy your food already packaged and ready to cook at a grocery store. And not to mention you’d have electricity, you’d be able to adjust the temperature in your house and you’d have running water. We had a system of running water of sorts; just a series of pipes connecting to our houses. (It was similar to Roman aqueducts.) But that was nothing like the kind in the outside world. So, you can see why nearly everyone on the island couldn’t wait to turn sixteen. (Of course nobody was picked up immediately when they turned sixteen. The people only came about four times a year; only two of these trips for taking people to or away from the island.) And yet, I wasn’t like everyone else. Since I had siblings here, leaving the island meant leaving them. And once I left, there was little chance I’d ever see them again.
Past the meadow there were just some trees, hills, and then the beach. But of all the places on the island the mountain was my favorite—and especially that day with the threat of disease looming over us. That day, I just wanted to stay on the mountain as long as possible.
Fortunately, my house wasn’t near town, which was where Emily would be staying until she was better. (No one actually lived in town, but some live nearer than others.) The houses were centered around the town in various places on the island. There was about two hundred fifty people all together on the island; three to four per house.
Since we didn’t have any people officially in charge, it was up to the fifteen-year-olds (being the oldest) to assign people to a house. Usually, they just put people together whose ages worked out best with each other. For instance, when someone first came to the island, able to do pretty much nothing by them self, they’d go with someone older. (The group of fifteen- year-olds at that time was all friends, and didn’t really let my friends and me into their group, even though we were as old as them.) But we didn’t mind, because it meant less work for us. (Not that they do anything hard.) If the newcomers had a sibling on the island, they’d automatically go with them. (We knew if someone had sibling because they came with a sheet of information including the person's first and last name). Not many people had siblings so most people lived with people they weren’t even related to. I, on the other hand, was lucky. I had a brother and a sister.
My brother Kendall was eight, with brown hair and brown eyes. He was generally outgoing but also serious. My sister Priscila, was eleven, but turned twelve in only six days on March tenth. She had blond hair that seemed to be made of sunlight itself, streaked with gold. And when you looked into her blue eyes, you seemed to be looking at the sky on a cloudless day. And that wasn’t just because they were blue. It was because she was almost always happy; her personality that of sunshine. She smiled all the time and everyone I knew loved being around her.
Unfortunately, she worked in the woods at the back of the island, so I only got to see her in the mornings and night.
Priscila always saw the best things in people, often in her eyes a seemingly small quality was something wonderful. Like the time she told me that people admired me. I hadn’t believed her. What did I do that would merit any admiration? I’d asked her and her answer had surprised me. She'd said it was because people thought I’d be brave enough to do anything—and they all believed I could. Of course, I still didn’t believe that could be true.
I had my brother’s hair and my sister’s eyes. In stature, I was small, but it made me much more agile. My personality wasn’t a match to either of theirs. I was a less outgoing. (That is, I mostly stayed away from people I didn’t know.) I was serious and could be very persuasive when I wanted to be. I guess I wasn’t nearly as sunshiny as Priscila or as outgoing as Kendall, and really, as far as I could see, being persuasive was the only useful quality my personality gave me. Except…there was one thing. I could act. If you don’t think that’s useful than you’ll change your mind soon enough. I could act so well; pretend almost anything that no one except those whom I told about my ability, even knew I could act. They thought everything I did was totally genuine.
The next few hours, I spent high in the trees looking for nuts. I loved being high up. Some people would get nervous when they were up high and cling tightly to the branches so as not to fall—but not me. Being high up always made me more relaxed and calm.
Around four o’clock, I noticed the forest seemed to be growing dark quickly. I looked up to see ominous dark clouds rolling in from the north. Just as I did, it began to rain. Not very hard, but all the same, I decided to start down the mountain so I could make it back before it got much worse. I picked up my bucket, grabbed a last nut I spotted under a bush and started on my way back down the mountain.
2
The walk usually took about an hour and a half, from the woods where I’d been gathering nuts, (which was about three-fourths the way up the mountain), to my house on the far end of the meadow, by the woods.
No matter what mood I was in, I’d always enjoyed the walk at least a little. The trees were just beginning to get leaves on them, the brownish plants were turning green and everywhere the birds were singing.
So I decided to forget my troubles and at least try to just enjoy it. The overcast sky, the light rain… I’d always loved this kind of weather. My mind cleared and even though I didn’t truly enjoy the walk, I felt a kind of peacefulness. Soon though, it began to rain harder and I could no longer just walk along, looking at the scenery. So I picked up my pace to a jog, wishing my jacket was waterproof. Fortunately, the biggest clouds seemed to be blowing in a different direction, so the main part of the storm would miss us.
By the time I made it to the bottom of the mountain, the rain had stopped. I was soaking wet and cold, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep that night if I didn’t find out how Emily was. So I decided I’d find Every, the nicest of the fifteen-year-old's in charge. I’d probably receive good news; that she was fine and just needed rest, and then, having that weight of my shoulders, I’d be able to enjoy the rest of my day. That wasn’t at all what happened.
After I’d dropped my bucket off at the storage building, I walked to town and spotted Every, just leaving the book house.
“Every,” I said, hurrying over to her.
“Britta,” she said, turning towards me seeming somewhat surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“I...I was wondering how Emily is,” I said, a little out of breath.
At first she looked confused. Then concern crossed her face. “Oh, you were on the mountain all
day, so you didn’t hear…”
“Hear, what?” I asked slowly.
“Britta,” she said cautiously. “Emily is dead.”
The shock I felt was completely indescribable. I staggered forward, and must have started to fall because Every was gripping my arm to steady me.
I think Every was asking me if I was okay, but I couldn’t hear her. I only heard the words echoing around in my head. Britta, Emily is dead. The world was spinning and I didn’t see Every, I saw Priscila and Kendall lying on beds shaking, their faces deathly pale. The emotions of fear, sadness and shock got twisted up inside me, forming a knot that prevented any form of speech. I just sank to the ground; my hands shaking.
Every was saying something and I think she was asking if I needed help getting home, but I could hardly hear her.
I might have stayed there forever, just staring into the distance; trying to get my mind around what I’d just heard. But I knew I couldn’t. I had to leave sometime and it might as well be now.
“No,” I said, getting shakily to my feet. “I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, looking unconvinced.
“I’m sure.”
The walk home seemed to take barely any time at all. It was as if I was in a daze; so many thoughts spinning around in my head at once, none could register. Emily was dead. She died after one day with the disease. Or could she have already had the disease? What if all of us already had it? I’d turn sixteen, and then, in a few months, if I wasn’t already dead, I’d leave. I couldn’t just leave; let Priscila and Kendall take their chances on life or death. But I didn't see what choice I really had about any of it.
Just then, I glanced up. Our house was just coming into view. In the windows I could see freshly cut flowers—pink, white and violet. I saw Priscila step into the doorway. Her face lit up when she saw me. I knew I needed to tell her about the disease, but I wasn’t sure if I should tell Kendall. I’m not completely sure why I wanted to tell Priscila but not Kendall. Maybe it was because, Kendall was so much younger than me and I’d never really thought of him as my friend. Not that I liked Priscila better, I just felt differently about each of them. And besides, Priscila was older and the news might not upset her as much.
The Other Side (The Other Side Trilogy Book 1) Page 1
