by Melanie Tays
“Do you still have that lemon?”
His face lights up, and he pulls open his bag. “Thank you, Eason,” he says, peeling the lemon and handing over half of it.
I take my part and choke down the sour fruit, though I’m not ready to offer its giver any thanks. It’s not much, but it moistens my mouth and throat and settles my stomach for now, though we both know that the relief it offers won’t last long.
We keep walking, as though looking for water is a new plan. But it’s not as though we weren’t looking before. If we had stumbled upon water, we would have stopped and satiated our thirst long ago. There just hasn’t been an opportunity.
“Would it really have been so bad for The City to send us with a lunch?” I murmur.
“I could go for a chicken thigh and a big juicy orange right about now,” Vander agrees, licking his lips at the thought.
We trudge along for at least another hour through what feels like a never-ending sea of leaves and bark. It all looks the same, and I consider that we might be walking in circles, though I’m not sure what to do about it. I’m starting to feel lightheaded; my vision goes fuzzy every time I swing my head toward a new, unexpected sound.
“I think I’d better rest for a minute,” I say.
Vander agrees and takes a seat next to the nearest tree. If I’m struggling with hunger and fatigue, Vander must be dying. I can’t imagine that this pampered boy from the Flame has ever missed a meal in his entire life. Sweat runs down his face and soaks through his shirt, but overall, he’s holding up better than I would have guessed, or hiding his distress well. I take a seat next to him, resting my back against the rough bark of the tree, but I’m careful to leave enough space between us so our shoulders don’t touch.
There’s a strange scent in the air, earthy and pungent. I wonder what’s causing it, but I have no frame of reference from which to venture a guess. It’s not like anything I’ve experienced before. I let my eyes close, telling myself that I’ll just rest long enough to catch my breath, and then we’ll start moving again.
Thud…Thud…Thud.
My eyes fly open. I must have drifted off because the light from the sky has grown noticeably dimmer. I leap to my feet.
Thud…Thud.
The sound reverberates off of the trees and seems to be coming from everywhere all at once. Vander is equally alert and alarmed, standing next to me and craning his head from side to side, searching for the threat. I grab his arm, and to his credit, he doesn’t shove me into the nearest tree this time.
“What is that?” I whisper.
He shrugs.
Silently, we wait and listen, unsure if we should run, hide, or fight. But we don’t know what the danger is, or where it is. If we run, we might be running right into a Roamer’s trap. Then the thudding stops, and all the sounds in the woods fall eerily silent for an interminable moment. Finally, a new sound rings through the trees, eliciting an entirely different reaction.
The sound of dripping water.
Our wide eyes lock for an instant, all fears dwarfed by our insatiable thirst. Without another word, we both take off running in opposite directions, searching for the source of the sound.
“It’s this way,” I call back, maintaining enough sense to keep my voice low.
“No, I can hear it over here,” he hisses back.
We pause, and strain to hone in on the source of our salvation.
A lilting hum rises above all other sounds, too melodic to be anything but human. Someone is near. A young girl, by the sound of the singing, and there is a good chance that when we find her, we’ll find water.
The singing is easier to locate and seems to be coming from a direction halfway between the two disparate paths Vander and I set off on in our haste to quench our thirst. Now, we converge in the middle and proceed with greater caution, stepping toward our goal. Both the sounds of singing and dripping water grow louder with each step.
It’s not long before the frame of a girl comes into view. Her back is to us, busily working at something, and she hasn’t seen us. We take refuge behind separate trees to spy on her and make sure it’s safe to come out.
From here, I can’t see the source of the water, but I can clearly hear it dripping. Her body must be blocking our view. She appears to be alone. If necessary, Vander and I together—or either of us separately—could easily overpower her.
Vander seems to be thinking the same thing. Slowly, silently, we begin to approach her.
“I was wondering when you would show up,” the girl says, keeping her back to us.
We freeze.
Chapter 3
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” she asks, her voice airy and light like a cloud.
When she turns to us, the sound of dripping water has stopped, and she’s holding out a bucket.
Despite her high, melodic voice, this girl must be at least sixteen years old. She’s thin with long, dark hair and round, trusting eyes. Her smile is wide and welcoming, inviting us to come and partake of her offering.
“Hi, I’m Vander,” he says, all traces of weariness evaporated at the sight of this stranger’s pretty face.
I can’t help but feel a pang of hurt on behalf of Jessamine. Has he already forgotten about her completely? Of course, wasn’t I the one thinking just a few hours ago that the sooner we make peace with our separation from everyone in The City, the better off we’ll be?
“My name is Kamella,” she replies, serene. “Come. I have maple sap. It’ll quench your thirst,” she says, beckoning us forward with her free hand.
Before I can begin to imagine the ways that this might be a trap, Vander has already crossed half the distance to her.
I sigh and follow. At least if it is a trap, they’ll get Vander first, and I might have a chance to run. But I don’t really believe that this girl is a threat. She certainly isn’t like any picture of a Roamer I’ve ever imagined.
I accept a drink from the bucket. It’s sweet and refreshing like nothing I’ve ever tasted. “Where did this come from?”
“It’s maple sap. It comes from inside these trees,” the girl explains. She points to a long, thin metal cylinder that appears to have been hammered into the side of one of the trees. That must have been the thudding we heard. Liquid still drips from the hollow center and splats silently in the dirt. Kamella places a second bucket beneath it to catch the dripping sap, and the sound of falling water returns.
Vander and I take turns drinking greedily until we’ve both slaked our thirst.
Kamella looks on with an expression of satisfaction. “There now, I bet you’re hungry, too. Have some berries,” she offers, holding out a handful of plump, purple fruits.
We eagerly accept them. The berries are delicious, with thick, sweet juice that explodes into my mouth when I bite through the fragile skin. All too soon they’re gone, leaving me still unsatisfied and desperately wanting more.
Kamella watches us with a smile. “Come with me, and I’ll get you more food,” she offers.
“That would be great,” Vander says without hesitation.
Despite my hunger, I’m not sure this is a good idea. Kamella seems kind and harmless enough, but who knows who or what lies in wait wherever she plans to lead us. Maybe she’s the bait reeling us into the actual trap.
“Thank you for the food and drink, but can we have just one minute to talk?” I don’t wait for a response before I grab Vander’s arm and tug him away.
“What are you doing?” Vander complains. He smiles back over his shoulder. “We’ll be right back. Sorry about this.”
I pull him out of sight behind a tree and speak in whispers. “Vander, we don’t have any idea who this girl is or where she plans to take us, but you can bet there’ll be more people there. Roamers aren’t known for being friendly,” I remind him.
“Come on,” he says, peeking back over at Kamella. “She’s been nice and helpful. You’re being too suspicious.” With that, he tromps away and the discussion is effectively
over.
I’m left standing there alone with two choices—follow Kamella and Vander to a Roamer settlement, or strike out on my own. Neither option sounds the least bit appealing, but the promise of food is alluring. And Kamella has been nice enough so far; I can’t really argue with Vander on that point—even though I think it’s his hormones and not his head that actually trusts her.
Reluctantly, I return to them.
“Coming with us?” Kamella asks.
“Yeah, I guess,” I mutter.
“Wonderful!” she says, her voice like a chime. “Follow me.”
She takes the lead and we trail behind her. Soon, a path appears on the forest floor, leading us to whatever awaits us at our destination. After only about ten minutes of walking, the path splits into two, diverging left and right. She leads us to the right.
“Where does the other path lead?” I ask.
“To The City,” she says.
The strange, foul odor that I noticed earlier grows stronger as we continue down the path. The trees begin to thin until we step out into a wide clearing.
“What is that?” Vander asks in surprise.
“Welcome to our farm. This is where I have lived all my life,” she says with a note of pride in her lilt.
Compared to The City, this is nothing—just a handful of wooden structures most certainly built by people who knew very little about construction. The cutting of the logs is crude, and there are large gaps that have been filled with grass and mud. But I’ve seen far less sound structures in the Smoke.
To my left, plants grow in neat rows of varied shades of greens and yellows. To my right, a dozen structures cage and corral more varieties of animals than I’ve ever seen in my life. There are a hundred different sounds—chirps, barks, brays, and whines—all meshing together into a fascinating chorus.
I stare out over the scene, slack-jawed. How can savage Roamers have possibly built something like this? The sight of all they’ve created assuages my fears that anyone is going to attack me for the meager supplies I carry in my bag.
“There you are,” says a woman with peppered black hair. She’s standing on the porch of the nearest building and beckoning us closer. As we approach, her smile falters. “I thought there would be more of you.”
“There was another one, Mieka, but she ran off on her own. We’re not sure where she went,” Vander explains.
The woman shoots a meaningful glance at Kamella, who nods, and then her smile returns.
“This is Ollie,” Kamella says. “She is in charge of the animals here on the farm.”
“I’m so glad Kamella found you so quickly,” Ollie says. “Some people wander around for days before we find them. They are never in very good shape by then. You are just in time for dinner. I’m sure you must be hungry.”
We both nod. Even if I were inclined to deny it, my stomach chooses this moment to issue an angry, audible growl, and there’s no denying to myself or anyone else that I’m famished. I’m still not sure what to think of any of this, but I decide I’ll be more likely to figure things out on a full stomach.
Ollie leads us to the log building at the center of the compound. An enormous, round, wooden clock is affixed to its roof and must be visible from most of the farm. According to its slowly ticking hands, it’s nearing seven in the evening. I would estimate it was around eleven-thirty when we were dumped in the Ash with nothing more than a single smuggled lemon between the two of us. No wonder we’re exhausted and starving.
A few people meander around the grounds, but when we go inside the dining hall, we’re met with the sight of hundreds of people gathered for dinner.
“Wow,” I murmur in surprise.
I survey the room, and everyone looks normal enough. I can’t spot a single person who appears to be ill now or suffering from the effects of a narrowly won battle with the Withers—the disease that nearly wiped out humanity and made it necessary for people to seek refuge inside the protection of a few precious Safe Domes.
I’m used to communal meals. Back home in the Smoke, all our meals are served at the nutrition stations, and we eat outdoors at large tables, much like these ones. But there’s something different about the atmosphere here. It doesn’t take long to realize what it is. Most of the people appear to be happy—smiling, laughing, their posture at ease. While we all know each other back home, we aren’t close to one another. There are very few people in my life that I would truly call friends. But these people lean in when they talk, they listen like they actually care and don’t have a thousand other worries consuming their thoughts at every moment.
I inhale sharply at the sight of a woman whose belly is round and protruding as though she’ll be ready to give birth any day now.
I know her.
Well, truthfully, I don’t know her at all. I’ve never spoken to her. I merely watched from across the Justice Building as she was told that she would have to choose between giving up her baby—a third, and therefore illegal, child—or else be exiled to the Ash and separated from her husband and two existing children. I guess I know now what she chose. At least she hasn’t been going hungry, and presumably, she’ll have help when the baby is born. I believe they said her name is Shawny. I consider going over and talking to her, but I can’t even imagine what I would say, so I don’t.
Ollie begins explaining the schedule for meals, but I’m not really paying attention because another face has caught my eye, and I squint to make sure I’m seeing clearly. But there is no mistaking that face—or that bright red hair.
“It’s Ty!” I exclaim.
Ollie, Kamella, and Vander all turn to me in surprise.
“Ty’s dead!” Vander hisses back bitterly.
“No, look,” I insist, pointing across the room.
He humors me by looking, and then his face breaks into a smile. “Blazes! You’re right. Ty!” Vander calls over the dull roar of a hundred conversations.
If there remained any doubt as to his identity, Ty turns and immediately begins approaching in response to the sound of his name. When he reaches us, Ty and Vander embrace. I realize that they grew up together—went to school together. For all I know, they were best friends.
“How can you be here?” I stammer. “We saw the Enforcers fire a blaster at you.”
And I thought it was my fault, I don’t add.
He shakes his head. “No, when they caught me trying to leave the Flame, the Enforcers wanted to shoot me. The head one, what’s his name?”
“Terrance Enberg,” I mutter, far more familiar with the Chief Enforcer than I’d ever hoped to be.
He nods. “Yes, him. He couldn’t get the Council to approve it, so he decided to just make it look like I had been killed to make a point. Then he sent me to the Ash.”
I try to think back. Did we actually see Ty get shot?
No, they had turned the camera. All we heard was the kill shot of the blaster, ringing with clear implication.
Just another lie and manipulation I’ve been subjected to.
“I guess I wasn’t the first to try to cross the Wall of Fire illegally in recent days, and he thought it was a problem that needed to be taken more seriously,” Ty explains.
I was the person who crossed illegally just days earlier, but I don’t share this now, not with so many questions and so many listening ears.
“Ty, why were you trying to go to the Smoke?” I ask.
“I wasn’t, not really. I was trying to get caught attempting to go to the Smoke.”
“What?”
He rolls his eyes. “I was carrying out an assignment for the Resistance,” he says, his tone like that of someone recounting a silly exploit of their childhood.
“You’re part of the Resistance?” I ask.
The night Ty was captured—the night that we were made to believe he’d been executed—Eason told me he suspected as much. My curiosity flares, and I want to know more.
“Was that what you were asking me about that morning at breakfast?” I a
sk. “You thought I might know something about the Resistance because I’m from the Smoke.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, I guess so,” he says noncommittally, and I get the feeling he doesn’t want to talk about this.
Maybe this isn’t a conversation for the present company, so I let it drop. A part of me wonders why I even care. Whatever is happening in The City is no longer my problem.
“Can we get some food now?” Vander asks, impatient.
“Come on,” says Kamella, and she takes Vander’s hand to lead him toward the front of the dining hall.
“I’ll catch up with you after dinner,” Ollie says, and she heads off in the opposite direction.
I glance at Ty uncertainly.
“Go get your food. I’ll save you a seat,” he promises.
I take a few quick steps to catch up with Vander and Kamella.
“This way,” says Kamella, ushering us to a table set up against the length of one wall. I can hardly believe my eyes. There must be twenty different foods laid out. Not even during my time in the Flame did I ever have access to so much food at once. Some of these things I recognize, but many are completely unfamiliar.
“Just take a plate, and get whatever you like,” Kamella invites.
Vander doesn’t hesitate to start loading up a plate with enough food for two people.
I pick up one of my own and cautiously scoop out a spoonful of the first dish—some kind of long green vegetable. Serving myself is another first. I’ve always been handed a tray with pre-portioned food at every meal—take it or leave it, that’s what you get.
“I can really have as much as I want?” I ask, incredulous.
Kamella smiles and nods, reassuring. “Our only rule is that we don’t waste, so have as much as you like, but don’t take more than you can eat.”
That sounds reasonable. I glance at Vander’s plate and wonder if he’s already broken their sole rule, but he doesn’t look concerned. I decide to take just a bite or two of each dish so I can try it all without getting into trouble on my very first meal.
The thought of never again eating a gray meal is a very pleasant prospect. But as I sit and begin to taste the delicious foods, the possibility that Whyle and so many others are actually in danger because of the food needles at me again.
