by Martha Adele
Sam’s weakened stance quickly changes as the sound of tires crunching the leaves and twigs on the ground grows. We all quickly climb up a few branches and wait.
The sound of the car grows louder as it weaves through the trees, closer to us. We can see through the gaps of leaves the large dark gray van slowly driving past us. The windows are darkly tinted and works as a mirror. As it drives by us, we watch as our faces appear in the reflective window through the leaves. Each of our faces shows a different emotion. Fear is one, pain is another, and concentration the other.
As it slowly passes, the bronze ring comes into view. Two bronze hammers, crossed over each other, on top of a bronze ring. The shiny coloring of the seal in contrast to the dark gray van makes it even more dazzling.
Sam murmurs something under his breath, and Logan and I look over to him to find his eyes wide and his stamina seemingly back. Before we could do anything, Sam scurries down from the tree and runs out to the van. “Hey! Hey!” Sam shouts at the vehicle. “Hey!”
The vehicle stops.
Logan and I make our way down the tree to hear the side door of the van sliding open, and a man waving Sam inside. A large and muscular tan man with a dark buzz cut emerges wearing dark gray clothing, matching the van, and black armor, matching his gun. He sits on one side of the eight-seat van as Sam scoots into the corner seat on the opposite side and waves Logan and me in.
“Come on, we need to get going!” the man barks at us.
We hesitate. Logan steps up in front of me and questions the man like he needs no help. “Why should we?”
The man gives a gravelly chuckle. “Stay out here if you want, but the sun is setting. I figured you would rather come with us than be beast bait.”
Logan looks pleadingly at me. I nod back to him, and we get into the van. Logan waits for me get in first, so I sit next to Sam, and Logan scoots in next to me.
The man slides the large metal door closed and introduces himself in an accent that is strikingly similar to that of Metropolis’s citizens back in Bestellen. “I’m Major Cole Mason. You can call me Major Mason.”
I nod to him and somehow find myself tucked behind both Sam and Logan. Sam has his arms crossed, one over one of my arms; and Logan has his hands folded in his lap, with one of his arms over my other arm.
I turn and look behind me to see another man in the front, driving the van. Major Mason nods to the other man. “And that there is Private Yate Groves. You can call him whatever, as long as it’s decent.” Mason smiles back at us. Though I’m sure his smile was meant to reassure us, it didn’t.
Sam butts in, saying, “I came to the van because I recognized the seal on the side. Before now, I had never thought that this seal was a real thing or that it existed, but I was out of options.” Sam clears his throat. “When I saw this van, something told me to go to it, to see if you could help us. I’m hoping I made the right choice because now I have dragged these two into it.” Sam looks from Mason to us, then readjusts his posture and stance. Sam clears his throat again and asks the question that we are all wondering. “So what exactly is going on?”
Mason gives another slight smile as he pulls out bottles of water and passes them to us. We are hesitant at first but are too dehydrated and out of options. We need the water. Mason looks from Sam to me to Logan and then out the window as we chug the water. “Sit tight, bud. Everything will be explained as soon as we get back to Bergland.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Logan
The ride to Bergland is slow, seemingly taking forever. Mavis, Sam, and I all sit quietly, watching the forest fly by as we drive through it. My hands rest folded in my lap, but my right arm remains slightly in front of Mavis—enough in front to help her feel secure, but not enough to make her feel trapped. This is how Gramps would stand by me during our attendance checks in the sector square. It’s a form of protection without smothering. Mavis seems to feel comforted by this, just as I always did when Gramps did so.
I stare at Major Mason as we drive to see if I can read his face. But he wears an unreadable smug smile. The sun has fully set, leaving us in a state of almost total darkness, which is only illuminated by the glow of the taillights from behind the van and the headlights in the front. The ride comes to an end as we proceed through the mountains. The twists and turns at the extreme heights give me an odd feeling in my stomach that I usually don’t get, so I ignore it.
“Make sure to yawn every now and then,” Mason tells us. “You don’t want your ears to pop.”
None of us obey.
“You don’t have to yawn. Chewing or swallowing works just as well,” Mason chuckles.
The three of us exchange a few looks. Sam tries to fight it, but he lets out one large yawn, leading Mavis and me to do the same. I feel small bubbles in my ear shift and pressure being relieved. I focus on swallowing and yawning every now and then for the rest of the ride while questioning every twist and turn we make.
It feels like they are just as lost in these woods as we are and that they are driving us up the mountain with no particular direction.
The driver, the supposed Private Yate Groves, turns off the head- and taillights, leaving Sam, Mavis, and me in what I would describe as a breathless moment. We drive directly toward a steep and rocky point of the mountains when a piece of what I thought was rock lifts forward. A large door rises, and the van enters.
The darkness that has been consuming us for the long drive slowly gets darker as we enter something that could be classified as a tunnel. As the door behind us closes, a loud clank echoes throughout the room. The van continues to move forward, and the head- and taillights click on. The three of us position ourselves to look out of the front of the car to see where we are heading.
My eyes fall upon a long concrete tunnel that has orange-yellow lights hanging toward the end. The tunnel twists right as soon as we arrive under the lights. The van drives through, swerving, swerving, swerving what feels like once every quarter mile. It takes us a few minutes to get to the end of the tunnel, where we are met with a large steel door.
Mason taps on his wrist, and a blue light radiates from it. He raises his wrist to his mouth and speaks into his cuff. “We’re back. We have three. Tell Hash to prep the IR.” He lowers his wrist, and we hear another large clank, followed by the whirring of mechanics, which I assume are responsible for opening the doors in front of us.
As they slide open, a room filled with vehicles is revealed. From where we park, I can see a few more vans like the one we are in, along with a few larger vans that look strikingly similar to the ones the officials back home would use to bring in their servicemen.
“All right. We’re here.” Mason smiles to us and slides open the side door beside me. “Are you ready for your briefing?” I watch him as he scoots out and holds the door open for us.
Nobody moves.
Sniffling and wiping his nose with the back of his free hand, Mason nods us out. “Come on, I won’t bite.”
I look back to Sam and Mavis, who seem to be looking to me to move since I am the one closest to the door. I take the nonverbal cue and step out. The large concrete- and steel-lined room that surrounds us is filled with the scent of rubber and is dimly illuminated by the orange-yellow lights that we found in the tunnel.
After stepping out and taking a quick glance around the room, I follow Major Mason’s gaze and find Mavis frozen in her seat. Sam, who sits behind her, stares past her and looks around.
I lean forward and put my hand on the side of the open door. Mavis, still frozen, looks past me. “Are you coming?” I ask.
Sam stands up as much as he can and waddles past Mavis and out of the van.
“I’m out,” he grunts.
Mavis stays frozen in her seat. Major Mason sighs and looks from her back to me. “What’s her name?”
Sam answers before I can as he stretches. “Mavis. Mavis W
amsley.” He looks back to her. “Or at least that’s what she told us.”
Mason nods and slowly gets back into the van. He sits across from Mavis and tries to meet her eyes. Her breathing becomes more violent the longer we watch her.
“Hey, Mavis.” Mason’s voice softens from its original grittiness and becomes more comforting and seemingly more trustworthy.
Mavis keeps her eyes averted from his stare as she maintains focus on her knees.
Mason leans forward and says slowly, “Hey, it’s okay. I have a friend here that’s going to explain everything.” Mavis’s breathing steadies as Mason continues, “Her name is Emily. Will you come with us?”
Mavis raises her head and looks at Sam, me, and then back to Mason. She takes a few deep breaths and slowly nods.
Mason smiles. “Don’t worry. I won’t separate you and your friends. Come on.” He holds out his hand for her as she comes out of the car, but she shakes her head and denies his help. Mason nods to her, retracts his hand, and allows Mavis to get out of the car herself.
She stands between Sam and me as Mason closes the van door and leads us out. Private Yate follows, I guess to make sure we stay in line.
We walk for a minute or two and approach another concrete wall with a set of glass sliding doors just a little taller than Mason.
“Bullet trains,” Mason announces. A semiloud squealing noise comes barreling behind the wall and sounds like it is coming straight for us. A white light slowly becomes brighter behind the glass doors as the low rumbling and squealing sound grows louder. Mason looks over to us and takes notice of our frightened expressions. He chuckles and tries to calm us, saying, “Faster than walking and better than cars.”
The large black “train” pulls up, and its brakes squeal as it comes to a halt. The glass doors slide open as the train’s doors follow. Mason steps in and grabs on to a handle hanging from the ceiling of the train. “It’s the best way to get around the mountains,” Mason claims. “Come on in.”
Each one of us hesitantly enters the train, followed by Yate.
Yate slides his hand onto one of the poles in the middle of the train running from the floor to the ceiling. He looks to us and smiles. “Grab on to something. When this train takes off, you will feel it.” The doors close, and Yate wiggles his eyebrows at us.
Sam’s eyes dart from Yate to me, then to the tall pole closest to him. Sam grabs it with both hands, and I reach for the side railing beside me. Mavis and I both grab the same railing, and our hands graze over each other. Neither of us makes a big deal of it; we just slide our hands away from each other’s and grab the pole. I can’t help but wonder if she noticed, but I move that thought to the back of my mind and focus on the reality that is unfolding.
The doors close beside us, and the train’s engine whirs up. I watch as Sam tightens his grip on his pole. Mason chuckles at the sight of Sam being so nervous. “Just hold on. It isn’t that bad.”
Sam straightens up and rolls his shoulders back. The train takes off from its position and pushes us back only slightly. Mavis and I lean only slightly back due to the force while Sam leans none.
“That’s nothing,” Sam chuckles, loosening his grip on the pole.
Mason flicks his wrist, and the blue rectangular hologram pops up with some sort of map and a dot floating through it. The dot is originally a lighter blue than the rest of the map but begins flashing red as the brakes on the train begin to squeal once again.
Mavis and I slide forward a bit, still holding on to the railing, while Sam falls directly into his pole.
“Careful,” Yate chuckles. “Landing is just as hard as takeoff.”
The train comes to a complete stop, and the doors beside us open. Yate lets go of his pole and nods Mason out.
Mason puts his hand over the hologram and seems to push it back down into the cuff. He walks out of the train and finger-guns us out. “Follow me,” he insists.
Sam rubs his chest and marches out behind Mason. Mavis and I follow him while Yate follows us. I can’t help but wonder about how much Sam seems to trust these people and wonder why he does so.
The hallway from which we exit the train is completely different from the hallway from which we entered the train. The one we entered it from was a large concrete- and steel-lined room with vans in it. This one is a room no bigger than my house with stairs leading upward from both directions.
We follow Mason up one set of stairs and into a narrow hallway with doors on one side leading to a larger set of stairwells and on the other side, multiple sets of twin metal sliding doors. Mason makes his way over to one of the metal doors and presses a button beside them. A green light overhead of one of the frames comes on, and that one opens into a little room.
Mason waves us over. “Come on in.” Again, Sam is the first to follow. When Mavis and I find our way in, the small room has a wall of buttons with numbers and letters on them. Mason taps one of them, and Yate piles in. The small room is big enough for us all to not be cramped, but small enough that we don’t feel too free.
The doors close, and another whirring sound begins. I look to Sam and Mavis to see her clutching the railing on the side of the room and to see him jump the second the room starts moving. The room flies upward and sways back and forth slightly the farther it flies up.
Sam jerks over beside Mavis and grabs the railing. His eyes grow, and his breathing grows heavy as he turns to Mason and Yate. “What’s going on?”
Within a few moments, the room stops flying, and the doors open into what looks like a lobby. Mason steps out and is followed by the three of us, almost leaping out of the room. Yate walks behind us and casually explains that the room we were just in lifted us to another level.
“Level of what?” I ask, only to receive the same answer we originally got.
“Everything will be explained shortly.”
The ground we walk on is covered in a brown and white carpet, and the walls are the same color as wet sand. The few people that are walking past all give us a smile as we follow Mason. Though their smiles are supposed to be interpreted as a kind gesture, to me, they seem more disturbing than reassuring.
Mason leads us into a small dark gray room that has a large table and about nine chairs that all match the walls. Inside the room is a dark-caramel-skinned middle-aged woman who appears perfectly groomed like she has never seen a speck of dirt in her life.
She stands from her seated position at the head of the rectangular table and flashes a bright white smile at us. “Hello! Welcome to Bergland!” She scoots her chair on wheels backward and makes her way over to us. She too has the accent that sounds just like those from Metropolis.
“My name is Emily Hash. I am the newcomers’ coordinator along with a few other things that will make more sense in a minute. Is there anything I can get you to help make you more comfortable before we start?”
Mason and Yate nod to her behind us and close the door, leaving us alone with this new woman. Sam looks behind us to the closed door, then back to her. “Start what?”
Emily smiles and waves us over to the table. “Please, take a seat.”
Sam openly follows her request, leaving Mavis and me standing alone, still trying to figure things out. I look down to find Mavis had started scratching her arm once again, along with beginning her deep breath therapy she seems to do whenever she gets nervous.
Emily takes notice and picks up a small black panel off the table in front of her. The panel looks just like one of the tablets that the officials back home used when they took attendance checks.
“Here,” Emily states as she swipes the tablet. The wall to our right lights up with an image of Chancellor Lance Meir I. “Do you know who this is?”
Mavis takes another deep breath and nods. Sam jumps in, saying, “Yeah, that’s Lance Meir I.”
Emily smiles. I put my hand on Mavis’s back and nod he
r toward the table. Only after I sit down beside Sam does she take a seat.
“That’s right. Today, I will be giving you a quick briefing of the things you don’t know about Bestellen.” Emily swipes her tablet, and the image on the wall in front of us changes from Meir to a picture of what looked like a meeting of men in suits gone wrong.
Two men were leaning over their desks, shouting and pointing at each other, while the people surrounding them were in chaos. They were screaming, fighting, pointing, and seemingly tearing their fellow men’s suits apart.
“This is a picture that was taken over a century ago. It is of one of the last meetings between two groups of people.”
Emily swipes, and a picture of two seals comes up: One, a bronze-colored seal with two hammers crossed over each other enclosed in a ring, just like the one on the side of the van. The other, Bestellen’s seal, a gold ant, enclosed in a ring, just like the first seal.
Emily looks from the images on the wall, back to us. “Do any of you recognize either seal?”
“Yeah.” Sam leans back into his chair and points to each picture. “The one on the left is the Diligent symbol. The one on the right is Bestellen’s.”
Emily smiles at Sam. “Great job, um …”
“Sam,” he fills in.
“Great job, Sam.” Emily nods. She then turns back to Mavis and me. “Do either of you know what these seals are? Or what they mean?”
The two of us shake our heads and shrug. I know what the Bergland seal is, but Sam just answered.
How does she expect us to know what these are? How does Sam know what the other seal is?
