by Amanda Thome
My boots seal out the water as I walk through the stream toward the hill. My stomach knots in hunger but I keep climbing toward the peak. The hill’s somewhat steep, barren the first half before it becomes closed off by towering trees. I make my way around the hill, finally finding what I was looking for: saplings bordered by strong trees to support a shelter.
I rest my hand on one of the giant oaks; I can’t believe this will be home. It’s not right. My home was supposed to be with Garrett, supposed to be with family and friends. Home is a place where food is served in a pavilion, where there’s a live oak tree by the water and Garrett waiting for me. I have to move forward, I have to survive here until I get revenge.
I stalk out the closest animal trails, fastening snares like the one I’d shown Emma just last week. I’ll have to come back tonight to check them. I make my way back to the river, praying they’ll work. Along the way, my eyes dart wildly searching for rocks I can use to clear my hilltop. I collect a handful of them and spend my afternoon sharpening the stones to hardened blades.
I start cutting down the smaller saplings nestled among the towering trees. I work from sunrise to sunset, cutting through the brown bark of the small trees littering the landscape. Cutting, clearing, and re-sharpening my stones, over and over I repeat the process.
I dedicate my first week to clearing my space. By the time it’s freed of tangling brush my hands are raw and my skin’s taken clear off. The first days are unbearably exhausting. I hardly remember to eat and what I do is barely enough to keep me alive. The occasional rabbit or squirrel my snare catches is hardly the diet I’m accustomed to.
I wonder what Papa and Emma are doing back home. With each sunset I’m relieved knowing they are home in time for curfew. It’s the only time of day that I’m certain where they are. Each night as the sun slopes down I picture them in our house and I pretend I’m there with them too. The nights stretch for an eternity. I lay on my back looking into the darkened skies. I see past the blackness to the stars and a part of me relaxes. It’s familiar; I know the stars and what they mean. Education taught me about the stars, moon cycles, and farming. I hate Central but I do appreciate what they taught me. Without them I’d be dead. I wouldn’t have the shelter I’ve made, the food I’ve caught, or the fire to cook it in.
Every night I let myself be thankful that Emma and Papa are safe. I carry them inside my mind, in bins made for happy and protected thoughts. I focus on the good and pure always before I pull open the ugly box of hate. I open my mouth and say the only words that bring me comfort, “Natalie, Tyler, and Central, I will get my revenge.” It’s my nightly promise I make, the one thing that keeps my body warm in the cold.
Chapter 24
I got her name at the banquet. I was crawling in my skin, I couldn’t wait to say it out loud. It was obvious she was with Garrett but what did that matter? I knew I was meant for her. That didn’t make it any easier watching her crumble to the floor and reach for him. I was jealous and embarrassed, she loved him not me. I should have expected it, it’s not like she knew what I’d given up to be with her.
Turns out she’s more than a little complicated, she’s downright impossible. On the hover over here I wanted to make her understand why, but I couldn’t find my tongue. How would I even explain myself? What would I say, “Hey Vanessa, sorry to ruin your life but I saw the future and I know we love each other?” Ridiculous to even think about it, so I let her keep on hating me.
Luckily the two years I’d spent looking for her prepped me for sleep deprivation. Since Central exiled us to the wilds I’ve spent almost every hour fishing or trapping for myself and searching for a way out.
I saw her on fire and if I’m gonna save her she’ll need a healer. Every morning after I eat I head toward the wall, looking for an exit. It took a week to find the closest border of the massive concrete wall. Now that I’ve found it I run the length looking for a fracture in the enormous structure. I finally accept that I’m gonna have to dig my way to the other side. I scout the concrete until I find ground easy enough to break. I wonder if anyone from the Inner has ever made it to this wall. Probably not, it’s too far from civilization.
I lift my head, glancing up the wall that boarders the lands between my two homes. It cuts a divide between the Inner where I’m standing and the Outer, the sector I was born in. I collect my rocks for digging and start the process of tunneling to the Outer.
Hour after hour I dig like a dog, dirt flying to the sides. I’d learned how to make strong tunnels in the Outer. It was a skill we needed as miners. The brown dirt mounds at my sides and by the end of the fourth day I’m waist deep. The wall keeps plunging into the ground, with each inch I think I must almost be there.
My body aches and my hands are raw from digging. It’s the end of my seventh day and my body’s slowing down. My hands hardly move but I’ve got to keep going. Somewhere dozens of miles away Nessa’s by her river, she’s a day closer to dying. I drive my rock into the hard ground, finally meeting the end, I found bottom. With renewed energy I pull inch after inch of rock and dirt from the concrete barrier.
Night falls and I’ve dug a full three inches closer to the Outer. I fall asleep inside my hollowed hole, too whipped to find cover. I wake-up aching and dazed before I’m able to focus. The sun’s just rising as I make my way to the watering hole I found. Unfastening my pants I lower into the cool pool waiting for breakfast. The fish scatter as soon as I sink in but I hold still, my man-made spear in hand. Eventually forgetting the danger, the fish return. They swim past me wildly. I pick my target and release, spearing the fish right through the gut. I devour my breakfast and am back to work, making my way to the wall again.
I count my days in inches exposed, not hours. After three weeks I’m through the wall. I lay on my belly and pull my way along my tunnel. For a blink I get hung up. My uniform snags on one of the jagged pieces I left hanging down. I roll and kick, I’m afraid I’ll be stuck for good. At last the fabric rips and I pull myself into the Outer sector. Seventeen inches of wall and twenty-one days of work separate Vanessa and me now. I’m back in the sector I was born in. The same sector my family is in now. I never thought I’d be this close to them again. Part of me wants to go to them and stay but I can’t. I have to move forward towards saving Vanessa.
I push toward the next border, staying undercover and using the stars to navigate. My body’s weak but I keep moving. The rains are steady and my uniform’s soaked day in and out. I forgot how tall the mountains were here in the Outer. It only took two years for my memories to fade. They look even bigger now. They’re intimidating as I scale their rocky ledges. I push up and down the mountain range heading toward the final wall. The one that separates the Outer from the foreigners. I press on through the woods and rocky cliffs until at last I see the wall. It pushes into the sky, cutting across the trees between us.
I trudge through thick mud towards the wall that stands in the distance. I can hear a raging river moving through the woods even before I see its rapids breaking the rocks. I pass up and down the river, hoping for a safe route that isn’t there. White peaks beat the rocks as the water swells and thrashes. I don’t have a choice, I’ve got to cross now or risk losing Vanessa.
I sway on the shoreline trying to build my courage before I make my first move. I can’t tell if my heads buzzing or if it’s the noise of breaking water that fills my ears. I take a breath before leaping onto the first glassy rock. Time slows as I take-in my surroundings. I see my feet stretching out as white peaks of water dance at my toes. I pull my leg around aiming for the glassy rock. My knees rebound as I land, teetering I try catching my balance.
My foot slips and drops into the raging waters. I lean to my side trying to pry it free. It lifts and I center myself on the boulder, preparing for my next leap. I crouch and launch to my next rock. My toes graze the backside before I slip landing on my stomach. The wind’s knocked right outta me. The water pulls at me like it’s a dark pit with a thousand ma
uling hands reaching out for me. Hands that grab and tug and twist as they try drawing me under. My arms tremble as the fibers tear; I fight, pulling myself onto the brown rock. Finally I lift myself into a crouched position as I pick my last target, one more leap and I’ll be across.
Without thinking my knees bend and I leap forward. On this jump there’s no slowing of time, no processing or adjusting, it’s all too fast. Water drives into the back of my throat and I’m gasping for air before I realize my foot missed its mark. I bob up and down like a broken branch barreling downstream. The rapids pull me under and I snap and crack like a branch would as I’m tossed into hardened rocks. Again and again I crack and with each hit water tries to fill my throat. It’s a watery fist that slams straight down to the pit of my gut, it tries filling me, sinking me if it can. I choke and gasp and even try screaming but the watery fist drives harder.
Again I bob as water surrounds me, it pulls and lifts me then pulls me under again. It’s too fast to process plus the waters too murky to see through. I used to be such a strong swimmer, how’d I get into this mess? I cut my arms through the water, I’ve gotta get to the top. Another rock slams against me and for a second I forget where I am. More water drives into my mouth reminding me to keep trying. I wrench myself to the surface as the sun blinds me, then I’m taken back under. I’m running out of breath. With each slam I’m losing a little more.
I resurface again gasping for air as the current pulls me farther down river. I turn just in time to see a fallen tree spread across the river. I’m barreling towards it, rebounding from rock to rock. It’s my last shot at survival.
I’m pulled under again, the fallen tree is just above me. I shoot my arm through the top as a branch hits my hand. I close my grasp but I’m too late. I bob one last time. There’s just one more branch I might be able to reach. Thrusting my arm into the air I feel the slick bark. I close my grip, grasping to the last branch hanging from the tree.
Fighting against the rapids I pull myself onto the rotting tree. I lie across it, spitting up water. After an hour I make my way back upstream across from where I’d started. I move forward, making my way to the final wall.
Chapter 25
Two moon cycles have passed, it’s mid-March now. My green bodysuit hangs off my bony body like a snake shedding its skin. I’ve lost so much weight. I can’t imagine I’ll be able to survive another month at this rate.
If this is going to be my home then I need to forage, need to plant, and I need a plan. My first month I was so consumed with making my shelter, collecting water, and scouting animal paths that I completely neglected the fact that my life was unsustainable. It wasn’t until the end of the first moon cycle that I felt secure enough to slow down. Once I did, it became obvious that I might never get up again.
Every day between the first and second cycle was filled with absolute darkness and feelings of complete loss. I spent my days hugging my knees to my chest watching sheet after sheet of pounding rain beat relentlessly against the ground.
For hours I’d vacantly stare at one puddle watching the dropping moisture rebounding as it’d break the surface. My uniform was soaked twenty-four hours a day. The fabric shot straight into my bones. The arctic wet would’ve sent me into shock only months ago. Instead I laid in it, numbed to it. Numb to the world around me. It wasn’t long ago that I’d hoped for that numbness, hoped for anything that would replace the longing pains that stabbed my heart. I remember laying there numb and wishing I’d feel anything else. I had to move and live, I just needed to figure out how again.
A full two weeks passed with a relentless barrage of rain. In my head I thought Central had orchestrated the whole thing, thought I’d never see the sun again. Then one day it stopped, like someone had left a faucet running and suddenly realized it. There were no more drops assaulting puddles and no excuses to be depressed. Once the sun broke free from the wall of clouds I made a conscious effort to live. I’d had my time to be sad, my time to starve, lay, cry, and be weak. That time was over. I’m Vanessa Hollins, I tested highest in my year. I’m smart and strong and I can prevail. I’ve done it before, after Mama died. I can do it again. It’s the only thing I can do, I must live and grow and move forward. Move towards revenge and a life after revenge.
So here I am in mid-March, peeling the sagging uniform off my hollow frame. I drape it across one of the giant boulders along the stream. My naked body hums as the sunlight touches my white skin. My mind wanders as my uniform dries.
My stomach churns in hunger as I dress and walk to my snares. The first one comes up empty. Crashing through the trails I come to the remains of my second snare, it’s been destroyed. It isn’t the first time this has happened; probably a deer or a bear stumbled across it. I almost don’t want to check my final snare; I’m scared I’ll fall back into depression if I come up empty.
My stomach growls but I push forward. A pit of emptiness hits my gut three hundred feet from my snare. Once I cross these next bushes I’ll see if I’ve had any luck. My stomach twists in fearful anticipation. I break through the tall green shrubs. I stop in my tracks, my stomach unknots. The white rabbit dangles with its head twisted.
I reset my snare and walk back to the hill starving. I separate the skin from the rabbit. Cooking the meat I spin it just above the flames. The tough flesh is exactly what I need. I eat like a savage, tearing the meat from the tiny bones as I pick it clean. It’s time to start foraging.
I pass all my snares and continue walking; I’m about an hour out when I find myself in a sort of clearing. The sunlight passes through the trees. It casts shadowing pillars onto the field reminding me of the pillars separating the lines at the pavilion. A longing pain stabs deep in my stomach, extending into my soul. I force myself to look at the shadows, seeing them for what they are, not what they remind me of.
I control the pain and move further into the field. I walk directly over shoots of wild carrots, they sprout through the soil. I drop to my knees, letting them sink into the soft and soaking ground. My fingers greedily dig into the mud. If I’m careful I can ration the field until July.
I’m satisfied with my first day’s forage. After mentally congratulating myself for getting out of the shelter I decide I’ve earned an early retirement. It’d be somewhat wasted to take the exact route back, I know what I’ll see…an endless expanse of trees, their canopies of branches stretching towards the sun as if greeting a friend for the first time in years. And of course there was the mud and snags of thorns I’d have to beat through too. Another route is in order. I circumvent my initial path approaching my shelter from the north.
My heart beats steadily as I pound my way through the thick forest. I hadn’t imagined terrain much thicker than the trail I thrashed to get to the wild carrots but I was wrong. I progress at a crawl. I catch my breath, stopping to look side to side as the heavy foliage overtakes me. I can hardly see where I came from let alone where I’m going. I let myself recover five minutes before pushing forward. I know I’m a short distance from my shelter, I can hear the water rounding the bend leading to the base of my camp.
I break through a tangle of thorns and right in front of me are berry bushes, red and edible. I’ve been here for months and somehow I’m just finding these divine saviors. I pick-up my legs and barrel full force through the thicket, stumbling and recovering once before I’m on them.
They’re not quite ripe but that doesn’t matter, the thought of berries and carrots sends me into a sort of jig, similar to Emma’s when she discovered her snare worked that day in the woods a lifetime ago.
I pack myself full of berries, stopping once I feel like I’m about to pop. I’ve found another project, another preoccupation to keep my mind from slipping into the depths of depression. I walk to the shelter, passing out across my makeshift cot.
I wake-up with the sun breaking the horizon, my stomach’s still full from yesterday’s gorge. I stand up stretching side to side before I make my way to the berries to start the tedio
us process of transplanting them. I want fields of them so I don’t have to fight through thick and thorny masses to get to them.
Chapter 26
It’s nuts that two months have gone by. It all feels like a blink ago. I keep trying to push my near drowning out of my head but somehow it stays there. I try putting my attention on Vanessa instead.
In my sight I’d seen a field of raspberries and I know she’ll be planting em right about now. There’s still time to get supplies but I need to hurry. I trudge toward the final wall. It climbs straight into the sky, throwing its threatening shadow over me as I dig. My healing blisters re-open but I keep working.
It blows my mind that I’ve come so far and I’m just about there. This is the last wall I have to cross. I dig inch by inch, deeper and deeper until at last the hard packed clay gives way to the other side. Two weeks closer to Vanessa’s death but I’m finally free. I belly crawl through my passage. I break ground into the foreigner’s territory. Shit, of course there’s an open field I’ve gotta cross. I tear from the wall as fast as I can. No time for thinking, I just act. I crash through the field. Man I hope there aren’t any regulators patrolling. I sweat like mad but I’m halfway there. I’m closing in and about dying wondering what they’ll do if they catch me. Who am I kidding? They’ll kill me for sure. At last I make it to the woods.
I never thought I’d be this happy to see trees. I move south through the brush. Hours pass before I hit a road. It’s in the middle of no-where, no hovers or homes, just me and a shoddy road. I turn left and pick my way along its cracked and buckling shoulder. The sun starts setting just as I crest a hill. Right at the peak I see the tops of massive buildings, tall enough to practically touch the sky. I’ve never seen buildings like this. We were told the foreigners lived in sheds in the wild. No water, heat, or order. Just chaos. Clearly a lie.
