by Susan Kim
At this, Jud glanced up, a flash of panic in his eyes. “I show you how fast we go,” he blurted. “We hold a contest. See who the best.”
Saith shrugged, not displeased. Taking her lack of negativity as a kind of enthusiasm, Jud brightened; Esther could see his pathetic smile.
Within moments, the slave leader had ordered two chairs set up for his esteemed visitors by the mouth of the enclosed staircase. As Saith and Gideon sat, the boy then ordered the workers to file past, one at a time. “Which two you want?”
As Esther passed, she made sure to favor the side of her face that was covered. For a second, she felt Saith’s gaze fall upon her, but then it moved on. Saith chose two of the older slaves, both boys. They were ordered to each pick up a heavy length of lumber and race each other up the dark and stifling stairwell to the roof. After depositing their loads, they were then to race back down. The winner would be given a reward and the loser punished.
“But be quick,” Saith said.
“You heard her!” Jud yelled. “Fast!”
As the boys shouldered their heavy loads and staggered toward the stairs, Esther could hear Saith chuckle. Because they couldn’t reach the ground, her little legs swung back and forth; she was clearly enjoying the spectacle. Gideon had already left his seat and wandered away; Esther assumed he was bored or maybe even disturbed by the childish and needlessly cruel display.
After several minutes, Esther could finally hear the sound of someone descending. One of the slaves burst out of the door, empty-handed; he was gasping for breath and nearly staggering. A moment later, he was followed by the other, equally as exhausted. The loser was told to await his fate. Then the winner was ordered to approach Saith.
She handed him a tiny hard candy.
And so it went for at least an hour: Two by two, slaves were ordered to pick up heavy panes of glass, pieces of lumber, or bags of cement and race each other up the endless staircase. While Saith opted for the strongest-looking slaves at first, she soon grew bored and began picking more unlikely contestants. For one turn, she selected two of the youngest workers, a boy and a girl who were no older than six or seven, and ordered that each one carry a heavy brick. By the time it was over, only the boy emerged; and he too was rewarded with a tiny sweet.
Esther was among the last chosen. When she was called, she saw that her opponent was a fellow slave who had once been especially hostile to her, a thin and pale boy around her age. He had been kind after she had been knocked to the ground; standing next to her in line, he had briefly allowed her to sag against him. Yet from the look in his eye, Esther could tell his only concern was not being punished. Each of them was ordered to pick up a sack of cement. Then, at the signal, they were told to begin.
The boy bolted off up the dark stairwell, taking two steps at a time. With the heavy bag slung across her shoulder, Esther toiled upward in silence. The air was so stifling it was hard to breathe, and her legs soon burned and trembled. She tried counting the floors to take her mind off how exhausted she was and how badly her face hurt: twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. There were seventeen more flights to go.
Then she stumbled; her foot touched something soft and she nearly fell. Putting aside the bag, Esther reached forward to see what it was. Her competitor lay sprawled at the top of a landing, the bag of cement by his side.
Esther prodded him. “Are you okay?” she whispered.
He didn’t reply.
There was nothing she could do. Esther continued upward until she reached the roof, where Joseph waited. Her old friend could not risk questioning her, for there were others around; he expressed his concern by meeting her eye and raising an eyebrow. She gave a slight shake of her head in reply before dumping the bag in the corner. Then she turned and headed back.
Free of the massive weight she carried and walking downstairs, Esther at first felt wonderfully light. Then the effort became more and more painful. By the time she stumbled back into the lobby, her legs wobbled so badly she could barely stand.
Yet she had won. And as a result, she too found herself face-to-face with the little girl.
The strip of cloth was now soaking with perspiration. Esther feared it clung to her features and showed more of her face than she cared to reveal. Looking up, Saith began to hand Esther a sweet. Then, abruptly, the little girl glanced away.
“That enough.” She tossed the candy across the room, where it skittered on the dusty marble. “You get them.”
As exhausted as they were, everyone scrambled for the treats. Esther was not hungry, yet knew she would draw unwanted attention if she held back. As she got down on her knees and fought for a few pieces, she overheard Saith.
“Get the rest over with.”
Jud obeyed, yelling at the guards to help him bring forth the losers. One by one, each was pushed against the central counter and hit once, hard, across the back with his belt. Saith had kept a few candies for herself; as she watched, she sucked on them. Yet before Jud was even halfway through, she seemed to lose interest in the diversion.
“That it,” she said to Gideon, who had rejoined her. During the spectacle, he had apparently climbed the stairs to the new garden by himself; now, his face was impassive. Saith bent her head close to his and spoke a few words. At one point, she took the unfinished candy out of her mouth and flicked it away. Then she started out of the room, not waiting for anyone.
As Saith disappeared, Gideon addressed Jud in private. Esther could not hear what he said, until he turned to leave.
“You hear her?” he said. “Get it done.”
Jud nodded silently as Gideon moved ahead to catch up with Saith.
Esther was relieved she hadn’t been recognized. Yet something told her that it was the least of her worries.
After Saith and Gideon left, Jud ordered everyone back to the roof.
He moved to the only shaded area under a crude tent and sat heavily on one of the two chairs. Jud was normally in their midst, cracking his belt over the shoulders of anyone he perceived to be weak or slow. Yet he now sat unmoving for so long that everyone began casting anxious, sidelong looks at him.
Finally, one guard gathered the courage to approach. Esther couldn’t hear what he said, but she saw Jud gaze up at him, his face a frightening mask of rage and mortification. He didn’t bother to whisper, and his voice could be heard by all.
“We got to go faster.”
“But ain’t possible.”
“Something slow us down.” Jud’s bloodshot eyes flickered over the workers toiling at the far end of the roof. Then he came to a decision. “The little ones. We got to get rid of them.”
The other boy blinked. “Get rid of them? What you mean?”
“Kill them. That way we speed up.”
Esther inhaled. Although it was clear that everyone on the roof had heard, no one reacted; the only sound was the clanking of tools and the rasp of metal on the tar-paper roof. The suggestion seemed both too monstrous and too nonsensical to be real. Everyone’s eyes were focused on the other guard, who was silent for a long moment.
At last he spoke. “You going to do that?”
“No,” Jud said. “You going to.”
After a second, the guard nodded. Yet when he walked back to the other guards, Esther noticed that his face was ashen. He consulted with his peers, but spoke too softly to be overheard.
Then he emerged from the huddle.
By now, the slaves had stopped working. The roof was so silent everyone could hear the squelch of the guard’s sneakers on the hot tarred surface as he approached. As he walked, he hiked up his robes and his right hand went to his back waistband.
“All right.” His voice dull, he nodded at the smallest workers, who huddled together in terror. There were eight of them, the youngest no more than six or seven. “Some of you got to come with me.”
None of them moved. The boy raised his voice. “You hear? Got to come with me—”
A clear voice interrupted him. “You don’t have to.”
&nb
sp; Startled, the guard glanced up.
Esther had risen to her feet. She spoke loudly enough so that everyone on the roof could hear. “It’s all up to you.”
“Shut up and sit down!” screamed the guard.
From the corner of her eye, Esther could see Joseph quail as he stared at her, his eyes round with terror. Of course Jud and his boys could shoot her dead, she realized. Everyone else as well. After all, they had weapons, and the slaves had none. But there were worse things than death. If even one of the children were to go along with his or her destruction without questioning why, then they were all doomed.
She could not allow that to happen.
“That boy over there?” Esther crouched in front of the youngest and indicated the slave master with a nod. “He says he’s got all the power. But that’s only true if you believe him. If you don’t, he’s got nothing.”
A murmur rippled through the slaves.
“Little ones . . . on your feet!” The guard acted as if Esther hadn’t spoken. He pointed at a tiny girl with enormous eyes. “You first!”
The child stared up at him, terrified. She seemed about to rise. Then she couldn’t help it: She glanced at Esther.
“He says he’s in charge.” Esther spoke in a soft voice. “But that’s only if you let him order you around.” Holding her gaze, the girl gave a slight nod. She didn’t move.
By now, the whispering among the slaves had grown more agitated. Esther didn’t blame them; if her plan backfired, she was putting all of their lives at risk. And yet she was aware of a basic and more practical truth: Jud needed them. He needed them to finish building the altar and the roof; without them, he alone would face Saith’s wrath. Esther realized that this did not give her and her fellow workers much power; still, it was something. And none of them had anything left to lose.
“Listen to her,” someone said.
“Stay where you are,” called another.
“Get up!”
The guard was desperate. Esther could tell from the look in his eyes that he didn’t want to carry out his orders; he was acting from fear alone, making him nearly as vulnerable as the slaves themselves. Knowing this, Esther met his eyes in a silent appeal. The guard started back, shocked, as if she had somehow seen inside him. But he didn’t have time to respond.
“Out of the way.”
Jud had arisen. With one forceful movement, he shoved the guard to the side. Now he faced the assemblage, the belt in his hand. There was a new depth to the anger in his voice: It was filled with pure hatred.
“You gonna get a lot of people killed now,” he told Esther.
But what Esther saw in the slaves’ faces was something new. This time, there was no fear, no blame, no apathy. Instead, she saw fury . . . and rebellion.
Even killing them all would get Jud nowhere.
For a moment, Jud quailed, then he abruptly changed tactics. Stepping forward, he kicked his way through the crowd until he reached Esther. Then he grabbed her by her arm and dragged her out before the others as he fumbled with his robes.
In one motion, he pulled a small gun from the waistband of his jeans and raised it to Esther’s temple.
“Now things go faster,” he said.
The slaves erupted.
Bursting up off the floor like a single creature, they rushed forward with a roar of anger. Within seconds, they had knocked and trampled Jud to the ground, twisting his weapon from his grip. Then they turned their fury on the stunned guards, punching, kicking, and pinning them to the ground. The boy who had been ordered to kill the youngest struggled to retrieve his gun, but a boy punched him in the stomach, allowing a girl to wrestle it away. The incensed mob swarmed across the roof, destroying everything in its path.
Slaves seized every weapon they could tear from their captors—whips, belts, clubs, guns—and soon the air was filled with the sound of screams, beatings, and the occasional bang of a pistol.
Esther was stunned by the fast-moving melee and found herself unable to do anything about it. She felt that she had pulled an obstruction away from a river and now the force of the flood was beyond stopping. Stumbling backward, she found Joseph, who stood on the other side of the roof, pale and unmoving. One hand pressed to his mouth, he clung to his cat carrier so tightly Esther could hear the plaintive cry of the animal inside.
Before them, a crowd had collected around something on the ground. For a second, the mob parted, and Esther could see a bloodied Jud. Two slaves held him down, but there was no need; his body was broken and unmoving.
“Stop!” Esther cried. She strode forward and attempted to push through the hysterical throng.
Above the din, the slaves somehow heard her voice and obeyed. Some of them straightened, backing off. The smallest one turned, her face vacant, a smear of blood across her cheek. But they hadn’t finished with their destruction.
As the workers began to shove past her in the opposite direction, Esther was at first puzzled. Then she understood where they were directing their rage: at the greenhouse, nearly completed.
“Let’s tear it down!” one boy shouted, and his words were met with cheers.
“Tear it down!”
“No!” Esther shouted.
They chose not to hear. Within seconds, they had descended on the thing they had spent weeks building, wielding hammers and clubs and their fists. The air was filled with the deafening sounds of smashing panes and cracking wood. Splinters of glass glinted on the tar-paper floor; entire tables were knocked over and their tubs tumbled to the ground, splashing their contents everywhere.
Esther stood to the side. She was shaken and sickened by the destruction she had brought about; at the same time she was glad that they were free. Yet for how long? They could not take the risk of remaining.
Already, the workers were slowing down; they stood, vacant eyed and delirious, the worst of their energy spent. “We have to go,” Esther called out. “Now.”
The slaves blinked and wavered in the purple-and-orange light. Then, obedient, they allowed Esther to steer them toward the stairwell, dropping their tools as they went.
Overhead, the sun was setting, which was good; Esther knew they would need the darkness to hide them and cover their tracks. What’s more, she could now make out something that filled her with the only hope she had left:
A smoke signal, faint yet high in the sky.
NINETEEN
AFTER FEEDING THE FIRE MORE DAMPENED WOOD, SKAR SCANNED THE pale yellow haze of the late afternoon sky. Other than a faraway flock of birds, nothing stirred. She saw no answering plume of smoke rising from the city below. Once again, she experienced what had become a familiar reaction: a stab of disappointment followed by stoic resolve.
She would not give up trying to contact Esther until she knew for certain that she was dead.
It had been many days since she had last seen her friend, on that terrible night they discovered the unspeakable secret in the District basement. After half dragging, half carrying Silas up to the lobby, Skar had waited, expecting her friend to follow. Finally, she whispered to the boy to go outside. Skar had then bounded up the ten long flights back to her home two at a time, for she knew Gideon’s boys would soon be on their way. In the precious minutes she had gained by her speed, she was able to gather Michal, Uri, and Kai, whom she quickly sent downstairs to join Silas. Yet, search as she might, she had not been able to locate Joseph or Sarah. She was still looking for them when she’d heard the Insurgent guards burst into the hall. Only then was she forced to leave, waiting for the moment the coast was clear before escaping to the stairwell.
In the confusion, Skar had been able to slip undetected across the lobby and out into the night. Silas, Michal, and the others were waiting for her across the street, trembling with fear and dismay as they huddled together in the shadows of a neighboring building. Skar knew that it would be minutes until Gideon realized they’d escaped and sent his boys out to hunt them down. So with a heavy heart, she had taken Kai in her arms,
and ordered her friends to follow her as they fled into the night.
Because Silas knew the layout of the city better than anyone, Skar had asked him to guide them. With a crescent moon lighting their way, he had led them north, toward the shadowy mountain that loomed over the rest of the city. As they climbed uphill, Uri thought he recognized some of the streets where he, Saith, and their friends had once lived. But they did not stop. They now realized they could no longer trust anyone else. Silas led them even farther, to the distant side of the hill, until they reached a neighborhood of two- and three-story houses and small businesses.
There, Skar found a storefront on the ground floor of a brick building. Taking a quick look inside, she saw that it seemed clean and vacant; even the glass windows were still mostly intact and had large, incomprehensible words painted on them: ST-VIATEUR and BOULANGERIE. The remnants of a peculiar five-pointed symbol could be seen on one window; adorning another was a picture of a round foodstuff with a hole in the middle. Skar ordered everyone inside, and at once they curled up on the dusty floor, Michal cradling Kai in her lap. Before long, all were asleep except Skar, who stood by the window until dawn, keeping an eye out for anyone who might have followed.
Later that morning, Silas Gleaned the other stores that lined the street and came back with a few crucial items: a firestarter nearly full of fuel, a firebowl, a bucket, a plastic bottle. Uri immediately went out in search of water to boil and filter, while Skar and Michal continued exploring the narrow streets, bringing Kai with them.
On the mountain’s peak, the three had come across a spectacular building they hadn’t noticed the night before. Only one story high, it had a massive roof made of red tile and large doors of broken glass on all sides. Within was an immense room, with a vaulted ceiling and a giant glittering construction of glass shards that hung high overhead. Dust motes danced in the light that poured in on all sides. Kai, enchanted, had clapped his hands, laughing at the echo; then raced across the smooth floor, scattering pigeons that flew into the eaves, cooing.
Michal watched him for a moment before turning to Skar. “Can’t we stay here instead?” she had begged.
