by Lisa Jade
Still, it’s fine rain. The kind that feels light and refreshing, rather than soaking everything through. I even find myself rolling back my sleeves and exposing my arms to the air. It feels nice; oddly freeing after being in the house for so long. I tug my hair from its band and allow it to fall in heavy locks around my face. It feels better this way.
Main Street is deathly quiet as I head towards it, and I briefly wonder why. All the normal figures are here; fishers still wheel huge carts of produce and stack them into boxes. The businesses are still open, tiny flashing lights in their front windows.
But it feels unnervingly quiet today. The few who still dare to work their own little stalls have packed up for the day, sitting slumped against the nearest wall with distraught looks on their faces. As I walk by, no glares follow me. No whispers. Nobody cares that I’m here.
Any other day, I’d find that refreshing.
As it is, I just feel on edge.
“What’s going on?” I ask, approaching a nearby man, “why is everything so quiet?”
“Shh! Don’t acknowledge it.”
“Why not?”
The man looks up at me and in an instant, I feel his fear. Pale, grey eyes seem wide and sunken in an otherwise youthful face. Anguish twists on his lips. I glance down; he’s clutching the remnants of his own stall tightly in one hand, not caring about the splinters digging into his palm. It’s like something trampled the place.
Panic prickles up my spine.
“Tell me what’s going on!”
He simply presses his finger to his lips, then points further down the street. To where the road falls away underfoot, over the crest of a hill, and down towards the Elevator’s shaft.
The panic only grows as I realise I can’t see the Elevator’s mechanics. It’s not down here; so what else could possibly be going on near the endless drop?
My eyes are drawn back to the man’s, and I see all my own fear reflected back at me.
“You should make yourself scarce,” he breathes, “while you still can.”
I take a half-step back, nerves building into fear.
“Who have they taken?” I finally ask. He just grimaces.
“Don’t go down there, kid. Spare yourself the trauma.”
I turn heel and run.
I’m about halfway towards the shaft when I hear the first scream.
It’s the unmistakeable sound of someone being pushed towards the edge. A harrowing scream of unending fear. It’s enough to make me feel sick to my stomach. I swallow back on the bile and run a little faster, lowering my head to the wind. I need to get there faster.
Because I recognise that scream.
Cherise.
Four
There’s a sizeable crowd gathered to witness the execution. Many seem terrified by what they’re seeing – but the look in their eyes suggests they’re even more afraid of leaving. Afraid of what punishment they might face if they openly disapprove of the Operators’ actions.
I should turn away. I should run back home and bury my face in my pillow, pretending that nothing is happening. I should sit quietly in my room until Dad comes and tells me the terrible news of another execution. In a few days’ time, after things have calmed down, we’ll lay flowers around the shaft. We’ll create a ring of posies around the door that led to Cherise’s death. People will sing slow, sad songs, and her parents will braid loss knots in their hair, just like I did in Alice’s after her parents were slaughtered.
And then the world will move on, and eventually she’ll be nothing but a ripple, a memory of that person who used to be around but isn’t anymore.
My hands clench at my side.
Is this really how it has to be?
She lets out another scream.
I could stop this. I could save her.
She stares through the crowd as though desperately searching for a friendly face – and those clear hazel eyes find me. Her lips quiver, and I understand what she’s trying to say to me. Help.
“Move! Get out of my way!”
I push through the crowd as fast as I can, shoving total strangers aside in hopes of reaching Cherise. People glance my way as I pass, their eyes narrowing then widening as they see the look on my face. Fear ripples through the crowd, and suddenly people step aside. God forbid they’re seen standing too near to me, or spotted sharing more than a split second’s worth of eye contact with me. Somehow, they seem to know what I’m going to do.
Damn. I wish they’d tell me what it is.
Cherise has stopped screaming now; but her terror still fills the air around us. Over my own cries and the general bustle of the crowd, I can somehow hear her breathing – short, shallow, petrified.
What did she do to deserve this? What crime could she possibly have committed? And the fear in her eyes when she looked at me – it was the fear of someone facing death.
Her friendly smile flashes in my mind, the look of mild amusement that played in her eyes as she’d spoken about the stars with me. Her throaty voice, dripping with sarcasm. She’d laughed at the thought of being captured. Now, any shred of ego has vanished. All that’s left is a pure, indescribable, almost animalistic fear.
This fear – it isn’t like her.
I rip at the nearest Operator’s shoulder. He’s much bigger than me, but I have the element of surprise on my side; I throw him back and dart under the outstretched arm of the next one.
Angered yells follow me. They’re chasing me. They don’t know what I’m doing – no more than I do, at least – but they’re coming.
It’s too late to run now.
“Wait!”
Is that my voice, bursting free from my throat? It sounds so hoarse, like I’ve been screaming for days.
“Please, stop!”
Finally, I get close enough to see. Two Operators round on Cherise, who stands only a few feet from the edge. She cradles what seems to be a broken wrist; as the crowd moves, I spot dark shadows on her face and neck that can only be bruises.
My terror grows. I push past the next Operator and finally manage to jump between Cherise and her pursuers.
“Stop. P-please…”
Why is it suddenly so hard to breathe? I stare into the eyes of the nearest Operator – a burly man in his fifties – and try to pull my face into something vaguely normal.
Behind me, Cherise gasps.
“Quinn, w-what are you doing?”
I steal a glance at her; her young face looks drained and pale, devoid of any real life. Even her once-clear eyes are clouded with fear.
I turn away.
“What’s going on here?”
To my surprise, the world falls silent. I’m surprised to hear the authority in my own words. This is the voice of someone who knows what they’re doing. The voice of someone who’s strong.
It doesn’t sound like my voice. It sounds like Dad’s.
I fix the Operators with a stern look.
“I know you like to think you’re above it all, but you can’t just attack citizens!”
His lips curl into a sneer, and I feel my hackles raise. Nobody fights back against the Operators. Their power may be assumed rather than earned, but they still control our lives. As a Level, we live and die on their whim; and nobody in their right mind would stand against them.
I set my jaw. Nobody in their right mind would pass by that warning sign near the Drop-off. That didn’t stop me. Why should this?
When the Operator speaks, his voice is filled with vitriol.
“Who are you supposed to be?”
“I asked you a question!” I snap. Behind me, I feel Cherise cowering. To her, things have taken a turn. She was Branded several years ago, and likely assumed that’s as bad as it gets. But there’s only one greater punishment; Level Five. I shake the thought away and turn back to the Operator, who’s now watching me with cold eyes.
“According to the Council, Operators have the right to break certain laws if it means protecting the sanctity of Pyre,” he says
, “this girl recently stole some expensive pieces of equipment from One. It’s an inexcusable crime, Miss. Since this particular criminal is already known to us, there’s no alternative available but execution.”
Despite his polite words, his expression is anything but. The other Operators chuckle and exchange bemused glances, their eyes skirting the lines of my body. I suppose I don’t strike a very intimidating silhouette.
What am I doing? Only an idiot would stand against them. The last people who dared were thrown off the Level without a trial. Alice’s face flashes in my mind. How furious will she be if I get myself killed like this, mirroring her parent’s own torturous ends?
But then I hear Cherise’s laboured breathing behind me, and something hot stirs in my gut. I can’t just leave. I can’t just pretend it’s not happening. Alice wouldn’t do that. Dad wouldn’t do that. But they’re not here right now; it’s just me.
“It’s my fault.”
The lie slips out far too easily. Perhaps I’ve had too much practice lying to my loved ones.
“I demanded that Cherise get me the equipment,” I continue, “I even threatened to report her for a crime she didn’t commit, if she didn’t deliver. But I never thought that she would get caught. I’d expected better from her.”
At that, I shoot her a frustrated glance. I can’t get her off the hook entirely. But if I can make them blame me, perhaps they’ll go easy on her. I may receive punishment in her stead, but it would be my first transgression. A thorough beating each would be an acceptable price to pay.
Cherise’s face creases as she realises my plan. Confusion mixes with the fear, and hurt finds its way into her eyes. She’s insulted by my attempts to help. That’s fair. I wouldn’t want to be helped by me, either.
But when I think about her familiar eyes fading into dull orbs, or her flushed cheeks turning cold in the freezing ocean water, or her quick, clever hands falling still… something stirs in my chest, nearly painful.
“Are you saying you were an accomplice?” the Operator asks me. His voice is suddenly matter-of-fact. Like he’s not some sociopath about to toss a young woman into the sea.
I shake my head, fury building.
“No. I forced her to do it. I didn’t think I could get away with it myself – too much of a risk, considering. I’d have been caught. So I did what I had to do.”
“Quinn…”
Cherise’s voice is faint and unsure. I ignore her.
The Operator’s eyes narrow.
“If that’s true, why would you step in?”
“She had a job to do, and she failed. Clearly, she wasn’t as talented as I had been led to believe. Why let her die over a simple failure?”
The Operators hesitate at that. They don’t get it. There’s no reason why I would jump in and confess.
“There’s a big leap between being a petty criminal and being a murderer,” I say simply, “I’m not the latter. I can’t let someone die. Not for me.”
The nearest Operator looks me up and down, his thin lips twisting into a smile. Perhaps he sees me as a fool to be made an example of. Perhaps he’s just excited at the thought of another victim. One thing’s for sure, though; now I’ve spoken against them, I’m not getting out of this unscathed.
“If it’s true, then what did she steal?” he asks.
Time to hedge my bets. He said Level One. I can think of one thing she got from them.
“Astronomy equipment bound for the Level One observatory, of course. My personal hobby – ask anyone. If you don’t believe me, let me show you. I happen to have a very valuable telescopic lens at my house right now.”
Suddenly, Cherise tenses. My stomach drops. So I was right. She’s been caught stealing the lens for me. She’s only in this situation because of me.
But then she clutches at my hand, terror in her eyes.
“T-that’s not true. I don’t…”
“Evidence doesn’t lie.” I say flatly.
I turn to the Operators and look up, trying to inject that same confidence from earlier into my voice.
“See? She’s only guilty of being blackmailed. Surely you can forgive that.”
“So, you’re confessing to the theft?”
I pause. If I say no, I might still be able to skulk away with some shred of dignity. I might even avoid a nasty beating. But Cherise is still there, her skinny fingers clutching at my wrist. And then there’s the crowd, watching with baited breath, anxious to see how this plays out.
This isn’t fair. Cherise has always stolen what we need – medicine, equipment, food. When diseases hit and the Council refuses to help us, Cherise has always stepped up. And me? All I’ve ever done is stare at the sky and wish for impossible things. So who takes the punishment?
There’s no competition.
“Yes,” I say, “I admit it.”
“Quinn, no!”
I speak over her, forcing a little anger into my voice.
“The snobs have had it far too good for far too long, and just once, I wanted a shred of what they had. So sue me.”
The Operators exchange pleased looks.
“That sounds like a confession to me.”
“Yep.”
“Exactly,” I interject, “but you’re reasonable men. I’m sure you can overlook Cherise’s part in this. Let her go, will you? If you need your pound of flesh, then I’m right here.”
The crowd moves again, whispering amongst themselves. Fear, concern, barely-concealed panic. Their numbers are growing; more people are being drawn towards the chaos in the centre of town. I don’t blame them. If it were me, I’d want to see the moron who dared to stand against the Operators.
I’d want to see how it turned out.
“Toss them both over.”
Panic fills me and I instinctively step back – then realise my mistake. I’ve just shifted a little closer toward the shaft. To the edge they’re going to throw me off. Cherise catches my eye.
“Quinn… what on Earth were you trying to do?”
“I thought I could change their minds,” I admit, “I hoped I could get them to spare you.”
“By offering yourself up instead?”
“It… wasn’t the best plan, I’ll admit.”
She laughs, but the sound is devoid of all actual humour.
“You’re useless. Did you know that?”
“Wasted potential, remember? I don’t know what else you expected.”
They’re closing in on us now, their arms outstretched to push us over. I briefly consider grasping at one of them and pulling them over with me, but I can’t. Monsters or not, bullies or not, they’re alive. Their hearts are still beating, their blood still warm. I can’t kill them.
A cold rush of air hits my back and I shiver.
I don’t want to die.
There’s so much I wanted to do. I never made peace with Dad. Never travelled with Alice. I never left Pyre, let alone this stupid, dying planet. I never got to see the universe up close or map the stars while standing amongst them. I glance at the sky. It’s midday. There are no stars. No way to reflect on the only dream I ever had. Something hot pushes at the back of my eyes, but I push back on the tears. I won’t cry. Not in front of them. I won’t let them know that they’ve won, even though they have.
Instead, I hold out my hand. Cherise stares, blinking tears from her eyes.
“W-what?”
“We’re going down either way, right?” I laugh, “hold my damned hand.”
Her eyes widen. Of all the people who’ve died this way, nobody died with a friend. They’ve always thrown people down one by one. It’s always been a solitary thing. But for us?
It doesn’t have to be.
She gives a tearful nod and grasps my hand tight. I can’t suppress a smile when I feel the strength in her grip, the resilience in her touch. It eases my own fears.
“Really wish we’d hung out more,” she jokes.
“We have plenty of time. Are you ready?”
She nods again, but there are no tears this time. There’s only defiance in her eyes, an undeniable refusal to give in. It’s catching.
I don’t know how this happened. How I ended up about to be thrown off the edge of Pyre and into an unforgiving sea. How I ended up clutching the hand of someone I’ve spoken to only a half dozen times before today, facing our combined doom together.
Even so, I suddenly don’t feel scared. If this is it – if this is as far as we go – then at least we’ll go out with a bang. A united front. Defiant. Unafraid.
We tighten our grips on one another’s hands, and wait for the end.
It doesn’t come.
Instead, there’s hesitation. The nearest Operator pauses, his arm still outstretched. His hand is mere inches from my shoulder, in prime position to shove me off. But instead, he seems unsure. I wonder why.
“Quinn.”
I follow Cherise’s gaze to the building crowd. They’re still shifting as one, but now they seem different. They look confused and pleased, even hopeful – and as I catch several people’s eyes, they smile.
Are they happy to see us killed? Or…
“Hey, w-what are you waiting for?”
One of the Operators nudges the other, fixing him with a demanding stare.
“Do it!”
But then he glances back, and winces a little as the eyes of the crowd settle on him.
Suddenly, I understand.
Everyone’s sick of Operators. Even those who would never dream of speaking out. Somehow, seeing the two of us together has drawn that anger out.
Cherise steps forward, nudging a lock of hair behind her ear. Confidence comes off her in waves.
“My, my. They’re not happy, are they? Do you know who you’re dealing with?”
She rests one hand on her hip, still clutching mine in the other. Despite her confident voice, she remains scared; I can feel heat burning through her palm, the ever-so-slight quiver in her fingertips. Nevertheless, she pushes on.
