by Lisa Jade
The girl on the screen is tiny, no more than two or three. She’s got blonde hair scraped behind her head and a sweet smile. She’s skinny and pale, and completely typical of the people I’ve seen in Thorne. Bright, pretty eyes stare from the screen.
Familiar.
Suddenly I’m standing, and as I walk towards the screen Jensen moves aside to let me see. The girl smiles back at me through the screen, unnervingly gentle. There’s an undeniable air of innocence about her.
“W-who…”
It’s familiar. But that doesn’t make sense. There’s nobody like this back at the Mill. I don’t even think there’s anyone like this back at Homestead. But I know this kid, even though I can’t, even though it’s impossible.
“Who is that?”
It’s Jay who replies, his voice low and soft as he does so.
“That’s Ada. That’s my little sister.”
“But… you said I was Ada.”
To my surprise his eyes fill with tears, and he clenches the console behind him.
“Exactly.”
CHAPTER NINE
I have to get out of here.
This is too much. I don’t know who these people are, or what they want from me. This could be a lie – in fact, it has to be. Because there’s no way they’re right. These people must be crazy if they think I’m anyone other than Noah. Anything other than a Mill worker. Unless…
“Y-you don’t look like the Mill type,” I choke, “did you leave young?”
“Not exactly.”
“Well, I…I mean, it’s always nice to meet relatives. Like I said, I’ve known for years that I could have siblings in the Mill. We don’t stay in touch with our parents, so…”
I falter at that. It’s a somewhat feeble attempt at redirecting the conversation, but I’m convinced that this must be right. Because what they’re suggesting is impossible.
He shakes his head sadly.
“Ada. What have they done to you?”
I stamp my foot.
“I-I’m not Ada! My name is Noah. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m all cleaned up now. So I’ll just go. Pan, thanks for the help.”
“What?”
With that I’m gone, hurrying down the hallways that led me here. I don’t really remember all the turns and twists we took, but I’m sure I can find my way out.
I just have to get away from them. Away from their new, scary ideas.
“Wait up!”
I hear footsteps behind me. They’re approaching faster than I’m moving, and I don’t have the confidence to run. I simply walk faster.
“it’s fine,” I lie, “I’ll just get out of your way.”
Suddenly there’s a strong hand locked around my wrist, and I’m pinned firmly against the metal wall. Jay stands over me, both hands holding me in place. His face is a picture of conflict.
“Ada. Don’t go. Just… listen to us.”
“I’m not Ada!” I scream, “Let me go!”
“No. Not until you’ve heard me out.”
I struggle against his grip, but he’s got the advantage and my will is fading fast. Pan and Jensen stand by, and suddenly all the joy is gone from their faces. Their expressions are full of pity and sorrow, and I could swear that Pan brushes away a tear.
My chest hurts. Why won’t they let me go?
“Please.”
The room they place me in is dark. My vision’s pretty good, all things considered; early mornings have allowed me to grow used to dim light. I’ve been in a place without any natural light only once before – but just thinking about the mines makes me shudder. It’s about an hour until someone finally comes back.
The door behind me opens, then closes, and as the person steps up beside me I snap my eyes shut. I don’t want to see them. Don’t want to hear what they have to say.
“Noah.”
They used my real name. I allow my eyes to slide open by the tiniest degree. Pan sits next to me, and on her face is that same confident, kind expression she greeted me with.
“I just want to talk to you. I think things got out of control.”
“Oh, really? What gave you that idea?”
I bite back on my sarcasm, but it’s too late. I shouldn’t speak that way to my captors. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to notice.
“I’m sorry. We dropped it all on you at once. We didn’t explain.”
“I don’t care. I’ve done my job, now I just want to go home.”
“Earlier, you asked to know everything. What changed?”
I laugh.
“Typically, when you tackle someone and trap them in a dark room, they’re not so receptive to new ideas. I’m done with this. Please let me go home.”
She sighs, then rests a warm hand on my arm. The motion is undeniably comforting; though I’d never admit it.
“Let me explain. Once I do, you’ll be free to leave. Just give me a chance.”
“There’s not much to explain,” I tell her, “you all seem to think I’m someone else.”
“System’s never been wrong before. As far as it knows, you’re a citizen. Specifically, you’re Ada Young. Age nineteen.”
“But that’s not my name.”
She considers this.
“I suspect the Mill – or whoever took you there – probably designated a new name to you. Changed it. Along with whatever they did to your memories.”
“My memories are just fine. The reason I don’t remember him is because he’s a stranger. I remember everything about my life upon leaving Homestead. If there was something before that, especially something important, I would remember.”
She clearly disagrees, but I ignore her. It didn’t happen. Nobody could take my memories away. Sure, the Guards back home have that technology, but they would never use it on me. I’m a model worker.
“Why would someone want to erase my memories, anyway?”
“That, we don’t know. But there’s a whole story here, and you need to understand that first. Once you do, we can try to find the answers to your questions. Are you willing to listen to me?”
I heave a sigh.
“I’m not getting out until I do, am I?”
“Not really, no.”
“Fine.”
Pan sits opposite me, hands folded in her lap. It’s so quiet that I shuffle a little in my seat, eager to make any kind of noise to break through the silence.
“So, who are you?” I ask. Sympathy crosses her face briefly but she pushes it aside, drawing the corners of her lips back into an understanding smile.
“We’re called the Clover. We’re a protest group – or at least, that’s how it started. These days we mostly work underground. There have been warrants out for our arrests for years now.”
“What are you protesting?”
“The Cull.”
That word, again. We have culls at home. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve been sent out, battered shotgun in hand, to destroy the excess bulls or hunt down some foxes when they’ve broken into the pens one too many times. I can’t say I ever liked doing it; it always felt wrong, unfair. They don’t even stand a chance. But it’s necessary, especially the bulls. They require too much care, too much attention. We simply couldn’t spare all that they needed.
Pan’s hands tighten a little, her knuckles turning white.
“The Cull is carried out by Thorne’s three leaders. It’s… well…”
“Population control, right?”
“How did you know?”
I shrug.
“We do them at the Mill. Too many animals. So we trim the fat, get rid of a percentage of them.”
She leans back in the chair and sighs, seemingly pleased that she didn’t have to explain it to me.
“That’s about right. But the Cull here isn’t with animals.”
“It’s not?”
“No.”
I meet her eyes, expecting her to continue, but instead she stands and begins to pace.
“Thorne is drowning under the we
ight of its own people,” she explains, “just like at your Mill. Too many people. Not enough of anything. There were all kinds of methods to begin with, tricks our leaders used to try to control it. Nothing worked. Eventually, they reached breaking point.”
My gut clenches. I’d thought hauling away useless animals was bad enough. But to do it to people – who likely weren’t useless at all – makes my stomach churn.
“That’s sick.”
She nods sadly.
“Exactly. Every year they remove a percentage of the population. Specifically, those who are three and under. They’re taken away and killed.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Her face is creased with grief and anger, and though I understand why, I don’t know how to react. So instead I settle for staring at my hands, examining the scars there.
“That’s why we’re fighting. That’s why we’re hidden away underground, too. We’re trying to figure out how to stop the Cull.”
“Why does it happen in the first place? Why does everyone let it happen?”
I can’t imagine having a family. It’s not something that’s ever mattered to me, not even for a moment. But when I think of Nel with her sparkling eyes or Kane with his eternal bad attitude, something hot burns in my chest. If someone pulled them away from me, tried to kill them… I like to think I’d stop it.
Kane’s betrayed expression flashes in my head and I shake the thought away. No. Maybe I wouldn’t, after all.
“They tried,” Pan says, “to begin with. But those people were killed, too. Publicly. Eventually, people just learned to accept it.”
“I don’t understand. Why?”
“Because we’re helpless. We don’t have any choice in the matter anymore, and it’s what we know now. It’s been going on for so long. Nobody knows any different.”
I suck on my teeth.
“That’s a poor excuse, if you ask me.”
“Precisely.”
“So what does this have to do with me?”
She stops her pacing at that. Her expression is suddenly reproachful.
“You were taken.”
Her voice is so soft that for a moment I’m not certain that I’ve really heard it. But there they are, the words hanging in the air between us. An idea so preposterous that I have to bite back on a laugh and remind myself that this is serious.
“I think you might be wrong about that.”
“I’m not,” she insists, “you were born here, to your Mother, Father… you had an older brother called Jay. But at the age of three, you were taken during the annual Cull. And executed.”
“But… I’m alive.”
She laughs out loud, and the sound is gorgeous and infectious and magnificent, but I find myself cringing away from it. Terrified by it.
“That’s the point!” she cries, “that’s why we were so shocked!”
In an instant she’s sobered up, regarding me with a renewed sense of curiosity. I could swear I see the glimmer of tears in her eyes.
“Jay was told you’d been killed sixteen years ago. Your parents… it’s what inspired them to fight. That’s why they... oh, but that’s not important right now. The key thing is that you’re back. You’ve returned home.”
My head spins. She sounds insane – but there’s something in her voice, a sweetness, a sincerity, that feels like her words could almost be true. Even if they’re not – and they can’t possibly be – I can’t help but think she believes them.
I’d love to shout her down and run away. It’d be easy; she’s taller than me, but I outweigh her. I could wriggle from her grip easily and race off before they could catch me. I could forget everything she’s told me and go back to the Mill. Pretend this never happened.
It would be easy.
Instead, I find myself leaning forward.
“But… why wouldn’t I remember? If I were three, I’d remember something. A face, a name. Something.”
“I don’t know. But you don’t remember the people who raised you, right? Maybe it got wiped somehow.”
“The Mill Guards do have a way, but it can’t wipe everything. Only a few weeks.”
“They could have found a way to make it stronger.”
“I just don’t know. Besides, the Mill is where I belong. Look at me. I’m not city material and you know it.”
“You were once.”
She’s keeping her distance, but I can still feel her eyes on me. I sigh.
“What do you want from me?”
“Just stay. Reconnect with Jay. Maybe join in on our little cause.”
The thought of returning to Wirrow later than normal, or not at all, is unnerving. I’d rather not imagine the beating I’d receive for even trying to escape. Besides, I had my chance to piss them off. I decided against it then, so why would I change my mind now?
“I have to go back.”
“You have a month, right? That’s normally the rule. I have allies in the Guard on the city limit. We can arrange a safe passage back for you, it would only take two days to return. So you still have over three weeks spare.”
I almost laugh at the notion of ‘spare time’. The luxuries of city folk never cease to amaze me.
“I really should go back.”
“Don’t you want to get to know your brother?”
“Listen. I always figured that I had siblings somewhere. That’s not some big revelation – my parents are back at Homestead, as far as I know. I don’t care about getting to know them or even trying to remember them, so why would I be interested in a brother? Besides, doesn’t your little theory all rely on one computer system’s say so? That doesn’t prove anything.”
“Oh.”
Pan seems visibly crestfallen at that, and though she opens her mouth to object she shuts it again, considering what I’ve said.
“So if we can prove it, you’ll stay for a little while? You’ll give it a chance?”
“I’m not interested in family.”
“But you’ll try?”
I bite my lip. Family means something different here, doesn’t it? Just like Nel always said. I remember the sadness in her eyes when she had to separate the calves from the cows, the way her fingers clenched at her side when the other girls were taken to Homestead.
Outside of the Mill, family isn’t just a stranger you happen to share genes with. They raise you, care for you, love you. If what they’re saying is true, did I have that kind of family? Jay doesn’t seem much like the loving type. Even so, who cares? But then Pan looks at me with those pretty eyes, pulling her face into that pretty smile.
It won’t hurt to stay a few days.
“I suppose I can’t head out tonight anyway. It’s too dark to unload things and I don’t know my way back to the gate.”
I don’t even know if I could find my way home. The likelihood of stumbling across another truck willing to take me back are slim to none, and when I think about wandering the city streets in the darkness, something akin to fear shivers through me.
“We can help you get back,” Pan tells me, “the return journey will take a day, two max. So stay. Just for say, four days. That’s all.”
I consider that. Has Nel started to worry about me yet? Has she been told why I’m gone? It’s dark out; is she lying on her crappy little campbed, surrounded by gentle snores, wondering where I am?
My chest hurts at the thought.
But if she knew what was going on, that I may – potentially – have found a family, she’d be furious with me for even considering leaving. I don’t want to imagine what she’d say if I told her I’d come back early and passed up this chance, however small it may be.
“Four days. That’s all.”
She nods.
“That’s all I ask.”
Pan doesn’t force me to talk to anyone else. She leads me from the room and through yet another darkened, metal hallway. I glance behind as we walk, but there’s nothing and no one behind us.
“Where are we going?” I dare to ask.
“It’s late. It was late when you got here, and now it’s about…”
She steals a glance at her watch, then grimaces.
“…Never mind. It’s late, let’s just leave it at that.”
She yanks open one of the heavy steel doors and I wince as it squeals against its frame.
“This place is definitely underground, isn’t it?”
“You figured that out right away. How?”
“I’ve been underground before. It’s a similar feeling.”
That’s only half-true, though. The Mines were cold and dark too, only much, much colder and nearly impossibly dark. It’s hard to break through rock and dirt with only the strength in your arms – it’s even harder to do that when you can’t see anything, not even your own hand in front of your face.
The room we step into is unlike the ones before. Sure, it’s dark and dank and metal-clad, but there’s something different. Two beds are nestled in the corner, and while one is empty and not dissimilar from my familiar campbed, the other contains a mass of brightly coloured blankets. Strings of beads hang from the ceiling, looping around the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead. In the corner, there’s a rickety table and chairs, a small wooden cupboard, and an electric fly killer that crackles as we enter.
“Homey.”
I bite back on the words, but it’s too late. Whoops. Her living space is still a hundred times better than mine, and a thousand times better than anywhere I’ve slept in the past two days. I close my eyes and remember trying to lie back in a hammock, only to shudder and tumble at every movement. Anything’s better than that.
“You’ll get used to it,” she smiles, “for tonight I’ve promised to keep an eye on you. Tomorrow, Jensen will find some more efficient way to monitor you but for now, you’re my guest.”
I clear my throat.
“Why two beds?”
“I just kind of ended up in this room. I used to have a roommate, years ago, but…”
Her expression falters.
“But they’re not around anymore.”
Ouch. I should really take my foot out of my mouth. Luckily she seems indifferent to my blatant rudeness, and simply tugs at her shirt. I look away as she pulls her clothes off – while I’m not offended by the sight of a naked body, I know that has different ramifications here. Staring is impolite; and heaven knows I’ve already filled my quota of that.
