The Forgotten

by Saruuh Kelsey

  Branwell finds me hunting through my backpack for the few possessions I still value. I stuff John’s research—even though it doesn’t hold any mystery or confusion for me now—the letter from my father, and the still-unopened one from my sister into the pockets of my new uniform. It’s all I care about now.

  The letter from my father reminds me that I have a future, that I’m the child of The Unnamed, and that he believed in me to do something—to unite The Forgotten Lands.

  The research reminds me that I have a past, that I had a family who loved me. It reminds me that I had a brother who knew secrets about States and the Officials. That John knew States was responsible for The Sixteen Strains and the solar flares, and that he was planning to do something with that information.

  John’s gone, and I don’t know what he was going to do but I do know that whatever he planned was what killed him. He can’t do anything with his research now, but I can still do something. I’m going to honour his death, and Thalia’s, and Wes’s, by making sure people know about States and what they’ve done. I think that’s what John wanted to do—tell people the truth—so I’ll tell everyone in his place.

  I wish he was here to do this with me.

  Bran brings me out of my thoughts by asking, “Are you ready to leave?”

  “Yes,” I reply mechanically.

  “Honour, if I don’t make it out of this alive—” he begins hesitantly.

  I can guess what he’s going to ask because it’s what I’d want too. “I’ll find your sister.”

  His eyes go round. “You will?”

  “Of course. And if I don’t make it out alive, you look after my sister.”

  “You have my word.”

  “Thank you.”

  I lead the way out. I only have a rough idea of where we’re meant to meet, but I find my way by luck. I find my way to a lot of places by luck.

  Hundreds of Guardians are clustered around Alba and Timofei. I think for a second that they’re all coming with us to Underground London Zone but someone behind me is talking about preparing the Underground trains for use, and someone to my side mentions Camberwell Zone and finding explosives to get past the station barricade. I was stupid to think this was all about us. It’s bigger than that. Even if we don’t succeed, there still needs to be some kind of system to move people from inside of the town to the borders so they can get out. I’m not sure how that’s going to work—whether the trains will only take them so far and people will have to walk to the fence or whether the trains will keep going until the tunnels stop—wherever they stop. For all I know they could go all the way up the island and come out at the top of the diseased lands.

  No—the free lands. That’s what my father called them in the letter.

  Alba whistles for attention and silence takes its place.

  “All right,” her voice booms. “You’re being split into four groups by purpose and ability to carry out that purpose. Most of you will be tasked with evacuating civilians. Some of you will stay here and defend our possessions and the things we are sworn to protect. Others will assist the civilians within our base through our tunnels and into the free lands. And few of you will travel to Underground London Zone to both evacuate the zone and halt the release of the Strain the military will attempt to detonate.”

  Someone’s hand goes up and Alba nods at them to speak. “Why are we evacuating Underground London Zone?”

  Alba’s arms cross over her chest in sharp angles. “Because we have allies and friends and family there. And even if we didn’t, the underground citizens are innocent and defenceless—and undeserving of a death like States intends for them to bear. Nobody is deserving of that, and Guardians, by our very mandate, protect the innocent. To leave them to die without our aid would be the gravest treason to our objective.” She pauses, a powerful silence answering her. “Any more questions regarding Underground London?”

  Silence.

  “Those of you going out to evacuate civilians will be split into forty further groups—one for each zone left—and it will be your responsibility to get as many people onto the carriages allocated to each zone as possible. There are two train carriages for each zone, with a maximum capacity of two hundred and fifty per car.”

  “That’s not nearly enough,” someone protests.

  I hear Alba sigh even though I don’t see her. “It’s all we have. The probability of everybody being … alive to take a space on the trains is low. We expect the Officials to retaliate and a large number of the population to be lost. We can do nothing to stop it, but our evacuation will save some people. Without us, everyone would be lost.”

  A murmur of agreement goes through the room. I’m not sure whether I approve of their ruthlessness or not. At least I agree with them saving some people instead of none. They could easily pack up right now and leave everyone to die.

  “Those who are evacuating the zones, stay behind and I’ll tell you your assignment once the others have left. Everyone else—you will find your head Guardians waiting for you. The list of Guardians evacuating the base and working under head Guardian Evan, are as follows—”

  I tune her out until she says who’ll be going to Underground London Zone. I don’t know anyone by name but I recognise a face or two. There are twenty Guardians in total—sixteen to evacuate the zone and four to come with us to stop the Strain.

  Horatia is stood with Marrin, looking furious and volatile. I think they’ve had an argument—about her coming with him to Underground London I’d guess. I thought I’d feel some kind of satisfaction at them not being completely together, because Marrin stole my sister. Any problems they have mean that they won’t stay together—and I’ll get my sister fully back. But no. Like everything else this month it’s backwards. I feel worried because I think that Marrin makes my sister happy, and if they have problems my sister is going to get hurt. It annoys me how much I still care about her after she abandoned me, but I don’t get a choice but to care about her.

  I look at my sister uneasily, approaching with caution. “Are you coming with us?”

  “Yes” she says as Marrin says, “No.”

  They glare at each other and I shift awkwardly. I look at Horatia like she’s a new person, and I think maybe she is.

  “I have a feeling she’s going to come anyway,” I say to Marrin, “whether you agree to it or not.”

  His glare shifts to me for a moment before he realises the truth in my words. Then he crosses his arms over his chest, grumbling too low for me to pick out any words. “Fine,” he says to Tia.

  “Thank you,” she says stiffly.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met.” Bran startles me; I hadn’t realised he was right behind me. He holds out a hand for my sister and she shakes it warily. He looks bewildered for a moment, glancing at the hand my sister shook. “I am Branwell Ravel, an acquaintance of your brother’s.”

  Tia looks at me questioningly.

  “He’s a prehistoric, time-travelling inventor. Or something like that.”

  “He’s a what?” This comes from Marrin.

  “It is incredibly complicated.” Bran laughs, fiddling with the buttons on his Guardian jacket. “I do not know what I am either, to be quite frank.”

  “A time-traveller?” Horatia whispers. Her brows knit together. “Are you sure you didn’t dream you came from another time?”

  “I am certain.”

  Marrin snorts. “Well, this is new.”

  Bran takes his words seriously. “It is new. So—how are we to getting to the underground city?”

  “City?” Tia asks.

  “He has a different definition of City,” I explain. “He means Underground London Zone.”

  Marrin drawls, “It’s not actually underground.” The anger has gone from him, and now he looks more like he’s sulking than mad. It’s a strange expression to see on an Official. “It’s the underground zone we’re going to but the building is aboveground.”

  “Oh thank Heavens for that,�
� Bran breathes. “The last time I accompanied The Guardians underground … it did not end so well. I was in the hospital for an hour and their methods of healing are somewhat painful.”

  Marrin’s brow raises, and he’s about to say something when The Guardians that are assigned to our minor task gather around us. They recognise Bran and me; I think we’re practically legends in this place. I remember what Dalmar said about being a symbol of hope for the people in here but I feel more like a symbol of doom.

  The four Guardians introduce themselves. The first is a balding man in his forties whose name I’ve forgotten already. The second is a guy about my age who has dark hair, crystal-blue eyes, and a serious expression. I think his name is Ross. The third is a quiet guy in his late teens; I don’t remember his name either. And the fourth is a girl in her early twenties. She has dirty blonde hair in a braid and twinkling eyes. I expect the older man to be the head Guardian, but it turns out to be her. Her name is Nicky.

  She smiles at me and I can’t help but smile back. She’s infectious.

  “Shall we go, then?” she asks Marrin. The other three are suspicious of the Captain, but Nicky isn’t bothered by him.

  Marrin squares his shoulders and snakes an arm around Tia’s waist. I think the movement is protective, but he could just be staking his claim to her. “How are we getting there?”

  “Car.”

  “Heavens, not again,” Branwell groans and I can’t help but laugh.

  ***

  Miya

  14:27. 08.10.2040. Forgotten London, Edgware Zone.

  For the third time in a minute I try to pull the white jacket of The Guardians’ uniform further down. My black leather jacket used to rest on the top of my thighs but this one is way too short. I wanted a bigger one but the Guardian who gave it to me insisted it needed to fit to my body to shield me. Apparently the leather’s thick for a reason—It has Guardian technology in the middle that deflects stab wounds and bullets. Useful, life-saving, but short and white.

  White’s the colour for innocent kids and people who are lucky enough to get married. Black is the colour for tough, angry street-livers. Black is my colour. But The Guardians won’t accept that so I’m forced to wear white. White shirt, white jacket, white jeans, white boots. I’m surprised they didn’t try and make my skin pearly white to match everything else.

  “You look fine,” Yosiah says and I glare at him.

  He looks fine of course. White makes me look paler than a corpse, but it does nothing to Siah’s Asian tone. It suits him—makes him stand out even when everybody else is wearing the same. He looks … otherworldly.

  I’m grateful for the small flash of colour that comes with The Guardians’ symbol on my chest.

  “You’re doing it again,” he comments and I groan at myself.

  “I don’t mean to.”

  He smirks. “I’m starting to realise that. Didn’t I say we’d find you another jacket?”

  I roll my eyes and nerves crash about in my stomach. “I think we’re gonna have more important things to do than that.”

  He nods as if he’s taken my words seriously but there’s a glint of mischief in his eyes. He’s planning something. I raise an eyebrow at him and he half-smiles.

  “Wait here,” he tells me. He’s gone into the crowd of Guardians before I can say anything.

  A minute later he returns holding a white jacket that’s twice my size and I purse my lips. He laughs outright at my expression and then removes his own jacket, handing it to me. It fits exactly like my old one did. I decide that I can cope with the colour as long as it fits.

  Yosiah smiles proudly at himself, wearing the oversized jacket. It doesn’t look that bad on him and if I hadn’t known it was huge I probably wouldn’t notice the overhang on his sleeves. He turns them up once and he looks ridiculous but he keeps them that way.

  “Thank you,” I say, casually discarding the too-small jacket The Guardians gave me.

  “No problem. You still have some paint on the back of your neck, by the way.”

  “Like I care.”

  He laughs again. He’s done a lot of laughing today and I decide I like it. I want to make him laugh and smile all the time.

  “Are you a hundred percent sure you want to do this?” he asks. “There’s still time to catch up to the people who went.”

  About fifteen minutes ago the Guardian base residents left to go traipsing through the Underground tunnels to the diseased lands. It’ll be a miracle if they aren’t run down by their own trains, but The Guardians insist the tunnels have been specifically chosen for safety. It doesn’t make sense to me but the tunnels are like a spider’s web.

  “A hundred percent,” I say to Siah. Whatever happens, I need to be in the central zones. Specifically in Zone 39—Camberwell Zone. I know exactly where and when the train is passing through Camberwell for evacuation. I’m going to be on that train, and so is Yosiah, and so is someone else.

  I ask, “Are you sure?”

  “I go where you go.”

  I want to tell him something but I don’t know what. If he was my family I’d tell him I loved him. If he was an ally I’d tell him I was grateful for everything he’s done for me. If he was a companion or a friend I’d tell him I was glad he’s been with me all this time. But he’s none of those things. He’s … all of them.

  I can’t think of anything to say but I can think of something that will show Yosiah. I act impulsively; I jerk forward and curl my arms around Yosiah in a way that is awkward and tense. He hugs me back and it makes me self-conscious. I don’t know if I’m doing this right or if I should be hugging him a different way or leaning into him or anything. I stand uncomfortably and rest my arms around his waist for a minute. He sighs and I can’t tell if it’s because I’m so incapable of physical affection or for another reason. One of his hands rests at the back of my neck in the tips of my hair and the other holds my back. It doesn’t feel like I thought it would to hug Yosiah. It feels normal, like this is something I’ve been doing all along. Natural, even. And that is weird enough that I startle and break away from him.

  “It’s gonna be all right, you know?” he whispers.

  I nod. Even if we die we’ll die at the same time, in the same place. If we survive, even better.

  A full minute passes before I realise that Siah hasn’t let me go. The hand that was on my back is curled around my waist. Yosiah realises at the same time I do and he removes it with a confused apology.

  I would have attempted to say something, albeit awkward, but a Guardian hands me something, shattering the tension. I have no idea what it is.

  “Gas mask,” Yosiah tells me. “Military issue, actually.”

  “You’d know,” I smile slyly and he smirks. The irony isn’t lost on me—that I, who despise military than anything else in the world, have a best friend who used to be an Official. He doesn’t like to remember those days, and I haven’t made him tell me. He’s told me parts; he’ll tell me the rest if he wants to, and if he doesn’t I won’t push him. There are things I don’t want to tell him either. Things that will probably come out if I succeed in doing what I want to tonight.

  “So what do they do?” I ask, turning the gas mask over in my hands.

  “Protect you from The Sixteen Strains.”

  I look up at him. “Are they in the air?”

  “Some,” he answers carefully. “Some are passed through ways even the military can’t determine.”

  “I wonder if The Guardians—”

  “We don’t know either.” I turn to see who had spoken and find Timofei with a sheepish expression on his face. His eyes are locked on Yosiah with a fierce intensity. “I wanted to say goodbye. It’s likely that we’ll both die tonight, and I didn’t want to leave with us like this. I’m sorry, for what I did and for leaving you. And for trying to … you know.”

  A smile flickers on Yosiah’s lips. “You don’t have to apologise.”

  “No, I do,” Timofei says. “I need yo
u to forgive me. Maybe then I won’t die blaming myself.” He shifts on his feet and looks at me out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t want me to hear this. Tough. I’m not leaving Yosiah for one second.

  “I forgive you.” I’m shocked by the gentleness of Siah’s voice. He only uses that tone with me. “I was angry and bitter, but I never once blamed you.”

  “I know,” Timofei says, breaking into a smile. “Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me.”

  Timofei looks at the ceiling. “Do me a favour and stay alive, all right? You’ve lived through worse. Just … don’t die.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Timofei’s eyes drop to me. “You too, Miya.”

  I stare at him as if he’s gone mad. “Me? You can’t stand me.”

  “I can stand you more than you’d think. And besides, Vi thinks the world of you. I wouldn’t wish losing a friend on anyone. If you make it out of the town, though, I think Alba will make you a Guardian. You’ve got all the qualities we look for in a person and you’re brave. Bravery goes a long way.”

  “What would you know about me being brave?” I scoff.

  “I heard what you were like when we brought you in. You stared down a guy with a rifle and even tried to kick him in the balls.” I allow myself to smile smugly. I did. “You took out some of our best Guardians. I’d say that’s pretty brave.”

  I shift my weight. “Thanks, I think.”

  “Tim!” Alba shouts, an irritated edge to her voice. “Will you stop gossiping and actually help me here?”

  Timofei laughs and tips his head in goodbye.

  “He’s a complete weirdo,” I say when he’s gone.

  Yosiah chuckles. “He is that.”

  Alba whistles, calling us to attention. This, I’ve found, is her only way of stopping the chatter—that or screeching.

  “You all know where you’re going. Stay close to your head Guardian and do exactly as they say. Evacuate swiftly and make your way to the next zones as soon as your carriages are at full capacity. Do not let on more people than you have room for. That will only end in disorder and chaos. Those of you with outer zone assignments will ride with Guardians assigned to inner zones and help them fill their carriages before your own. Likewise those with inner zones will assist with the outer zones. With cooperation and organisation we’ll complete our task and make it through this. Good luck.”