by Susan Kim
Grief and rage came crashing down on Esther like physical things; she felt as if she were drowning. She could not move and did not care or even notice when the guards surrounded her and seized her by the arms.
Gideon was in a bad mood.
He did not want to admit it, but even he was appalled by the carnage uncovered by Esther. He was aware that troublemakers needed to be disposed of in a prompt and efficient way to keep them from spreading dissent. Moreover, he approved of the use of brutality to ensure order. Yet the number of people Saith had ordered killed, he now thought with irritation, was going too far.
He had called Saith to his tiled office to discuss this and other important matters, but the girl didn’t seem to be listening. She sat on the counter, swinging her legs and humming to herself.
“Who laugh at me now?” she asked again and again. Then she giggled and swung her legs harder.
Exasperated, Gideon knew she was talking about Esther.
He had tried explaining things to the little girl. Earlier, Gideon had ordered his guards to drag the dead bodies out of the elevator and into the garage for the sole reason of ensuring that no one else discovered them. Finding out about the slaughter of so many would shake even the most fervent believer’s faith in not only his and Saith’s leadership but perhaps the entire system they had devised.
But Saith didn’t seem to understand.
“They bad people,” she kept saying. “Ain’t no reason they alive.”
For the first time Gideon realized that Saith was more of a risk than he could have ever foreseen. To her, other people were like toys or ants or pieces of dust; having them destroyed meant nothing to her.
Under Saith, people could be put to death for the mildest infraction or perceived flaw. Anyone who was injured or disabled, petty thieves, anyone caught fighting or causing a nuisance, people she deemed unclean in either body or mind, even someone she simply found unattractive. They had all been executed; a single kiss or lecherous glance was punishable by death. Yet most had been guilty of one thing only: disrespecting Saith by refusing to bow or carry her image, or not praying loudly enough.
Gideon found this an emotional and messy way to wield power.
He had decided to leave matters of order and enforcement to Saith; he now realized that had been a serious mistake. The younger girl had gone overboard, and her competition with Esther had become poisonous.
“So,” Saith said now. “When we kill her?”
Gideon sighed. “I told you. Not yet.”
The pretty little face frowned. “Why?”
“I told you, there’s one last thing I need her to do.”
Esther sat crouched in the dark.
From the size of her enclosure, she assumed it was a closet of some kind. Esther did not know how many hours she had been there. All she remembered was being led to the fifth floor then thrust into a tiny and windowless space.
Throughout, her mind had been whirling. She thought of Aras, and her heart was filled with guilt and grief. She felt rage, too—directed as much at herself as at Gideon. She had appeased her partner’s killer; and the more she thought of this, the more it felt as if her heart would break from shame alone.
Her only hope was that Skar and Silas had escaped. But where could they have gone? And what of all the others?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the lock being undone. Then the door opened and daylight spilled in, making Esther wince.
“He want to see you,” said a guard.
She was dragged to her feet; after crouching for so long in the small space, she could barely stand. Walking between two armed boys, Esther was led to the far staircase, where she was forced to stumble up the stairs.
They were taking her home.
Perhaps, she thought with sudden and irrational hope, she would be allowed to rejoin her group. They might be imprisoned, but at least they would be together.
Yet they turned onto the ninth floor, and Esther was led down the hall where she had worked. With a sinking feeling, she saw that all of the rooms were silent and deserted. Feathers and bits of paper were strewn on the floor or floated in the air. And everywhere she looked was devastation.
The sickrooms were shorn of their bedding. The few medicines that Esther had collected were destroyed, their plastic bottles smashed and the contents spilled across the floor. In the learning rooms, desks and chairs were overturned, adrift in what seemed to be an ocean of paper that was torn and trampled.
Upstairs was even worse. The rooms in which Esther and her friends lived had been ransacked. Tattered remains of clothing and other belongings that had been emptied out of dressers and boxes were trampled underfoot.
Her children and friends were nowhere to be seen.
Although her heart was shattering inside her, Esther knew she had been taken here on purpose. They wanted her to be humiliated, to have her spirit broken. And so she kept her chin held high, to deprive her captors of any satisfaction. But she faltered when she saw who was waiting for them at the end of the hall.
It was Gideon. He gave the guard a brusque nod and turned to go.
“Murderer.” She could not hold her tongue.
Gideon stopped for a moment. Then, snapping his fingers for them to follow, he disappeared around a corner.
“Where are my children?” Esther shouted the words after him. “Where are my friends?”
No one answered; the two boys just dragged her along with them. The Insurgent leader had disappeared through an open door and they shoved her in as well. Inside, Joseph’s library was a shambles, the floor littered with books. A dying fire was burning in the middle of the room. It had already scorched the ceiling and black ash still drifted everywhere.
“Talk to him.” Gideon’s voice came from behind her.
A forlorn figure sat alone in a far corner. He was turning the pages of a damaged book, as if to comfort himself with a small, familiar action. Looking traumatized, a striped cat huddled by his feet.
“Joseph?”
The guard jerked her back.
“No,” said Gideon. “Let her go. She got to talk to him.”
She spun around and gave him a furious look. “About what?”
Gideon refused to meet her eyes. “You and he, you the only ones left who know how to work the garden.” Esther’s heart pounded when she heard this: Were the others already dead? “But he ain’t saying nothing. You want him to live, he got to tell us what he know.”
He nodded at the two guards, who released her. Rubbing her arms, Esther advanced into the room and knelt by the older boy’s side.
It took a minute for Joseph to notice; he closed the volume and looked down at Esther. He smiled as if this were just another visit, and only then did she realize that he was too shaken to understand what had happened.
“The others are gone,” he remarked.
“I know.” She kept her voice down so the others couldn’t hear. “Where did they go?”
Joseph shrugged.
Blindly, Esther took her old friend’s hand and pressed a kiss on it. He yanked it back, unnerved by the contact as she knew he would be, and she smiled in spite of herself.
“Joseph,” she said at last. “You know things about the District, right?”
He looked at her, frowning. “What sort of things?”
“About the water system. And the garden. How to maintain everything.”
Joseph nodded, even as Esther swallowed hard.
“I need you . . . ,” she started, then stopped. Blinking back tears, she tried again. “I need you to work on those things for Gideon from now on. Do you understand?”
“But—”
“Please listen.” She ducked her head and whispered as softly as she could. “Don’t teach him or anyone else what you know. Just do the work yourself. That way, you’ll be safe.”
He frowned again. Esther knew the others were impatient for her to finish, but she stayed for just a moment longer.
“Do you remember,” she said, �
��when I used to visit you in Prin? When I used to bring you food?”
“Yes,” Joseph said, with fondness.
“Let’s think about those days. From now on. All right? Whenever we’re sad.”
“All right,” he said. “That’s a good idea.”
Esther reached to give the cat one final stroke. Then she was pulled onto her feet and dragged to the stairs by the guards.
From the far end of the hallway, Gideon watched them go.
Esther had been led away too swiftly to see either Gideon or the small figure in white who had joined him. Saith was laughing to herself, a soft and throaty chuckle.
She was rocking something in her arms.
It was Esther’s baby.
“Bye-bye” was all Saith said.
PART THREE
SIXTEEN
GIDEON STOOD IN A CORRIDOR OF BEIGE CARPET THAT SEEMED TO GO ON forever.
At the end of the hallway, a boy was waiting for him: dark skinned, with sunglasses and long matted locks. It was Aras. As Gideon approached, he tightened his grip on the club he carried.
When he reached him, Gideon swung his arm as hard as he could, and in the silence, he could feel the force of impact as wood hit bone. The other boy staggered heavily and dropped to his knees, bright red blossoming against the wall behind him.
Finishing him off would be easy. And yet something was wrong.
Someone was watching.
Gideon spun around and saw a figure standing at the other end of the hall.
It was Esther. She said nothing and yet he could feel her unblinking gaze of judgment burn into him.
Gideon awoke with a start.
When he realized he had dreamed the same thing for the third night in a row, he felt angry beyond words.
Gideon had had no qualms about ordering Aras’s death. It had been a practical matter, the simple removal of an obstacle to his plans. True, things had not worked out the way he had hoped. Still, the boy had felt no guilt about his actions.
Until now.
He could not stand the thought that Esther, shut in a cell upstairs, now understood what had happened to her partner. It had been her own fault for spying on Gideon and the inner workings of the District. Had she left things alone, she could have continued to believe the comforting lie that Aras had left her for another girl. By meddling into the affairs of the basement, she had discovered not only the truth about Saith’s rules, but also the fate of the boy she loved.
Gideon found her judgment unbearable. That she had called him “murderer”—and to his face, in front of his guards!—nagged at him, no matter how much he tried to put it from his mind. Her presence in his life—even in his mind—had become too much to endure.
He had to get rid of Esther, he thought, once and for all.
And yet Gideon didn’t trust strong emotions, including his own. If he was to dispose of the girl, he would need to do so in a cool and regulated way. After several days of mulling over the problem, he finally came up with a solution.
Gideon had already decided that a different kind of discipline had to replace the childish and arbitrary one established by the girl priestess. This new system would create true order and stability. It would provide a way to get rid of Esther in a manner that was dispassionate, beyond reproach, and impossible to trace back to him. And it would effectively intimidate any supporters Esther might have inspired.
The new justice would be fair, rational, and consistent. Under its rules, there would be clearly delineated levels of wrongdoing and punishment. Unlike before, only the truly dangerous—dissidents who openly spoke out against the system or threatened Saith’s life—would be put to death.
Esther was a dissident. It was as simple as that.
Everyone else would serve another purpose.
Gideon remembered well the plan Esther had confided in him of building smaller gardens throughout the city. The idea was worse than foolish: It was downright dangerous. Transferring control of the food supply to the mob would destroy everything he had worked so hard to build and effectively take away all of his power.
But what if it were done properly, using a bigger space that he alone controlled?
The roof of the District had long since exceeded its limit. The building itself was relatively small, after all—only ten stories high—and the garden had been designed to support a few dozen at most, not the hundreds who came each day. Gideon thought of the huge buildings that lay only a few blocks away. The structures were so immense they appeared to touch the clouds and seemed as immovable as the mountain that lay in the distance. Made of steel and glass, they far outsized the modest District.
Gideon had decided to take over the largest of the buildings and transform it, as the previous owners had done to the District. The area of the roof would be immense—many times the size of the current garden. He would take Esther’s idea of feeding the hungry, yet he would do it on a huge scale and at an enormous profit.
Of course, it would take many months of backbreaking toil. Even the first step, Gleaning the necessary steel beams, sheets of glass, and other materials, and then transporting them to the new site, would be extraordinarily difficult. Then everything would have to be carried up many flights. Only then could the real work of building begin.
Such labor, Gideon knew better than anyone, was expensive. To ask someone to perform these tasks would command many pieces of glass, far more than one could earn by selling food or other objects.
But you didn’t have to pay slaves.
Under Gideon’s new legal system, all those found guilty of violating Saith’s countless petty and arbitrary laws would be sentenced to work, without pay, in the new building. Joseph would design the space and supervise the work.
Gideon’s plan was so brilliant it almost took his breath away. And yet he hesitated. He knew that this new system had to be presented to Saith in a way she could not only accept, but embrace.
Then he had an inspiration.
What if he were to dedicate the new space to her? If the little priestess had a weak spot, it was her vanity. Would his argument be enough to mollify her?
When Gideon explained the concept of the new court and building to Saith later that morning, he was careful to emphasize this aspect of his plan.
“People come from all over.” The boy leaned against the counter in the girl’s private chamber, as Saith sat in a cushioned seat, one of her assistants rubbing lotion into her thin arms. “They hear about it for miles.”
“And it bigger than this place?” The girl did not deign to look at him, but examined herself in the mirror.
“Three times over. It as big as the sky.”
Saith said nothing for a few moments. Then she smiled.
“Then we do,” was all she said.
Although Saith suggested that Gideon act as judge of the new court, he thought better of it. Best to remove himself, he thought, from any appearance of personal vindictiveness. No, someone else had to serve in his place.
Gideon already had the perfect candidate in mind.
Esther awoke to the faint sounds of moaning. Sobs and groans rose all around, seeping through the walls.
This was how she began each morning.
Esther had been alone in a dark closet for weeks. When guards had first led her down the eighth floor, she had tried to look around. Most of the doors on the hall were closed, with guards stationed every few feet. Only one gaped open and Esther glimpsed what seemed like at least a dozen people inside, frightened and wide-eyed. She thought she recognized one of the sick people and tried to make eye contact. But she was hurried past before she could tell for certain that it was him.
The entire ninth floor—where she had tended the sick and taught classes with Joseph and Uri—had been turned into a prison.
Esther had spent the first few days exploring her brick cell. Although it was pitch-black, she was well acquainted with its layout. For months it had been her supply closet, where she’d kept medicine, clothes, and
bedding. Everything had been cleared out except the dented metal shelves. Although they were flimsy and threatened to collapse under her meager weight, she managed to scale them, taking care not to make any noise. Methodically, she investigated the cinder-block walls with her hands, running her fingers over every inch of the painted brick. But she found no vents or ceiling panels she could break through, no hidden airways that might lead to freedom.
The door was made of solid wood; it would be impossible to break down. Again and again, Esther tried its rounded metal knob in vain, hoping that a guard had left it unlocked. She wished she had asked Silas to teach her how to use the tiny tools he kept tucked in the side of his sneaker.
Escape, she realized, was impossible.
Her only visitor was a glowering and silent boy who appeared every morning with her daily meal: a bowl of vegetables and a cup of water. A second boy waited behind him and kept a gun trained on her the entire time.
Alone, Esther was wracked by too many feelings to contain. The uncertainty of her fate coupled with her isolation in total darkness was nearly enough to drive her mad; late at night she paced the tiny room, fighting the panic that threatened to strangle her.
With difficulty, Esther forced herself to be practical. She was relieved to know that Joseph was safe, at least for the time being. Yet she still had to find out what had happened to her children and other friends.
At first, Esther attempted to communicate with her fellow prisoners in the neighboring rooms by tapping on walls. When that proved useless, she lay down and pressed her face against the plush carpet and peered out underneath the door.
Through the narrow gap, she could hear when new people were brought upstairs, their cries and murmurs as they were shoved down the hall, and the jangle of keys as they were thrown into cells. Throughout the day, many feet passed by. Occasionally someone would stumble or fall down before being yanked back up. One time, Esther found herself staring directly into the dark eyes of a little girl who lay mere inches away before she was pulled to her feet.
That image haunted Esther for days.
Just as frequently, a guard would disappear into a room, his partner waiting outside. Within moments, the first one would reappear, dragging a prisoner with him. The three would head back to the far end of the hallway, which Esther knew led to the enclosed staircase. The metal door would clang open and shut and the sound of footsteps would fade, leaving Esther to wonder where they were going and what lay in store for the unlucky soul.
