“I…” What do I say? Think, Mena, think. I decide to tell him the truth . . . well, part of the truth. “Someone told me that we’re being controlled by the Pump, and that I would be stronger without it. They told me to quit taking it, but I couldn’t let anyone see me change. And I have changed. I feel things now that I didn’t feel before. My face does strange things like the Ambassadors’ faces do sometimes . . . ” I trail off, looking around to make sure no one is eavesdropping.
Ethan finally looks up at me as I explain some of the things that have happened to me since taking my last vitamin. I tell him about how sick I was and how the sun makes me warm. I tell him many things that have happened since I stopped taking the Pump. When I finish, the first thing he asks is, “Who told you to stop taking the Pump?”
I know Ethan well enough to know that he would go after the marauder. He would tell someone the second I told him. “I can’t tell you that. I’m sorry,” I state emphatically. I keep the man from the cornfield a secret for now. I want to protect him from my friend, at least until I get some answers.
Ethan doesn’t say anything when I deny his request. He just sits with a blank stare on his face. I reach out and offer him my hand. After a slight hesitation, he accepts, and I pull him to his feet.
Before letting go of his sweaty palm, I tell him, “You can’t let anyone see you behave differently. You have to pretend that you don’t feel anything like before, and you can’t let them see you become sick. They’ll send you to the medical citizens. If they run blood work, I’m sure they’ll be able to tell . . . I’ll try to cover for you as much as possible until you feel better.”
He nods in understanding. I release his hand and we reluctantly continue on our path to the East Gate. We have to hurry so that we aren’t late.
Before we separate to make rounds in each of our areas, Ethan says, “I think we should tell Val. She already suspects something’s going on with you. We talked about you when you left dinner early the other night. She says you’ve been acting funny and having fits in your sleep. Exalted don’t have nightmares, Mena.”
“I’ll think about it,” is my only reply.
Not having the words to describe how I feel is frustrating. I’m definitely feeling frustrated and something more heated toward Val right now for divulging that information to Ethan. She shouldn’t have told him about the nightmares. Maybe I’m justified in my decision not to tell her about the Pump. She is the closest female friend I have, but will that be good enough for her not to expose me? She could tell someone. She could tell the wrong someone.
However, I suppose I should be grateful she hasn’t reported the nightmares to the Republic . . . yet.
With burdensome thoughts, I absently make my way through the rows of green and gold. Thoughts of the marauder plague me, thoughts of my new, intense reactions worry me, and thoughts of Val and her suspicions won’t go away. Ethan, I decided back behind the building, could be trusted with half the truth, because he had broken the rules and quit taking the Pump on his own. He’d be in just as much trouble as I would if anyone found out. I’ll have to be extra cautious and cover for him in class while he’s sick or it could bring both of us down.
A warm hand reaches out to grasp mine. It pulls me into the shelter of the corn. A new feeling bubbles up inside me, almost overwhelming me when I see the Exalted marauder’s masculine face. He has full lips and sleepy brown eyes. When I look at him, I can feel light filling my face. It radiates through me even though the stalks that surround us block the sun.
“You’re smiling,” he says. He smiles back at me.
I touch my mouth hesitantly and ask, “Is that what this is called?”
I turn the corners of my mouth down and ask, “And this?”
“A frown. You smile when you’re happy and you frown when you’re sad. Have you been feeling those things?” he asks me. Then he runs his finger from my brow to the top of my ear, tucking some loose hair behind my ear.
“I have,” I smile, but then I remember that he should be dead. My mouth goes taut. I don’t know what this feeling is—confusion definitely—mixed with something else—something hot. I feel as if everything I’m experiencing is at an extreme, but then again I don’t have anything to compare it to.
“You’re not dead!” I blurt out. “I thought you were dead!”
“No.” He shakes his head. “It must have been someone scavenging for food. They weren’t one of ours.” He laughs. “Were you worried about me?”
“No, of course not! I don’t even know you.” All the questions I have for him flood into my head as I say that. “Who are you? Where did you come from?” I demand an answer. I keep my mouth expressionless, and I boldly hold his stare. My Exalted ways come back to me.
He drops my hand. I hadn’t realized he was still holding it. Since they belong to me again, I rest my hands on my knives. He notices, but doesn’t seem to be concerned. He answers, “My name is Ryker. I was born in the Republic. Now I help people escape to a place where they are free to make their own decisions and determine their own lives.” He points to somewhere beyond the fields.
“I knew you were Exalted!” An excited whisper escapes my mouth. “But why did you leave? Were you Taken?”
“No. I left on my own. I noticed the way the Ambassadors moved their faces. They talked with varying tones and pitches, not like the Exalted. I noticed the guards posted inside the gates. Why did we need guards posted inside and outside the gates? I noticed a great deal, but the fog in my mind didn’t allow me to question it. One day, I got sick after the evening meal. The medical citizens just thought it was food poisoning. They let me stay in my dorm room instead of the infirmary.”
He looks at his hands as he remembers the time when his life drastically changed. He lowers his voice. “I had to skip breakfast the next morning. I didn’t get to take the Pump, and no one noticed. The sweats started that afternoon. The next day I knew the food poisoning should have run its course, so I forced myself go to breakfast even though I still felt ill. I ate and took the pill, but right after, I vomited in the nearest bathroom. That was my second day without the Pump. The fog had already started to lift, and I knew something was different. The questions that were tickling my mind were finally able to take form, and I began to feel things I had never felt before.” He turns inward now, reflecting on the past.
When I’m sure Ryker is finished with his story, I probe him for more information. He didn’t tell me how he escaped the Republic or when, so I ask, “How long ago was that? You don’t look very much older than me.”
“Two years ago,” he answers. That puts him at nineteen or twenty.
I consider the possibilities of how he escaped. Only one comes to mind, but it’s impossible since he’s standing right in front of me.
Death.
FIFTEEN
Every year, two or three Exalted don’t return from the Third Trial. Their names become taboo and are eventually forgotten. We do not mourn the losers or the weak. We are told that they failed, that either marauders or the elements killed them. But there are whispers that some don’t return after running into fellow trainees along the way. There’s a rule against killing your competition, but that’s the only rule. I suspect running into another trainee during the Third Trial is the worst thing one of us could encounter while we’re out there on our own.
“The Third Trial. Is that how you got out?” The volume of my voice lowers, as I reach this conclusion. Is this how Ryker left the Republic? He should feel ashamed. Not completing the Trials is so dishonorable. It’s unthinkable.
As if reading my mind, he carefully answers, “It is. But I chose to leave. I didn’t fail. I finished first in the other two Trials . . . not that it matters.” The Exalted mindset must still linger within him somewhere; otherwise he wouldn’t have given such an answer.
The disappointment must be apparent on my fallen face. I can’t fathom how someone could choose to leave, especially when they finished first in the fi
rst two trials. I’m baffled.
I look at Ryker’s tan ring finger for the symbolic black tattoo that all United wear once they have been through their United Ceremony. It marks their lifelong partnership with their equal. His finger is bare. For some unknown reason, I’m reacting to him in a way that is different from other men. My new emotions are confusing me. As I glance at the man that is virtually a stranger to me, I fantasize about him as a potential partner. Of course, I know that we could never actually be together, because I will complete my Trials and be United here in the Republic like I am meant to.
“You’re not United. You never finished the ceremonies.” I say this as a statement, not a question. I already know he never came back from the Third Trial. It’s just so strange to be in the company of an Exalted his age that’s not United.
“No. I’m not United.” He rubs the light stubble on his jaw, and then runs his hand up and over the back of his head where the hair is also kept at the same close cut length. The simple action leaves me wanting to feel that scratchy, tingling sensation against my face one more time.
I lose myself in his welcoming gaze. He somehow puts me at ease. I know I should be guarded around him, and truthfully, I should turn him over to the Republic, but I can’t. There are too many things he knows, that I want to find out. And he’s not bad. I can tell this from only two brief encounters. It wouldn’t be right to send an innocent person to their death.
As I continue to look at him, the world around us falls away. An intense silence hangs in the air, filling the space that separates him from me. Besides the need for his knowledge, I inexplicably feel drawn to the stranger . . . This isn’t like me . . . While I’m in Ryker’s presence, I completely forget about Ethan. I forget about pretty much everything, until the wind whips a cornstalk against my back. It reminds me of my duties. I say with great reluctance, “I have to make a circuit along the perimeter of the fields. Will you stay and talk to me? I have so much to ask you. You can walk just inside the rows. They won’t see you.”
Ryker agrees and at first we walk in silence. I can see him sneaking glances at me through the corn. I did say I wanted to talk. I need to take advantage of this opportunity before my shift is over, and he is once again ripped from my new world. “Why did you tell me about the Pump?” I ask him.
His image flickers in and out of focus as he passes behind the cornstalks. I can’t tell what expression his face holds. Happy? Sad? Something else I don’t have a name for yet?
“We keep watch of the fields for anything different, for any sign that someone may have gotten off the Pump by accident, like with me. The last citizen we took was smiling when he was inspecting the corn.” Ryker pauses in thought. I can hear him as he draws in a deep breath to deliver the next piece of the puzzle. “The next morning when I was on watch, I saw you and another young Exalted patrolling. Both of you appeared to still be under the influence of the Pump, but then I got a closer look at you. I saw that you weren’t marked as a United. The Republic has never sent trainees out before. I took a risk and decided to tell one of you, hoping you would listen, because once you’re United, it’s virtually impossible to get out.”
A sound that starts in his chest and radiates up to his mouth produces the most infectious melody I have ever heard. “Plus you’re prettier than the boy anyway,” he adds.
Flames lick up the sides of my face at his admission. I want to run and hide in the green and gold jungle to my side, never to emerge again. No one has ever commented on my appearance before. I don’t think I like it. My curiosity for more information wins out. I have to ask, “What do you call that noise you just made?”
“A laugh. You laugh when something is funny—when you’re happy. It’s like smiling out loud.” He looks me over and says, “And that, that’s called being embarrassed. You’re so red.” He laughs some more. “Can’t take a compliment, can you?”
My face turns hard, devoid of any happiness or laughter. The space between my eyebrows scrunches up. I set my jaw. “I can take a compliment just fine as long as it’s about my skills. No one has any reason to notice the way I look. That’s not important.”
“And that’s called getting mad or maybe annoyed.” His laughter dies. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“It’s okay. I’m sorry to. I just seem to have such strong reactions to everything. Is that normal?”
“It is. You’ve never experienced emotions before. It’ll take a while for you handle experiences and the emotions associated with them at a “normal” level. When I first came off the Pump I was so angry all the time. I wanted to kill everybody that crossed my path. Now look at me, I’m smiling and walking through fields of corn with a pretty girl . . . er . . . a strong girl. Anyway, it does get better.” Ryker fumbled a little there, but he recovered nicely.
I turn and enter into the embrace of the corn, hiding within their cover. We are still separate by stalks as we walk, but I’m able to lose my rigid demeanor. I enjoy my time with Ryker as he explains several more emotions to me and gives their names. Some of them I haven’t felt yet, like grief, envy, surprise, rage, and pity. I hope to experience them all someday, even the bad ones. There are others that I have felt. I’ve experienced fear (which is occurring too often for my liking), happiness (my favorite so far), guilt (about not telling Val about the Pump), and disappointment (the way I’ve been feeling about the Republic recently). I repeat them back several times to him, hoping to remember them all. I’d like to share them with Ethan.
I open my mouth to ask my new acquaintance about what’s out there, beyond the Republic, but he abruptly stops walking. Ryker whips his head around to the North as if he heard something. I haven’t heard anything at all. “I have to go,” he mumbles, and then he sprints away, head ducked low, fading into the croplands.
“But what am I supposed to do now?” The question hangs in the air with no one to hear it except the corn. I feel disappointed once again, as I stand here companionless and drowning in a field of questions. My heart sinks.
As I finish the last half hour of my patrol, I think about what I should do, and for the second time, what I want to do. I hold my life in my hands. It’s my life. The memory of the freedom of choice at the Choosing Day ceremony comes back to me briefly. I compare that moment to this moment. It doesn’t even come close to the magnitude of the possibilities and consequences that I face now. Should I leave, like Ryker did? No. I should stay. This is my home. My parents and my friends are here. I want to prove my abilities and rank amongst the Exalted as the strongest female in my Trials. But do I want to go through with the United Ceremony at the end of it all? Before, when I had no emotions, I would have been honored to be United with the strongest male. Now, I want more than that. I want to choose my United. I want him to choose me. What if I am matched with Az? I don’t think I could live with him as a mate for life. The more I think about it, the angrier I get at the Republic for taking away our choices. Ryker was right. They are controlling the Exalted, and in fact, breeding us to their liking. It’s sick, but the sad thing is, we all want it that way.
Anger surges through me, like hurricane force winds beating against the city’s walls. And just because I want to, I cut off an ear of the golden corn that I’ve been protecting. I shove it deep in my knife sheath. I don’t want to eat it—I simply want to do something against the Republic, even something as petty as stealing a vegetable.
SIXTEEN
Ethan’s withdrawals from the Pump lasted slightly longer than mine did. I had to cover for him in training several times, making up excuses that didn’t compromise him in the instructors’ eyes. Unfortunately, nothing I said could protect him from Az’s fist in combat training. He left class once with a black eye. The following day, he left with a bloody nose.
Ethan and I agreed not to tell Val about the Pump yet, for fear of her safety and ours. In turn, not telling her has actually helped us improve our acting skills. It’s especially helped me, since I live in such clo
se quarters with her. Ethan and I have become better at displaying our aggressive and stiff mannerisms than even the veteran Exalted.
I gave Ethan the names to all of the other emotions Ryker told me about. He never asked me how I knew them, he simply listened, and together we experienced some of those new feelings. It’s been exciting having someone to share these secrets with, but mostly I feel calm when I’m around him. He says I make him feel stronger, the ultimate compliment from one Exalted to another, from one potential partner to another.
We’ve also been appreciative of all the nature and unnoticed things around us as we walk to training and patrol duty together. We take in the wonder of the blue sky above and the brown earth below, discovering the beauty of it all. Words can’t describe how lucky I feel to have someone in my life to share all these new experiences with. It’s bonded Ethan and me in a way that I will never bond with someone else.
I often think about Ryker, though not with as much vigor as before. Perhaps my emotions are settling down like he said. I owe him a debt of gratitude. He’s responsible for unleashing all of these new things in me. Without him, I would still be in a fog, lost to a world of gray. I have so much more I want to know though. It’s been too long since I’ve seen him. I can still picture his handsome face and his lean body, as if he’s standing right in front of me. The memory of his laugh is fresh in my mind.
I have yet to hear Ethan laugh.
Decisions about the Republic and the Pump have been put on hold. Without Ryker in the mix, there’s too much left unknown. Even if I decided to leave, I would have nowhere to go. Ethan shows no concern over the Republic’s indiscretions, so I don’t share my thoughts about it with him. He’s focused on training, and he’s enjoying his advantage over the other trainees. He seems content to stay on the same path.
Ethan and I have both dramatically improved in our weapons training class. I believe that the “good” Dr. Fredericks had it wrong when he decided to use the Pump to control our emotions, leaving us with only the need to be strong, serve, and fearlessly protect. There’s no passion behind those impulses. Ethan and I have had life breathed into us. There are so many things that fuel us on.
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