Departures

by E. J. Wenstrom

  “What was your plan, exactly?” She leans over and takes it out of my hand. “This would only get you outside to the hall, and that's if you're lucky. What then?”

  I clench my now-empty fist. “I don’t know. Seemed better than staying here.” Anything would have to be better than here.

  She sighs and opens the health scanner, tapping on its full-body tray.

  “Up, please.”

  She checks my digipad for its account number and enters it into the machine. Its screen lights up as it restarts, and both machines bleep as they sync. The health scanner hums awake.

  I start to go along out of sheer habit, but then my fear breaks free in a burst.

  “No!” My nerves intensify until I have to clench my fists to keep my hands from shaking, but I’m getting desperate, fed up with the waiting and the secrets. “What’s going on? Why am I trapped in here? Why won’t anyone take me back home, where I belong?”

  “Hush.” She says it with urgency, fevered, under her breath. In her eyes there’s steely determination and a hint of fear. Outside, footsteps pace the hall. The slow rhythm of their approach feels ominous, and I do as she says. As I press into the cool metal of the scanner, the steps continue down the hall, around the corner, and fade away.

  She leans forward.

  “I’m Mara,” she whispers. “We can help you, if you want it. Do you wish to live?”

  “What?” I exclaim. I’m so lost in this strange, upside-down day, so exhausted and confused, that part of me wishes to give up, to stop caring, to let the Directorate have its way – just so long as it all ends.

  “Quiet,” she mutters through a clenched jaw. “I can help you. Do you wish to live?” she repeats, the words pointed.

  I blink, struggling to process.

  “Yes.” Despite how weary and disoriented I am, it comes out of me fierce and angry, an animal instinct. Yes, I want to live, I want to keep on for every second I can. I don’t know why or what for at this point, but yes, under the anger and the fear and the confusion, I wish to live.

  I hold Mara’s gaze, my ears buzzing with adrenaline. She nods. Then she closes the lid to the scanner and it starts the familiar process of assessing my body.

  In the quiet hum of the machine, my mind relaxes, and I have a flash of realization: MARA – that is what Tad wrote on the paper. Not an acronym. A name. At this hint of order returning into this strange day, I’m able to calm down, just a little bit.

  The humming dies down. The lid lifts.

  “You know Tad,” I whisper.

  She frowns. “How do you know Tad?”

  I sit up and blink at her. My confusion balls up into a hot wad of anger.

  “Tad was incredibly unhelpful, with his cryptic notes and his lack of directions.”

  “Notes?” She rolls her eyes. “Seriously, Tad.”

  The footsteps start coming back from down the hall.

  She shakes her head. “There’s no time. You need to listen to me.”

  She picks up a finger prick and reaches for my hand, but I shrug my hand away.

  “Seriously?” I say.

  “We have to go through the motions,” she says. “Blow my cover and we’ll both be departed.”

  Cover for what? But it’s clear this is no time to demand explanations.

  I sigh and stick out my hand. She collects the blood, and I feel a throbbing heartbeat in my fingertip. I hate this feeling. And doctors in general. Everyone in LQM is always trying to push me off like I'm a waste of their time, always pointing to my departure date and not letting me forget it. They poke and prod and make notes on their little tablets and make me feel so small and out of control.

  Gracelyn’s starting a track with LQM. She’s so smart, already getting the high marks she’ll need to get on the accelerated path. She could be a doctor, if she wants. And with her sweet temperament, she’d be the best doctor ever. Even I might not mind checkups so much if my doctors treated me the way Gracelyn treats people.

  Mara cuts into my thoughts, talking low into my ear as she takes my blood pressure. “Listen, they're going to lead you into another room and give you a pill. Do not swallow the pill.”

  “Why not?” I demand.

  I’m not sure what I’m being so petulant. I just want to understand one thing about this day, and stop this feeling of being swept away in a current I’m not strong enough to fight against.

  Mara ignores me, calmly turning to the monitor again. “I need you to calm down. Your numbers are through the roof.” Then she pulls the Velcro apart and removes the band.

  Calm? My heart pounds like it wants to break free of my chest, my breaths are shallow and stiff, and my stomach flips like I’m falling. Any chance of calm got left behind in my bedroom around the time I woke up this morning.

  “Tell me why first!”

  She looks me over, her expression tense and restrained, and sighs. “It is very similar to the one you took at your departure party last night.” She cleans a spot on my forearm with a wet cotton ball. “Now. Really. Calm down.”

  Wait, this pill would kill me? I try to take a breath. But my mind is still wild with questions.

  “What do they need all this for?” I ask.

  “They’re looking for patterns among people who… well, don’t depart when they’re scheduled to.”

  “Are there a lot of us?”

  “A lot? No. But more than anyone feels comfortable with.”

  She studies the monitor, and starts typing.

  “You asked me whether I wanted to live or not.”

  She glances to me. “Yes.”

  “Some people don’t want to? Live?”

  She pulls away from the keyboard and looks at me thoughtfully, studying my face before replying. “No. A lot of them, actually. And it’s their right to choose that.”

  A right to choose? We don’t choose anything for ourselves in the Directorate. The Directorate’s algorithms already know what’s best for us.

  “But…” Why would anyone want to die? My mind floods with all the things I haven’t gotten to do yet, all the things I was so angry I wouldn’t live to reach – being selected for a profession, graduating into a career, seeing Gracelyn get married. Maybe apply for children someday. There is so much to do still. How can anyone turn down the chance for more?

  “Most of them are much older than you. They have been conditioned for this. And it scares them, this idea that there’s something else out there.”

  “Is there? Something else?” I hadn’t thought about it yet, but if Mara’s getting me out of here, where am I going? The question quivers through me.

  “That is something we don’t have time for. I’ll have to leave that to Kinlee,” she replies.

  “Kinlee? Who’s – ”

  Steps tap their way towards to us from down the hall, and Mara cuts me off. “Not now.”

  The door bursts open and I flinch in surprise. Mara picks up the tablet as if marking down something important.

  A colossal figure enters – a heavily-muscled, very tall man with a shaved head. It’s a wonder his shoulders don’t burst through his uniform.

  “Ready?” he asks Mara.

  “Wrapping up,” she says, making a few final marks on the tablet.

  The man turns to me and hands me a teeny plastic baggy. Inside of it is a little white pill.

  Mara glances to me. “That,” she speaks in a detached, businesslike tone, “is the pill we discussed.”

  She steps away from the monitor and folds her arms.

  “Right,” I say. “I remember.”

  I stare down at it. I want to throw it across the room, shove my way past this giant of a man and run away. But it’s like Mara said, I’d never even make it to the door. So for now, I take a deep breath and clench the little bag tight to keep my fingers from trembling. I have no choice but to trust her.

  He turns to me with a startling grin that bares his teeth. “Follow me.”

  Then he heads down the hallway, leav
ing me to rush after him. Before I go, I turn back to Mara one last time, and she gives me a nod.

  Chapter Ten

  Evie

  I hurry after this hulking soldier, our shadows scurrying around us with the dangling bald light bulbs. He is so large he almost knocks them with his head.

  The hall is long, and my heart thuds rapidly, but finally we reach the end and turn, winding down a final stretch with metal walls and no doors until the very end.

  Where the door’s knob should be, there’s only a large, dingy keypad – a lock. The really old kind. Are they trying to keep people out? Or in?

  He pushes in a code with his thick finger, and the door clicks free. My fists clench.

  It's thicker than any door I've ever seen – even my hulking escort has to strain to pull it open. When he’s done, he turns to me with that misfit grin.

  “You still got that pill?”

  I loosen my fist and hold it out in my palm.

  He nods. “Go ahead and take it.”

  I glance to the little white pill and hesitate, remembering Mara’s warning. I wish to live, I wish to live.

  But he presses, “Go on now.”

  He stands there, his hands on his hips, grinning. And watching.

  Dread twists through me. Mara didn’t warn me he would be watching to make sure I took it. And something tells me that even if he’s smiling now, that maybe he won’t stay so grinny for long if I don’t do what he says.

  I don’t know what else to do, so I fumble at the little baggy and take out the pill. I place it on my tongue, trap it against the top of my mouth and take an exaggerated swallow. Then I tuck the pill under my tongue and wait.

  “Good girl.” He smiles. Cringe. “Now come have a seat in here. We’re going to get this settled up, and then you’ll be good to go. But it might take some time, and it’s been a big day for you. So while you wait, try to rest, if you can.”

  I’ll be good to go? My heart leaps and I almost think that all this anxiety was for nothing, that this was all stupid, and Mara and Tad are just a couple of conspiracy theory crazies.

  Until I go into the room.

  It is dark and enclosed and entirely metal, coated in clusters of black that can only be ash. Large vents line the sides. As the door shuts, the giant-man takes all the light with him, leaving me in darkness. The door locks shut.

  Sit? Rest? Not a chance.

  I spit the pill out right onto the floor. Then I wipe the residue off my tongue the best I can with my arm. Ugh.

  Now what?

  I hardly have time to think the question before the floor starts to clink and sputter, and hot blinding flames burst from between the large metal tiles. It’s a crem vault.

  Beads of sweat form on my forehead, and I grasp for anger to save me from my panic again – this is how they correct the mistake that was me waking up this morning? Everyone else gets a peaceful departure in their sleep, and I get to burn alive?

  As I stare at the flames, more burst up in the cracks between the large metal tiles behind me. The smoke is growing so thick it catches in my throat. Maybe I won’t burn to death, maybe I’ll asphyxiate first. In fact, that might be better. Maybe I should breathe nice and deep and make sure I go unconscious before the flames close in around me. Maybe I was better off taking the pill after all.

  As I try to talk myself into stepping towards the smoke and taking it in, a tinny rattling sound interrupts me. I whip towards it in time to see one of the metal tiles of the floor pop up and shove to the side.

  A wild head of wavy dark hair pops up from the floor, a wall of flames between us.

  “Hey,” a girl’s voice calls out.

  There’s no time to question. “Help!”

  “That’s the whole idea,” she says. “Come on.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Evie

  “You coming or not? It's hot in here.”

  The girl calls out over the hiss of the fire, a silhouette through the smoke.

  I want to run to her, but a wall of flame separates us, bursting in a line through the floor's splits. I tell my body go, but I seem to be bolted to the spot.

  “The flames,” I start.

  “Just do it,” the girl says. “I got you.”

  Easy for her to say, she's not the one who has to leap over them. Fear chokes down my throat and tangles in my lungs. But I'm either burning to death trying, or I'm burning to death standing here like an idiot.

  I press my hands against the skirt of my disheveled dress and launch myself forward. I land with a thunk against the metal floor, and am overtaken by a burst of sensation: the hiss of the fire, a sudden pain in my shoulder, a sharp burning smell. Then I’m dragged over the ledge and fall to a second floor below. As I fight a flood of coughing and gagging, the girl pounds at my back.

  “Ow!”

  “It's going to hurt a lot worse if I don't get these flames out,” she says.

  Then, she leans down into the dark of the lower level and drags something large towards the opening in the floor. She turns to me. “Help me lift.”

  “What?” I stare at her blankly, then force myself to get a grip. Now isn’t the time for questions. “Sure.”

  I leap up and skid to her side. Her blue eyes are bright with reflections of the fire and sparks around us, and she’s grinning ear to ear.

  “Grab a leg and pull it up,” she says, nodding down to the thing in front of her. I look down and find a deer’s furry leg and hoof.

  “Shit!” I jump back. “Is that thing real?”

  I’ve only ever seen them in children’s books, where they’re cute little characters which befriend squirrels or go on adventures with rabbits. This is not like that.

  “Yeah,” she says. “But it’s dead. Grab a leg, we don’t have time.”

  She’s right. The flames are getting larger, and even from down here the heat is so intense that my skin feels like it could melt. I bend over and wrap my hands around a thin foreleg. The fur is rough and wiry – not at all like I expect.

  “Lift,” she says. Her voice strains as she follows her own command. I obey, tugging as hard as I can. We shove the deer up and into the flames above, where it catches fire.

  The girl sighs, and ducks back under the floor. I fall beside her. A dull thudding fills my head, and I can’t tell if I am elated, or exhausted, or just so damn relieved not to be dead. I want to scream, and cry, and laugh hysterically.

  Adrenaline. The Directorate talks about it like it’s bad, and is always working to avoid triggering it, but it’s got me lightheaded and pumped with giddiness. I feel good. No, I feel great. Fantastic, considering all that’s happened to me today.

  I try to focus. “What now?”

  The girl pulls a thin metal screwdriver from her back pocket. “Now we gotta get this thing.” She stabs the tool into my digipad where the fine lines of the plastic covering comes together and twists it apart.

  “What are you – Hey! Stop!” I squeal. “You're going to set it off.”

  It's only then that I realize: the other girl doesn't have a digipad. In fact both of her wrists are completely bare – no departure number, either.

  Sure enough, the digipad begins to warn us. “Caution,” the cool voice states. “Stop immediately. Caution.”

  But the girl keeps wrestling with it.

  “They expect it to go off in the fire,” she says.

  It loosens and cracks apart under the pressure, and the girl pulls it off my arm. The hot air wraps around my newly-bare skin, freed for the first time in as far back as I can remember. It feels sensitive and vulnerable.

  “Hey!” Before I can process what's happening, she has thrown my digipad back into the burning room. I reach after it, but I’m too slow.

  “Are you kidding?” she says. “They can find you anywhere with that thing. Soon as they notice it's missing from up there, they'd activate it again and come for you. And the rest of us.”

  I freeze, processing her words. I know what she's sayi
ng makes sense. But how can I function without my digipad? My entire life is in there. My schedule, my health tracking, my meals. It catches fire amidst the flames, and as I watch it burn, a pang of homesickness seizes my stomach.

  The girl pokes her head up, lifting the floor tile again.

  “Last thing. We have to make sure it all burns up,” she says. “They’ll think it’s pretty odd if your body leaves a hoof behind.”

  She grins at me, eyes wide. How can she joke right now?

  She peeks out from under the floorboard for several more minutes, sweat dripping down her flushed cheeks.

  I lean against the wall. Despite the adrenaline pulsing through me, no matter how great I feel, I also feel wildly out of control.

  In, two, three, four, five. Out, two, three, four, five…

  It helps. A little.

  I look around. We’re in some kind of tunnel. Wires line the walls in bundles, with stains of rust behind them. The floor is spotted with puddles, and the air smells dank with mold.

  Smoke creeps through the opening and clogs up the air. The heat builds until my cheeks burn and I have to step farther from the vent. Still the girl hovers at the crack, peeking out.

  Finally the fire dies down, and the girl leans forward, squinting out at the remains. Then she pops down and arranges the tile back into place. With it, all the light sucks out.

  “Hold on,” she says.

  I try to, holding my breath against the terror building in me in the dark, and focusing on the shuffling of fabric coming from her direction. There’s a click, and light bursts from a flashlight in her hands.

  “Okay.” She hatches a bolt lock over the tile, then pushes hair away from her face with a sigh. The sweat and ash from her forehead make it stick up in the front. “Follow me, and don’t make any noise.”

  Then she turns and heads down the tunnel.

  Chapter Twelve

  Evie

  I follow the strange girl down the tunnel as quietly as I can, as the wheels of the pallet she’d used to drag the deer over squeak softly behind us. As we round a corner, the door to the crem vault above us opens, and footsteps enter. Muffled voices follow. I hope that deer burned all the way… But then, whoever these people are, this doesn’t seem like the first time they’ve pulled this off. We don’t hang around to find out, and I am happy to put distance between me and this second near-death experience of the day.