The Line Book Two: Walled

by Anne Tibbets

We debated going back and building some sort of lookout, a place where we could hide and watch who and what came out of the wall. It would maybe enable us to find Shirel and the girls, if they came out that way. But we had no means of finding food, or shelter. We had no extra clothes, just a few cans of meat we’d swiped from the abandoned apartment. Neither of us had any skills for how to live out in the open, in the wild. The risk of the guards coming out and hunting us down was far too great.

  We’d been lucky before. The guards had been stunned when the wall was penetrated. Shocked into inaction. I knew that wouldn’t last long. They’d either barricade the wall back up or send out hunting parties to exterminate those who’d escaped. They may have been coming for us already, and in our condition, we were no match for them.

  Our best bet was to find a place to hide. Heal. Then search for and perhaps find civilization. Get help. If there was any. Maybe then we’d have the capability to go back to the wall. Maybe we could create another breach from the other side, let more people out.

  Someday, I told myself, we’d see our daughters again.

  My brain hitched on that thought.

  Our daughters.

  They were mine, and only mine, at least biologically. Truth was, we had no way of tracking the biological father. The Line had inseminated me and let me loose, but when we’d questioned Ric’s brother about who’d donated the sperm, he’d claimed ignorance. Now, with Auberge’s computer systems down and nonfunctional, I doubted I’d ever find out who the father was. The records could have been permanently lost, for all I knew.

  But what did it matter?

  They were as good as Ric’s daughters. He was the only man in their life and he treated them like his own.

  I squeezed Ric’s hand at the thought as we limped along, and he responded in kind.

  He had a pale and sad look on his face, and I wondered if he was thinking about the girls, or his sister. If Anj was at the family estate in South like he’d told her, then she should be safe enough. The property was protected by a tall, ivy-covered brick wall that would discourage looters.

  “It’s getting dark,” Ric said, and I blinked.

  He was right. I’d been so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t noticed how difficult it was to see.

  “Should we use the flashlights?”

  “Might as well light a bonfire and announce, ‘Here we are!’ I’m not sure we want to be found when we’re still this close to the wall,” he said.

  I nodded.

  “We should find a place to sleep. Someplace covered. I think it’s raining.”

  “It is?”

  “Here,” he said, and he let go of my hand and held out his palm, up toward the treetops. I did the same. “Feel that?”

  I did. Tiny droplets of water were falling from above. Only it didn’t feel like the fat, thick drops we usually got when it rained in Auberge. Here, you could see teeny tiny droplets of moisture in the air, making it look thick and gray.

  “I think that’s mist,” Ric said. “Could mean rain’s coming.”

  I squinted around the forest, looking for cover. A rock, a hollowed log. I couldn’t see anything more than miles and miles of more trees. I stepped around in search of the surrounding area.

  “Shh.” Ric held out his hand to silence my shuffling. “Hear that?”

  I stilled and strained my ears but couldn’t hear anything. Only leaves moving in the breeze and birds. And even that sounded muffled. My ears were still dull from the force of the blast. “No.”

  He waved me toward him and then he moved off to the left at an increased pace. Quicker and quicker he went, limping and grunting, until I was jogging to keep up with him, holding my injured arm to my chest to keep it from bouncing. We weaved around trees and tripped over stones and bushes.

  Then I heard it too. “Running water?”

  “I think so.”

  We climbed up a slight hill then rounded a pile of rocks and came to a stream. A tiny strip of water, less than a foot wide, ran across the ground only a few meters from where we stood. It trickled down an embankment and slithered through the forest, out of view.

  “Suppose it’s safe to drink?” I asked.

  Ric shrugged and then smiled slightly. “It’s probably cleaner than the water in Auberge.”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it.”

  Ric and I walked over to the stream, then we bent over, him with effort, and cupped our hands and scooped, slurping and dribbling water all over ourselves.

  When we’d had our fill, Ric smashed open one of the cans from the apartment and we ate. Then, we curled up together beside the bank and tried to sleep, Ric’s back propped up against a tree, and me against him. With no blankets or fire we were soon shivering, but with Ric wrapped around me, exhaustion took over and soon, we slept.

  They line us up in front of our sleep compartments. It’s time for inspection.

  One by one, two guards scrutinize us.

  Lift your arms over your head. Touch your toes.

  Turn around and spread your cheeks.

  Show me your teeth.

  One guard watches, pokes, sometimes he cops a feel just because he can. The other one types on a tablet, taking notes, I guess.

  When they reach Peni, she grins. “Good morning!” She performs her tricks as if it’s her pleasure. She’s only been on the Line for a few months and she still has that new-girl pudge. She looks soft and round and healthy.

  I’m afraid to think what I must look like.

  The guards finish with her and stand in front of me.

  Without being told, I reach my hands over my head, bend at the waist and touch my toes. Then I spin around and show the guards my ass.

  When I turn back and show them my teeth, the guard typing stops and cocks his head to the side. “She’s tagged for a special today.”

  The inspector smirks and flicks my nipple with his fingernails. “Well, ain’t you the lucky one.”

  I suppress a frown and hide whatever I’m feeling behind dead eyes. I’m good at it. It’s easy now, after so long.

  A ‘special’ means I’ve been requested. After being on the Line for years, it’s never happened to me before.

  I’ve got a regular customer now.

  Great.

  “Congratulations,” says the inspector and he moves down the row to the next girl.

  I don’t answer.

  The guard with the tablet gives me a strange look as he ambles by.

  I think nothing of it.

  He’s walking down an aisle of naked sex slaves...What could be stranger than that?

  When I awoke, it took a moment to shake the dream from my mind. I’d forgotten about that inspection. It wasn’t as if I had tried to forget it on purpose, it was one inspection of many, and lacked any distinction besides that request for a special.

  Then I remembered.

  That was the day that older man, the one with the black hair, gray sideburns and the fancy suit, had come into my appointment room and just stood and stared at me.

  He’d asked me personal questions, ones I didn’t feel comfortable answering.

  “How old are you?”

  “When’s your birthday?”

  “How did you end up on the Line?”

  I’d answered with half-truths and lies. This didn’t seem to satisfy him, so he’d left. I’d always thought it was the best appointment I’d ever had, if you could call any appointment by that distinction, because he never touched me. He didn’t ask me to touch myself either. He didn’t even look turned on.

  Why had I dreamed about that? It seemed so out of the blue.

  Ric and I were still curled up together on the floor of the forest, his back against a tree trunk. The stream a few feet away hid the sounds of our breathing and gave t
he area a soothing, chilled sensation.

  I couldn’t tell if it was morning yet. The light from above remained obscured by the tree cover and left everything gray and misty. But Ric was still asleep and needed his rest. We both did. Especially since we were nursing bullet wounds. I snuggled in, ignoring how my arm throbbed, and closed my eyes again, intending to fall back asleep. Then I heard a crack and I stiffened.

  Opening my eyes again, I glanced around, trying not to move, or breathe too heavily, for fear it was Auberge guards coming to find us. But then something caught the corner of my eye, and I craned my neck up and to the left.

  It was an animal. One I’d never seen before. It had four short, stubby legs that held up a round fluffy body, covered in light gray fur. There were two enormous black eyes with fur around it that looked like a pair of thick glasses, a wet black pointed nose and two pointy ears on its head. It also had a puffy tail with rings of different-colored fur.

  “Ric,” I whispered. “Ric!”

  He grumbled loudly. I shushed him, and he smacked his lips together. “What? Is it morning?”

  “Shh! Look,” I whispered. “Look!”

  I felt him move his head to look over me. The air let out of his chest with a slow hiss when he saw the creature.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “It’s a raccoon,” he said. I could hear the smile in his voice.

  “I thought those were extinct,” I said.

  “They are. Inside Auberge.”

  We sat on the ground, wrapped around each other and shivering in the cold. It was a beautiful moment. We watched in awe as the animal dipped tree seeds and round-looking nuts into the water, rinsing them, then nibbling on them as if they were delicacies.

  The raccoon came closer to the us, sniffed the air for only a second, then sat back on its haunches, crunching on the nuts noisily.

  When it licked its lips, I giggled.

  At the sound of my voice the beast stiffened, and then it was gone. It bounded through the thick brush of the forest and disappeared.

  I groaned in disappointment.

  Ric patted me on the shoulder in an effort to comfort me, but he touched my wounded arm, and I flinched. “Sorry,” he said.

  We were awake now. There was no point in sitting around shivering any longer. I stood first and helped Ric to his feet. He took a moment to examine our wounds. He’d popped open his bonding tape while we’d walked the day before and had bled through the cloth. He ripped another section off his shirt and rewrapped his leg.

  He looked pale.

  I was ravenous and felt weak. My arm throbbed with each heartbeat.

  We filled our bellies with water from the stream and the last can of meat, then fumbled our way through the forest again.

  With no more food, no canteens to hold water, no proper clothing to keep us warm at night and a dwindling stock of medical supplies, I knew if we didn’t find help fast, we were as good as dead.

  I figured Ric had to be thinking the same thing. But we didn’t give our fears a voice. We kept our doubts silent. What would be the point?

  We ambled across the forest floor, stumbling, tripping, moving slower and slower with each passing hour. I lifted a foot, planted it on the forest floor, then lifted the other. I no longer saw trees, and was hardly aware of my surroundings. I was only moving, forcing my legs to take another step. By the time the sun began to set on the second day, I knew we were going to die.

  How stupid we’d been...thinking that the solutions to our problems were outside Auberge.

  Maybe they had been right to trap us inside their cement fortress. What good was the outside, anyway? It was nothing but trees. And more trees. And weird birds. And no shelter. And no food. And mist in the air that dampened our thin clothes and our spirits, but didn’t quench our thirst.

  I was just about to suggest we stop for the night, when I cast my eyes down toward my feet and realized something odd.

  I laughed.

  It sounded foreign and ridiculous. Even still, I couldn’t stop.

  Ric was a few meters behind me, shuffling along as fast as his wounded leg could go, so he wasn’t in position to see it.

  “Look,” I said, bending over and laughing more.

  Ric stopped for a moment and leaned against the trunk of a tree. He was ashen-white. Ghostly. His hair was matted to his head with sweat and dirt and the shards of his shirt hung limply around his torso. He looked utterly exhausted, beyond the point of tired, as if he was about to pass out. So I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t answer me. I saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he fought to find words.

  “Look where I’m standing,” I cackled.

  Ric squinted at me in the growing darkness. He stumbled forward, watching the ground at my feet. “Is that...?” he whispered hoarsely.

  I nodded, shrieking with delight. “It’s a road!”

  Stretched out before me, a roadway cut a path through the forest like a razor. A straight shot, no turns, no swerves. A dead line, going in both directions, each end disappearing over the curve of the Earth.

  Ric blinked a few times and shook his head, as if trying to shake a mirage from his eyes. But when he came over to me, his eyes grew wide and his lips curled over his lips into a tiny grin. “It’s paved.”

  “I know!” I smiled.

  We looked both ways. Right. Left. Then right again.

  There were no streetlamps. No traffic paint. It was a single lane made of asphalt, wide enough for one car, and it went as far as the eye could see.

  “Which way do we go?” Ric wondered aloud.

  I shrugged. “It’s getting dark. We should camp for the night.”

  Ric nodded. “I think at this point we want to be found. Yes?”

  “Yes.”

  He fumbled with the satchel over his shoulder and produced the first aid kit. “Then we camp right here. Right in the road. I saw a heat pack in the kit. It might keep us warm for a while.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, a flash caught my attention. In the distance, to our left, four lights glistened in the twilight mist.

  “Ric.”

  He turned, seeing it, as well.

  He gave me a look then, one I couldn’t quite place. His face relaxed and then he nodded, limping over to me. He took me in his arms and kissed me sweetly on the mouth.

  It was soft, comforting and warmed me more than physically.

  He pulled back, then took the hand of my uninjured arm, lacing his fingers with mine. “Here we go.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The lights approached. Ric and I stood in the road together, side by side, facing the glaring beams, ready to conquer whatever came next.

  Anticipation.

  He squeezed my hand once, and we waited. My heart fluttered in my chest and I fought to keep alert. Anything could happen. This was either the end of everything, or the beginning.

  The four lights turned out to be the headlights on a large vehicle, two lights at the front and two on the roof. Instead of tires, it rolled along the road on two rotating tracks that circled around rotors and then back again. On top of the tracks sat a large square body constructed of black-colored metal. There were rectangular tinted windows on each side.

  The vehicle, as it approached, didn’t slow as it barreled down the road toward us. I was concerned that we’d have to jump out of the way or risk getting run over. But it decelerated a few meters away, and a door on the side of the vehicle opened outward.

  Four men exited, wearing black tactical gear and green goggles. Each carried large weapons strapped over one shoulder that rested on their hip.

  A dark-skinned soldier approached us while the other three stood in front of the vehicle. It was hard to see, standing so close to their blindingly bright headlights. I
kept my hands to my side, knowing that if I reached up to shield my eyes, it could be seen as an act of aggression.

  The soldier in front of us removed his goggles, squinted with his dark eyes, then he said aloud, “Tell the admiral we’ve located two more.”

  “You’ve found others?” I blurted out.

  A voice sounded from the soldier’s helmet, not his own. It was gruff and unfriendly. “Bring them in.”

  “Copy that,” the soldier said. “They need medical.”

  The voice responded, sharper. “Patch them up and return ASAP.”

  “Yessir.”

  The soldiers came forward and encircled us, their weapons drawn.

  I felt my breath quicken nervously, but we allowed ourselves to be herded toward the vehicle, following the circle of soldiers inside without comment or resistance.

  The side of the machine had two metal steps that had descended when the doors opened, to allow a person to step over the tracks and rotors. When Ric had trouble jumping up the steps, the soldier who’d approached us hopped up and wrapped Ric’s arm around his own shoulder. Ric leaned into the man and grunted as they hobbled inside. The soldier then turned and offered me his hand, but I grabbed the railing instead and pulled myself in, sitting next to Ric on a long bench, just to the left of the door.

  When I glanced over at the soldier, he was grinning to himself. His teeth looked impossibly white and straight, but his expression was soft. He saw me watching and his smile fell.

  “What’s so funny?” I couldn’t help myself from asking.

  The man swallowed tensely and looked at the floor as the other three guards entered the machine and sat on the benches across and to the side of ours.

  “Nothing’s funny, ma’am,” the soldier said.

  Ma’am?

  His expression hitched at my reaction but he said nothing more. Instead he leaned over, closed the vehicle door, then tapped the roof with his fist two times.

  Just like that, the machine lurched and moved.

  Backward.

  The vehicle drove in the same direction from which it came, without turning around, smooth and clean. I barely realized we were moving. There were no seat belts, no chairs, only a single light in the ceiling and benches against each window of the interior. Yet we all sat comfortably and without being jostled about.