Beyond the Gates

by Jason D. Morrow

  I let out a scream of terror, one I didn’t even know I could make, but that only seems to waken the monster even more. With just the slightest bit of movement, its jaw closes, and its teeth sink into my shoulder.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Liam

  THIS PRISON IS meant for little more than breaking the human spirit. I have felt guilty at times when I forget to take note of guard shift changes or the number of guards at certain stations on any given day. I’m supposed to be gathering these facts until I know every inch of this place, every habit of every guard, every prisoner within my sight. Not only are these facts sporadic, however, but I simply don’t have the energy to keep up with it all. I go to sleep at night telling myself that I will do better and start keeping detailed notes in my brain that may help Skylar and I escape. But when I wake in the morning, I can’t seem to do it. Facts and behaviors I try to keep in my mind escape me just minutes later.

  Vulture Hill was designed to be that way. Warden Black doesn’t want people to try and escape using smart methods. If we were fed properly and lived in humane conditions, someone would have figured out a way to escape long ago. Now, escape is an act of desperation, and a desperate person is a careless one. I can’t afford to be careless.

  Besides, if Rusty’s predictions are correct, I don’t have time to formulate a good enough plan before we’re all exterminated. And if that doesn’t happen, Holbrook will soon figure out who I am after getting the test results of my blood. What will happen then? Will he kill me or try to use me in some way? Will my declaration of having discovered a cure for the virus be of value to him? Would he believe me?

  About a week ago I could have told someone how many hours I’d been here. Now, I don’t even know how many days. Weeks. The days have never blended together like this for me. Never has the mundane gotten to me. I can stand at a table working on the same science experiment for years and never feel bored or tired, but weeks of disposing of greyskins in the hot sun, hoping to avoid Alex and Carver on Crew B, is enough for my mind to feel like mush.

  The sun is burning hot overhead as it always does, though it looks like there are some raging clouds in the distance. I wonder if they will come this way. I hope so.

  Justin announces that we have to work with Crew B today because the shipment of greyskins is larger than usual. The declaration twists my stomach in knots. This has only happened a few times, but when it does, it’s constant hell.

  Alex and Carver make it their mission to torture me. Something put them onto me at the very beginning, and I’m sure it doesn’t help that Rusty has all but told them to leave me alone. Rusty’s influence can only reach so far, however. Sure, he might be able to get them to leave me alone at mealtimes, but when we’re out in the fields, it’s open season.

  The two of them don’t even look at me at first and I start to think everything will be fine. Maybe they’re over trying to get to me. Just maybe they’ve moved on to someone else.

  When the trucks arrive, a nervousness falls over each of us. It always does no matter how many times we do this. I’ve got a staff in my hands that can hook a greyskin around the neck, which means I’ve got two other men on my flank just behind me with chains ready to capture whatever greyskin comes to us first. Thankfully today I’m near the back, which I don’t get very often. It’s mostly out of sight of the guards and the last to encounter greyskins. This means I should be able to relax some, but I don’t. I can’t, really, though when some get the back, they tend to not even work. No one says anything, knowing it will someday be their turn to work the back part of the field.

  The pigs are released, running and squealing, and the trucks drop their ramps as the greyskins come clawing out. Their groans and chomps sound louder than usual. I stand in a crouch, holding the staff out in front of me.

  “Get ready,” I say to the two men behind me even though the greyskins aren’t even close.

  “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.”

  The voice is familiar to me, and when I turn to look, I see Carver and Alex smiling at me, chains clenched in their fists.

  “What are you…?” It’s all I can get out before the two of them attack.

  Carver throws his heavy chains at me first. I try to block them with the staff, but I’m not ready for it and they hit me in the chest. Then, Alex tackles me to the ground. The two of them were so fast, I couldn’t have anticipated needing a defense. They must have quietly swapped positions with the men on my flank while my back was turned.

  “Ain’t got your friend to help you now, do you?” Carver spits, his face inches from my ear as he pins me to the ground.

  Alex wraps the chains around my arms and shoulders, then around my neck and wrists. I try to cry out. I try to fight back, but with every ounce of struggle, I’m met with a more forceful blow to the head from Carver. My cries are silenced among the shouts of other men, the growling greyskins, and the squealing pigs. I’m just another small commotion among an entire field of pandemonium, safely out of view from the guards on the other side of the field.

  Finally, Carver stands up and the two of them loom over me. Carver laughs from deep within his belly and Alex watches me like there’s almost no thoughts going through his head at all.

  Carver’s face grows suddenly serious. “Stand him up,” he orders Alex.

  Alex grabs me by the shoulders and sets me on my feet like I’m nothing more than a doll on the ground. I tug at the chains, but I can’t get free of them. I’m standing in the middle of the field with no defense. All the other prisoners are too busy trying to fend off and capture greyskins to even notice me. The guards aren’t even near the field at the moment.

  “We need to get something straight,” Carver says. “I don’t like your friend, Rusty. In fact, I think it’s time for him to go.”

  “I have nothing to do with him,” I say.

  “You’re his cellmate,” Carver says. “You have everything to do with him.”

  “Now, I can let you go, or I can leave you chained up and you can hope a greyskin doesn’t get you within the next three minutes. But we all know that’s not going to happen, right?”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Your loyalty,” Carver says. “That, and I want Rusty dead.”

  “If I kill him, I will be executed.”

  “If you strangle him in his sleep, I guarantee the guards won’t look too close,” Carver says. “They won’t do anything to you.”

  “How about this?” I say, blood starting to drip from my nose. “How about you let me go and I’ll make sure not to kill you.”

  This causes Carver to double over with laughter. I glance over my shoulder and can see greyskins getting closer. Most of them will be distracted by the squealing pigs, but one or two could start making their way toward me at any second.

  “You think you’re really funny, don’t you?” Carver says.

  “No,” I say calmly. I let my shoulders relax. Any tension I had falls away from me. I can see in their eyes that they notice the transition and Carver’s face become more serious. “You see, you’ve tied me up to leave me to the greyskins in order to strike some sort of a deal. But in order for this to work, you have to assume that I care about living.” I shake my head. “Honestly? This is a mercy.”

  I start taking steps backwards toward the greyskins coming out of the trucks. My legs are free so I can move as far as my stride will allow.

  “I would rather be torn apart by greyskins,” I say, continuing to walk backwards, “than to live subjected to your desires.” I shake my head, still moving. “Not worth it. Not worth it at all.”

  “Stop!” Carver yells at me. He looks at Alex, his eyes betraying his nervousness. “He’s gonna get us killed. The guards are gonna see!”

  I quicken my pace, my arms pinned down to my sides. Moving backwards, I have no idea how close I am to the greyskins, though the squealing and growling grow much louder. Passing several groups of inmates, I can see the shock on their fa
ces when they see me moving toward an inevitable death and into full view of the prison guards.

  The greyskins never get the chance to sink their flesh into me, and the guards never see the commotion I stir. With the force of a raging bull, Alex tackles me to the ground, my head cracking against the hard dirt floor. He then drags me by the legs and back out of sight of the other inmates.

  I’m sure the others would help me if there weren’t so many greyskins, but I don’t need their help. I’ve saved my life by calling Carver’s bluff.

  Carver yanks the chains free from my torso and stands over me, a scowl across his face.

  “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” he says.

  “Considering present company, yes.” The words aren’t calculated, they are a reaction—a reaction that makes me feel good for only a second until Alex drives a boot into my side.

  Carver kneels down next to my head and talks into my ear.

  “I don’t know who you are or where you come from, but you’re mine, you hear me? You’re mine.”

  He grabs my head by my hair and lifts it up a few inches. He sniffs, spits, then slams my head back into the ground.

  Then, all goes black.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Skylar

  WHEN NATASHA AND Nine pull the greyskin off of me, both of their mouths fall open. I lay in the mud as rain pelts my face and my shoulder throbs in pain. In a flash, Natasha reaches for her spear and stabs the nearly dead greyskin through what’s left of its brain.

  I look down at my shoulder and can see a small chunk torn out by the creature. My fingers and hands start shaking, and I can barely comprehend the pain I feel.

  Nine kneels next to me and starts to help me to my feet, but Natasha holds out her spear to stop her. “No,” she says. “She’s infected.” She nods at my shoulder and holds her spear with both hands.

  “No!” I say.

  “You can’t kill her,” Nine says. “She’s a child.”

  “An infected child.”

  I can barely hear them as the rain splashes all around me and blood throbs in my ears. The bite feels deep, and there will be no hiding it even if I want to. Blood will soak through bandages.

  “You don’t touch her!” Nine yells.

  Natasha turns toward Nine, her eyes narrowing as rain drips off the end of her nose. “I’ll kill you along with her.”

  “You really think you can do that?” Nine says. “You would kill me? I don’t think Warden Black would like that, do you?”

  Natasha hesitates, then looks down at me. In a quick motion, she swings her spear and hits Nine in the cheek with the handle, then spins around and rears back to send the spear through my skull.

  It’s my last chance. If I don’t say it now, I’m dead.

  “I’m immune to the virus!”

  Natasha stops. The grip on her spear remains tight, but she considers my words for a moment.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said I’m immune to the virus.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Despite the pain in my shoulder, I reach down for my pant leg and pull it up past my knee, revealing a scar—old teeth marks left by a greyskin from about a year ago.

  “Because I’ve been bitten before,” I say.

  “That could be anything,” Natasha says.

  “Why would she lie to you?” Nine asks, rubbing the side of her face. “To live for the next miserable twelve hours before passing out?”

  “It’s a secret, though,” I say, all the while knowing Natasha isn’t the secret-keeping type. “Can you imagine what they will do to me if they find out?”

  Natasha lowers her spear and bites her lower lip. I can only believe she’s thinking: can you imagine what they will do for me if I tell them?

  “I will do anything to keep it a secret,” I offer. “I don’t know what you might want, but I can give you some of my meal portions. I can do tasks for you. Anything.”

  Natasha seems to consider my offer as the grip on her spear loosens just a little. “I’m not sure I believe you,” she says. “You’re the first person in the fields to beg for her life this way. Usually, they just say they aren’t ready to die and crap like that. Immune, though?” She shakes her head.

  I am not unfamiliar with Natasha’s reputation for killing victims of bites and scratches in the fields. She has embraced the task as if it were her duty. I just think she wants a way to kill people without getting into trouble. Still, I’m surprised she accepts what I’m saying.

  “We need to get you patched up,” Nine says.

  “And what are you going to tell them?” Natasha demands, still holding her sharp spear in front of my face. “That she fell and scraped her shoulder? Look at it! It’s gaping!” She pulls back just a little, ready to shove the stake through my eyes socket.

  “If you touch that girl, I’ll make sure you burn,” Nine says. “You don’t know the influence I have in this camp.”

  Natasha’s eyes stab into Nine. Everything in her wants to turn the spear around and stick it through Nine’s heart, and part of me thinks she just might. Instead, however, she throws her spear into the back of the cart and swears.

  Nine immediately helps me to my feet. “Let’s go,” she says. She turns her head toward Natasha. “I’ll get a few more to help you.”

  The pain in my shoulder throbs and I think I might pass out. Each step sends a shockwave of screaming nerve endings splitting through my body. I haven’t felt this kind of pain since the last time this happened on my leg. Only, last time I got so sick I wanted to die.

  The guards stop us at the gate and inspect my wound. It looks like a bite, but Nine insists that I fell against a spear and it ripped through my shoulder. It is a far-fetched lie, and the guards know something doesn’t seem right, but they call our cell block leader, Marta, on the radio anyway.

  The two of us are led back to our cell, and we’re provided a washcloth and a small bucket of cold water. We are pelted with questions about how the accident happened. Really, they just want to know if I’ve been bitten. Nine explains the situation the same way over and over, but any guard with half a brain can tell that it is a bite if they look close enough. None of them do, though. But that doesn’t mean they won’t later. Someone is going to get curious.

  Nine thanks the guards and they leave us.

  “I guess we do get a rest day,” I tell her.

  “We’ll miss lunch and dinner,” she says.

  “Is there much of a difference?”

  She smiles at my comment, but her face sobers quickly. “I suppose you and I have some talking to do,” she says.

  I swallow, not knowing what I should do. Should I lie? Should I tell her everything I know? Papa had told me not to trust anyone with our secret. If I did, I would be putting us both in danger. If people find out about the cure, there goes any leverage we have. But if they look closely enough and ask enough questions, they are going to find out anyway.

  With a deep sigh, I close my eyes and nod. “Okay,” I tell her. “Let’s talk.”

  I tell Nine almost everything I know. I tell her about Papa’s quest for the cure. I tell her that Mama was killed two years ago and that the cure didn’t work for her. But, a year later, it worked for me. Not only is it a cure, but it’s an immunization for the rest of my life.

  “Papa is brilliant,” I say. “It’s been forty years and no one has created a cure.”

  “But he wants to keep it quiet,” she says.

  “Of course. Can you imagine someone like Warden Black or Holbrook getting ahold of it?”

  “It would reach the hands of Jeremiah,” she says. “The world would never see it. Not in the way it needs to be seen.”

  “So, it’s our only leverage for getting out of here if things get bad,” I say. “I’m afraid I just blew it, though.”

  “Natasha would have put that stick through your brain in a second,” Nine says. “You did what you needed to do.”

  “But what
if she tells?” I ask.

  “I don’t think that’s your biggest worry,” Nine says. “I don’t think the guards are done asking questions, and it might even reach Warden Black. If they look at you closely, they are going to figure out it’s a bite. But it’s possible they won’t look close enough to tell.”

  “We just have to make sure Natasha doesn’t say anything. If she does, it’s over.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Nine says. “Things work differently than how we plan in our head. Whether Natasha says something or she doesn’t, everything is going to be different from this night on.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because tonight is the night of truth. A night I’ve been looking forward to for a long time.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Nine sighs. “When Holbrook comes back, having drawn blood and analyzed it, what do you think he’s going to find?”

  “The cure?” I ask, truly not knowing where Nine is going with all this.

  “Holbrook isn’t just looking for the cure,” she says. “What is he looking for?”

  “Starborns,” I say.

  “That’s right. When he draws someone’s blood, he takes it to a lab, analyzes it, and finds out whether or not someone within the prison has the blood of a Starborn.”

  She lets the words sink into my brain. My heart starts a tempo that throws off my breathing. “Papa,” I say. “He’s going to find out about Papa.”

  Nine leans forward. “He’s going to find out about you too, sweetheart.”

  “Me? I’m not a Starborn.”

  “But you’ve got the blood, don’t you?”

  “How do you know all this? I didn’t tell you Papa was a Starborn. All I told you about was the cure. And he did that himself.” I can feel my face getting red with the exposure of all my secrets. I feel ashamed, like I have failed Papa somehow.

  “Have you ever wondered what my name is?” she asks.

  “I guess.”

  “They call me Nine because that is my prisoner number. That is my prisoner number because I was the ninth prisoner to enter here. The ninth prisoner to have her head shaved. The ninth prisoner to be hosed down like an animal.”