Besides my personal gain in strategy, I am enjoying spending quality time with my friends. Something in me has shifted, and I feel the need to make real connections and real friends. My new, unobstructed mind is telling me this is important.
On our way to the East Gate, Ethan and I pass my magnolia tree. It’s been watching the fields alone while I’ve been enjoying my time with my friends. I notice that its branches stretch out wide toward the barrier that keeps her prisoner from the world beyond. Is that what we are? Prisoners? No, I don’t believe that. The wall is here for protection from what’s out there—protection for the citizens. I believe in what we do here, and I want to serve the Republic to the best of my abilities. This belief in the Republic is why I made the decision to stop taking the Pump. The Republic trusted me enough to choose my own weapon; they should trust me enough to find a way to become stronger for them.
I hope to see the Exalted marauder on my rounds today. I have so many questions. I want to know if I’ll really become stronger and how long it will take. I want to know how not taking the Pump opened the door to my emotions. I’m still waiting for my body to take off in flight, but it has definitely begun flapping its tiny wings.
I want to find out more about the stranger. Why is he not serving the Republic? I also hope to find out his name so I can stop calling him the “Exalted marauder”.
Basav is waiting for us. His face is dark as if we’re about to be scolded for being late for duty. In actuality we are six minutes early. “Finally,” he grunts. Then he nods his head toward the fields, sending us straight into patrolling.
Geez, he’s strict, I think to myself, and scary as hell.
“I’ll see you when we finish.” Ethan whispers before leaving my side.
I nod because I am actually looking forward to meeting up with him again later. I’m also looking forward to my time alone now. We separate and begin our patrol in our respective areas.
As I walk through the rows of corn, I turn my face up to the sun and breathe it in. It warms my cheeks. I look at the maturing corn kernels that are plumper now than the first time I passed them a few days ago. Like me, they’ve been enjoying the sun’s warmth. As I revel in the light, the corners of my mouth rise on both sides. I let them, because no one is here to see my transgression.
As I walk the rows, watching clouds pass by, I find it hard to focus of the job at hand. I should be watching out for marauders, but instead, I’m only interested in trying to find one. I search for him in the depths of the fields . . . but I’m alone. He never appears.
TWELVE
My chest aches with heaviness. I realize the stranger never promised to return, but I thought he might . . . I hoped he might. Not only do I have questions for him, I find myself thinking about him in other ways. The mystery of the stranger excites me, and only now am I registering his rugged beauty. I was unable to appreciate such a thing while on the Pump.
I replay the feel of his stubble brushing along my cheek. I absently touch my face, wanting to feel it again—now that I can feel more than just peripheral sensations. Would it feel different now that I’m not in a gray fog? I imagine his dark eyes staring into mine. Will he see something different in my eyes the next time I see him? Will he see the life that is stirring within me?
“Mena?” Ethan’s clear blue eyes are questioning me as he interrupts my thoughts of someone else. As I look at him, I feel like I shouldn’t have been thinking of another person in that way—another new feeling. I wish I had names for them.
I quickly recover and say, “Sorry. I was just thinking about what we might have missed in combat training today.” I lie, which seems to be happening more and more lately.
“Probably not much. You know how they like to review the next day,” he responds. His easy tone assures me that he believes my fib. He adds, “Plus, I’m sure Valesca will tell you anything you want to know.” He uses Val’s full name, which strikes me as odd.
We continue discussing Exalted business as we head to the cafeteria for dinner. “Anything interesting on patrol today?” Ethan asks.
“Of course not. You?”
“No. Just corn,” he answers me.
If I could, I would allow my mouth to turn up right now at his unintended quip, but I nod instead. I deny myself the pleasure of my new expressions. It pains me to keep this act up. Every part of my being wants to feel and experience the world around me in new ways and have my body respond accordingly. I want to feel it all, experience everything.
I’m quiet at dinner, lost in my thoughts. Ethan sits with us and prompts Val to tell us what we missed in training. She explains that training was a review of everything we have done before, focusing on mastering each movement. Ethan and I exchange a glance, acknowledging that he was right in his earlier assumptions.
I’m distracted by my surroundings as Val and Ethan continue to chat. It’s strange that the same things I see everyday now have a different effect on me. I look at the trainees and their all-black attire. What I once thought was an efficient uniform, now seems boring. I believe the bright blue of the sky or the golden hue of the corn would make much more appealing garments. The Republic must have good reasons for limiting us to just one color.
There is a lull in the conversation around me, and I can almost hear my magnolia tree beckoning me. She’s calling out for some company, and I want a moment away from my fellow Exalted and their constant talk of training. I’ve enjoyed being in their company greatly the past several days, but this evening, I need some time alone. Excusing myself, I leave Val and Ethan at the cafeteria table to hash out new ways to win the Trials.
Jogging through what is beginning to feel like a prison, I alter my path to take me behind the old grocery store where we train. I take this route in hopes of going unnoticed. The air is thick, but the sky is clear with stars sprinkling the landscape above. There are very few people outside. Only a handful Exalted and citizens walk the Republic’s tidy paths. The large leaves of the tree provide cover as I climb. They camouflage me from the eyes of the Exalted gate guards. I perch on the same branch as before, and lean against the rough trunk of the tree. The sun is setting behind me as I look toward the East, over the waving fields that never end.
I patiently sit and wait, looking for movement and listening for anything unusual. The fields are empty except for the limited Exalted that patrol them. All is quiet beyond the rise of the wall.
I relax and let my mind wander, thinking of nothing in particular. A light breeze blows over me, and I relax even more.
Suddenly, a siren shocks me, nearly causing me to lose my balance and plummet to the ground below. Through the assaulting wail of the sirens there’s an equally loud pop, pop. The siren stops—as does my heart. I have to physically hold my hand over my mouth to keep from alerting anyone of my presence. I’m panicked, because I know that the guards in the watchtower have killed a marauder. Was it the one that helped me? Was he here looking for me? If so, he’s dead.
Three Exalted men storm the East Gate to see what’s happening with their fellow brethren. They go to help . . . They go to protect the Republic.
Night has fallen over the city and the eerie fields beyond the wall. I fear I will be late for curfew, but I risk it because I want to see what happens. Over the wall, I can just make out two large figures coming back from the edges of the fields. As they get closer, I can see that they’re dragging something behind them—something that can only be a dead body.
Is it him? Is it the Exalted marauder?
THIRTEEN
The watchtower shines a spotlight on the guards below to illuminate a clear path as they drag the body behind them. Their heads bob behind the stalks as they walk between the rows of corn. They’re moving quickly, and I know I’ll be able to see them in seconds.
Just as they’re about to immerge from the end of the field, the city’s wall obscures the scene. I can’t see the body. I try to climb higher, but the branches are too thin to hold me. They snap under my wei
ght. My foot slips and my body follows. My bare ankle scrapes along the coarse bark of the tree as I fall. I wince in pain, but catch my footing again several branches down.
As I hug the tree and hold my breath, I keep perfectly still. I’m paralyzed. I’m feeling something that I’ve yet to experience—something with great intensity. I don’t have words for it, but it is not pleasant.
Suddenly the pain in my ankle disappears and is replaced with a pain in my chest. It’s aching for someone I only met once, before I was truly alive.
Let’s be honest, I tell myself. I never actually met him. I don’t even know his name, where he came from, or what his intentions were for telling me about the Pump. So why do I feel this way? As though I care what happens to him?
I’m finally able to creep my way down the magnolia tree and scurry back to the dorms while most of the Exalted guards are occupied at the East Gate. I slip into the stairwell and listen for the monitor citizens making their rounds. The Republic doesn’t waste their precious Exalted on dorm patrols, they simply assign two monitor citizens to each floor. If they catch someone breaking curfew, they force them to scan their thumb on their portable scanner. The following day, a punishment will be dealt by a high-ranking Exalted. Of course, no one ever breaks curfew, so I’ve never heard what the punishment is for such an offense. Since I don’t want to find out what that punishment will be, I take caution climbing the stairs until I reach my floor.
The high-pitched whine of the old door worries me as I push it open a crack. I mentally command it to be silent. It doesn’t obey. I peek through the tiny opening and wait for the monitor citizens to pass by on their rounds. I don’t have to wait long before the first one turns the corner. He’s dressed in all brown. He has on a plain cotton top and pants with plain shoes. They squeak on the smooth floor as he walks. He doesn’t notice me. His gaze is empty and unfocused.
I wait. Moments later the second monitor approaches, and likewise walks the distance of the corridor, disappearing around the far corner. I watch for one more cycle, and determine that they are approximately three minutes apart.
In an effort to be quiet, I remove my clunky boots, hold them close to my chest, and hurry down the hall after the citizen disappears from sight. My door squeaks only a little when I open it and slide in. I press my forehead against the surface of the door. My shoulders drop, and I sigh in relief. The monitor citizens didn’t catch me.
A light switches on behind me, and until now, I had all but forgotten about my roommate. Val sits on her bed with her arms crossed. She’s ready to scold me like a mother does a naughty toddler—even I remember those days. “Where were you? You could have gotten in trouble, you know? I should report you.”
Confessing everything to Val briefly passes through my mind, but almost instantly, I dismiss that idea. I don’t have any of the answers I know she will surely ask, and I won’t get them because the one who can give them to me is probably dead. Instead, I tell her something equally outlandish since I can’t seem to come up with anything else. All the while she’s boring her glacial stare into my brain. I say to her, “When that siren sounded earlier, it made me jump. I wasn’t expecting it. I actually tripped over a tree root and knocked myself out. Look.” I point to my scraped ankle. “When I came to, no one was around. I knew it was past curfew, so I hurried back as quickly as possible.”
She must believe my insane tale because she walks over to bathroom and pulls out a first aid kit from the bottom vanity drawer. “Here. You should probably get that cleaned up and wear longer socks tomorrow so no one notices.” She hands me the medical box and goes back to her bed without another word about my tardiness.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
I feel terrible about all the lies I’ve been telling her, but I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want her to report me. I also don’t want her to get into trouble for knowing things she shouldn’t know. After turning away from my dozing friend, I slip in the bathroom, take a quick shower, disinfect my scrape, and get ready for bed.
Val is asleep by the time I crawl into my stiff bed. I lie on my back and stare at the ceiling of my tiny cell. It seems to creep down on me, dropping an inch for every day that I don’t take one of the Republic’s purple pills.
My feelings for the Republic are so conflicted. While the Republic has always been my sole reason for existence, it’s now become suffocating.
Eventually sleep takes me, temporarily granting me a reprieve from my haunting dream. I have no thoughts of the Trials, the Republic, Ethan, Val, Kinah, Az, or the possible death of the Exalted marauder. There’s nothing.
Until . . .
FOURTEEN
Panic fills me as I try to force my father to take me off his broad shoulders. He marches alongside the never-ending wall in my dream. I scream at him and kick him in the sides, but he is stronger than me. He keeps walking without pause. The rage in my tiny body engulfs me. I want out! I want over the wall!
I scream, “Let me out!”
“Mena! Mena!” I wake to Val shaking me. The nightmare seems more real now that I don’t live in a drug-induced haze.
“Sorry!” I tell my friend. I don’t have any more excuses for Val. I avoid her and duck into the bathroom before she can question me about my outburst.
After brushing my teeth, splashing a little water on my face, and dressing in my dreary clothes, I head out for the morning run. Val has already left without me.
Outside in the fresh air, I push my legs as fast as they will go. As I pass the other trainees—including Val—I relish in the fact that my body feels so light since the withdrawals have stopped. The sky is bluer, the trees are greener, and I am in awe of their beauty. The beauty of the day quickly dissolves my bad mood. Because I am so far ahead of everyone else, I let my mouth rejoice and turn up to the new day’s sun.
I continue to push thoughts of last night’s frightening events and this morning’s dream to the back of my mind and enjoy the present. My body is a well-oiled machine and is invigorated by the easy five mile run.
After the run, I shower and then head straight to breakfast before Val has even returned. She wasn’t far behind me though. Storm clouds quickly darken my mood again when she sits down across from me. She silently waits for me to explain what happened this morning. I try not to look at her. She has questions burning on her tongue, questions she didn’t get to ask me earlier. I shovel my bland food into my mouth and keep my head down.
Across the aisle, Ethan looks back and forth between the two of us. He’s sitting with the male trainees as is expected of him. I wish we could sit where we want. Is that really such a dangerous choice for us to make on our own?
Something nags at me when I look at them and think about the fact that they should be off the Pump like me. Val and Ethan should get to feel the things that I’m feeling. I need some answers of my own.
I focus on the door, on the way out. Evade, I think. It’s the easiest thing to do, but it’s not the right thing to do. I do it anyway . . . The Pump is securely hidden in my sock when I stand to leave both the cafeteria and my curious friends.
Ethan jumps up from his seat and follows me out of the room, trailing several feet behind me. Finally, I turn and stop. “Come on then,” I wave my hand in a reluctant invitation for him to join me.
“I know what you’re doing.” He leans over and whispers, his sweet breath filling the air between us.
What’s he talking about? As I push the door open to the building, I casually say, “You mean walking to the East Gate?”
Ethan grabs my arm and detours me around the back of our weapons training building. My heart starts to pound. He knows. I cringe when he pushes me up against the hard surface of the building’s concrete wall. He blocks me in by putting his hands against the wall, one on each side of me. Then he brings his face close to mine. Wait. What’s happening? I’m momentarily excited by the closeness, thinking he is going to kiss me. Then I notice the sweat dripping from his forehead and upper l
ip.
Ethan haggardly tells me, “I know about the Pump. I know you stopped taking it. I saw you in weapons training. You put something in the sand. Before the next class, when no one was looking, I dug it out.” He takes a deep breath and then continues by saying, “I’ve been watching you since then. Every morning, you hide your pill in your sock.”
I’m surprised when Ethan bends his head down, closer toward me. I once again think he may kiss me, but instead he wipes the side of his face on his shirt sleeve. It leaves a damp spot on the black fabric.
My face flushes when he looks back up at me. He wants answers not a kiss. He asks, “I want to know why you stopped . . . and I want to know why I feel so sick.”
“You stopped taking it? Why?” Suddenly feeling frantic, I push his chest away with my hands to put some distance between us.
“I noticed you changing ever since that first patrol,” he says. “At first you seemed weak, but now . . . now you seem stronger and faster. You’re more accurate in training. You’re more aggressive in hand-to-hand combat. It’s like something else is fueling you.” He comes back toward me, getting close again. He softens his tone, “You even seem different around Val and me. It was like you wanted to sit and talk. That’s not like you . . . so I tried it.”
Admitting all of this to me seems to have relieved him of some heavy burden. He turns away from me, putting his back against the building, and then he slides down the wall. He sits on the ground next to my feet.
Without looking up, he admits with great determination, “I have to finish first, Mena. I have to. My parents are putting a lot of pressure on me. They want the recognition so they can get better patrols.” Ethan confides in me something that is pretty common among Exalted. I can’t help but feel bad for him though. He’s cracking now that he’s stopped taking the Pump.
EXALTED (An Exalted Novel) Page 6
