by Melanie Tays
“Really well. Maybe my best night’s sleep ever,” I admit.
“Wonderful,” she chimes, and wraps an arm around me, giving my shoulder a little squeeze. There’s something about her that I didn’t notice before—a certain gentleness that reminds me of my own mother and makes me want to follow her with the loyalty of a daughter to a beloved parent.
Food has all been set out on the long table at the front of the room again, and I fill my plate with an array of vibrantly-colored fruits and vegetables and take a tall glass of pink liquid.
I sit with Ty and a few of his friends. There’s a girl named Cresta who is a few years older than me. She has golden hair that hangs in ringlets and a perpetual smile. And there’s a boy named Fox who is mostly quiet, but when he does say something, it’s always humorous. I remember that Ollie named Fox as the one in charge of the Supply Barn. I was going to ask him about getting my bag back, but I don’t want to interrupt such a pleasant meal with something so trivial, so I decide to let it wait.
Vander sits with some people that he apparently knew back in The City. I suppose he probably knows a lot of people here—anyone who failed the Burning in past years, or after the maze trial that started our round of the Burning. I study their faces, but I honestly can’t say if I recognize any of them from that first day.
I wonder how many people here are from The City, and how many were once Roamers? Kamella said she was born in the Ash. Does that mean that her parents are from The City and have been here since nearly the beginning, or is she the daughter of people who never made it into the Safe Dome, to begin with?
As I’m leaving the dining hall, Ollie and Roe are waiting to catch both Vander and me just outside the doorway.
“Are you ready for some good old-fashioned farm work?” Roe asks, a thick blade of grass hanging from the side of his mouth.
I nod, excited to see what the day will bring.
“I have a question for you,” Vander says, skeptically. “Ollie said that the food you produce goes to The City.”
Roe and Ollie nod.
“So how does the food get into The City?” Vander’s gazing at The City as he speaks, his eyes narrowed in concentration as though trying to work out a complex puzzle.
“Through the same gateway you came through,” Ollie replies.
“And who takes it in?”
Ollie and Roe laugh.
“No one takes it in,” Roe replies. “It is transported on a cart with wheels. We just give it a good push, and it rolls right across. At any gateway, the barrier field is only permeable to certain things. It can be fine-tuned enough to allow only certain objects—or even certain people—through, based on their DNA. If it wasn’t controlled so precisely, the Safe Dome wouldn’t be very effective, now would it?”
I remember hearing that the rats got into The City because there was a problem with the barrier field. I never really knew what that meant, but I guess this explains it. Somehow, the field had not been set to block them—at least, not until it was too late.
Vander’s mouth tightens into a thin line, apparently displeased with the response he’s received. Roe doesn’t seem to notice.
“Now, if there aren’t any more questions, let’s get you both set up to start work,” Ollie says. “We thought Emery could stay here with the animals, and Vander could go with Roe to the fields.”
I agree quickly, excited for a chance to be with real animals. Vander appears less enthusiastic but follows Roe all the same.
“I thought we’d start you out tending to the goats. They are very gentle and friendly,” Ollie says.
“Okay,” I say without any clue as to what I’m actually agreeing to.
“The goat pen is right across the path.” She points to a wide area sectioned off by a fence constructed of a hodgepodge of sticks varying in length and width.
“Yes, I saw it yesterday.”
“Excellent. Then just head on over. Alta is expecting you.”
***
Goats are funny creatures. They’re not at all like rats. They’ll eat right out of your hands without ever trying to take a piece of your flesh. And if you sit down near them, pretty soon they’ll climb right up on your lap or your back.
Alta has gray hair and well-earned smile lines that crease her cheeks and ripple around her eyes. Not many people in the Smoke live to be as old as she must be. She’s a lot like the goats, really—gentle and patient as she shows me how to feed and clean them. The biggest shock of the morning comes when she shows me how to squeeze milk right out of the goats and into a bucket. She tells me that they do this twice per day, once in the morning, and again in the evening.
“And then we drink this?” I ask, uncertain.
“Oh, yes,” she assures, and offers me a cup of fresh, thick, warm milk to try.
I take a sip, and I can’t say that it’s as good as the pink juice I had earlier, but maybe that’s because it’s difficult to stop thinking of it pouring out of the underside of an animal. But if Alta says it’s okay, why should I be worried about it? I drain the rest of the cup, and it is pretty satisfying.
Soon Beatie shows up with a cart to transport the buckets of milk. I help him load the heavy pails, trying hard not to spill the liquid as I walk. It’s not the weight that’s the problem; I’ve carried much heavier loads. It’s the way the liquid sloshes that takes a little getting used to.
Beatie is quiet as we load up the buckets, but I can’t help noticing the way he glances at me a little too often, for too long, a look in his eyes like he wants to say something and can’t quite find the words.
“I think that’s all,” I say when the last bucket is safely secured.
His wearied eyes meet mine with a pleading gaze.
“Is there something else I can help you with?” I ask.
After a long moment, he sighs and shakes his head. “See you later,” he mutters, and hauls the cart away.
In the afternoon, Ty finds me and takes me to see baby chickens that are about to hatch. A huge crowd has gathered, since apparently this only happens occasionally, and no one wants to miss it. I watch in amazement as these fluffy little creatures stretch and kick their way out of their eggs. I knew that birds came from eggs, but I had no idea how hard they had to work just to break free.
“Why don’t the bigger chickens help them? That seems kind of mean to just let them struggle like that,” I say, considering offering a hand myself to the poor, innocent little chicks.
“It’s for their own good,” Ollie explains. “Struggling to break free of its egg makes the chick strong enough to survive. If someone helps it get out, it’ll be weak, and often won’t make it.”
After hearing that, I refrain from offering a hand to the adorable little animals and just wait patiently until they manage to fight their way free on their own. Then I take a turn holding and cuddling one of the chicks. Its yellow, fuzzy down might just be the softest thing I’ve ever felt in my life.
***
At dinner, I sit next to Ty again. I remember that there was more I wanted to ask him about the Resistance, but it just doesn’t seem very important anymore with the golden barrier dome separating us from the problems of The City.
Instead, Ty tells me about his mishaps learning to ride a horse. I’m laughing so hard that my cheeks hurt from all of the smiling, which might be rude because it sounds like it really hurt when the horse launched him off its back in order to ward off the goose that wouldn’t quit trying to land on its head. But he’s laughing too, and he made a full recovery in just two days, so I think it’s okay.
“Just steer clear of Ronny,” he warns. “He’s the one with the white stripe down his back.”
“I will,” I assure him, making a mental note.
It’s hard to believe that Ty has only been here a few days longer than I have. He’s integrated so well into the life and community here. It gives me hope for myself.
I stand and start to return to the food tables that are still well-stocked, plan
ning on getting seconds of a few of my favorite dishes. But halfway there, I notice the girl standing hesitantly in the doorway. There aren’t many people here that I recognize, so a familiar face sticks out. She has long black hair that I’m sure would be beautiful if it wasn’t tangled with leaves and twigs as though she slept out under a tree. Her nose is pinched and turns up at the end as though she’s perpetually smelling something foul.
“Mieka!” I shout, and practically skip over to her. Even as I embrace her, I fight a deeper instinct to flee from this girl. But there’s nothing scary about her.
“Emery, it’s so good to see you,” she replies, clinging to me.
Just then, there’s a commotion over near the trash cans. It appears that a boy not much older than my own little brother has thrown away some of his turnips. He claims his mother put them on his plate, and that he doesn’t like them. Still, the rule is the rule: no wasting food.
Ollie administers three firm smacks across the boy’s hands with a rope of woven grasses. With each blow, his eyes water, but he doesn’t try to pull away or fight the punishment, and no one comes to his rescue. Why would they? The rule is clear and fair. The punishment will merely help him recall it better next time.
It takes only a moment or two before the room returns to the pleasant dull roar of a dozen amiable conversations, the incident all but forgotten.
The little group I sit with includes Mieka, Ty, Cresta, and Fox. I wish Vander would join us, but he’s sitting alone in a corner with a frown plastered across his face. I’m not sure what his problem is. Out of hundreds of people here, Vander appears to be the only one out of sorts. He really needs to loosen up and quit worrying about whatever it is that has him so down. But if he wants to be in a rotten mood, I suppose that’s his business.
Fox starts talking about plans for a prank to disable Roe’s tractors. Apparently, there’s a long-standing rivalry between the crop workers and the animal caregivers—those who work for Roe versus those who work for Ollie.
“Of course, we’ll leave the wires we remove in the grain shed, where we always do,” he says. “But I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces. It will serve them right for when they put all the chickens in Ollie’s cabin.”
I’m laughing so hard at his description of the whole thing that tears streak down my face, and it’s difficult to breathe. Good-natured, harmless pranks appear to be one of the staples of fun here in the Ash. Getting chosen to be in the group to carry them out is a coveted privilege.
“Ollie and Roe pretend to disapprove,” Cresta confides. “But they could put a stop to it with a single word, and they never do.”
Of course, I know she’s right. Who would disobey Ollie, who clearly has nothing but our best interests at heart? I’m sure the people who work on the other side of the farm feel the same way about Roe.
“I think they secretly like it. They will never admit it out loud, but you can tell that they don’t get along well,” says Fox.
I jump into the conversation with tales of my own. First I talk about the fun little rivalry that Mieka and I shared during the Burning—all the ways that she threatened and tried to intimidate me. She jumps in with admissions of even more devious things she had planned to do to me, but never got the chance. But it’s when I detail Vander trapping me in the shifting shrubbery wall of the maze that I really get everyone rolling in laughter.
Oh, what fun antics we contestants used to get up to.
“How did you escape?” Ty asks, wiping at the corners of his eyes and pressing a hand to his chest to regain control of himself.
“Eason came along and helped me out,” I reply.
The mention of Eason’s name and memory of the start of our many-faceted relationship feels out of place in this conversation. Vaguely, I remember that I was furious with Eason yesterday, but now that just seems petty. After all, wasn’t Eason just playing good-natured games with me, too? Who can fault him for that?
Besides, Ollie was right yesterday when she suggested that I might soon think being sent to the Ash was the best thing that ever happened to me. It turns out, that day came sooner than I could have ever imagined.
Arm in arm, Mieka and I follow the others out of the dining hall, still laughing. Outside, there’s a big fire blazing again tonight, and almost everyone has gathered around it. Upbeat music plays, and soon I’m between Ty and Fox in the circle, dancing with such abandon that the entire world and all its problems seem to disintegrate in the fire before us.
I feel bad for trying to drag Vander away from this last night. I look around and spot Kamella across the fire, but Vander is nowhere to be seen.
The stars twinkle, the fire dances, the smoke envelopes us, and the air is heady and sweet, giving the entire evening a magical, other-worldly feel.
After a while, I break away to get some water. Feeling light and airy, I amble to the fountain around the side of the dining hall. The building blocks the firelight, casting deep shadows across my path. I drink deeply, the water cool and refreshing. Then I straighten, ready to return to the party that’s still infused with energy and life, but I barely take a single step before strong arms grab me from behind, wrapping around my middle. A warm hand clamps down over my mouth, and my unknown assailant begins dragging me backward, away from anyone who could come to my rescue.
Chapter 6
Aquiet, tickly voice in the back of my head tells me to fight, to bite, to writhe, and do whatever it takes to break free of the arms that hold me and drag me away.
But really, why make such a fuss? I’m sure whoever has gone to so much trouble to get my attention has a good reason. It’ll be interesting to see who it is, and where they take me.
I try to keep my footing in time with my captor’s, but they’re moving too fast, and my heels keep dragging in the rocky soil. Finally, we reach an empty, darkened building, and I’m pulled inside.
It’s only then, in the muted firelight streaming through a single open window, that I finally see him.
“Vander!” I exclaim.
“Shut up!” he hisses in response, and fends off my attempted hug. “You’re as bad as all of them.”
“You should come join the dancing.”
He ignores my invitation and pulls something out of his bag. I wonder when he got it back, and remember that I still haven’t talked to Fox about mine. But do I really need it?
In the dim illumination, I can’t tell what he’s holding until it’s right in my face and he’s compressing a small button on the little black canister Eason sent in my bag. A fine, bitter-tasting mist saturates my mouth and nose, and I have no choice but to inhale deeply.
Vander steps back, staring at me as though he’s waiting for me to transform somehow, like the baby chicks I saw breaking out of their eggs earlier.
I cough and sputter for a moment, and then a strange, heavy sensation starts to settle on me, like gravity has been ratcheted up a notch. Now, when I look at Vander, the shadows shift across his face, making him appear menacing. I remember why I once feared this boy—why I should fear him now.
I take a few cautious steps sideways, trying to escape his reach without drawing his attention. The light is behind him, which is good because it means I can see if he makes any sudden moves, but bad because his face is in silhouette and I can’t read his expression.
“What do you want?” I ask, my voice trembling for reasons I can’t quite explain.
Vander sighs in what sounds like relief. He holds up his hands, palms facing me. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, his voice slow and steady like he’s talking to someone who’s unstable.
But I’m not the crazy one here. I’ve never met anyone whose behavior is as erratic as Vander’s—swinging from concerned friend to vicious attacker without any discernible provocation. I don’t know why he brought me to this secluded, dark building, but it can’t be for any good purpose.
“Stay away from me,” I say, looking around for anything I can use to defend myself. If thi
s is about to be a repeat of the maze scene from our first meeting, I’m going to be prepared this time. My eyes are adjusting to the dim light, and we appear to be in a tiny house. There’s a large bed in the far corner, a small table and two chairs next to a stove and countertop. Just to my left, a fireplace sits cold and dark. And right next to that is what I need—a fire poker.
“Let me explain,” Vander is saying. “I guess you must feel a little disoriented.”
“Okay, then explain,” I allow, and watch as his stance relaxes.
“There’s something in the—“
As soon as he’s talking, I’m moving. I lunge for the long, pointed pole and twirl—brandishing it against his chest. “What do you want?” I demand, all the calm and euphoria of the day leeched away.
“Listen, they’ve done something to everyone here that makes you—I don’t know—their happy little puppets or something.” His words spill out in a torrent.
I think back over the day, every moment from the time I awoke until Vander misted my face. It’s like trying to remember a dream after waking, like trying to see something that’s fallen to the bottom of a murky pond.
“I thought everyone was pretty weird yesterday—all chipper and so excited to do anything Roe or Ollie asked,” Vander goes on. “I thought it was just the people here, but then I saw you today—just as jolly as all the rest of them. I’ve never seen you like that before. And then at dinner, when Mieka showed up acting all friendly, and the two of you were suddenly best friends, I knew something was seriously wrong.”
Now that I think about it, he’s right. I shudder at how I was walking arm in arm with Mieka like we were childhood friends when we’ve never had so much as a civil moment between the two of us prior to her walking into the dining room tonight.
“I figured there must be something in the air here—probably at night—that affects our minds. But I wasn’t affected. At least, not that I can tell.”
“No, you were just as arrogant and insufferable as always,” I mutter.
