by Valerie Puri
Sash was speaking rapidly. It was hard to slow down. He was eager to get to the good part.
“It was all too easy to track down the curly haired girl named Belle Joiner at the solar farm. The note led me straight to her. If this stupid girl doesn’t have what was stolen from the Secret Archives, I would bet anything she knows where it is.
“I wish you could have been there to see the panic in her eyes. She was terrified. It was so amusing to hear her try and deny any knowledge of the Secret Archives and what was stolen. The closer I got to her, the more she trembled. The best part was when I pulled out my trusty black sack.”
He paused and looked at Victor, expecting him to beg Sash to go on. He imagined him saying to Sash, “Please, don’t stop now. This is getting good,” or even, “What happened next?” But Victor seemed disinterested in these details. He wasn’t even looking up. Instead, he was examining his fingernails as if they were more interesting. Sash gnashed his teeth. He would not let this ruin him savoring the moment.
“When I pulled out the sack, her face turned white as one of your handkerchiefs. The girl’s scream was drenched in fear when I bagged her. You should have heard it. She shrieked and tried to break free. I love when they struggle like that. To hear the fear erupt from their throats, it’s beautiful. I tranquilized her and her whole body went limp. When the fight goes out of them, that’s one of the best parts.”
“So the girl denied all knowledge of the Secret Archive documents?” Victor asked flatly.
Sash was getting irritated with Victor’s lack of enthusiasm for this great accomplishment. Within the past two days, Sash had procured three new people for processing. This act alone would accelerate the Order’s plan by weeks.
“They all lie when they are first brought in,” Sash replied with forced lightness, trying to hide his disdain for Victor. “Sooner or later, they all talk. I will find out where that girl’s little friend is and I will get the stolen information. I have my ways of making people talk.”
Sash observed Victor take a deep breath and exhale as he leaned back in his chair. Victor rested his elbows on the armrests and brought his hands to his chin, pressing his fingertips together creating a cage between his palms. Sash had been scolded in the past when he interrupted Victor’s thoughts, so he sat silently for what seemed like hours, watching Victor think. The only sound came from the crackling fireplace.
Finally, Victor spoke. “You have not been able to obtain anything useful from the other two undesirables you brought in. What makes you think you will be successful with this one?”
“This one is young and weak,” Sash shot back defensively. “She will talk. I’ll make her beg to talk.”
“You know I want no details of your intentions. What happens in the processing sector is entirely between you, Goggles, and the undesirables,” Victor said, still with his hands pressed to his chin. “What I care about are results. I care about information and recovering that which was stolen from the Secret Archives.” Victor lowered his hands and leaned forward, staring directly at Sash with the fire reflected in his eyes. “Do you know why it is called the Secret Archives, Sash?”
Sash slumped back in his chair.
“I didn’t think so,” Victor said with a superior smile. Sash hated that smile. “The Secret Archives are so named because the information contained within is dangerous and must be kept secret. The structure of our society is a very fragile thing. If this information gets out, then we will have complete chaos on our hands.” Victor gestured towards the window. “Those people out there, those undesirables, they believe what we tell them. We tell them just enough to keep them complacent. This, you see, is to our advantage. If people were to learn from the documents stored in the Secret Archives, they would realize their entire way of life is a fabrication.”
He softened his voice and leaned forward in his chair. “There are small pockets of people mobilizing to uncover the complete and unaltered truth. They call themselves the Truth Seekers. Should they unite and spread the information the Order so carefully protects, we will have an uprising. We cannot afford for this to happen. Not when we are so close to fully executing our Grand Plan.
“The information Eleanor Townsend took from the Secret Archives must be recovered before the Truth Seekers obtain it. You have failed to gather any useful information from Eleanor or that cook. We cannot afford any more failures. The Order is growing uneasy. We have to produce solid results if we are to succeed in quelling this threat. You are a part of this Sash, and we need to focus on the bigger picture.” Victor sat back and smiled at Sash. “I’m counting on you.”
The contempt Sash felt towards Victor melted away. As always, Victor was only trying to protect Sash and the Order. Sash stood and puffed out his chest. He felt a renewed sense of determination.
“Soon, all of the undesirables and these Truth Seekers would be processed, and the Order will have complete control of the Commune. I will do my part and find out what Belle knows. That stupid girl will wish she had never been born.” Sash placed his hand on his chest like a pledge. “I will not fail the Order again. I will not let you down.”
37
The wind was cold on Jennie’s damp face. She sat under an apple tree and let herself cry. She cried for all of the things she couldn’t change – her mother, Mrs. Townsend, Madame Marie. And she cried for the things she felt overwhelmed by – Belle’s abduction, the Commune, Victor’s deceitfulness. Despite all that weighed on her mind, Jennie felt better now after letting herself cry.
Jennie stood up and brushed the dry grass off of her pants. The air did a good job of drying her face, but the lingering salt from her tears felt like a heavy mask clinging to her skin. Jennie bent down and extracted her canteen of water. She unscrewed the top and poured some water in her cupped hand. Carefully gripping the canteen between her side and arm, she screwed the top back on and rubbed the water on her face with her hands.
She wiped the excess water away with the sleeve of her maroon sweater. Crying had helped. It was as though all her sorrows had drained away, releasing her from the burden of carrying them with her. She was still troubled by the recent events, but her head was clear now. The fog had lifted from her mind and she could focus on what needed to be done.
She bent down and picked up her bag, shaking off the dry grass as she did so. She slung the bag over her shoulder and replaced the canteen. Taking a deep breath, Jennie was prepared for what was to come. She was ready for her meeting with Uncle Albert.
Jennie looked around to get her bearings so she could head into town. During her walk out here, she had not realized how far she had traveled. She was very close to the wall and only a few rows of trees away from the end of the apple orchard. The strip of tall, unkempt grass that created a buffer between the wall and the cultivated land was within eyesight. Jennie walked toward the grass buffer.
Jennie had not returned to the wall since she witnessed her mother being taken four years ago. Tentatively, she walked through the thigh-high yellow grass. The soft seed plumes at the top of each shoot swayed in the breeze and tickled Jennie’s fingertips. With an outstretched hand, she pressed her palm flat against one of the massive stones of the wall. It looked rough, but it was surprisingly smooth. Vertical grooves were etched in the stones from over a hundred years of rainwater eroding away small channels. The wall was scarred by time like Jennie; only her scars were not visible.
The wall towered high above her making Jennie wonder how her ancestors were able to build such a monumental structure which encircled the entire Commune. The forest beyond had taken her mother, but it had also given her Ethan. A mixture of emotions poured over her as she felt the cold stone that separated her from the outside world. Jennie used to think this separation was a good thing which offered her protection. The wall was no longer a symbol of safety to her; it was a symbol of oppression.
As she turned away to head back to town, a noise made her blood run cold. Not sure if she had imagined it, she stood tra
nsfixed, not daring to move a muscle for fear that any sound she made would drown out the noise if it came again. Listening intently, she waited. Just when she was ready to convince herself it was her imagination, she heard it again. Her hairs stood on end and nausea overwhelmed her. The sound was unmistakable this time; it was the low crackling groan of a lemeron.
Jennie pressed her ear to the wall in hopes that she might be able to hear the sound better. She couldn’t be sure if it helped, but she definitely heard it again. This time the lemeron’s groan seemed to come from a different direction. She pressed her ear harder against the stone and closed her eyes, longing to know for certain how much distance was between herself and the lemeron. She heard a new noise which both surprised and frightened her. Something scratching.
Her eyes flew open, and she pushed herself away from the wall. Scratching. The lemeron had been scratching on the opposite side of the wall from her. In her whole life, Jennie had never known lemerons to come this close to the Commune. When her mother was taken, Jennie, Ethan, and her mother had followed the footpath about a mile into the forest where the best mushrooms were located. At the time, it was the nearest to the Commune a lemeron had ever been known to come.
Jennie pushed away from the wall and rushed backward. Her boot snagged on the wiry grass, and she fell to the ground with a thud. A sudden eruption of crackling groans poured over the high wall.
The raging groans and frantic scratching caused Jennie’s hairs to stand on end and water to well in her eyes. The last time she heard a lemeron was when her mother had been taken. It was not possible for one lemeron or even two to generate a chorus of groans this loud. The harsh noise was coming from all around her. How many lemerons are there on the other side of that wall? she thought as the terror of what she had heard sank in.
Trying not to make any noise, Jennie slowly got up and backed away from the wall until the apple orchard again surrounded her. She ran as fast as she could to town. The horrifying scratching and crackling groans of what must have been hundreds of lemerons still lingered in her ears.
38
The cold metal table was uncomfortable as Belle lay on her back, looking up at the blazing white lights through half-open eyelids. Everything was hazy. She saw movement above her which faded in and out of focus. She thought she could make out an arm, a gloved hand, and a strange face wearing goggles peering down at her. It felt like a dream. She was not sure if what she was seeing was even real.
Belle could not remember how she had gotten here. Where was she, anyway? The large white lights peered harshly down at her like adults scolding a child. A child. The word was familiar to her, and she remembered what it meant. She felt small like a child. Was she a child? Lying there staring into the white lights, she wondered what it meant to be a child or even an adult. Was she an adult, or somewhere in between? She wasn’t sure. Was she even real?
Fingers. What a strange word, Belle thought. She remembered she had fingers, ten of them. They were a part of her, so she must be real. If she were real, then she could move her fingers. Belle closed her eyes and tried to manipulate the muscles in her fingers with her mind. Did they move? She couldn’t tell. Maybe she didn’t have any fingers, or hands, or a body at all. Maybe she was drifting away to some other dimension.
She opened her eyes again, wondering if the lights were still looking at her. They were still there, and they had friends. Two fuzzy heads now looked down at her, one with the goggles and another with narrow eyes. She thought she had seen the second one before, but it must have been a long time ago because she couldn’t place where. The mouth of the second face opened and began making shapes, and she heard a funny sound. She didn’t know what the sound was, but it was like some sort of muffled horn. She laughed and heard silly muffled noise coming from her. She giggled.
Belle must have made the second face angry, because it crinkled in an ugly way and its eyebrows came closer to the narrow eyes. When the face did this, she felt something bad in her head, and she felt her body twitch. Was this pain? Pain was a bad thing. Belle didn’t want to feel any pain. She didn’t want to make the face angry. It got angry when she laughed, so she frowned.
She watched the mouth of the narrow-eyed face move again. The noise it made was louder this time, but she didn’t know what the noise meant. She didn’t laugh, but the same pain ran through her body with the accompanying muscle spasms. She was confused why she felt the pain again. Maybe the face didn’t like frowning either.
Her eyelids felt heavy and began to close, making the lights shrink. The faces faded away, and she could only see the inside of her eyelids. Belle felt like sleeping. Yes, sleep is a good thing. Maybe sleeping will make the faces happy.
39
“What happened?” Travis asked as Jennie burst through the stable door. “I thought you were going to meet Uncle Albert.”
Jennie could only speak between hungry breaths of air. “I went to the orchard. To collect my thoughts, process all of what has happened. I ended up at the wall. There is serious trouble there.” She swallowed hard and took a deep breath then continued. “Hundreds of lemerons, maybe more. They are just on the other side of the wall.”
Travis’ jaw fell open, and Jennie saw his face turn pale. Travis and Ethan had been tending to Misty and her colt, Buck. Jennie had regained control of her breaths and made her way over to where Travis and Ethan sat on the ground near Misty. She sat down next to them with her back against the wall, glad to be able to rest her tired legs.
“This changes everything.” Ethan looked at Jennie and asked her directly. “Are you sure there was a large number of lemerons out there, and not just a few?”
An uncontrollable shudder came over Jennie as she recalled the blood-curdling groans of the lemerons. “I’m pretty sure. The sounds they made…” Jennie swallowed hard. “There were so many of them.”
“This isn’t good.” Ethan stood up. He paced anxiously, and Misty stamped her foot in protest. “This will only get worse.”
“Let’s talk about it away from the horses, Misty is getting upset,” Travis said, breaking his stunned silence.
“You’re right,” Jennie agreed. “Misty can sense our anxiety. Let’s go up to the loft and discuss this further.”
Within minutes, Jennie, Ethan, and Travis had situated themselves around the wooden box table in the loft. “Ethan, you know something about what is happening, don’t you?” Jennie asked.
Ethan shook his head. “I have never seen anything like what you described before, but I have heard stories from my people. Lemerons have a pack instinct. They can sense others of their kind and are drawn to them. As a child, I heard tales about this happening in distant places. The larger the group, the stronger the pull becomes on other lemerons, thus making the group even larger. It’s a vicious cycle.”
“Why are they drawn to each other?” Travis asked.
“I can’t say for certain, but my best guess is survival,” Ethan said thoughtfully. “A pack of wolves has a better chance of surviving than a lone wolf. When they gather in a pack, lemerons can hunt more effectively and catch more prey.”
“Something just doesn’t make sense. The Commune has been here for over two hundred years, and in all that time the lemerons have never come this close to the walls. Why are they drawn to the Commune now?” Jennie paused. “Ethan?”
“Yes?”
“Can lemerons detect people at all?”
Ethan mulled over the question for a moment. Jennie wondered if he was recounting his own experience with the lemeron that attacked him in the forest before he came here. “No. At least not in the way they can each other. They can see, hear, smell, and even touch people if they are close enough, but that’s the extent of it.”
“So, if I understand you correctly, they are not drawn to people. They have no pull towards us, correct? They only experience this connection with other lemerons?” Jennie asked, putting it all together in her mind.
“To the best of my knowledge, that’
s correct. Lemerons are only drawn to each other,” Ethan confirmed.
Jennie nodded. “What about the dociles? Are lemerons drawn to them too?”
40
Belle awoke to a dim room and sat up, clutching her throbbing head in her hands. She tried to recall what had happened. She remembered seeing bright lights and feeling intense electric pain ripping through her. It felt like a dream, but the pain in her head and body confirmed it had been real.
Belle rubbed her temples trying to piece her memory together. There had been two faces there in the bright room, two men. The first man she saw had been wearing goggles; she did not recognize him. The second man had narrow, cold eyes. She knew those eyes. They belonged to Sash. Belle shuddered as she remembered how he had taken her.
Sash had tortured her. That was the pain she felt; it was electricity. She had felt the occasional small jolt while working on the solar farm, but she never felt anything as intense as the electricity in that bright room. Belle found it ironic how the power she worked to generate on the solar farm had been used to torture her. This man disgusted Belle.
She looked around at the small cell, trying to determine where she was. Nearly everything was made of concrete: the floor, the walls, the ceiling, even the bench she had been lying on. The only thing not made of concrete was the blue glass wall to her left. Faint light spilled through the glass, giving everything a strange blue aura.
“This can’t be good,” Belle thought aloud.
Wanting to get a better look at where she was, Belle stood causing every muscle in her body to ache. As she made her way over to the blue glass, the constant throbbing in her head was equaled with the pain she felt in her limbs and torso. It had only been a distance of about five feet, but the effort of walking exhausted her, and she stumbled.
