by Lisa Jade
“What?”
“We’re not even close?” Sara wails.
“This is ridiculous,” says Darus, “we can’t make this journey – even with food and water, we’ll drop dead from heat exhaustion before we even reach halfway!”
“It’s okay,” I urge them, “it’s not that far, I swear…”
“You got driven most of the way! You have no idea, do you? This is impossible!”
Sara falls to the ground now, and all the resistance in her seems to break; she pulls her knees up to her chin and buries her face in them. After a few moments, her body shakes and I wonder if she might be crying.
“I should never have left,” Darus is saying, scraping a hand through what little hair he has, “this was stupid. I abandoned my Dad, and for what?”
“It’ll be worth it,” I say, “It’s amazing, trust me. You won’t regret it.”
“Too late for that,” Kane mutters. He’s no longer smiling, no longer putting up that thin veil to hide the hatred in his eyes. My stomach twists.
“But…”
“Just let it go, Noah. This journey is impossible, and we’re not going any further.”
“There’s nowhere else to go,” I retort, though I know I’m clutching at straws.
“That doesn’t matter. You’ve failed, Noah. Just accept that.”
There’s a very pregnant pause as we stare at one another, each side facing down the other in a battle of will. But try as I might, I can’t win; I’m just one person. My mind is suddenly filled with images of turning and leaving them here – I’ll make this journey alone if I have to. I even shift my weight back, ready to run ahead before they can stop me.
But I can’t. As much as I wish I could throw out a mirthless laugh and take off running, I won’t. It wouldn’t be fair to these friends of mine, and I don’t even want to imagine the disappointment on Jay’s face if I told him I’d left people behind. He’d never do that.
“No.”
I drive my booted foot down into the dirt, sending up a cloud of dust.
“I’m not… I’m not going to accept that. If I accept that, then they win.”
“Noah…”
“No! Listen, I know you’re tired. I know it’s hard, and believe me I know how scared you are. But if we let them win, then this keeps happening. They’ll keep taking people, and taking everything away…”
Heat builds in my face, grief and anger compounding with the fear in my veins.
“I hate that damn Mill. Knowing what happened, why we were there – everything I lost out on. Things should have been different. They could still be different.”
Their anger seems to fade as I stamp my foot again, this time choking on the dust cloud that rises.
“But nothing is ever going to change if we don’t do this!”
“I know what you’re saying,” says Sara, “but there’s no way we can complete this journey. You know that as well as I do.”
Sorrow builds in my chest, and I fight the desire to spit. I’m sick of the taste of failure. I glance at the road ahead – the city’s not even in view yet, and it won’t be for many more miles.
But then something glimmers in the corner of my eye. A truck. Instinct compels me to cover my eyes, but this time, I don’t. Because the truck is slowing down, red lights flashing to indicate where it’s stopping, right next to us.
“Oh, no.”
I step in front of the others as the truck door flies open. The vehicle’s the same long, sleek metallic type as the others. Nothing spectacular. As something shifts within the cab, my mind races. This thing could be filled to the brim with Guards. They might have recognised me. They might be out to catch me, to take me into Thorne and proudly hand me over to Maynard. I swallow hard, fearing what they might do to us.
So when I spot a man with grey hair and whiskers, the relief is so strong I nearly fall over.
“Eagen?”
He smiles.
“Hey, Kiddo,” he grumbles, “I finally found you.”
My stomach plummets and I step pointedly away, spreading my arms over the others. Making it clear that I won’t let him touch them.
“You were looking for us?”
“I was looking for you,” he corrects me, “I heard you decided to run off.”
“That’s not…”
“It’s alright. I’m not going to drag you back to the Mill. But someone mentioned they’d noticed a blonde girl on these roads, and I figured it might be you. So I thought I’d keep an eye out on my way up this road. I hoped I would run into you.”
My stomach clenches; behind me, Kane sighs.
“Great. They know we crossed the sea. They’ll catch us any second.”
“None of the others did,” I point out, “so maybe not everyone knows yet. If we hurry…”
“You kids had better get off the road,” says Eagen, “or you’ll get found sooner or later. Hop in, I’ll smuggle you into Thorne.”
“But what would they do to you if they found out?”
He just shrugs.
“There’s nothing they can do to me that I can’t take,” he answers simply.
For a moment, I hesitate. I don’t know for certain that I can trust Eagen – it all seems a little convenient to me – but do we really have a choice? I glance back at the others, at the sweat dripping from their chins and their paling faces. I don’t have it in me to compel them much further than this. And if they’re not on board with it, I don’t stand much chance of dragging them the full way.
“Are you sure about this?”
My voice is hesitant, fear showing through – but he seems nonplussed as he steps aside, waving us into the cab.
Rain begins to pour about an hour into our journey, and I’m relieved when it finally starts to batter at the windscreen of the truck. Its pounding seems to break the awkward silence that’s fallen over us as we sit cramped in Eagen’s cab. I’m pressed between him and Kane, and it’s strange to feel both Eagen’s coolness and Kane’s simmering rage beside me. At least the greying sky and the water streaming down the windows serve as a momentary distraction.
I shoot the older man a curious look. I’m not sure why he’d risk everything to help us. Unlike Darus, he didn’t have a rebellious fibre in his body, as far as I could tell anyway. Maybe I was wrong. Finally, he breaks the silence.
“Bet you’re wondering why I kept an eye out for you, huh?”
“Yes,” I confess, “I hadn’t expected it.”
“Don’t worry about it, Kiddo. I helped you out the last time. I’ll do the same now.”
I open my mouth to ask the question, but nothing comes. I don’t want to know why – and maybe it’s better if I don’t ask.
“What’s the plan once we get there?” asks Sara. She’s calmer now, her face pressed against the cold glass of the window pane.
“You kids will come in with me,” smiles Eagen, “past the gate. I’ll get out to sign the papers, tell them you’re with me. Then I’ll let you off a little further in.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“For the last time, yes. You kids just rest up. It’s a long way to go.”
After what seems like hours in the driving rain, we reach the city. I glance at the others, expecting to see trepidation in their eyes, or the same sense of deep-seated fear I’d felt when I first arrived here. But instead, there’s just excitement. I catch myself smiling. I don’t know why, but I had somehow expected Thorne to look different. But no. It’s still tall glass buildings that form spires and seem to soar up into the clouds. It’s still breathtakingly huge and, even after all that’s happened, still beautiful.
Eagen nudges the brakes as we approach the gate, shooting us a warning look.
“You kids just sit here quietly while I talk to the Guards.”
He leans out of the window as we pull up, tells them he’s got a delivery. They wave him through the first gate, exposing Thorne to us – but there are Guards here too, and despite the beauty of the inner
city, we’re too nervous to speak. I tug my hood over my eyes and motion for the others to do the same. It doesn’t hurt to be safe.
The truck stops again just inside the gate, and Eagen slips from his seat. He glances back as he goes, familiar eyes lingering on mine, and my stomach churns. Why do I feel so uneasy?
I don’t understand this feeling of concern filling my chest. I have no reason to distrust Eagen, but as we sit holding our collective breath, trying not to inhale the scent of the musty cab, there’s real fear in my throat. I know where we are now. The closest entrance to the Atrium is only a few streets away. We’re almost there – I can feel the pull of it, like a magnet. We could just go, right now. Slip out of the passenger side and take off running.
“What’s wrong?”
Kane’s staring at me. I shuffle in my seat.
“I’m not sure about this.”
“Me neither,” he mutters, “is this guy for real?”
I bite my lip, then scoot across into the driver’s seat. From here I can see Eagen talking to the Guard – but there are no papers in his hand. He talks in an exaggerated manner, waving his hands as though he’s telling a story, rather than just relaying his orders. As I watch, he points back at the cab, then punches one hand into his other. A clear threat.
My blood runs cold.
“Open the door,” I hiss. Sara flinches.
“B-but he said…”
“I don’t care what he said. Open it.”
She does as she’s told and I glance back at Eagen – he’s noticed. The click of the door echoes across the entrance to the city and in an instant, there are Guards moving towards us. Something glimmers in their hands. Panic flits through me. These are city limit Guards – they have guns.
“Run. Get out!”
I push the other three out of the vehicle, and though we land in a chaotic mess on the floor, we recover in time to see several Guards moving our way. Eagen steps around the vehicle, conflict in his eyes. For a split second, I meet his gaze – and I see reflected back at me everything I used to be. All the blindness and ignorance, all the unthinking loyalty.
He sold us out.
“Run!”
I bellow the words, and it’s enough to set the others into motion. They jump to their feet and step in line behind me as I push through the line of Guards. To my surprise, they don’t try to grab us as we race by. Perhaps they’re thrown off by our uncharacteristic behaviour. They probably haven’t seen Mill workers fight back before.
But as we race down the main street, I can hear them behind us. The Guards, while clueless, aren’t stupid; they know they’ll never find us if we manage to slip into the labyrinth of the city. I’m surprised I don’t hear bullets whizzing past us, but then I look around and understand.
Citizens line the road, watching with dropped jaws as some unknown chaos unravels before them. Like before, they’re frightened by the appearance of strangers in their domain, but then they spot the Guards chasing and their fear builds. One woman clutches a small child closer to her leg, all but clutching at her pearls as we run by. No wonder they can’t shoot. They can’t risk hitting someone else.
I can feel the others panicking behind me. They’re following blindly, suddenly lost somewhere that’s scary and unfamiliar. For a moment that frightens me, but I push the feeling aside. I know what I’m doing. As we run, building space between us, I try to map out Thorne in my head. Suddenly, I wish I’d spent more time poring over the maps in Jay’s office. I know the main streets, and several of the Atrium entrances. But while they’re so close behind, there’s no way we can head there. We can’t risk them finding the others.
“This way!”
We turn sharply and race down an alleyway, hoping we might lose them somehow – but as we emerge on the other side, we hit a wall of people.
“W-what the…”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
We’re near one of the leader’s buildings – so close that it seems to loom overhead. I’m not certain which building it is – it’s not Maynard’s – but it doesn’t matter. Hundreds, if not thousands of people are packed into the tiny space, forming a mass of writhing bodies. Many jump and cheer.
Others slink awkwardly through the masses, guilt playing on their faces. None of them look this way; their attention is fixed on something at the front of the building.
This is our chance. I reach back for the others.
“Everyone grab hold of each other,” I say firmly, “we’re going in.”
For a split second they seem alarmed; but then Darus steps forward and clutches my wrist. The others follow suit and I pull them forward, delving deep into the terrible crush of strangers. It’s worse than I’d imagined. City folk don’t smell even half as bad as Mill workers, but there’s still something unpleasant about being smothered by the body odour of so many people. One woman screams in my ear – I don’t know why – and it sends a wave of pain through my skull.
But it’s working. Already we’re lost within the masses, and I can no longer hear anyone coming after us. We’re hurrying through the crowd faster than they could with their bulky armour or intimidating frames, and they inevitably fall behind.
We stop once we’re close to the front of the crowd, taking a second to catch our breath.
“W-what the hell was that?” Kane gasps. He’s breathless from the run and seems deeply unsettled – his eyes flit around as he tries to take it all in, trying to piece together what just happened.
“Eagen sold us out,” I explain, “he wanted to be the one to hand us in.”
“Why would he do that? I thought you guys were friends.”
I look away.
“So did I. I think there’s an entrance to the Atrium nearby. Keep your hoods up for now. We’ll go as soon as this crowd dies down.”
“What’s this crowd even for?”
I shrug. I don’t know. But I’m curious, too – those around us seem to be torn between celebration, indifference and dismay. Whatever’s going on under the mumble of the crowd, it’s big. I push a little further towards the front, my head low, eager to see what’s going on.
To my surprise, it’s not the leaders. Instead there are a number of trucks parked up outside the building. Long, black, sleek things like those that drive up and down the highway, except these ones are open along the side, revealing row upon row of benches locked into the metal wall – and a number of tiny shackles, too small for an adult.
I don’t need to ask what they’re for. The Cull is closer than I thought. They’re preparing to round people up, to drag them away in those things. Suddenly, it makes sense that there were so many trucks heading this way. They’re prison vehicles, intended to drive the stolen children back to Homestead to be raised there. It dawns on me that, most likely, that’s what Eagen was going to be doing. Whether he realised it or not.
For a moment I feel sick at the thought – but then my attention is drawn to the figures standing atop the trucks. They’re swathed in black, standing motionless as their leader speaks. From this distance I strain to pick up on any of the finer details, faces or words, so I sneak forward a little more. I know this is reckless, that I may lose sight of the others or stumble into something I can’t escape. But I need to know.
When I finally slip into the front row of the crowd, the leader’s voice finally comes clear. When I hear it, it’s all I can do not to run forward and call out.
“These are what they’ll use!” Jay cries, “to steal them away. One week from now, they’ll do it. They’re going to take them, and nobody is safe. You can’t reason with the Guard, don’t fool yourselves that you’ll be the exception!”
Jay’s standing to the front of the group, and suddenly I can see all the detail in his face. There’s something there that I’ve seen before – a ferocity, a sense of fury. I’m reminded of after the crash, when he plunged a bullet into a Guard’s shoulder to defend me. At the time I’d been frightened by the barely-concealed rage in his eyes, but now it comfo
rts me.
They’re fighting for their cause.
“This doesn’t have to happen! Trust in us, and we can stop it. Come find us, you’ll know where! We can stop this together.”
Despite the anger in his face, his voice is a little pleading. It’s unusual for him; has something happened since I’ve been gone?
Something shifts nearby. A small collection of Guards filter through the crowd, pulling towards the others. It’s not enough to pose a threat to them, but it confirms my fears. They’ve raised the alarm, and if we don’t move quickly, we’ll get caught up in the upcoming chaos.
I race to the others, who are still standing frozen in the midst of the crowd. As I near, they seem perplexed by my expression.
“What happened?”
“Things are getting hairy,” I shout over the crowd, “we need to get out of here. Follow me.”
Catching just a momentary glimpse of Jay and the others is all I need. It would be stupid to try and approach them now – and with Guards on their way, I can’t distract them. I consider staying to try and help, but think better of it. They’ve been in tougher scrapes before. They know how to get out.
Besides, as we slip from the writhing masses, the half-formed map in my head suddenly makes sense. There’s an entrance about two miles from here, hidden behind a dumpster in the side of an abandoned bank. While the Guards are distracted, we can reach it. The thought of returning to the Atrium before the others, to be sitting waiting for them when they arrive, is almost humorous; but there’s no time to stop and plan. We need to keep moving.
We slip down an alleyway behind the protest. I can hear building shouts of shock and anger as the Guards try desperately to reach the others – but I’m momentarily distracted. A little further down the alley, tucked into the half-shadow, are the bikes.
“What are those?” Darus asks. I open my mouth to laugh, to ask him if he’s never seen an ATV before – but dimly realise he probably hasn’t.
“These are their bikes. This must be where they’re hiding them. They’ll be coming this way.”
We should probably move. The chaos in the square is building now, Jay’s tone more ferocious than ever. I reach out and glide a hand softly across the handlebars of the nearest bike, memories coursing through me. In the months I’ve been gone, they’ve rebuilt them; some minor damage still remains but for the most part, they’re shiny and new. I try not to think about the last time I was on one of these, how I’d taken hesitant aim at the helicopters. I shake the thought from my head.
