by David Estes
“I pulled him off of her with two hands, threw him against the wall. He wasn’t prepared for a fight. His hands and voice were pleading, begging for me to let him go. I wonder if I should’ve.”
“No, Cole,” Tawni says. “If you’d let him go he would’ve just made up a story about you attacking him and the end result would’ve been the same.”
Cole hangs his head and bobs it up and down, like he wants to believe her but knows he never will. He says, “I was in a rage, not to be reasoned with—you know my temper. I grabbed him and slung him into the wall headfirst. I spun him around, cradled his head, and wrenched it hard to the side. I didn’t even know how to do it properly, but I guess brute strength was enough. I can still hear the bones in his neck cracking. I know I should be sickened by it, but I’m not; I relish the memory.”
I relish that part of his memory, too. The Enforcer was pure evil, inherently bad for sure. If anyone was deserving of death, it was him. I want Cole to stop his story there, but I know he can’t.
“The other two Enforcers were upstairs when it happened,” he says. “They were looting our few measly possessions of value. My mother’s gold wedding band. My father’s steel-toed boots. Taking our stuff while their buddy took my sister.” Cole’s face remains tearstained, but there are no new flows. His eyes are strong again, flashing anger. I would’ve pitied any Enforcer who walked into the room at that moment.
“I guess they heard the commotion, because they came down quietly, their guns out and ready to shoot. But I wasn’t ready to fight anymore. I was holding Liza, helping her cover herself with a blanket. She was bawling, kissing my face, begging me to take her far away from that place. Our home, the place where we’d had so many happy memories, grown up together, had become dirty to her, a prison of filthy nightmares. She would’ve cast it off forever, Adele.”
I am crying. I don’t know when I started, but once the taps are turned on I can’t seem to stop them. I feel ashamed, like I’ve let my friend down in his moment of need. But he doesn’t seem to notice, like it is simply the natural thing for me to do.
“They pointed their damn guns at us, screamed for us to ‘Stand up! Stand up!’” He wipes his face with his sleeve. “One of them checked the other Enforcer, realized he was dead. They separated us, moved us apart, kept screaming at us. I didn’t understand what was happening until they shot her, my Liza, oh, my poor sweet Liza!” Cole’s head is tucked in his hands, his entire body shaking with sobs. I am bawling. Tawni is crying, too, but more constrained. She moves to Cole’s side and rubs a hand on his back.
I think the story is over, but a few minutes later Cole looks up, dripping tears from his chin. “They waited for my parents to get home. I was in shock, sitting there numbly, waiting to wake up from the horrible nightmare. I almost charged them, daring them to shoot me—preferring if they would—but I didn’t because I knew I had to explain to my parents why their little girl was dead on the floor. They hadn’t even bothered to cover her body with the blanket.”
The only thing I can do for Cole now is to listen. Believe me, I don’t want to, don’t want to know the truth—not anymore. Desperately want to believe the comedic story about him juggling the loaves of bread.
“My parents walked through the door like they always did, holding hands, laughing, as happy as anyone in the Moon Realm ever was in those days. I screamed out, tried to tell them everything in a single breath, but I was denied even that. They shot them before they’d even registered what was happening.” No, no, no, no, no! I can’t take any more of the story. I bury my head in my shoulder, sob uncontrollably, like he is telling me the tale of my own parents’ deaths.
In a strange reversal of roles, he waits patiently for me to get control of my emotions. When I force my head back up, he continues. “I fought like a wild animal, trying to force them to kill me, too. I really thought they would, especially when I started throwing anything I could get my hands on at them. But no. They ran around, dodging the things and laughing, mocking me, enjoying themselves.”
“Cole, I’m…I’m…” I can’t get the right words out—there are no right words.
“I know,” Cole says. “So now maybe you can see why I just can’t trust that Tristan is good, not when he comes from up there.” He motions to the ceiling, like he is pointing to the heavens.
“I thought…I thought you were jealous or something,” I say, right away wishing I hadn’t.
Thankfully, Cole laughs it off. “Jealous? I mean, you’re not a bad-looking girl, Adele, very pretty actually, but I’m not really into…how do I put this delicately…you.”
Now I laugh, too; it sounds hollow and foreign to me, like it is something I haven’t experienced in a long time. “Sorry, I realize it was stupid now,” I say.
He waves me off. “So that’s my story. I’m the murderer in the group, I suppose.” His eyes are steely again, but I can still feel a weakness behind them, a vulnerability. I’ve only just met him, but he already feels like a lifelong friend, like I’ve known him forever. Instinctively, I move over and hug him, squeezing so tightly that if he isn’t as thick as a bear he might pop. It feels so good to be hugged by someone again, even under such awful circumstances. Earlier, I’d gotten a taste of it when Tawni held me close after my fight with the gang leader, and now I am suddenly addicted to human contact. It is like I need it to survive. I don’t want to let go, but after a few seconds I do, not wanting to make things awkward between us, or to give him the wrong impression.
He is smiling. I feel we’ve made a major breakthrough in our relationship, which has seemed somewhat strained at times. Tawni is smiling, too. She already feels like my sister, after all we’ve been through together in such a short time.
My real sister’s face pops into my mind once more. “It’s time to rescue Elsey,” I say.
“Where did you say she is?” Tawni asks.
“She’s in an orphanage not far from here. It’s just across the border into the slums.”
“We should be leaving soon anyway,” she says. “It’s not safe to linger here.”
Before leaving, we make sure that everything is put back to how we found it. We “borrow” a couple of old packs that Tawni says her parents will never miss, and fill them with nonperishable food from the storeroom. Unlike most residents of subchapter 14, Tawni’s family has enough supplies to last them for months, if not years. We only take items that are available in plenty, to ensure no one will notice they are missing. Although we expect to be able to find plenty of water along the way, we fill a couple of jugs from the servants quarters with fresh water from the well before tying our packs shut.
Lastly, Cole and I raid Tawni’s parents’ closets for things to wear. Tawni points out the items that her mom and dad never wear, so they’ll be less likely to realize they are gone. We stuff our gray prisoner uniforms under a mattress in the shed. Tawni grabs a few old tunics from her own closet and we head out the back door.
Daylight is more dangerous for us. We don’t necessarily expect that if someone spots us that they’ll call the hotline and report us to Rivet, but we also can’t count on silence amongst our people—Tawni’s parents proved that.
The one thing we have going for us is that even during the daytime, so little electricity is provided to our subchapter that the overhead lights don’t provide enough light for someone to recognize us unless they are practically right next to us.
Still, we stick to the shadows, pausing to look all around us before moving across open spaces. Block by block we make our way out of Tawni’s neighborhood. When the houses change from solid stone blocks to crumbling bricks, we know we’ve reached the slums. I think we all feel safer now.
The slums are exactly as you’d expect. All the houses, if you can call them that (they are more like tiny sheds), are in major disrepair and in desperate need of some TLC. Kids run barefoot in the street, playing knights and barbarians with rocks and cardboard swords. Dead, staring faces sit at windows, as if waitin
g for someone to come save them. No one is coming. Except us, and we aren’t there to save them.
Unfortunately, the orphanage is in the dead center of the slums. Because there is so much more activity in the slums than in most neighborhoods—none of the people seem to work and none of the kids seem to go to school—we are especially careful. Despite only covering about ten blocks, it takes us nearly two hours to reach the orphanage. I am ready to scream when we finally arrive.
The orphanage is probably the best-maintained structure in the slums, but it still isn’t fit to live in. Certainly not for children. I feel my hands squeeze into fists so tight that my knuckles start to ache. Things were bad for me, but they might be worse for Elsey.
The dilapidated door hangs precariously by a single hinge, unable to fully close. At least half the windows are broken, either by old age or a few well-aimed rocks from the neighborhood monsters. There are holes in the roof and cracks in the steps.
We can’t see any activity through the windows in the front. The orphanage is ringed by a crumbling stone wall, high enough to block our view of the rear yard.
When it appears the coast is clear, we take turns climbing the wall while the others cover us—not with guns but with eyes, ready to whisper a warning if someone is coming. We all make it into the side yard safely. We creep toward the back.
As we approach the corner of the building, we can hear voices. Children laughing, children shouting, nursery rhymes: that sort of thing.
I’m leading and am about to peek around the corner when I feel something whiz past my head. I duck and throw myself flat on the ground, suddenly believing that we’ve been discovered and that someone is shooting at us.
Cole chuckles, somewhat loudly. A cloth ball rolls away from us into the side alley—the cause of the whizzing. Just as I regain my feet, a young girl, no more than seven, rounds the corner, nearly colliding with me. She stops like she hit a wall, and prepares to scream, opening her mouth wide and leaning her head back.
Cole grabs her, covering her mouth with his big hand just in time. Her muffled scream sounds no louder than the distant echolocation squeal made by a hunting bat. She starts kicking, so I run to her and start talking in a low, soothing voice, trying to comfort her.
“It’s okay, little one. We’re not going to hurt you,” I promise her. “We’re just looking for someone—my sister.” She still looks scared, her eyes wide and her breathing strained and ragged through her nose, but she is calmer, no longer struggling so much. “Do you promise not to scream or run away if my friend lets you go?” I ask.
She thinks about it for a minute and then nods slowly. I hope she isn’t lying.
“Let her go, Cole,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow, but complies, releasing the girl and stepping back. She doesn’t run, doesn’t scream, just stands there staring at us. Then she says, “They’re going to wonder where I’ve gone,” she says in a tiny voice, more fit for a butterfly princess than a little girl.
“Okay,” I say. “You can go back. But first, do you know a girl named Elsey?”
The girl’s eyes light up at my sister’s name, and I know we’ve gotten lucky. Not only does this girl know Elsey, but she likes her and will want to help her. It always amazes me how much you can discern from just the look on someone’s face.
“Oh, yes!” she says, twirling her brown curls with one of her fingers. “Elsey and I are the greatest of friends. She’s older than me, but she says I’m old for my age anyways.”
It sounds like something Elsey would say. She’s always liked playing with younger kids, making them feel grown up, special. I used to think she might become a schoolteacher. But that was before my parents were abducted.
“Can you tell her Adele is here to see her?” I say. “And help her find an excuse to come around this corner?”
The girl is even more excited now, flapping her arms as if she is ready to fly off to find my sister. “You’re her sister! You’re her sister!” she exclaims.
“Yes, now please go tell her.”
The girl starts to race off, but then stops, whirling around to retrieve the ball before scampering back behind the orphanage. Smart girl.
We wait against the wall, expecting an Enforcer to appear at any second, having been ratted on by the sweet little clever girl.
Instead, like a mirage, my sister appears, running so fast her legs are a blur, her jet-black hair swishing around behind her. My day is a rollercoaster of emotions. The demon drop of Cole’s story has given way to a higher high, practically bursting through the cavern roof. My heart is literally soaring, rising out of my body and smiling upon me from above.
Elsey slams into me with such force that she nearly topples me over. Although we’ve only been apart for six months, a mere blip in our lives, it feels like we haven’t seen each other in years. She seems to have grown, both physically and in maturity. Only ten, her pale face looks wizened, young but worn.
“Oh Elsey,” I sigh, holding her tight against my chest, her legs wrapped around my hips. She is still a child, above all. Forced to endure far more than a child should have to endure. Far more than anyone should.
I want to hold onto her forever, but time is short.
“Let me have a look at you,” I say, gently lowering her to the stone slab alley. My breath catches as I gaze on her face. She is breathtaking, has always been, with doll-like features that are so perfect they must have been carved by a master sculptor. She’s always been more beautiful than me, but I don’t mind, for she is a pure spirit. I can tell by the way her jaw sticks out now that six months in this place has hardened her, but in her violet eyes I can see the same pure energy she’s always had.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Elsey,” I say, tearing up slightly.
“I’ve missed you so much, Adele,” Elsey says earnestly. “I couldn’t believe it when Ranna said you were here. I ran as fast as I could.” She scrunches up her face, like she is making a wish. “Are you here to get me out?” she says hopefully.
I nod. “Yeah, but we’re not exactly allowed, so we’re going to have to do it sneakily.”
“I knew you would come!” Elsey exclaims. “Big John kept telling me I was crazy, that you were stuck in the Pen forever, but I always said he was wrong, even when he called me names. I was right, wasn’t I?”
“Of course, but there’ll be time to talk about all that later. We’ve got to go.”
“But I’ve got to say bye to Ranna!”
“There’s not time, El, I’m sor—”
I am cut off when Ranna tears around the corner, hissing, “Miss Death is coming!”
Elsey seems to understand the urgency of the situation. With a conviction that has been her trademark for all ten years of her short life, she hugs Ranna, pulling her friend’s head into her heart. “I’ll never forget you, Ranna,” she says. “Our hearts are one.” If you don’t know Elsey you’d think she was crazy. But that is just Elsey. Everything is dramatic, although in this case it is probably warranted.
“I’ll never forget you either,” Ranna parrots, like a miniature version of El.
I grab El’s hand and we run back down the alley. Tawni is already over the wall and Cole is waiting to give Elsey a boost. We follow closely, hearing a cry from behind just as we slip over to the other side. Miss Doom, or Death, or whatever, I think.
“Quick, I know a shortcut,” Elsey says, running in the opposite direction we’re planning on going, simply assuming that we’ll follow her. We do.
And it is a good thing, because at that moment I hear a yell from far back, out on the street where we’d been heading. I half-turn, curious as to who is pursuing us.
I’d recognize that demented face anywhere: Rivet.
Chapter Twelve
Tristan
They say the meteor was the size of Texas. Any life left on the surface of the earth when it hit was wiped out by either the shockwave caused by the collision, or the resulting tsunamis unleashed across the world
’s oceans. Humans were forced to move underground.
Secretly, government scientists expected it for years, using covert teams of miners to dig the world’s largest caverns in preparation for the inevitable. But still: There wasn’t room for everyone. It would’ve been terrible: the Lottery. Families ripped apart; friends lost; blossoming relationships cut off at the knees. Of course, key individuals, like politicians, doctors, scientists, and farmers received a free pass, but all others just got a number. The number gave them a one in a hundred chance of getting selected to move into the underground facilities.
All the rest were destroyed.
And that was just the United States. No one knows for sure what happened to the rest of the world. Perhaps they weren’t so prepared. Perhaps they were all dead.
Year Zero would have been difficult for everyone. Losing relatives who didn’t make the cut; eating from the rations of rice and beans and hoping it wouldn’t run out before the leaders and their teams of advisors could come up with a way to grow food underground; most people becoming miners; living in darkness.
Now all of that is just a part of everyday life.
These days, time is measured from the day the meteor hit. It is 499 PM (Post-Meteor). Time before Armageddon is referred to as Before-Meteor, or BM. The funny thing about Armageddon: we survived. Well, some of us anyway.
Year Zero’s first president was Stafford Hughes. Things were run much like before Armageddon, albeit in a slightly more haphazard manner. The U.S. Constitution was upheld, laws were revised as required for our new living situation, new laws were created.
But it didn’t last. It couldn’t last.
Things were too different. People were too scared. There was too much chaos.
