by Lisa Jade
“That’s not far from here. Are you sure it’s the same guy? He would have arrived about four months ago. Really tall kid, but skinny. Dark complexion, big hands. Probably only about fourteen.”
“Yeah, that’s the guy. I make a point to make friends with all the newbies around here. I remember him well.”
Suddenly, I’m excited. I might be able to see Kane again. I’m not sure if apologising would help, but it’s worth a shot.
“Do you think you could show me where he is?”
“Sure I can. There are some cross-tunnels we can use to get there without being noticed, if you really want to see the guy. I wouldn’t recommend it, though.”
“Why not?”
She hesitates at that. I lean forward, and when I speak, there’s a hint of pleading in my voice.
“What happened?”
“He’s okay,” she insists, “he’s just got a bit of a nasty scar. Not life threatenin’ or anythin’ – but he did seem really angry about it.”
Dread settles in the pit of my stomach.
“A scar? He didn’t have a scar when I knew him.”
“I figured as much. I helped patch him up on his first night, like I did with you. Not sure quite what the Guards did to the poor kid, but nothin’ I said would console him. Never seen someone so angry in all my time here.”
I hadn’t considered that he might be angry. I figured there’d be some tension left between us, maybe some unanswered questions, but pure rage hadn’t been on my list of expectations. I don’t blame him; after I turned my back on him, the Guards must have beaten him silly before tossing him down here. For someone like Kane, that wouldn’t go down well – and I don’t imagine that he’ll be happy to see me.
Even so, the desire is still there. I believe Sara when she says she knows him, that he’s alive; but I still want to see with my own eyes. I want to speak with him. I want to apologise, for whatever a four-month-late apology in the dirt is worth.
“Show me the way.”
It easily takes twenty minutes to reach the Northern tunnels. In that time, Sara explains that Kane is also in the tip of the tunnel – permanently. When I ask what he did to deserve the most severe punishment the Mill can offer save for a total ‘fresh start’, she just shakes her head sadly.
There’s trepidation in my heart as I near the entrance to the tunnel he’s working in. He must be half a mile in, but I can hear the sound of metal against rock as he digs. I can tell he’s working furiously – perhaps working off the anger.
It’s been four months since we last saw each other. In that time, though things have changed a lot for me, they haven’t for him. The last time we spoke was on that secluded road right before he kicked off. I’d scolded him for always challenging the Guard. I’d warned him I wouldn’t help him if he did something stupid.
Sara bites her lip and looks me up and down, maybe questioning why I would want to venture into the darkness below. I’ve grown somewhat used to the unusual echo and cramped spaces of the mines, but this particular tunnel seems smaller than the others. I sink to my knees to wriggle through the entrance, nerves building.
I’m scared to know what Kane will do when he sees me. He might yell, or even lash out at me – and though I could overpower him with ease, I have a horrible feeling that I’d let him do it. I can’t exactly punish myself, so if he chooses to punish me, I won’t fight it.
What do I say? What greeting can I possibly give that will make up for our last encounter? How I stood silently by as he was beaten to the ground by the Guards? Nothing will fix that.
The tunnel opens up into a slightly larger cavern now – much too big for one person to have carved out alone. But there he is, scraping out one of the walls. He’s got his back to me, and I’m unnerved by how much wider his shoulders look. I remember him being a scrawny, frail little thing. Now, I couldn’t pick him out of a line-up.
For a second, I stand and watch him. As he pushes down the spade he lets out a growl, somewhere between a snarl of discomfort and a sound of fury. I briefly consider backing out of the tunnel and pretending I never came here, but I can’t. Call it Pan’s influence, but I can’t turn away now.
“Kane.”
He pauses, reaching up to wipe the sweat from his face.
“I’m working as fast as I can. Tell the Guards to stick it.”
His voice is hard, unnerving – I take a pointed step towards him.
“Kane. Look at me.”
As he turns, fixing me with a bored gaze, my stomach plummets.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Kane’s face is nearly unrecognisable. There’s a horrific burn covering much of the left side, obliterating any shape in his cheek. His left eye is half-closed, narrower than the other, like it’s been sealed halfway shut. He doesn’t look like a child anymore; he looks older than me.
Still, it’s Kane. There’s still ferocity and defiance in his eyes, still that terrible posture. He’s still there, behind the mud and scars. He stares for a moment, and then his face creases.
“Noah?”
I swallow hard.
“H-hey.”
That’s it?! Screams the voice in my head. Four months and one betrayal later, and your big reunion – and you kick it off by saying ‘hey’? What’s wrong with you?
“I thought I’d find you down here,” I add.
He watches for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, and then turns away.
“Didn’t expect you to end up here,” he says, bitterness in his voice, “did you volunteer again?”
“No. I got caught doing something stupid.”
He just snorts. I suppose I should be happy he’s talking to me, or at least that he hasn’t swung at me yet. I wouldn’t blame him. But I can still feel his anger. It’s simmering just under the surface, threatening to break out at any moment.
“So why did you come looking for me?” he asks, though his voice makes it clear that he doesn’t really care to know the answer.
“I was told you were in these tunnels.”
“And who told you that?”
“Sara. Maybe you remember her, she’s the one who…”
“I know who Sara is.”
His tone implies finality, that he doesn’t want to speak to me for a moment longer – and under normal circumstances, I’d happily leave it be. But not now. I imagine Pan and how she would handle this. She’d throw her arms around Kane and pull him close, swearing that she’d never fail him again.
But that’s not me. So instead, I wait until he draws the shovel back and grasp it, twisting it from his grip and holding it high overhead.
“What the hell are you doing?” he barks, anger flashing in his eyes, “give that back!”
“Not until you talk to me.”
“We’re not children, Noah. You can’t just take things and expect it to be okay. If you don’t give that back right now, I will take it back.”
Emotion rises in my chest.
“Then take it back!” I cry, “fight me, or scream at me, or something! I don’t care what you want to do to me, just do something! After everything that’s happened, please don’t treat me like a stranger!”
He just snarls and reaches for the shovel. I twist away from him, dancing just outside his reach.
“Noah, this is ridiculous.”
“I don’t like it any more than you do! But I came here to speak to you, and that’s what I’m going to do. Whether you like it or not.”
He opens his mouth to yell back, then stops. He’s realised that I’m trying to draw him into a conversation.
“Keep it.”
He pushes me aside and walks past, heading down another, darker tunnel. He clearly doesn’t want to talk to me – but I pursue him anyway, despite the lump in my throat.
“Just give me a chance to explain!” I wail as we weave deeper and deeper into the labyrinth. I’m not entirely sure where I am or how to get back, so I stay hot on his heels. Kane’s trying desperately to get away from
me now, nearly running in some places. I try to explain myself as we run, but it just turns into a garbled mess as I duck, dive and crawl after him. More than once I stumble in the darkness, and there’s a brief moment of panic as I realise I don’t know my way back to safety without Kane’s help. If I fall behind, I’ll never find my way out.
Finally, though, he comes to a reluctant stop in one of the caverns. Perhaps he’s run out of places to go. More likely, he’s just realised that he can’t outrun me forever. He rounds on me, fury on his face.
“Don’t you see I don’t want to talk to you? You’re so annoying!”
I know. If someone did this to me I’d be furious, too. The feeling of being unable to escape, of not wanting to look someone in the eye after all they’ve done to you. It’d be like Wirrow chasing me through these tunnels – even if he wanted to apologise, I’d be too angry to listen.
“You don’t have to speak to me again,” I tell him, “just listen to me this once.”
“Why? You’re going to tell me that I deserved what I got, right? That my face is like this, that I’m stuck down here because I screwed up. Well, there’s no point telling me that. I already know I screwed up – I don’t need you to rub it in my face.”
He thinks I’m here to taunt him. Was I really so smug before that he’d believe I would do that?
“I didn’t come here to rub anything in your face. I want to apologise.”
He pauses. That was the last thing he was expecting me to say.
“You want to apologise?”
“Yes. Everything that happened that day, it was a mess. I don’t have any excuse for why I didn’t help you – or why I didn’t step in to calm things down when Wirrow turned on you. I should have done something to help.”
He sighs.
“Well thanks for the apology, but you’re kind of missing the point, aren’t you?”
“I am?”
“I’m not mad because you didn’t punch a Guard. I’m mad because you didn’t believe me when I said it was important. It was important to me, and you dismissed it.”
My chest tightens. Of course. He’s not angry that I didn’t jump in and save him. He’s angry because I didn’t trust him when he needed me. The guilt grows.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?”
He points at his face, his lips curling into a sneer.
“See this? After I was dragged down here, they started beating me – I fought back, managed to beat one of the Guards down a hole. He ended up smashing his fucking head open on a rock, and as punishment, they use one of the cattle brands on me. Marked me property of the Mill, forever, right here on my face.”
Horror flits through me. I’d assumed the scar was the result of some kind of accident, perhaps a mistimed explosion. I think about the brands we use on the cattle and wince.
“I can’t imagine.”
“No. You can’t. So why don’t you just leave me alone?”
What’s this? My face is burning again. I slap at my cheeks, trying to stop the tears fighting their way out. I don’t want to cry. I’ve already done my fair share of it.
“If I’d just listened to you, this would never have happened.”
“Exactly. Do you understand now? You didn’t listen to me. Why should I listen to you now?”
My frustration builds, and suddenly I’m very aware that I’m trapped. That there’s nothing around me but tight spaces and pitch darkness, and I’m never getting out. I would do anything to be back in the cool, light Atrium or even the dirty city streets. The comfort of Pan’s touch or Jensen’s smile, or Jay’s reassuring presence – I’d do anything to get that back.
What would they do now? What would Jay do?
Stupid question. Jay would never betray a friend. None of them would. I’m the only one who’d do something so ugly. Even now, Kane isn’t yelling for the Guard, trying to get me dragged off. After everything that’s happened, he still doesn’t want to hurt me.
When I speak again, my voice is low, frightened.
“Do you remember what I said, the day we met?”
He scowls.
“I’m not in the mood to reminisce, Noah.”
“I told you not to question things. Remember? I told you to keep your head down and just get on with it.”
“What about it?”
I bite my lip.
“Turns out, I was wrong.”
His expression briefly changes. Another thing he didn’t expect me to say. I can’t say I blame him – it’s not easy to admit I messed up. It’s almost physically painful.
“Wrong about what?”
“You should question things. You should question everything. Never trust blindly. I’m not going to apologise for not fighting with you. Blindly trusting you would have been stupid. But I didn’t even try to find out why you wanted to do it. I didn’t even ask.”
There’s conflict on his face now, logic warring with his anger.
“That doesn’t change anything.”
“After they took you away, they figured I had something to do with it,” I push on, “I was sent to Thorne. While I was there, I learned how wrong I was.”
He looks away, but there’s a twitch in his eyebrow when I mention the city. I keep surprising him.
“I found a group of people hiding there. They’re trying to fight their leaders. There’s this… thing, every year, they call it the Cull. They take some of the children and execute them – or at least, that’s what they say. Nobody ever questions it.”
“Not that I’m not loving the story,” he snaps, “but I don’t care about what happens in the city. Why should I bother?”
“Because it matters. The leader of that group is my brother. Turns out I’m from the city.”
He shoots me a disbelieving look, but remains silent.
“I mean it,” I add, “I was taken away, brought here. And I don’t think I’m a special case. I think it’s happened a lot. I was sent back to see if anyone else at the Mill might be like me.”
“This is nonsense, Noah. If anyone was from Thorne, they’d remember.”
“Do you remember anything from before you left Homestead? Do you remember what your parents looked like, or what it was like growing up with them?”
He pauses.
“No. But that’s normal. Nobody remembers.”
“Exactly. The Guard have the power to wipe our memories at a moment’s notice. Why do you assume they’d never use it?”
“Even if you’re right, it doesn’t matter. You’re stuck down here. I’ve spent four months hating you; and even if you’ve had some kind of personal revelation, it doesn’t change what you did.”
“I know. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry, and that you were right. We’re not supposed to be here. We should fight back. For what it’s worth, I wish I’d helped you that day. I wish I could help you now. But I messed up. I got stuck down here and now, it’s over. I’m never going back. I’m never seeing my friends or brother again, and I’m never going to be able to show you the truth, either.”
Misery grows in my chest, sending a cold chill running through me. I’ve known since they caught me that I wasn’t going home, but I’m just now realising it. The months spent at the Mill have sapped me of my dignity and energy, as well as the finer details of my most precious memories. Already, the image of my mother’s face is slipping away.
“This is the end, isn’t it?” I choke, “this is forever. We’re stuck down here. They can’t save Thorne. They can’t come for us. Give it a year and it’ll be like this never happened. I’m already starting to forget.”
Kane watches silently. Any anger in his face has faded to nothing now, replaced by a look of understanding. I can only imagine how much this must hurt him, reminding him of the misery he must have felt when they first dumped him here. I can imagine him now, some tiny, scrawny kid with horrific burns and bruises plastering his body, crying in a dirty heap in the
corner. I imagine Sara sitting nearby, much like she did for me, only able to offer a gentle touch and warm words. She tries her best, but there’s no way to change what’s happened.
“Please,” I beg, “I’ll do anything to make this right again. Just tell me what it is. I don’t care how stupid or dangerous it is, I’ll do it. Just tell me what you want.”
I know this is stupid. What I did was permanent and I’ll probably never be able to make up for it; but I feel the need to try.
“What happened to you?”
Kane’s voice is unnervingly soft.
“What happened to you, really? You’re nothing like the Noah I remember.”
“Did you know that Noah’s not even my real name? It’s Ada. I’m nineteen – nearly twenty. I’m from the Southern region of the inner city. I had parents, but they’re gone. My older brother’s James, and he’s… well, I don’t know. It’s been too long.”
“Will he be worried?”
“Probably. He didn’t want me to come back. He wanted me to stay safe with him and the others. But I insisted I could do this on my own.”
Kane sucks on his teeth. He’s pacing now, circling me like a shark deciding whether or not to attack a caged diver. Doubt and anger war on his face – he doesn’t know what to do.
“Tell me everything,” he says finally, “that’s what I want you to do. No lies, no tricks. Tell me exactly what happened after they took me away.”
So I do. I relay the story to him in excruciating detail, making a point to omit the part where I cried on a boat. Somehow, I feel like that’s crossing the line between repentant and pathetic. He just listens in silence, seemingly deep in thought.
When I’m finally done, he nods.
“That’s one hell of a story.”
“I know. When I told Sara, she could hardly believe it.”
“You have to admit, it does sound kind of made up.”
I consider that. I can see why he’d say that – it sounds like a ridiculous story one might tell to a frightened bunkmate on a thundery night.
“I don’t blame you for not believing me.”
“Oh, no. I believe you.”
“You do?”
