by Eliza Green
Anya braced herself for a shock as she anchored her stance and jabbed the top of the handle sharply into Tahlia’s chest.
Tahlia stumbled backwards, releasing the scanner. The sparks died when the connection broke. Warren and Jerome reacted fast and broke her fall. They lowered her to the floor.
She wasn’t moving.
The terminals powered off and the electricity from Tahlia’s machine dissipated into a gentle hum.
Warren stared at Tahlia. Jerome chewed on his thumb.
June looked at Anya, eyes bright with tears that didn’t fall. When she spoke, her voice was even and calm. ‘What do we do? I don’t know how to help her.’
Anya shook her head to clear her thoughts. She tried to remember what Dom had done. But this was different. None of them had ever been rendered unconscious. Was it a malfunction, or some type of punishment? Was Warren telling the truth about the supervisors? Had they known that Tahlia was the slowest? Was she targeted on purpose?
Anya shook her head again.
Focus.
She knelt beside Tahlia and checked her pulse. It was weak. She checked her airway and breathing. The shock had swollen Tahlia’s throat a little, but it was enough that she might not be getting sufficient air. Anya tilted Tahlia’s head back and pinched her nose, then breathed into her mouth. Her chest rose and fell. Anya checked her pulse again to find it stronger. But her heart rhythm felt uneven.
She steadied her own breathing.
Calm down.
Everyone stared at her, as if they waited for her to fix this. But she didn’t know what else to do. Tahlia would not wake up.
She continued to blow air into her mouth, then checked her pulse again. If she lost the pulse, she would need to do compressions. She wasn’t trained in first aid, but Dom had explained the process, and it felt right to be doing something. The first few minutes were crucial to saving a person’s life.
Anya was blowing new air into Tahlia’s mouth when someone in a boiler suit knelt down beside her.
She caught the look of shock on Dom’s face. But he wiped his expression clean. He carried a bigger box this time; a black one. He pulled out a light and an oxygen mask from the case.
‘I’m sorry, Anya. I was held up. How long was she connected to the scanner for?’
He shone the light down Tahlia’s throat, then placed a mask connected to a small oxygen tank over her nose and mouth. He held up the syringe that was designed to counter the effects of shock.
‘I... I don’t know.’
‘Three seconds? Five? What?’
‘Longer.’
His dark eyes flashed with anger as he gave Tahlia an injection in her upper arm and checked her pulse. He inspected the wounds on her hands and feet. Tahlia was barefoot and Anya saw the circles of red and black on the soles Tahlia’s bare feet where the electricity had grounded itself. Dom turned Tahlia’s hands over as he applied salve to her wounds. He used the stethoscope to check her heart.
Two first-aiders arrived, lifted Tahlia onto a floating stretcher, and carried her towards the exit.
Dom packed away his things, hesitating for a moment. He squeezed Anya’s arm.
‘You did a good job. You might just have saved her life.’
‘Will she be okay?’
‘I don’t know.’ Dom’s eyes were deep and familiar pools of warmth. He flashed a smile that didn’t last long enough to calm her. ‘But you’ve given her a decent chance.’
He stepped closer and lifted her chin with two fingers.
‘You did everything you could for her. You should be proud of that.’ His once-bright eyes had been darkened by lack of sleep. Anya held his gaze for as long he did.
She watched him follow after the stretcher.
Whirring and pinging noises broke the silence. The terminals were rebooting.
Anya snapped out of her trance. The others watched their terminals. A sense of foreboding had transformed the air around her to make it feel thicker.
‘Whatever happens,’ said Yasmin. ‘Don’t hold on to the scanner.’
New file numbers appeared. The timer remained static at five minutes.
Tahlia didn’t realise it, but she’d given them all the gift of time.
Anya, on the other hand, had tripped Tahlia and stomped all over her back to get it. Her stomach churned with a mix of adrenaline and regret.
Rotation week was coming, and she had to get off the first floor.
28
Three days had passed and there was still no news about Tahlia.
As Anya entered what she hoped was the final week before rotation, many feelings consumed her: guilt, desperation, sadness. Hope.
It could have been her. She had to do it.
No she didn’t.
She hated herself.
Anya pushed on with her busy schedule despite the sombre atmosphere created by Tahlia’s absence. The timer didn’t care about the fallen or the weak or the sad.
Drop the scanner. Maybe she should get laminated cards printed up and hand them out to the next round of participants.
Her feelings about her colleagues remained mixed. Yasmin continued to avoid her. But Warren had the nerve to console her.
‘Don’t beat yourself up, Anya,’ he said an hour after Tahlia had been taken away. ‘It could have been any one of us. Tahlia’s strong. She’ll make it. You did it so the rest of us would have a chance.’
But the blame wasn’t hers to shoulder alone. It had been a group decision to target Tahlia.
At what point had Arcis turned Warren cold?
The slowest had been taken out of the equation. Yet, here they still were, running between the rooms. Anya couldn’t help but wonder if her efforts had been in vain.
She was in the records room, one foot on the ladder, another on the floor, when Supervisor One walked in. She spotted him through the gaps between the shelves, the collar of his black tunic tight against his thick neck.
‘The timer has been paused. Come down, please.’
Anya stepped off the ladder without her file. The supervisor spoke to the group.
‘I have news about your fellow worker, Tahlia Odare.’
Anya’s heart thumped. Odare. She didn’t even know Tahlia’s last name.
‘She’s been in a coma for a few days now. I’m afraid the medics can’t do anything more for her. As of ten minutes ago, they turned off her life support. She passed away.’
A coma? But she was supposed to be recovering in the infirmary.
Anya’s eyes darted around the room, searching for something. A way out, perhaps.
Supervisor One walked past them to the elevator room. He paused at the door.
‘One more thing. Rotation is scheduled for tomorrow. In light of... recent events.’
He left, and the guilt slipped into her heart like a knife.
Tahlia was dead?
What about the things Warren had overheard? That they’d all rotate if someone was consistently last. Had this all been for nothing?
Anya hadn’t meant for Tahlia to die.
What kind of monster was she becoming?
She collected her file and ran.
Ω
The mood in the dormitory that evening barely elevated above flat and quiet. Yasmin and her friends either slept or read. Anya noticed the shift in the group dynamic. Other ground-floor participants had joined Yasmin’s group. She must have spoken to them, too.
Anya lay on her bed facing the wall, feeling the knife of guilt slip deeper into her. The springs on her bed creaked. Someone moved her feet and she turned sharply.
‘Make room,’ said June, squashing her back against the wall. She pulled her feet up close to her chest.
Anya sat up. Frank, Jerome and Warren sat down on the bed opposite. Warren had tears in his eyes. It pleased her to see him look remorseful.
‘I didn’t expect her to die,’ said June.
Warren shook his head. ‘I don’t think anyone did.’
June hugged
her legs. ‘I don’t like this place. This is not a place of education. It’s a game of wits and survival.’
Or possibly a test.
The boys were still, except for their gazes that wouldn’t settle.
‘So, what happens if we aren’t picked for rotation?’ said June. ‘I don’t think I can go through another month of electric-shock therapy.’
‘Okay, so we know they administer first aid on the second floor,’ said Frank. ‘I can do that. But what’s above that, and above that?’
‘Well, Franklin,’ said Jerome, ‘since we’ve only ever interacted with those from the second floor, that will probably remain a mystery.’ He looked at Anya. ‘You’ll be a natural at first aid. You were amazing with Tahlia.’
Heat pooled in her cheeks. She stared at the wall.
They sat in silence for a moment. It was easier than talking about it.
Eventually, June spoke.
‘What Dom does seems easy enough. Maybe the first floor won’t be that bad.’
‘For the people who survive,’ said Anya.
The pain returned. June crossed her arms over her chest. Anya fiddled with the stitching on her pyjamas.
‘Anya, you know Dom best out of all of us,’ said Frank. Her cheeks flushed. ‘Any chance he could give us a heads-up on what’s above him?’
June stared at Frank. ‘Why do you care what’s on the third floor? We haven’t even got to the second floor yet.’
‘Child,’ Frank said in a mocking voice, ‘that’s the difference between boys and girls. Boys strive beyond the here and now, or even next week. Girls are just happy to be busy.’
Anya threw her pillow at Frank. He caught it and clutched it to his chest. Frank reminded her of Jason before Essention—before their lives changed. Her heart tugged with the pain of not knowing if her brother was okay.
An announcement played over the intercom.
‘Participants on the first floor. Please gather in the records room at 8.30am sharp. Rotation is imminent. Bring your personal belongings with you.’
Warren smiled at his legs.
‘So, are we going to get any sleep tonight?’ said June.
‘Nah, I’m too wired,’ said Warren. ‘Let’s play a game.’ He pulled out a pack of cards from his pocket.
They played poker for about twenty minutes, then blackjack. An hour later after the boys had won almost every hand they all climbed into their beds. Frank tossed Anya’s pillow back over.
She fell asleep, but woke in the middle of the night shaking with grief, as the guilt burrowed in deeper.
29
Anya woke to find the dormitory empty apart from a sleepy June and a couple of others. She dressed in her uniform, collected her bag and followed June out of the room. Anya looked up just as the lights dimmed then brightened back to full strength.
She leaned against the wall of the records room and dropped her bag by her feet.
June was to her left, Warren to her right. She gripped both their hands. Seeing Warren so cut up about Tahlia’s death had softened her attitude towards him.
The mood around her had a strange, anticipatory feel to it. She stared at the filing cabinets she hoped never to see again. Just because they’d been called to the records room didn’t guarantee anything.
Supervisor One entered the room through the door to the changing room. He clutched a screen in one hand. Anya swallowed hard.
This was it. She had to rotate. She hadn’t gone along with Yasmin’s plan for nothing.
The supervisor cleared his throat and dragged out the moment. At least the wolves had been quick about it.
Anya released her friends’ hands. She dried her own on her black skirt and folded her arms.
‘The following people are being rotated: Jerome, Yasmin, Warren, Lisa, Terrence, Damian, June.’
That was almost everyone from Yasmin’s group. None of the original ground-floor workers’ names had been called.
The shock almost floored her. Warren got it wrong. They weren’t all rotating. Tahlia’s sacrifice had been for nothing.
Jerome stared wide-eyed at Frank. June released a quiet breath, seemingly unaware that two members of their group were missing from the list.
‘The seven of you please show me your cards.’
They each took turns, and the supervisor ran their elevator cards through a black plastic unit then handed them back. ‘Your card will now take you to the second floor. Please wait for me in there.’ He gestured to the changing room.
‘The rest of you, back to work.’
Anya couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t rotating?
This was her punishment for killing Tahlia.
She turned to go, but the supervisor said, ‘Anya, please wait a moment.’
She stopped.
Jerome didn’t want to leave Frank. ‘What the hell, man? Why aren’t you coming with us?’
‘Don’t worry. Anya and I will see you soon.’ Frank’s voice broke on the last word as he returned to the terminal room with the others.
Warren gave Anya’s shoulder a squeeze, and June’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before she left.
The room emptied until just Anya and Supervisor One remained. She battled against the fresh tears in her eyes.
‘Anya Macklin, the ninth floor has remarked on your efforts to save Tahlia Odare. They’ve decided you aren’t suited for the second floor.’
She gulped back a rising sob. ‘Please, I’ll work harder than anyone else on the second floor. Give me a chance. I can’t—’
‘Silence. You’ve already shown them what they need to see. They want to rotate you to the third floor.’
Anya shook her head. ‘What? How?’
‘Follow me, please.’ He walked away.
‘I don’t understand.’
The supervisor didn’t wait for her. She picked up her bag and stumbled after him.
The third floor? She’d cheated to get there.
The others were already gone when they reached the elevator.
‘Give me your card,’ said the supervisor. He upgraded it and handed it back to her. ‘This will give you access to the third floor only. You won’t be able to come back here or visit your friends on the second floor, if that’s what you were thinking of doing.’
‘I wasn’t.’
He smiled. ‘Chances are you’ll probably see them at some point.’
The elevator door opened and he gestured her inside. ‘This is where we say goodbye.’
Anya stepped inside the all-steel elevator and presented the access card to a brushed silver panel. She kept her back turned to Supervisor One. If she didn’t look at him, he couldn’t change his mind.
The elevator closed and opened again. Anya turned around. For a second she thought she was still on the second. But there were a couple of additions.
She exited the elevator and looked at the large railing with clothes in the centre of the room. There was a sign attached to the rail.
Wear what you want.
She ran her fingers along the different-coloured clothes then looked down at the skirt and blouse she hated more than anything.
Anya stripped down to her underwear and dropped the sweat-stained blouse, skirt and shoes into the recycle chute. She found a fitted pair of black trousers and a white long-sleeved top. She grabbed a grey hoodie and zipped it right up to her neck. She pulled on a pair of socks—oh, how she had missed socks—and slotted her feet into a pair of grey and white trainers.
A high-pitched whistle came from the elevator shaft. Then a whirring sound. Her left foot bounced as she sat down.
Who would she be working with? What would she be doing?
The elevator doors opened and Dom appeared first. His tight hair had grown back and was coming in dark and thick. She hadn’t noticed it before but his hair had a natural curl to it. His dark-brown eyes were framed by even darker circles. He looked the palest she’d seen him.
Four others appeared, including a girl and boy younger
than Anya. She did a double take when she saw a smiling Frank with them.
Then Sheila appeared, and Anya’s breath caught in her throat. She focused her attention on Frank.
‘I just left you...’
‘I know,’ said Frank with a smile. ‘Supervisor One came to get me when you left. He sent me to the second floor. Jerome nearly had a heart attack. But then Supervisor Two sent me to this floor. And here I am.’
She ignored the attention Dom gave her and Frank. Then her eyes flickered to his and she saw surprise there. It was a surprise to her, too. She felt like an imposter who’d been rewarded for some very bad deed.
Dom made quick introductions all round. The younger boy was Lucas and the girl was Lilly.
‘And you already know Sheila...’
‘Um, yes,’ said Anya. Sheila ignored her and looked around the room. Then she gave Anya a what-the-hell-are-you-doing-here look. Anya’s cheeks blazed under her intense scrutiny.
‘There was nobody here.’ She pointed to the rail with the assortment of clothes. ‘But we can wear what we like, apparently.’
‘Thank God for that,’ Sheila said, and stripped to her underwear. She didn’t seem bothered by the three males in the room.
Anya looked away as the others pulled off their boiler suits and dropped them into the recycle chute. She stole a glance at the assortment of coloured T-shirts and plain black trousers that were part of the standard uniform in Essention. Dom wore a black tee, which he chose to keep on.
Anya sneaked a look at Sheila, hoping to see something hideous growing out of her back. But to her disappointment, all she saw was smooth, golden skin. Frank and Lucas—even Lilly—took the opportunity to admire her. Anya pushed away fresh pangs of jealousy.
Soon, everyone was dressed in either hoodies or plain sweatshirts. Dom had chosen a bottle-green hoodie.
Frank shrugged. ‘What do we do now? There should be a supervisor here.’
Dom covered his mouth with his fist as he yawned. ‘I’m going to need some sleep before I fall down.’