Naomi Grim: The Final Breath Chronicles Book One

by V. B. Marlowe

  I rose and peeked out of the small window of my cell door, my body sore from the hard cot. The guards ran their nightsticks against the bars of the cells.

  I sat on my cot, my stomach growling, wondering what would happen next. All night, I had fallen asleep for a few minutes and then woken up, hoping this was all just a nightmare that would be over when the sun came up. But sunrise came, and I was still locked in a filthy prison cell.

  After a moment, my cell door popped open and a surly-looking guard poked his head in. “Let's go. Hop in line.”

  I followed his instructions. When I exited the cell, a long single-file line of men were headed downstairs. I was last in line. A guard stood directly behind me.

  I wished for shoes as my feet slid across the gritty concrete. The bottoms of my feet were already blackened with dirt, and I wanted to wash them. Feeling filthy, I wondered if I would be able to shower again. By the offensive odors emanating from the men, showering wasn't a daily thing.

  We went down two flights of stairs to get to the cafeteria. There I joined the massive line waiting to be served breakfast. The women prisoners—fewer than ten—already eating at a table on the far side of the cafeteria. I guessed my offense was too great for me to be included with them.

  I stood in line for what seemed like forever, only to receive a bowl filled with gray gruel and a hard piece of bread. I was famished enough to be thankful for even that. By the time I had received my food, most of the tables were full. I squeezed myself on the end of one bench. The men gave me strange looks.

  My eyes stayed on one man in particular who had tattoos all over his face. He caught me looking and nodded at me. I nodded back and then looked away. No one spoke throughout the room; guards stood around tapping nightsticks in their hands.

  I dug in my breakfast. The mush had no flavor whatsoever. It at least filled me, so my belly stopped making noises. I gnawed on the bread, but it was almost impossible to tear. I eventually gave up and left it on my tray. A man with long stringy black hair sitting across from me pointed at the chewed-on bread. I nodded, and he took it from my tray with a grateful look. I wondered when the next meal would come and if the food would be any better.

  A bell rang. It reminded me of the school bells at Kennedy High. At once, everyone stood and took their trays to the large containers that stood against the wall. I grabbed my tray and followed the men from my table. There were separate containers for trays, bowls, cups, and silverware. Under the watchful eyes of several guards, I put my dishes in the proper bins.

  ”Block C, you have dish duty,” a guard announced over the bullhorn. There were a few groans. Guards stood around as the prisoners dispersed into different locations. I stood in their midst, getting pushed and jostled. I had no idea where to go.

  “Naomi, you go back to your cell,” said a voice from behind me.

  I turned to see Ravi, the guard who had escorted me to my cell the night before. “Where's everyone else going?”

  “To do their jobs. But you don't get to do that.”

  Gattica's main purpose was free labor. The prisoners were trained to make almost everything we used in Nowhere—clothing, jewelry, furniture, you name it.

  “I have to just sit in my cell for the rest of the day?”

  Ravi grabbed my shoulder, pushing me along. “That's solitary confinement. You're lucky you got out to eat.”

  Ravi escorted me to my cell, and I stood in the doorway. I would go crazy if I had to spend the day trapped in that room. “Ravi, please. I only have three days to live. Give me a break.”

  He shook his head. “Can't. Orders are orders.”

  “Come on. What's going to happen? It's not like I'm going anywhere.”

  Ravi thought for a moment. “I'll let you in a work room for a half hour, and that's it.”

  At least that was something. “Thanks so much.”

  Ravi took me to a room filled wall to wall with long tables. Men hammered an assortment of metal objects and fit things together. “This is the room where they make automobile parts. Or I could take you where the women are making jewelry.”

  “This is fine,” I said. I figured if I could get any information about the upcoming rebellion, it would be from the men.

  “There's an empty seat over there.” Ravi pointed at a table closest to the east wall.

  I took a seat in the hard, rusted chair.

  A man in a guard's uniform came over. “We're making carburetors today. You want to fit—” The rest of what he said sounded like a foreign language.

  I watched the man sitting next to me. His filthy hands did their job effortlessly. I'd just copy what he was doing.

  “Got it?” the man asked.

  I nodded and dug into the box in the middle of the table for some parts. All around me, men worked like robots focused on their tasks. No one said a word.

  “Pssst,” someone hissed.

  I looked down the table. It took me a moment to place the familiar face.

  “Starkin?” I asked a bit too loudly.

  A guard against the wall looked in my direction and then continued to look straight ahead. Starkin was the boy Bram had fought when we went to Litropolis. He was here because of my brother.

  Starkin leaned over. “What the hell did you do to get put in here?” It was hard to hear him over the hammering and clanking of metal parts.

  “Long story. I told your mom you were here,” I whispered back.

  A flash of sadness crossed his face. “Thanks so much. How'd she take it?”

  “She took it well,” I lied. No point in making him feel bad.

  “Shhhhh,” said the man in front of me. He was an older-looking man with no hair. He didn't look at me. His eyes stayed focused on his task.

  I shut up and fiddled with the parts in front of me. I tried to mimic the men sitting around me, but the parts just wouldn't fit. When my thirty minutes were up, I had accomplished nothing. Ravi came back and took me to my cell.

  I plopped down on my rock-hard cot. “Later on, there's exercise time. You might be able to get out then,” Ravi said.

  “Thanks, Ravi. I appreciate it.”

  I lay on my uncomfortable cot and took a nap. There was nothing else to do but count the cracks in the wall. Having a book to read would have made the situation more bearable.

  I was awakened by a guard shaking me. It wasn't Ravi, but someone else. “It's your block's turn to use the workout room.”

  Groggily, I pulled myself up from the cot and followed the guard. He led me to a large room with gray cement walls filled with men lifting weights and using all sorts of exercise equipment. The room smelled awful, like perspiration mixed with something else I’d never smelled before. Several guards were planted around the room.

  I searched the room for a treadmill or something easy. In one corner Starkin lifted weights with DeCarlo spotting him. I weaved my way through the crowd of grunting, sweaty men.

  When I approached, DeCarlo took the weights from Starkin and rested them on the bar. “All right. My turn.”

  The boys switched places. Starkin raised his eyebrows at me. “You better get busy. They like to keep us strong for manual labor.”

  I thought the workout room was either a really good or a really stupid idea. On one hand, they were strengthening the prisoners so they'd be better workers; on the other hand, they were making the ones who were about to rebel against them stronger.

  “I'm being executed, so it doesn't matter.”

  Both boys stared at me. DeCarlo whistled.

  Starkin looked around and edged closer to me. “Don't worry, there's a rebellion being planned. We're all getting out of here soon.”

  I scanned the room. Just about everyone in Gattica was either a Forager or a Litropolite. “But I'm being executed in less than three days.”

  Starkin's eyes widened. “Oh. What did you do?”

  “I interfered with death,” I answered simply. No need for details.

  DeCarlo shook his head. “Th
at was stupid. There's those of us who actually want to be sent on assignments and then you actually get them and mess it up.”

  “Shut up, man,” Starkin said to his friend, but DeCarlo had a point. “I'm sorry.”

  I appreciated his sympathy. “I made my bed so I have to lie in it. I feel sorrier for my family than I do for myself.”

  Starkin lifted the weight off the bar so DeCarlo could take it. “Don't give up yet,” Starkin said, winking. “Trust me, anything can happen.”

  Chapter 35

  That night proved to be another restless one. The reason I was in Gattica to begin with was Humans. Did Roxy and Hunter appreciate what I had done for them? Of course they didn't. They didn't even know. I had given up my life so they could have theirs, and they didn't even know it. I wondered how Hunter felt about the fact that I had just disappeared into thin air. I wondered if he thought of me at all.

  I had two days left to live. I was informed that morning that my family would be visiting that day. I had no idea how I looked. There were no mirrors, but I figured I looked terrible. I didn't want the last time my parents saw me to be like this.

  After eating another tasteless breakfast, I was led by Ravi to a small room. The room contained nothing but a steel table and a chair with a torn cushion. Ravi gave me no directions other than to sit and be quiet.

  I had waited for almost thirty minutes, resting my head on the cold table when I heard Kora's voice. “You'll have half an hour. I'll be back then.”

  The door opened, and the people I loved the most in the world entered, looking pale and graver than usual.

  I ran straight to my father's arms. He squeezed me so tight it hurt.

  I held onto him for a long time. “I'm so sorry. When I did it, it felt right. I wasn't thinking about what would happen afterward.”

  Father stroked my hair. “It's okay, Darkness. It's not your fault.”

  Finally, I let him go and looked into my mother's eyes, which were red and swollen from crying. “Mother, I'm sorry for the things I said to you.” There was no point in holding on to that anger any longer. This would be our last time together. My mother had made a terrible mistake, but she had done everything she could to make it right afterward.

  She placed her hands gently on my cheeks. “I'm the one who's sorry. I'm sorry that you have to pay for my sins.” Mother looked into my eyes for a long time before turning away as if she couldn't look at me any longer.

  I hugged Dorian next. He seemed to be even taller than before. I wondered if he would end up being as tall as Bram. A tear rolled down my cheek because I wouldn't be around to see him grow up. His body shook as I hugged him. I hated to see him cry.

  I looked him in the eyes. “Dorian, you're the best little brother ever. I love you.” Then I hugged him again.

  Bram leaned against the wall, with his hands jammed in his pockets, studying the ground. I wasn't sure how to handle him.

  “Bram?” Father prompted.

  Bram didn't look up. “What?”

  “Don’t you have something to say to your sister?”

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  Father sighed. “Bram—”

  “It's okay,” I said. Bram had his reasons to be angry, and I didn't want our last time together to be a fight.

  “Are you scared?” Dorian asked.

  I wasn't sure how I felt. I kept saying I was going to be executed, but I didn't think the reality of it had hit me yet. In a few days, I would cease to exist. “No,” I said, more for my family's benefit.

  Father smiled sadly. “That's it. Don't cry. Don't show them your fear. Just take whatever they're going to give you with bravery.”

  “You too,” I muttered. Every Grim was required to attend every execution. My family would have to be there front and center to watch.

  Mother said she wished she could take my place since this was all her fault. Father told her to stop dwelling in the past. I asked Dorian about his latest experiment just to change the subject.

  “I'm trying really hard to acquire a couple of rats. I have something I want to try out.”

  I had no idea what he wanted to do with rats, but he would have to go to Litropolis for those. We didn't have rats in Farrington, or at least I'd never seen any.

  After what seemed like only five minutes, Kora came to the door to tell us our half hour was over. I couldn't process the fact that this was the last time I would be able to touch and speak to my family.

  “Darkness,” Father said. “I pulled some strings with Dunningham. Keira and Chase will be able to visit you tomorrow.”

  Finally something to smile about. “Thank you so much, Father.” I had thought that I'd already seen my best friends for the last time. I hugged my parents and little brother one last time before they walked out the door.

  Bram lagged behind. I wished he would say something to me, even if it were just an insult. I needed to know where we stood.

  As if reading my mind, he paused in the doorway. “Bye, Nay,” he said softly. Then he left.

  I spent the rest of that day in my cell, attempting to sleep off my depression.

  * * *

  “So you had visitors,” a man commented at breakfast the following morning.

  “Yeah.”

  “That must be nice. No one else here is allowed to have visitors. I would kill to see my family again.” The man shoved a spoonful of mush into his mouth and continued to talk. I had to look away.

  “Shut up, Jack,” said another man. “You know how it goes. Even in prison. That's just the way it is.”

  Jack laughed to himself. “Yeah, for now.” Then he laughed, shooting mush across the table.

  * * *

  I waited in the small room again, this time for Keira and Chase. As soon as the door opened and they stepped into the room, I wrapped my arms around them both. The three of us stood for a moment, just holding each other.

  Chase pulled away first. “I can't believe this is happening,” he said, pacing the room.

  Keira shook her head. “This is the part I hate about being a Grim. No one's allowed to make a mistake.”

  I waited for the rest. I waited for her to tell me how I'd been warned and now I was going to pay the ultimate price. It didn’t come.

  “I'm just grateful they're sparing my family,” I finally said.

  Chase sat on the table. “I wonder how they'll do it.”

  Keira punched him in the arm. “Chase!”

  It was a good question. I actually had been wondering the same thing the night before. I'd seen a variety of executions. Grims had been shot, beheaded, or hung. I figured being beheaded would be the quickest, least painful way to go.

  “Sorry,” Chase muttered. “Naomi, I wish there was something I could do. If there was anything, I would do it without a thought.”

  I believed him. “I know.”

  “Is there anything you'd like us to do?” Keira asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know, last wishes.”

  I thought for a moment. “Tell Bram I'm really, really sorry. Oh, and say good-bye to Sullivan for me. Tell your parents I'm sorry I screwed this up for them.”

  “Nobody cares about that anymore. Everyone's worried about you,” Keira said. “Especially Bram. He came over last night and cried for about an hour.”

  “He did?” That was a huge difference from the reaction he'd given me yesterday.

  “Of course,” Keira answered. “You're his sister. You think he wants you to die?”

  “No. I just never imagined he'd cry.” I looked at my friends. “The last thing I ask is for you guys to get married.” I wasn't sure where that had come from.

  Keira and Chase made eye contact and looked away. “What?”

  “Yeah. I think you two would be perfect for each other. You're already friends. That way I'll know that you're both with someone worthy.”

  They looked at the floor and said nothing. Chase was probably thinking that Keira really wanted to
be with Bram, and Keira was probably thinking that Chase wanted to be with me.

  Again, the half hour was up way too soon. Kora came, and my friends had to leave. I would have given anything to trade places with them. They were going home to their families, comfortable homes, and refrigerators full of food.

  Most of all, when the next evening came and went, they would still be alive.

  Chapter 36

  The morning of my execution, I was allowed to shower. The shower was cold and timed for only five minutes, but it was a shower. The kitchen served me a breakfast of oatmeal and fruit in my cell—a luxurious meal, by Gattica's standards.

  After I finished my breakfast, I left my empty bowl and tray on my bed. My cloak and scythe had been delivered to the prison. As a Grim, I would be executed in the cloak and buried with my scythe. Before all that, I would have to be strapped to the year-subtraction chair so I would become mortal.

  I sat twiddling my thumbs. I had no idea what a person in my position should have been thinking at the moment, but I thought of my father—my real father. He was dead and buried, and I would never get to meet him. I wondered what he had looked like. He had to be something if Mother had risked her life to be with him.

  Dunningham hadn't allowed my parents to give me a suitable Grim name. I couldn't believe he had known about me all along. It was impossible for me to fathom that my mother would let that vile creature touch her, but it was a testament to how much she loved me.

  Around noon, Ravi came for me. I noticed a sadness in his eyes. He took me to the bottom floor of the prison, where Dunningham and Doyle waited. Neither of them seemed to be able to make eye contact with me. Maybe the thought of killing a sixteen-year-old girl was actually weighing on their consciences.

  For the first time, I was placed in handcuffs. I shuddered as the cold metal slid around my wrists.

  A guard carrying my cloak and scythe followed Doyle and Dunningham as we made our way to the carriage. We climbed inside, me again stuck in the middle. We would be going to the Mill for the chair.

  Dunningham looked over at Doyle. “Have Reynold make the announcement that all Grims are to report to the square in an hour.”