The Emperor's Concubine

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The Emperor's Concubine Page 3

by Killarney Sheffield


  Why is Danika’s tag different from mine? Neither of us have been touched by the black sickness. We are being separated...When ours eyes meet, I know Danika has come to the same conclusion as me. Now not only am I afraid, but I am disheartened by the idea I am going to go through whatever happens alone, without the one who has been my best friend since I was six. That is almost scarier than the unknown. Before I can help it, tears begin rolling down my cheeks. “I don’t want to go without you, Danika.”

  “Me neither.” Matching tears stream down Danika’s face. “There must be some way we can stop it. My mom said she will tell the enforcers that there has been a mistake, that I have had the sickness so I won’t have to go.” Her face contorts in misery. She’s in panic mode; the one who is always the voice of reason has lost all purpose.

  Sol speaks up. His eyes are larger than I’ve ever seen them. They glitter with unshed tears. Typical male, tears are the only thing that scares him, probably because he never sees me cry. “They will take a blood test and know it isn’t true, Danika.”

  “What are they going to do to us?” I’ve no idea why I whisper the question, perhaps it’s because I am afraid of the answer to it.

  Sol’s expression grows grimmer. “My father says you will be given to the leaders of the country as sex slaves, surrogate mothers of a sort, to breed a new population to replace those affected by the fall out years ago.”

  No, no! Even though I know it’s true, saying it out loud makes it too real. Still I can’t help fighting the idea. “That’s absurd. There have been many children born since the disaster. Look at my brother, Petie, he is proof people are re-populating.”

  “My father says only those who were living in the countryside at the time of the disaster were free of the sickness that kills the reproductive system. Few city people escaped the fall out.” He reaches out and squeezes my hand. “Think about it, have you seen any children born of the officials in the last thirteen years?”

  As hard as I try I can’t recall any, despite so desperately wanting to. All the officials I’ve seen are older and any young enough to bear children have none. “I don’t want to be used to breed children. I want to marry someday; I want to marry you, Sol.” My tears are replaced by searing anger coursing through my veins so powerful I leap to my feet. “It is not fair! I won’t go!”

  Danika scrambles to her feet, arms wrapped around herself in mock comfort. “Shh, the officials have eyes and ears everywhere. They will hear you.”

  She’s always been afraid of everything we say getting us in trouble. Though it has never bothered me before, I now find myself wanting to shake some courage into her. “So? Let them hear.” Spreading my arms I look to the artificial heavens and dare the powers that be to stone us. “You hear me, enforcers? I will not go to be a vessel to procreate the earth!”

  Sol claps a hand over my mouth. “Would you rather be executed? Be quiet!” After a moment he releases his hand.

  Gasping for breath I stare him down with years of pent up defiance. “They can’t make me do it.”

  The pain in his eyes hurts me to see. “They can. The officials feed, clothe and educate us. They give us jobs and dorms to live in and take care of our medical needs. They own us, Ocean, they own us. We are cattle to be farmed and directed at their choosing.”

  The reality of his words steals the disobedient wind from my sails and I sag to the ground at his feet. “It’s not fair. We could fight them...”

  “With what?” Sol holds up empty hands. “We don’t have any weapons.”

  Sobs rack my body as I huddle there, in the embrace of the two who have been my best friends through it all. Despite our closeness I can’t help the pitiful loneliness pressing down upon me. After a few moments we pull apart, each wiping the evidence of our spent emotions on our sleeves. There is no sense crying over a missing crayon, as my ma always tells Petie.

  Danika is the first to speak. “I have to go. My mom needs me.” She gives me what I suppose must pass as a smile under the circumstances. “I will see you tonight in the square.”

  A tear trickles down her cheek as she turns away and heads for the ladder as I struggle to keep mine in check. I can’t shake the feeling I might never see Danika, or Sol again.

  Sol sits and pulls me down beside him. “I’m going to miss you.”

  Leaning my head against his shoulder I fight to put to words my sorrow. “And I you, Sol.” Pausing, I search for the courage to say how I really feel. “I have loved you for many years, Sol. I know I shouldn’t even be telling you now, but—”

  He places a finger against my lips. “Shh, I know. I see the way you look at me. I love you too, Ocean. I was waiting until you reached your majority before asking your parents to apply for a marriage bond. I had hoped to change the Emperor’s mind, beg him to allow us to marry...”

  My heart soars. He loves me! Then the cruel irony of the situation hits. He will never be mine. Words of desperation tumble from my lips in a semi coherent jumble, “We will run away, Sol, you, me and Danika, if she will leave her mother. We can hide and be together—”

  “Ocean, stop, you know we can’t. Where would we go? Where would we hide? There is nowhere to go where the enforcers could not follow our tags and nowhere to hide in this concrete world.”

  I can’t believe that. I won’t. “We could find a way. There has to be a place beyond the city.”

  Sol takes my face in his hands. “There is no place beyond the walls. I have heard tales of nothing except desert beyond Imram. It is said to be toxic out there and the wild animals that survived are mutant killers. Think about it, Ocean. Have you ever heard of anyone who has left making it back?”

  “No, but why would they come back if they found freedom?” I’m desperate and grasping at straws, I know.

  “Ocean, there is no such thing as freedom.”

  Looking into his eyes I know he speaks a likely truth. My voice cracks, “There has to be. It is the one thing I have to believe in now.”

  * * *

  Sol and I part to return home before the midday meal siren rings. Meals with my family are usually filled with much laughter, despite the stark conditions. However, today it is a solemn and silent affair. Even Petie, who is usually a wealth of childish info and enthusiasm, falls quiet.

  “Eat your meal, Ocean. Stop picking at your food.”

  I look at my mother. “I’m not hungry.”

  She sighs. “If we return the tray untouched, there will be questions.”

  The whirlwind of emotion bubbling beneath the surface comes to a head. “What do I care?” I regret my hasty remark when her lip quivers and she looks away. Wasting food is considered a crime and doing so will result in the whole family’s rations being cut in half for a month. It’s supposed to be a way to remind us of what could happen if it weren’t for the emperor’s care, how everyone would go hungry. In repentance I pass my apple cobbler to my little brother. “Here, Petie, you can have my share today.”

  He grins as if the warm soy mush flavoured with a little cinnamon is the best thing ever. “Thanks, Ocean. Tomorrow you can have my custard.”

  My chest constricts and I choke, not at the idea he would part with his much hated custard, but at the thought I will not be here to share anymore meals with my family. Tears prick the back of my eyelids and I blink them away. I won’t cry anymore. I won’t make things harder than they already are for my parents by breaking down. Tears will not change my fate.

  When the meal is finished I help rinse the trays and send them back up the chutes. Ma takes me aside. “An outfit was sent for you while you were out.”

  Spread out on the narrow cot in my plain room atop the government issued course wool blanket is a flowing white robe with gold trim. I finger the fine fabric, soft and silky against my skin, before I undress and put it on. “I have never worn such finery, Ma.”

  Ma scoops my hair from beneath the neckline and brushes it out for me, something she hasn’t done since I was small. “You
are beautiful, Ocean... Did I ever tell you how you got your name?”

  I’m mesmerized and soothed by the sight and feel of the bristles gliding through my locks. “No, how?”

  “It was springtime on the prairies. The crops were all in and the mares had foals at their sides.” She pauses with a faraway look in her eye. “There is nothing more beautiful than the mares galloping through the lush green grass with foals of every colour.” She blinks and then smiles. “Your father decided we would go to the coast for a second honeymoon of sorts. I didn’t want to go, but I had never seen the ocean before.” Her eyes glisten with tears. “You should have seen it. Nothing but this incredible blue water as far as the eye could see. When you were born a year later your eyes reminded me so much of it, I named you Ocean.”

  As hard as I try, I can’t imagine a field of horses running free and wild across the grass, or a massive body of water the colour of my eyes. It doesn’t help I’ve only seen the occasional picture of a horse on my tablet in history and I’ve only a blurry image in my memory of a chubby legged pony. “I wish I could have seen it, Ma.”

  Ma sets down the brush and kisses the top of my head. “Me too, darling, me too.” With one last stroke of a finger along my cheek she leaves the room.

  I stand there in front of the mirror for a while, gazing with unseeing eyes at my reflection, seeing nothing, but a mass of undulating water in my mind’s eye. “I will see the ocean one day, Ma.”

  The siren sounding to signal the departure of all those sent a tag breaks my day dream. Holding my head high I step into the entranceway where my mother, father and little brother wait. We don’t speak as we walk to the subway terminal amongst other families whose daughters have been selected. The soft wails of grief from the mothers and rumbling of discontent from fathers drowns out anything I might want to say to my little brother who is strangely silent, so I just hold his hand. Never before has the emperor demanded such a sacrifice and many wonder what other kinds of penance he will ask of his people.

  The block surrounding the subway station is walled off by enforcers. Their black, bullet proof suits and masks made to protect their heads and faces make them appear mechanical. Their stun guns are trained on the crowd as each girl is directed through a metal arch similar to the ones used to monitor citizen’s comings and goings about the city. I’m hanging back when a young brunette whom I recognize from class is ripped from her screaming parent’s arms. Kicking and screaming she is shoved through the arch. The screen above flashes with a silver tag image and she is pushed into a gated off area already holding a dozen other Caucasian girls. The next is a darker skinned girl with the green eyes of one with mixed heritage. She is more sedate as she is shoved through the scanner. The screen flashes the image of a black tag like Danika’s. A third obviously Negro girl is shoved through the scanner and a purple tag flashes on the screen. She is sent to a third holding area. It is that moment horror dawns on me. Everyone has always coincided in peace within the walls of the city regardless of race. The idea we are being distinguished by it now both intrigues and appalls me.

  “Ocean!”

  Pivoting, I find Danika making her way toward me, held close to her mother. Once she is taken away the older woman will be left alone. Sorrow for Danika’s mother gripes me. At least when I’m gone my ma will have my father and Petie. “Ma, look after Mrs. Blackwood, she’ll have no one now.”

  “I will, Ocean,” Ma whispers through her tears.

  Raising my chin and swallowing my tears I step forward when the enforcer nearest motions. I won’t let him see me cry. I glance back at my mother, father and brother. “I love you.” A sob lodges in my throat and I reach out to ruffle my brother’s hair one last time. “Bye, Petie.” The tears leaving streaks in the grime on his face tug at my heart strings. Desperate to remain controlled I turn away and walk through the scanner.

  “Ocean, wait!” Sol shoves his way through the crowd.

  I don’t want to see him, yet at the same time I’m desperate to. “Sol? Aren’t you supposed to be at your assignment station?”

  He reaches through the scanner arch with the hand opposite his bracelet. “I couldn’t let you go without saying goodbye.”

  “Sol, I-”

  Our goodbye is short lived as the enforcer slaps Sol’s hand away and motions for me to step back. “Citizen Two-twenty-three, continue to the containment area.”

  “I love you, Ocean!”

  The picture of my silver tag flashes on the screen and I’m directed into the group behind a wire fence containing the sobbing brunette before I can answer. By the time I make my way to a spot where I can see the entrance to the square, my parents and Sol are gone. I allow a tear to trickle down my check before swiping it away and clutching the necklace hidden beneath the neckline of my gown. One by one, we are herded like cattle into the tunnel lit with those awful green lights I hate and onto the subway. For the first time it appears we are not required to sit in an assigned seat as we usually are traveling from the education centre to home and back. With a lost feeling I’ve never known before, I sit by a sniffling blonde girl.

  The doors close when a tiny redhead takes the last available seat. The subway train lurches ahead. As we pass into the darkened tunnels coursing under the city the interior lights turn on, casting an orange shadow over the sniffling and sobbing occupants.

  Panic threatens to overtake me, so in order to quell it I turn to the girl next to me. “Hi. I’m Ocean.”

  The girl wipes her face with the sleeve of her white tunic and sniffs. “I’m Ashley. Do you know where they’re taking us?”

  “The medical facility I think.”

  The girl looks away. “I heard those who are found unsuitable to be an official vessel are to be sent into the sewers to work.”

  Swallowing a fighting sense of claustrophobia dampening my skin, I force a brave smile to my face. “Don’t think about it. Just pretend we’re going on a grand adventure.”

  The look she gives me almost makes me laugh. Death would be better than being locked underground in the dark for the rest of your life in the sewers. Small spaces and heights bother me... and the dark. It’s pretty laughable, actually. You’d think a girl who lives in a tiny cubicle of a house and escapes reality on the roof wouldn’t be scared of those things. In my defense our house, like all other houses in the hubs, is only one story. I can’t think of anything else to say. Picking at my robe, I retreat into my own thoughts, as dangerous as those may be.

  Will I be found suitable to be a vessel for an official’s seed? Dare I hope to be found unsuitable and returned to my family... and Sol? I certainly don’t want to be forced to bear the child of some unknown man somewhere, yet I have little choice. There has to be a way out of it... There has to be an opportunity to slip away, to hide somewhere... Hide? What am I thinking? Where is there to hide in a cement city wearing an unremovable tracking device on my arm?

  Chapter Four

  The journey underground to the medical facility takes a little over an hour. The doors of the subway car open and we exit in rows down a long ascending tunnel lit with glowing green lights. It’s hard to orient yourself underground. I shiver in the thin robe, my breath leaving puffs of cloudy air behind. It’s always chilly in the tunnels too, but not usually this cold. I’m not sure why, perhaps because we are under ground?

  At the end of the corridor we again step through a scanner, yet this time as we exit the other side, we are given pink tags to attach to our wrist bands and all our other tags except for the silver ones are removed. The feeling I am being stripped of my former identity is impossible to shake as I enter a large room. Like everything else in the city it is made of impersonal looking grey cement. However, here the doomed roof is high and made to look like white pillows; odd and yet strangely pleasing to the eye. Once the room is filled with Caucasian girls the doors close. From the ceiling a platform lowers carrying three men in black robes. When it rests a few feet from the heads of those in the crowd, the
room hushes in anticipation.

  One of the men steps forward and leans his hands on the railing to address us. “You are here to be determined if you are suitable to bear the children of Imram’s officials and leaders. You will be subjected to physical, mental, personality and intelligence tests as well as medical evaluations. Those who pass will travel to the training facility where you will be taught to be the perfect concubines and then onto a selection ceremony.” Pausing, he fixes one crying girl with a sinister stare. “Those who fail will be sent into the sewers and water tunnels, or in extreme cases of mental or physical incompetence... exterminated.” The platform rises amid the gasps and wails of the girls gathered there.

  Fear weaves a trail down my spine I can’t ignore. What if I fail? Then again what if I succeed... Like bleating sheep torn from our mother’s sides, enforcers herd us out two wide double doors through yet another scanner which beeps and turns green as each girl passes beneath. After clearing the check point we are directed into one of ten long lines. Each girl takes their turn in a high backed metal chair and a vial of blood is taken, after which the inside of their cheeks are scraped for DNA.

  It is impossible to tell which is colder as I take my turn, the chair, or the woman in the purple gloves staring right through me. I can’t help the goose bumps from rising on my arms no matter how vigorously I rub them. The woman shows no sign of friendliness when she snaps her purple medical gloves and motions for me to hold out my right arm. She seems perfectly normal until my gaze locks on the purple clump of hair adorning her head. It looks so comically odd I almost laugh out loud. Smothering my giggle I comply and the woman approaches and jabs the needle in my vein. “Ow!” The woman scowls, her eyes full of unconcealed loathing. I physically recoil. What have I done to instill so much hate? Does the woman suspected my amusement at the ridiculous wig on her head?

 

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