Enmity

by E. J. Andrews

  ‘The reason you all are here is that there is a war going on all around us. You will have heard about certain rebel groups that wish to overthrow the president and run this city the way they see fit.’ I can tell that Darria knows who he is referring to as they. ‘We need to make sure they do not succeed.’

  ‘You want us to stop them?’ a girl directly across from me says in an almost sarcastic tone. She steals the words from my mouth.

  Darria gives her the same look he used on me. He seems bemused yet entertained by her words, and all in all glad that she has spoken. ‘Yes, Hermia, you will stop them.’

  Hermia

  I want to kill him. I can just picture my hand picking up my knife and my body leaping across the table, the serrated edge of metal delving into Darria’s neck, and watching his light grey eyes go wide with the horror of it all. If there was only one guard maybe I could, but there is no hope without getting myself killed, with the amount of protection Darria has around him. At least I know he’ll be getting his money’s worth.

  There’s so much anger filling me that it has nowhere left to go but out in huffed breaths.

  ‘You may or may not know of the rebel group called The Cain—’

  I feel my eyes go wide and I have to stop myself from looking up from the blank space of table in front of me, my angry laboured breath is caught in my throat. Though my mouth is a wide gape, I seem to be unable to release it. Darria is either ignoring me or he seems not to notice my change in appearance.

  ‘These men have been trying to gain control over the city from President Collins. Now, Collins has done well to keep them at bay, but his popularity is dwindling, and we need to make sure that if Collins fails that we are the ones to take his place.’

  Darria’s words hang in the air and I can feel the suspicion in the strangers around me. It is not as easy as wanting to come and fix things and stop the bad guys. President Collins has been making some kind of an effort to dispel violence and start up more schools again (other than the one private school that costs an exorbitant amount), which to me is pointless, but at least he’s trying. But there are others, rebel groups who want to be the leaders of the free world, which I suppose is what this is. A certain group came close around a year ago—they took out the entire army (around two hundred men and women) in the process—but still Collins remains, and these groups don’t seem to like it. I suppose they all think they could do better, or maybe they don’t like the fact that we aren’t a democracy anymore, that Collins enjoys some right that the rest of us don’t. No one really knows what they would do, if someone else came into power other than a Collins. I don’t want to know.

  ‘But why us?’ the same girl asks from the end of the table. Just the look of her annoys me. She has bright orange hair that is shaved at the back. I don’t trust people who don’t take proper responsibility for the impression they make on the world. When life hands me the worst of everything and then I see someone like her—so bored with herself she has to change her appearance in ways that she thinks will make her more interesting—it makes me angry.

  Darria looks at her as though she’s asked the one question he wanted to answer.

  ‘That, my dear Lola, is what you all will find out tomorrow.’

  Dinner is awkward; we eat some kind of vegetable soup in silence, then the roast beef. I can’t taste any of it, though I still eat it all. I haven’t had a decent meal like this since I left home. It isn’t until the last course that finally someone speaks.

  There is a tiny squeak from the girl who has been crying almost constantly. She’s sitting next to the boy named Nathaniel, and he turns to her, offering her his napkin to dry her tears.

  I am annoyed at this. How I hate people who are instantly concerned when it is nothing to do with them. Maybe it’s just my solitary nature making me selfish and bitter about human kindness. Either way, I don’t care for him. Or her. Or any of them.

  The girl shakes her head at him and forces a tiny smile before she starts to eat this fluffy thing they call dessert.

  The plates are taken away by the mysterious people who all carry guns and wear grey uniforms, yet serve us like they work for us.

  Darria stands before all of us, looking down as though we are his children and he is the parent. I had that choice once, and I dismissed it then as I would now.

  ‘Your keepers will now take you and show you your floor and your rooms, then tomorrow they will come for each of you, and they will take you to room 731, where you are to stay until the keepers come back again and return you to your rooms. Thank you for joining me for dinner everyone, your company was much appreciated.’

  Then Darria goes to leave, but not before the girl named Lola has to ask one more thing.

  ‘In this room, seven one whatever, what’s in it?’

  The whole group looks to Darria; we all want to know what he will say.

  ‘In room 731,’ he corrects her slowly, ‘there is nothing.’

  Nate

  The girl who I am expecting is my ‘keeper’ walks up to me from her apparent post along the wall. I stand when she gets halfway across the room and face her, and her gun, again.

  ‘Come,’ I say with a sigh as I watch the girl close her mouth, my words obviously a mimic of her unsaid ones.

  I am the last to leave, as I was the last to arrive.

  I can see the other girl in front of me, with her long flowing dark blonde hair; she looks around like she is searching for something that she knows must be somewhere. If it is escape she’s trying to find, I hope she finds it.

  My guard pushes me on down the hallway, and then, slowly, there are a few of us stopped at a doorway at the end of the hall.

  ‘Where are the others?’ I ask dubiously.

  ‘Just wait,’ the girl named Hermia says from beside me. She looks as though she is bored yet angry almost constantly.

  The door at the end of the hall opens up and we file into a tiny white room that barely holds all of us. I am near the front as I was the last to file in, and my keeper closes the door.

  She then presses buttons on a tiny screen just off to the right of the door, and we begin to move. I can feel tension, not so much with the strangers all around me, but with one in particular. I turn my head around to see the same beautiful girl is standing right behind my back. She is looking back at me as my gaze finds her and she smiles her same tiny smile that is all eyes. I try and take my attention off her without making it seem like I am giving her any real attention at all. I don’t want her to think I care. Even though I probably do.

  I turn back to look straight ahead just in time to see the door in front of us open.

  Shock. Pure and simple shock.

  We are in a large, as expected, white room. But there are things of colour in here for once. To the left is what I expect is the kitchen, with a huge refrigerator and marble island. Next to the kitchen is a dining area, with a large table with different coloured placemats, I’m guessing for each of us.

  To the right of the lift we have just come out of would be the lounge. There are two huge couches, one that looks to be from the 1840s with immaculate dark-stained wood trim and a yellow-and-white floral fabric. The other is modern, straight lines, square cushions and a sort of pastel lime green, if that is even a colour. The couches are facing a huge bookcase that takes up half of the right-hand wall, the same wall as the elevator. There would have to be over a thousand books in there, and there is even a huge television in the midst of the books.

  I feel a gun between my shoulderblades and it’s my keeper again.

  She tilts her head to the side as though directing me to my left. I oblige and am stopped at another door. I notice then that the whole room is ringed in doors. I am stopped in front of one that is directly across from the lounge and that yellow sofa. I see that there is a tiny silver plate on the door that reads Nate.

  ‘Open it,’ the girl directs me.

  I look at the handle, a shiny gold-plated thing; it really is quite s
trangely beautiful.

  I open the door and feel the base of the gun press into my neck, moving me forward, into this new room.

  I am closed in before I can even turn to see the last streak of light escape from the crack in the door.

  Hermia

  All I can feel are the rough fibres of the carpet pressing against my cheek. My hands feel it for a moment before I hear the soft hum of the lights as they begin to illuminate my surroundings.

  I pull myself up as the light starts to show more details. That bastard, one of our keepers, pushed me so hard I fell. Oh how I despise the strength of simple gravity.

  My eyes adjust to the light and I can see there is a bed straight ahead of me, and it’s huge. I stand and see the room in its entirety. To be honest, it’s impressive. The room looks almost like my apartment, if my apartment had things of value in it.

  The walls have a light floral print on them, which I would normally hate, but for some reason I actually quite like. The bed has a plain light pink cover that matches the walls, and now I almost can’t wait to go to sleep. It has been so long since I have had a comfortable bed to sleep in.

  There is a wardrobe over to one side and I am instantly intrigued as to what it holds. As I open the double doors, I see that there are five colours within: black, white, blue, green and grey. There are dresses, pants, blouses, T-shirts, jeans, you name it. So we are allowed to dress ourselves now, are we? How nice of Darria.

  Maybe that’s why he hasn’t called on me yet; he knows I’ll give him hell.

  I have decided all I can do is make the most of a bad situation. I walk over and take a seat at the end of the bed and feel the bounce of the springs and the way the down feathers compress under my weight. I trail my hand over the soft pink cover as I look around my glorified prison cell. I suppose this is a nice enough place to waste some time while I plan my eventual escape.

  Nate

  I feel almost violated.

  This is my bedroom, but it is also my bedroom back home.

  The bed has my normal navy cover on it, and my black sheets; the only thing that makes it strange is that the bed is made. At home my bed is never so neat and presentable.

  I sit down on the end of the bed and look around, feeling like I’m still sinking in the weight of an endless sea.

  Important details are different. The room is bare, with no pictures of my family, like the one of me and Olivia that sits on my desk.

  There is no computer, no posters, and only one window.

  Why is there a window?

  I go over to it, but it’s completely black. I pull at the bottom of the pane, and it won’t budge. Why even have it?

  I swipe my hand over the soft pastel green walls that I have always known. I look up to the lights in the ceiling; they are the same as the lights in the hall, so it looks as though the whole ceiling is just one large wall of light.

  My eyes wander over to the left-hand wall, and I can almost feel it start closing in.

  * * *

  I lie back in the darkness, looking up to where I know the ceiling must be, though I can’t even see my hand right in front of my face.

  I hear the clicking, flickering, mechanical sound of the fluorescent lights beginning to turn on and brace myself for the brightness that is surely to come. My head screams and my eyes close tightly shut, trying to shun the light that bears some resemblance to looking directly at the sun.

  I hear the door open and I peek through my lashes to see my guard standing, pointing her gun at me once more. She still looks terrified.

  I must say, even though I hate this room and I find it a tad creepy that it is the same as my room back home, I did have a very good night’s sleep. Probably because I almost forgot where I was, which I’m guessing was the point in all this.

  I push myself up and throw my legs over the side of the bed, placing my hands over my face as I yawn into them.

  ‘Mind hurrying up?’ the girl with the gun says with a hint of annoyance.

  I remove my hands from my eyes and give her a look that I’m hoping says—no.

  I turn my attention to the built-in closet to my right. As I open it I find that it doesn’t contain any of my own clothes—it is all dress shirts and tailored pants, but I’m betting they will fit me. An idea comes to my mind.

  ‘Would you like to choose something for me?’ The girl raises one of her eyebrows at me.

  ‘No thanks, you seem like you have great fashion sense all on your own.’

  I smirk and turn back to the wardrobe. Pulling out a nice soft green shirt, I throw it on over my bare chest and then search for some pants.

  ‘What’s your name?’ I ask.

  The girl looks at me as though I have sworn at her.

  ‘If I tell you will you hurry up?’

  I consider it, then shrug.

  The girl sighs. ‘My name is Cora.’

  Without even meaning to, I laugh.

  ‘What?’ Cora says, offended.

  ‘Sorry.’ I go back to searching through my wardrobe and actually find some jeans, which I start to put on.

  Cora repositions her gun and aims it at my face.

  ‘It’s a very nice name—’ I start.

  ‘Shut up.’

  Throwing my hands up I go over to the door and wait for Cora to push her gun into my back again. She quickly obliges.

  I am led back to the elevator but I don’t see anyone else in the common room. Cora opens it and pushes me inside with her free hand. There is a wide screen to the right-hand side of the door that I noticed yesterday, though there are no numbers.

  Cora swipes her index and middle fingers over the centre of the screen, making it light up a soft crimson. She then taps her fingers over the screen in a rhythmic kind of way, and we begin to move. The ride up is silent; I don’t particularly want to piss Cora off again, though it is quite enjoyable.

  ‘So why am I here?’ I turn to her and ask.

  Again she looks at me as though I have spoken out of turn.

  ‘No questions,’ she answers and then looks directly at the door in front of us. I completely turn myself around to face her.

  ‘You really think I’m going to not ask questions?’ Cora tilts her head in that condescending way girls do.

  ‘I’m not the one you want to ask.’

  I nod. She is not. I want Darria to answer all of my questions. But he isn’t here right now, is he. The elevator lets out a small ding which I guess announces our arrival.

  The metal doors slide open to reveal a hallway that is all white walls and numbered doors. Those numbers are the only contrast to the stock standard white; they look gold-plated, in a fancy swirling font. When we get to 731, the door opens and my mouth drops. Cora doesn’t have to force me into the room, I am so caught up in my own bewildered shock, but she pushes me in anyway and locks the door as soon as I am over the threshold. I look back at the slammed door; I can tell I have successfully pissed Cora off for the day.

  Then I turn around and see what 731 really is. It is not empty; it is full of colour and life. Somehow, inside this hellhole, they have created a clearing in a forest, almost like a meadow. There are tiny flowers of yellow and orange scattered around the pure green grass; there’s even a bee landing on one of the flowers, which seems impossible to me. The air doesn’t feel quite the same as the air outside, and neither does the sun. But places like these don’t really exist anymore, so I guess I wouldn’t really know how the air would feel.

  I see the others in a little congregation; I am the last to join again. ‘Hi,’ I say as I come to the small gathered circle and my nerves erupt.

  Everyone stops their conversation and looks at me, and I am self-conscious again at their gaze.

  ‘Let’s sit,’ the girl named Hermia tells us after a deep sigh, and we all obey.

  We sit in a makeshift circle, everyone avoiding making eye contact with everyone else. I can’t help but watch the girl who watched me last night and I become more and more curious
about her as the moments pass, watching her pull the grass out with her fingers and then let it fall in front of her in a shower of green. Her eyes are so bright and blue. I can’t imagine ever seeing anything more beautiful.

  ‘Okay,’ one of the guys says.

  I am forced to look away from the girl who intrigues me far too much.

  This guy must be of Indian descent, which is unusual these days. Hard to believe they used to be one of the largest populations on the planet.

  ‘Guess I’ll start this thing off.’ He has a cocky tone and stance, and I’m not sure if I like him all that much. I make a mental note not to make a snap judgement.

  ‘My name’s John.’ He stops, looks around at us and then continues. ‘Ah, I moved out of home when I was fourteen and I’ve been working ever since.’ John’s face turns grave and he looks over towards me for a moment then turns away. ‘I think I’m here because, well, because I worked in a military base where we made electronic machines set to kill.’

  I can feel my own bewilderment, but also everyone else’s. John speaks so quickly I’m not sure if I have heard him right.

  ‘That kill, ah, what exactly?’ I hear Lola’s voice crack as she speaks the words.

  ‘Everything, anything, and anyone, everyone.’ John’s voice holds so much resentment that I can’t help but feel bad.

  I see the girl named Hermia turn towards John and speak directly to him.

  ‘I know what you mean; people do unthinkable things under unimaginable circumstances.’

  She lowers her head and I watch as John places his hand over hers. He doesn’t take her hand in his; he just rests it on top of hers, which seems almost sweeter to me.

  Hermia stares at him, and though it’s a hostile look, a part of me can see that this is as much as she can give. John retrieves his hand after a heartbeat.

  Hermia doesn’t miss a beat.

  ‘As you heard last night, my name is Hermia. Don’t call me Mia, ever.’ A small nervous laugh carries through the group and Hermia continues. ‘I have quite a good idea why I’m here. It won’t make sense to any of you, though, so I won’t go into it.’