by Susan Kim
All of this flashed through her mind as Aras stood up and loomed above her, shouting over the screams of their children. “How come you spend so much time with that boy?”
“Gideon? We’re working together. You know that—”
“Is that all? How come you spend all day alone with him?”
Esther was stunned by what Aras was implying. “I . . . I don’t know what you’re saying,” she stammered, flustered.
“Don’t you?”
Esther was so appalled, she couldn’t speak at first. “There’s nothing between us. . . . How can you say that? He’s like a brother. . . .”
But Aras was sneering at her now, with his eyebrows raised. “Maybe I ask his guards what you do all day. Bet they know a whole lot.”
Esther felt as if she had been slapped across the face. “If you don’t trust me,” she shot back at last, “why don’t you just leave?”
“Maybe I will!”
The children’s voices were like a hammer to Esther’s head. Still, she was shocked to see Aras actually turn toward the door, pulling Pilot with him.
“Aras—” she said. “I didn’t mean that. Look, don’t . . .”
But he didn’t respond or even turn her way. Instead, he headed for the door, the dog following with what seemed deep reluctance. Esther grabbed his arm as he passed, but Aras yanked away.
After the door slammed, Esther stood alone in the room, trembling, amid the din of the children’s cries. She was tempted to run after the boy; it was late, and he was in no condition to wander around by himself. Still, she was exhausted and sick of fighting, and she needed to get Kai and Sarah back to sleep.
Esther reached down into the crib and picked up the baby. Bouncing Sarah on her shoulder, she soothed her until her wails subsided. Then she sat down next to Kai and stroked him with a gentle, tickling touch, something he loved.
Within minutes, a blissful silence once more fell over the room.
In the darkness, Esther got into bed alone, but could not sleep. Tossing and turning, she stared at the ceiling, trying to remember something crucial she could not pin down. Only when the night sky began to brighten did she finally realize what it was.
Aras’s partnering tie had been missing from his wrist.
The following afternoon, Aras stood in the doorway of the room he shared with Esther. In stark contrast to the night before, his home was now deserted and silent.
Although he was not expecting anyone to be home, Aras still felt odd that Esther wasn’t still there, waiting for him. He couldn’t blame her. After their fight, he had stormed downstairs and out into the nighttime streets of Mundreel. At the time, he was so angry he had sworn he was leaving for good.
But hours later, Aras found himself waking up in an unfamiliar storefront that he didn’t even remember entering. It was already late morning: Hot sun poured in through a broken window as Pilot licked his face and whimpered. The boy needed several moments to piece together what had happened the night before, and when he remembered his angry words, he winced, wishing he could take them back.
With Pilot leading, Aras had no trouble making it home to the District. As always, the dog knew where to go and in fact seemed eager to return home. The boy was happy to let him lead; his head was pounding and his throat was so dry, it hurt.
Now, as he stood in their room, Pilot lapping noisily from his bowl in the corner, Aras realized that he couldn’t continue like this. He had to stop smoking again, and this time, for good. His children depended on him too much. And although he always found it difficult to express himself, Aras also knew he needed to get past that. He had to be frank with Esther; he had to talk to her.
They were partners, after all.
That was when Aras realized that his partnering tie was missing. He checked his wrist and the length of his arm quickly and then slowly and methodically. Although he had little memory of the evening before, he couldn’t believe that the tightly knotted band could have fallen from his wrist without his notice. Yet there was no mistake: The frayed cloth band had somehow vanished.
Full of shame, Aras shook his head; it was yet another sign he had let things go too far. He would make it up to Esther, he thought. He knew she was working; he would have to wait to speak with her until that evening.
On an impulse, he crossed to the box where they stored their clothes. He sorted through the contents by touch, finally identifying the thing he was looking for. It was the shirt Esther had given him months ago, her first gift after they had partnered: soft, with buttons that went halfway down the front. As Aras exchanged it for what he was wearing, he smiled. He remembered that she had told him he looked handsome in it and that the vivid blue looked good against his dark skin.
Putting it on wasn’t much, he knew: It was just a gesture, a simple way of saying he was sorry. Aras meant to do more to make things up to Esther: a lot more. He was putting the box away when he felt Pilot get to his feet behind him.
Turning around, Aras didn’t understand why the dog didn’t growl, nor why he felt a flicker of dread. Then he realized what had caused it.
He could smell the scent of fake flowers.
Nur had never been this far upstairs before.
She was taking a risk, for she knew it was critical that no one discover her connection to Aras. Yet the blind boy hadn’t shown up to meet her that morning in their usual smoking place. When she’d told Gideon, he had grown angry. It was taking too long, he said; it was time to deal with the problem another way. She had begged him to be patient. After all, several times she and Aras had touched and even almost kissed. But on each occasion, the boy had pulled away.
All she needed, she promised Gideon, was one more chance. Then Aras would leave Esther for good.
Nur wasn’t speaking out of pride alone. The idea of seducing the blind one had been hers, the easiest way she could think of to destroy Esther and ensure Gideon’s lasting gratitude. Yet now she was surprised to find that she had developed a kind of affection for Aras. Then again, it would have been impossible for her not to like the boy at least a little, having spent so much time with him smoking, talking, and opening up. She wasn’t exactly sure what Gideon had in mind for him were she to fail, but she sensed it wouldn’t be pleasant. For Aras’s welfare, then, Nur thought it was worth making a final attempt.
What’s more, Nur had a flicker of curiosity to see how he and Esther, the leader of the District, lived.
Yet now she was here, she was disappointed to see how unimpressive the room was: just another drab office with bedding on the floor and various belongings stacked neatly by the window. On the far side, Aras stood with his back to her, as if deep in thought; he didn’t seem to realize she was there. Then, with surprising speed, he turned and strode toward her.
“What are you doing here?”
After a pause, Nur answered, trying to sound light and carefree.
“You didn’t come. I wonder where you are.” She paused again. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Because I hate if you . . . mad at me.”
“Never said I was.”
Now she was by his side. “I save some,” she whispered, “for you.” She tried to force a smoking paper into his hand.
Aras pulled away and shook his head. “Let’s forget it,” he said. “I been doing too much of it, anyway.”
He stepped forward, as if to escort her out. Thinking quickly, Nur touched his forearm to stop him. She had to stand on her tiptoes, for he was so tall. Balancing herself against him, she reached up and kissed his cheek.
Aras started, yet didn’t move. “Better not,” he said in a rough voice. “I told you that before.”
“But why?” Her voice was as soft and pleading as she knew how to make it; she had never known a boy to turn away. “You know I like you. Don’t you like me?”
She took a chance. Taking him by the shoulders, the girl leaned forward again and, straining to reach, tried to kiss him on the mouth. She got no help from
Aras, who turned his head, his arms by his side.
“I said don’t do that!”
A flare of anger spread through Nur.
She was not accustomed to being rejected or to being addressed with such hostility; such a thing had never happened to her before. It suddenly dawned on her that Aras was attempting to end the situation—not just the smoking, but their friendship as well.
That possibility hadn’t crossed her mind.
Her cheeks now flushed with humiliation, Nur drew herself up with as much dignity as she could muster. Not, she thought with unexpected viciousness, that Aras could have even seen what she was doing.
Without another word, she turned and fled down the hall.
He had his chance, Nur thought. Yet she was surprised to find tears stinging her eyes and splattering down onto her robes as she yanked open the heavy metal door. With a brusque gesture, she rubbed them away.
She had done what she could. Now it was no fault of hers what would happen.
Nur wasn’t surprised to find someone waiting for her in the darkness of the stairwell, his upturned face a question in the spill of light. Gideon had obviously sent backup to deal with Aras, in case her efforts failed . . . which they had.
“He all yours.” Nur nearly spat out the words. “I done with him.”
Then she turned and clattered down the stairs.
As Eli stepped out into the hall, he left the door propped open. A tremor shook his body, beginning with his hands and passing through his torso.
He hadn’t realized how nervous he would be. Although he knew Esther and the others were upstairs on the roof, he felt much too visible, exposed by the bright afternoon sun. To counter his anxiety, he forced himself to recall how much he despised Aras: for his superiority and arrogance, and most of all for stealing Esther away. But no matter how hard he tried to stoke his righteous anger, his hatred wavered and then faded altogether.
He found it much easier to think about Gideon and how badly the boy wanted this.
The Insurgent leader had promised much to Eli for this favor. He would guarantee him not only extra rations, but something even more precious: his gratitude and lasting respect. Gideon had made it clear that if Eli was successful in carrying out this task, he would be in his debt: an unbelievable prospect that still made Eli giddy with happiness.
Now everything seemed to be heading inexorably to this end. Eli didn’t think he could stop it if he tried.
As Eli moved down the hall, checking each door, his footsteps were muffled by the deep beige carpeting underfoot. Still, a jangling sound revealed that someone had heard him.
Pilot stood motionless by an open door at the end of the hall, his ears cocked.
“Who’s there?”
As Aras appeared behind his dog, Eli froze in place. For a guilty instant, an impossible thought flashed across his mind: The blind boy could see him. Then he shook off the feeling as he began to move down the hall, his sweaty hand gripping the handle of the metal stick with the heavy wooden club. To his relief, the dog seemed to have recognized him, as Gideon assured him he would; although he continued to watch him, he made no threatening move.
Gideon told him the chore would be easiest if he worked quickly, without thinking. So as he stepped toward his target, Eli swung the weapon once, as hard as he could. At the last second, however, he couldn’t help but flinch, and the blow, aimed at Aras’s temple, hit his forehead instead. Still the single crack of wood hitting bone was shockingly loud, and Aras staggered backward before slumping to the ground.
It was done. Eli put a hand to his mouth and reeled backward.
He too felt as if he was going to black out; he was light-headed and his heart pounded madly. Then he noticed Pilot, and his adrenaline spiked even higher, snapping him back to alertness. The dog had lowered to his haunches, growling, his fur rising in spikes along his back. Then he sprang with unbelievable speed.
Terrified, Eli lashed out blindly with his club, raining blows on the animal in an attempt to ward him off. He felt rather than heard the repeated thuds as he made contact again and again with ribs, bone, teeth. Finally, he knocked the dog to the ground with a final blow, where he lay whimpering, his chest heaving up and down.
There was no time to lose.
Eli dropped the club. Then he bent over and blotted up the single drop of red that had trickled from Aras’s bleeding face to the floor. Grunting, soaked with sweat, he grabbed the body by the ankles and began to drag it down the hall and around one and then a second corner.
In the middle of the third section of corridor were the twin sets of metal doors: “the elevators,” Joseph called them. Although there were no handles, Eli knew what to do. As instructed, he pulled a metal tool from his back pocket, inserted the sharp, flat edge into the seam, and used it to pry open the panels an inch or so, enough to get his fingers in. Then he managed to pull back one door. He didn’t look down; a great black hole loomed below.
Eli yanked Aras’s leaden body as close as he could, turning him so his back pointed toward the opening. As a result, he found himself inches away from the dead boy’s face. Aras’s dark glasses had tumbled off and for the first time, Eli saw the pale, raised scars across his eyelids and the bridge of his nose. The markings stood out on the dark skin, making him seem vulnerable and oddly young. Blanching, Eli had turned away and was about to push him in when a sudden spasm shook his hands.
To Eli’s horror, Aras was struggling to sit up. Was he alive? How was that possible?
With a cry of terror, Eli fought back.
He wrestled Aras with one hand as he frantically felt around behind him for a weapon, any weapon. He had left his club back in the hall, he realized too late as the other boy clawed at him with desperate strength, the two of them teetering on the brink of the abyss.
With relief that was nearly hysterical, Eli felt his fingers close on the small metal lever he had used to pry open the door. At that instant, Aras’s hand landed on his face. But his touch was soft as his fingers scrabbled across Eli’s features, reading them with swift assurance.
Then the blind boy gasped.
“Eli?”
Eli went numb with shock. To erase the moment, he brought the weapon from behind him and cracked Aras across the head as hard as he could. The boy slumped, but his hand fell to Eli’s arm and stayed there, twitching.
Shrieking, Eli kicked at Aras’s ribs to free himself. As he scrambled to his feet, he rained more blows on him, knocking the boy backward into the dark.
Eli stood, quivering, at the brink of the shaft. For what seemed like forever, the only sound was his harsh and ragged breath. Then, dimly, he heard a faraway explosion that seemed to shake the entire building. After a second to collect himself, he tossed in the metal bar as well.
Eli wiped his soaked face with the back of his hand, staring at his shredded shirt. He knew he wasn’t finished, not quite yet. He had to get rid of the club and make certain there were no signs of the struggle. Last but not least, he also had to dispose of the dog’s body. Yet when he returned to the place he had left it, his mind froze.
Pilot was gone.
Panicked, Eli glanced around. No one had returned; the hall was as silent as it had been before. Working quickly, he smoothed away the tracks he had left when dragging Aras’s body, disposed of the club, and closed the elevator panels. Then he saw it: a telltale trail made of darkening flecks of blood, almost too tiny to see, that led in a crooked path down the hall and through the open door to the stairway.
Eli hesitated for a moment. Then he shook his head. It was only a dog, after all. And the worst part was over. His job was done.
He was about to leave when he noticed something odd about his hands. Frowning, he held them close to his eyes. They were stained a dark brown, the color of rust. Although he rubbed at them for a moment, he couldn’t seem to remove the marks.
He realized what it was, of course: blood. Aras’s blood. For a moment, Eli stood stock-still, trying to fight d
own the hysteria that was rising from deep within.
Then he took a deep and shaky breath. He would be fine. He would wash off the marks and no one would ever know what had happened.
And Gideon would be so pleased to hear the news.
Eli headed to the stairs. The last thing he did was pull away the stick he had left to prop open the metal door. It swung shut and the hallway was once again silent.
FIVE
THE SMELL OF SCORCHING FOOD FILLED THE AIR.
“Watch it,” said Silas. Reaching across Esther with a fork, he speared a piece of flatbread that was in danger of catching on fire and shot her a concerned look. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Esther mumbled. “Sorry.”
Bleary, she squinted her eyes hard and shook her head in an attempt to wake herself up. She was helping prepare breakfast but had been close to nodding off several times as she knelt over the firebowl. Picking up the basket of sorry-looking bread she had just cooked, Esther tried to stand but stumbled, dropping the entire contents onto the ground.
Skar was already at her side. “Why don’t you sit?” she murmured as she stooped to pick up the blackened food. “I can take over.”
Numb, Esther could only nod as her friend slipped into her place. As Esther crossed the roof where she and the others prepared and took all their meals, she could sense a few of them looking up from their plates and glancing at her with sympathy.
She looked awful, she knew; her eyes were bloodshot and deeply ringed, and her skin was ashy. It was no surprise; Esther had barely slept in days. The fighting with Aras had kept her from closing her eyes for more than a few moments at a time. But last evening had been the worst.
For the second night in a row, Aras hadn’t come home at all.
After Esther fed and put Kai and Sarah to bed, she had waited. She stayed up for hours, her bare feet silent as she paced back and forth across the carpeted floor, her ears keyed in vain to the familiar jingle of Pilot’s chain in the hallway. Then she sat on the floor with her back pressed against the cold wall. Other than the soft sounds of her children sleeping across the room, no noise arose from the cavernous mall below. She had watched the moon travel across the night sky through the huge windows until it disappeared. The dark expanse grew light with dawn, and still Aras had not returned.
