by Sarah Fine
Ana kept brushing, her fingers deftly separating my hair into sections, attacking each part systematically. If she noticed a blush, she didn’t comment on it.
“He’s not acting like himself. Malachi is the most calculating person I know. But he’s different with you, like something’s not adding up for him.”
“Probably because all he wants to do is make sure I leave this city and stop being such a nuisance.” Girly hair brushing or no, this was not something I was prepared to discuss.
“Mmm-hmm.” Never had a sound dripped with so much skepticism. Mercifully she changed the subject. “Do you have any weapons training?”
I scoffed. “Why do people keep asking me that? I’m a high school student. Or I was. I guess I’m nothing now. But no, no ‘weapons training’ for me. I’m pretty good at defending myself, though.”
“We’ll see. That’s why Malachi wants you to practice with weapons that keep attackers at a distance. Fists are bad, but Mazikin bites are worse, and if we’re going as far as the Harag zone, odds aren’t good we’d get back to the Station in time for Raphael to do his thing. So—you’ll learn to use the bo staff. Maybe throwing knives. It depends on how good you are because we don’t have much time to teach you if he wants to leave tomorrow.”
She started to braid my hair. “Keep still. I don’t usually get to work on another girl. It makes me feel like a girl. Don’t ruin it for me.”
I swallowed a chuckle. Not that I had a ton of experience, but this was the freakiest slumber party I’d ever attended. First we braid each other’s hair, then we attack each other with assorted weaponry. Maybe it wasn’t so different from your average high school girl get-together.
When Ana finished, she held up a warped mirror. My reflection reminded me of a Picasso painting I’d seen in one of my textbooks. “Um, it’s great?”
“Well, it’ll keep your hair out of your face. Now. Clothes. I think my stuff will fit you.” She dug through her trunk again and came up with a serviceable pair of boots and an outfit that looked almost exactly like the one Malachi had been wearing. I tugged off the icky green shirt and pulled on the navy-blue top, which was soft as it hugged my skin. The pants were a little snug, but also the most comfortable thing I’d had on my body since I’d arrived.
Ana looked me up and down. “You look just like one of the Guard.”
She laughed when I shot her a horrified look. No girl wants to be told she resembles a rhinoceros. “One of us,” she clarified. “You look like one of us.”
“Are you and Malachi the only—”
“At present, we are the only human members of the Guard.” Ana was suddenly very busy putting things back in her trunk. After a few minutes, she completed her meticulous, and seemingly needless, rearranging. “Since Malachi’s not back yet, let’s get something to eat, and then we’ll go to the training room.”
“You know, I’m not really hungry.”
Ana looked me straight in the eye. “Ah. I forgot. That’s because the food here’s not right for you. You’re in the wrong place. Malachi knew it immediately. That’s probably why he’s so crazy to get you out of here.”
“The food here’s not right for me?” Was that why I wasn’t hungry?
“Let me guess—nothing looks good here. Whatever you see here, you can have as much as you like. But none of it tempts you, am I right?”
I winced as the unwelcome image of Malachi’s bare chest flashed in my mind. “No, nothing’s tempting,” I said through clenched teeth.
Ana gave me a quizzical look. “All right, so you’re in the wrong place. Most people here are gathering possessions just like they did on Earth, eating, drinking, smoking—some of them even hoard stuff in their apartments, blocking themselves inside. Only people who are ready to be released stop consuming the things that are here.”
“What does that mean, though?”
“It means you need to get out of here or eventually you’ll starve because you’re not getting what you need.”
“What? I don’t feel hungry!” My hands poked at my stomach like someone else was controlling them.
“It’s all right, Lela,” Ana reassured, watching my wiggling fingers with amusement. “It takes a while. You have some time. A few weeks, at least.”
I hadn’t realized I had an expiration date. “And if I eat?”
“It won’t nourish you. Don’t bother. It’s no good, anyway. Be glad you don’t have to force it down like the rest of us.” Her eyes darted up to mine. “You know, you could go see the Judge and head out into the Countryside…maybe fatten yourself up and then come back to look for your friend?”
I clenched my fists just to stop myself from giving her the finger. “Yeah. I’m sure the Gate Guards would have specific instructions to welcome me back with open arms, right? Nice try.”
She shrugged.
“Did Malachi put you up to that?” So much for trusting him.
She shook her head. “He probably thought of it, but he’s obviously decided he cares what you think about him.”
Something in my chest loosened a bit. I felt…relieved. I realized I wanted to trust Malachi. I tugged absently at my braid as I thought of him—and then I remembered something he’d said. “Malachi told me he doesn’t drink the water here.”
Ana’s expression fell. “Oh yeah. He eats sometimes, but he stopped drinking a few months ago. Lucky him.” Envy sucked the life out of her voice. “He won’t talk about it with me, but I know what it means. He hasn’t started to lose weight yet, but it’s only a matter of time. He’s on his way out.”
“You mean he’s going to starve or something?” I wished I’d tried to coax some of the water down his throat while he was unconscious.
“No, I mean out, as in out of the city and into the Countryside.” Ana’s smile was brittle and tense. “I think Malachi’s almost done here. I don’t know when, exactly, but I guess I’ll know when he stops eating completely.” She threw her shoulders back and pulled her ponytail tight with practiced fingers. “Well, I’m starving. Do you want to come with me to the food room?”
My brain was still working over the thousands of questions bouncing around in my skull, but one look at Ana told me the conversation was over. I kept my tongue clamped tightly between my teeth as I followed her purposeful strides out of the room and down the hall.
The “food room” was exactly what it sounded like and very similar to the FOOD store I’d visited. Unappetizing was a generous way to describe it. Ana gathered random items for herself, including a forlorn lump of cheese, a black banana, a hard roll, and some sort of soup that smelled, to me at least, like feet. I didn’t mention it to Ana, though.
Other Guards sat at long, wooden tables, piles of food in front of them. Most of their gem-bright eyes were riveted on us as we crossed the cavernous room. It felt a little like Warwick High School, except that all the other kids were more than seven feet tall and heavily armed.
Ana pulled a knife from the sheath at her thigh and scraped at the bits of mold that clung to the face of the cheese. I sat across from her, thoughts racing. If I didn’t make it out of the city in a few weeks, I would starve. Malachi hadn’t mentioned that, but it explained a lot of his eagerness to get me out. Well, I was just as eager to leave as he was to see me go, as long as I had Nadia with me. Maybe he wouldn’t be too far behind. I thought back to the longing in his voice as he talked about what lay beyond the city walls. I was happy that he might be able to get out soon and spent a few moments musing about the smile it might put on his harsh, defiant face.
Ana ate quickly and wordlessly. She seemed subdued after our conversation about eating, and I wondered if she was wishing she had less of an appetite. The room quieted when Ana got up to throw her leftovers away. She acted like she didn’t notice. As soon as we stepped into the hall, newly relaxed laughter and teasing filled the room and shook the walls.
I glanced over at Ana. “Is it that you make them nervous or that they think you’re hot?”
“Had you ever trained before you came here?”
Ana looked me up and down. “You know, I think I was probably like you. I mean, I don’t know you, but you have that look. A strong girl. A fierce girl.” She gave me a smile that managed to be both sly and sad. “A damaged girl.”
I looked away and ground my teeth. Was it that obvious? Like NOT FIT FOR NORMAL SOCIETY was stamped across my forehead.
Only Nadia had made me feel differently. She made me feel like I was good enough, like all I needed to do was read the code and speak the language of that normal world instead of changing myself to fit into it. She once told me that everybody carried their secret savages beneath their skin, and some people just covered them better than others.
I’d wanted to be like Nadia, fitting in but not caring rather than the other way around. But if Nadia had really known what was important and real, why had she bothered to put on that happy face when she was obviously so miserable? Why had she kept herself drugged out on painkillers? And why the hell had she chosen to leave me?
If Malachi and Ana were as good as they seemed, maybe I would have a chance to ask her.
Ana led me down a set of stone steps, the light from the gas lamps flickering in the darkness. The temperature dropped as we descended. Heavy thuds and sharp cracks echoed against the stones. It sounded like there was a fight going on. We reached the door at the base of the stairs.
“He’s warming up,” Ana said casually as she pushed open the door. The room inside fell silent.
I stepped into a long, rectangular chamber with a high ceiling. Modified gas lamps lined the room, all of them covered with sturdy wire mesh—to keep them from being broken by flying objects, no doubt. Malachi stood at the far side of the room, pulling a shirt on over those amazing abs of his.
“How’s Michael?” Ana asked as she approached him.
Malachi rolled his eyes and wiped a sleeve across his sweaty face. “His usual, eloquent self. But he’ll have armor for Lela by tomorrow morning.”
I looked back and forth between them. Over the last few years, I’d become really proud of my ability to protect myself, my ability to intimidate others into leaving me alone. But right then, gazing at two actual warriors, I felt like a stupid high school kid.
The next few hours were brutal. It started out slow enough, with Malachi teaching me to use the staff. He demonstrated the various grips I could use to strike and block basic attacks. He had me practice forward and backward blocks, upward and downward strikes. Over and over again, with increasing speed. By the time he was satisfied that I’d developed a basic comfort with it and was no longer in danger of thwacking myself in the head at inopportune moments, all my muscles were shaking and I was breathing so hard I was certain my lungs were about to explode.
“Time to defend yourself,” Ana sang, skipping forward with a scimitar. I panted out a curse and staggered back a few steps.
“Just observe first,” said Malachi, taking the scimitar from Ana and handing her a staff. Ana winked at Malachi and spun the staff with dizzying speed. Malachi gave her a stern look. “She just needs the basics. Stop overwhelming her.”
Ana stuck out her tongue at him and held the staff still.
I wished I was imagining the graceless, exaggeratedly heavy steps Ana took as she stomped around, but then I noticed that muscle in Malachi’s jaw ticking away in annoyance.
Yep, she was making fun of me.
Before I could turn to bolt, Malachi refocused me. “Not all Mazikin are armed, but recently they’ve been stealing and hoarding Guard weapons. We know of two who are competent with scimitars, and you’ve met one of them. Oh, and you’ve seen the other. Sil and Ibram. There were three, but alas, Juri is no longer with us.” I heard the grim satisfaction in his voice as he said it and smiled to myself for the same reason. “Anyway, if you see either of them, run. Just run. Get around a corner as quickly as you can and keep going. But with the others, your goal is to disarm if possible and defend yourself if nothing else.”
He turned back to Ana and ran straight at her, blade raised. In a blur of movement, Ana met his attack and twisted the weapon from his arms.
“Didn’t quite catch that,” I said.
“Of course not,” he said, stepping back into his starting position. “We’ll slow it down for you.”
They demonstrated several more times, step by step, how to meet and disarm a relatively inexperienced person wielding a scimitar.
These are the things they don’t teach you in high school.
Malachi offered me the staff again. After what felt like hundreds of attempts, I succeeded in completing the series of movements at a normal speed. I even learned a few variations of the same maneuver.
Finally he announced I’d endured enough of the staff. I collapsed to the floor in happiness, ready for a rest and fantasizing about a hot shower. But when I opened my eyes, he was standing over me. He held out his hand tentatively, offering to pull me to my feet, almost as though he was afraid I wouldn’t want to take his hand. I reached up and let his long fingers wrap around mine as he tugged me up to stand beside him.
He gave me what I could only interpret as a shy smile. “How do you feel about knives?”
I laughed. “Do you even have to ask? Love them. Love. Them.”
He chuckled and handed me one. “These are throwing knives. Notice the double edge? Different from the hunting knife. These will be easier for you to control.”
“So next time I can hit something vital?”
He cocked his arm and set his eyes on a cloth mannequin several yards away. “Only as a last resort, Lela, if you have nothing else. But that’s the idea.” A fraction of a second later, the poor mannequin was dead.
Ana was at least as good as Malachi and seemed to enjoy showing off, spinning around the room while she adorned the mannequin with a necklace of knives. I cracked up when she landed a cluster of knives right in the mannequin’s crotch. Malachi’s olive skin turned ashen.
“Remind me to be nicer to you,” he muttered.
Malachi would not allow me to stop practicing until I got the right form. “You’re throwing it like a baseball.” He laughed. “Who do you think you are, Lefty Grove?”
He seemed to think he was hilarious, but I just stared. Who the heck was Lefty Grove? Ana sidled up to him and leaned in to whisper, “You’re dating yourself, old man.…”
His face instantly became serious. “Never mind. Back to work.”
About a thousand throws later, I was jealous of the knife-riddled mannequin and wishing someone would have as much mercy on me. My right arm burned from shoulder to fingertips. My neck and back were knotted and aching. But I knew how to throw a knife. Yet another practical skill they never bothered to teach in high school.
When Malachi finally relented and started to put away the knives, I sank to the floor, massaging my dead right arm. I looked around the room at their odd assortment of weapons. Scimitar. Staff. Throwing knives. I wasn’t exactly an expert—my knowledge came entirely from movies—but they didn’t all seem to fit together into a single fighting style.
“Why these weapons? I’m telling you, a rocket launcher and a few AK-47s would do you guys loads of good.”
Malachi and Ana looked at each other, and he obviously read something on her face, because he nodded at her.
“I’m done,” she said, turning away to pick up a few staffs from the floor and set them in a wall rack. “I need to go get some water and take a shower. And I have to gear up. Lela, you did a good job tonight. I’ll see you later.”
Ana gave Malachi a playful swat on the ass and bounced from the room.
She looked no more tired than when she’d walked in, which made me seriously jealous. That feeling only intensified as I thought about the way she touched Malachi, like she’d earned the right over years. I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants and wished away the foreign ache in my chest.
“To answer your question,” said Malachi, slipping several knives into a large cloth pouch, “it’s built up over centuries. Some of us bring knowledge of weapons or fighting styles from our lives on Earth and train the others. It gets passed from Guard to Guard, each new person learning from the older ones.” He heaved a sigh, like a memory was pressing in on him. “Michael develops new weapons to fit the human Guards’ preferences. I imagine it will only be a matter of time before we get a new Guard whose expertise is guns, but I hope I will be gone by then.”
He stretched, and it looked like he was pushing his memories back, returning to the present. “I don’t know where the scimitar came from. That has been a Guard weapon for a millennium as far as I know, like a tradition. All Guards are trained to use them. The throwing knives—that was an American, actually. He was from the South, during your Civil War, and he left here soon after I became a Guard. Anyway, not everyone carries those because not everyone throws well enough to do anything but give the enemy a weapon. Which is why you should only use yours as a last resort. Oh, and don’t bother trying it on Ibram.”
“Yeah, I saw.”
He nodded. “Now, the staff—that was Takeshi. He could stop anything with it. He was the one who got Michael to modify the batons. It would be hard to tote a full-length staff around the city. The other Guards’ batons are just that: they’re for crowd control and mostly for threat. But as you’ve seen, mine and Ana’s extend to become staffs. It’s better for us because we don’t wear the heavy armor. We can fight more opponents at once and keep their teeth away from our lovely, fragile skin.”
I busied myself retying the lace on my boot to keep him from seeing my face as I thought about his lovely, fragile skin. “So Takeshi was here before you.”
“Yes, he was the one who taught Ana and me.”
