Nazirah smirks. It’s typical of Lumi to revolve the conversation around herself, but she still feels better about her own decimated essay.
“Don’t feel too bad about it, Irri,” Taj says kindly. “Bairs doesn’t like anyone.”
“Except you,” Cato says, and Taj smirks.
Like Nazirah, Taj is intermix. An orphaned refugee from a small village several hours north of Rubiyat, Taj has warm brown skin, an appreciative smile, and an eternally grateful disposition. He can’t read or write, so he completes his essay assignments orally. Taj is wicked smart and remembers nearly everything he hears. Nazirah wishes she could be more like him, wishes she could let the despair roll off. She doesn’t know how he manages to do it, continue smiling day after day.
Nazirah sighs. “She gave me so much makeup work today that I’ll be busy for a month.”
“If you need any help, you can always ask Ani,” Lumi says sympathetically. “She’s the brains of our family.”
Nazirah is thrown off by Lumi’s pleasantness. Everyone has been walking on eggshells around Nazirah since Monday morning, when Adamek first set foot onto the grounds. All Nazirah wants is for everything to return to normal and for everyone to ignore her again. That would be so nice.
“Thanks, Lumi,” Nazirah says, genuinely grateful for the tip. “How is she doing, by the way? I don’t see her around much.”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Lumi sighs. She throws her hands up in exasperation. “I try to ask, but she won’t talk to me. Or my father. Or even Yuki.”
Nazirah is skeptical about whether Lumi has really tried to understand her reclusive sister, but she stays quiet. She feels guiltier now about not stopping to chat with Aneira in the girls’ lavatory last Friday.
“It’s a big change,” Cato says gently. He is resting on his palms, eyes closed. “Just keep trying.”
Lumi looks at him wistfully. “I’m sick of trying, Cato.”
Nazirah doubts Lumi is still talking about Aneira.
“I overheard Grum speaking with Badoomi today,” Taj says. “We’re starting actual combat training next week. Fun, yeah?”
Cato’s eyes pop open. Their combat class has, up until this point, basically consisted of studying battle techniques from strategy textbooks. Nazirah wonders if Adamek’s alliance with the rebellion has sped up the impending war. The thought of having to fight sooner does not cheer her up in the least.
“Fun,” she grumbles.
Silence becomes the fifth member of their circle. Even though they’re all recruits, it’s easy to forget, sometimes, what they’re really here for. Why they’re constantly going to classes, learning, and training. But at certain moments, like now, they’re given a harsh reminder. They’re preparing to become soldiers, tools, warm insurgent bodies. They’re preparing to fight a battle against the government, Medis, and Median allies. Many of them will die.
Nazirah looks at the children jumping rope and swinging nearby. She looks at her friends, at Cato, and she wonders.
Wonders who will be standing at the end of all this.
They stay like that, watching the late afternoon light dim, preoccupied by their own personal demons. Nazirah sees Cato stiffen. He is looking behind Nazirah, towards the picnic tables, surviving relics of a time long ago. She notices Lumi staring as well. Nazirah turns her head and sees Adamek sitting alone. The tables around him are empty, which Nazirah guesses is more by design than chance. He is deeply engrossed in reading something, not paying any attention to them. People shoot him nasty looks, mothers hold children tightly to their bosoms, but he takes no notice. Or pretends not to.
Nazirah faces the circle again, to find her three friends avoiding her. Everyone at headquarters has heard about Nazirah’s outburst in Nikolaus’s office, although no one, not even Cato, has asked her about it.
“You don’t have to tread so cautiously,” she says. “I’m not going to break or anything.”
Does saying it out loud make it true?
“No one would begrudge you if you did,” Taj says quietly. Nazirah looks at him, but doesn’t respond.
“It’s just so weird that he’s here,” Lumi jumps in eagerly. “I mean … not weird that he’s here outside … weird that he’s here in general.”
“Oh, because I wasn’t sure what you meant there for a moment,” Nazirah says. Cato shoots her a look and Nazirah shuts her mouth.
“He’s just … hurt so many people here,” Lumi continues. “I don’t understand how someone can suddenly change the beliefs they’ve been raised on.”
Nazirah looks again at Adamek, still absorbed in his book. “It’s simple,” she says. “They don’t.”
#
Half an hour later, Lumi and Taj leave to grab dinner. Nazirah and Cato linger behind. The sun is fading, covering them in a cool orange glow. The grounds are almost entirely deserted, as most of the rebels and children have meandered inside. Glancing casually at the picnic tables, Nazirah sees that they are unoccupied and covered in dark shadows.
Nazirah basks in the last rays of light, resting her head beside Cato and closing her eyes. The sound of Cato breathing puts her mind at ease. She doesn’t know how she could have done any of this without him. Her stomach turns at the thought of his family, whom he left on bad terms to come here. Cato never talks about them. Or maybe she just never asks.
Nazirah gets a sudden stroke of brilliance. She sits up, a quirk of a smile on her face. “What?” Cato asks, all too familiar with that look.
Nazirah doesn’t answer him. She hops up, brushing the dirt off her shorts. The wind has picked up, and her loose top blows everywhere. She smiles down at him, offering her hand. He warily grabs hold of it, standing. “Come on,” she teases. “I have an idea.”
“Which is?”
“Trust me?”
She is grinning widely now. Cato slowly nods, a smile of remembrance appearing on his face. Nazirah playfully grabs his hands. She begins walking backwards, pulling him forward with every step. Then she stops.
“We’re here!”
“Really, Irri?”
Cato watches in increasing recognition as Nazirah walks through the small gate in front of them. This is the only area of the grounds still bathed in an orange glow. The abandoned swing set that Nazirah has led them to shines like a beacon.
“Don’t be such a baby!” Nazirah laughs, walking over to the closest wooden swing. “We haven’t done this in years!”
When Nazirah and Cato were younger, they always used to ride their bicycles on the rundown boardwalk in Rafu. They would peddle hard, racing to the swings at the end of the beach. Nazirah always won, much to Cato’s chagrin. On the sand dunes, they would swing for hours, daring each other to go higher and higher, until someone eventually either chickened out or accidentally launched off. Nazirah can’t recall why they stopped doing that.
Nazirah hops up onto one swing, standing on the flat wooden board. It creaks slightly and Nazirah gently tests the rusty metal chains, making sure they will hold her weight. She starts swinging, feeling light, suddenly in a great mood for no good reason at all.
“And I’m the baby?” Cato asks dryly.
Her laughter rings out like a dozen tinkling bells, completely infectious. Without another moment’s hesitation, Cato stands on the swing to her left, beaming. They swing for a few minutes, not competitively like they used to as children, but just enjoying each other’s company. Nazirah’s hair whips everywhere, wild copper highlights ablaze in the setting sun. “Would be nice to have an ocean to look at right now, instead of just concrete,” she says, breathless. Cato doesn’t respond. Nazirah looks at him questioningly. He is staring past her right shoulder, visibly upset. He isn’t laughing anymore. “What’s wrong?”
Nazirah turns her head and she has her answer.
Adamek stands not ten feet away, leaning lazily against the chain-link fence. His book is closed. The fading sunlight highlights his cheekbones and glitters in his emerald eyes, making him look n
ot entirely human. He clearly moved from the picnic tables awhile back in order to catch the last rays of reading light, and has been watching them the entire time. Watching her the entire time.
Nazirah is shocked that she didn’t notice him, when he has been so close. And she is angry, because he has seen her vulnerable. Quick as a flash, Cato is off the swing and standing menacingly in front of Adamek. Cato is a head shorter, but he is fearless, hands balled into fists. Adamek’s stance is passive, his entire body relaxed. He watches Nazirah clumsily get down and stumble over to them.
“Look at me, you sick fuck!” Cato shouts.
Adamek does, eyes narrowing dangerously. Cato is too close to him. Nazirah has known Cato her entire life and is well acquainted with his hot temper. Nazirah looks around for help, but no one else is outside anymore. “Cato, stop!” she cries.
“Stay the fuck away from her!”
Adamek’s raises an eyebrow. “Or what?” he asks. “What are you going to do about it?”
Cato grabs the front of Adamek’s shirt, but Adamek doesn’t flinch. “Just because you have amnesty doesn’t mean I won’t beat the shit out of you!”
“Cato!” Nazirah grabs his arm. Her voice triggers something. Cato slowly releases Adamek’s shirt and steps away. Nazirah looks between Cato, who is panting heavily and flushed red, and Adamek, who has not moved a muscle.
In Niko’s office she called him a murderer.
He told her not to forget it.
And Nazirah gets it now, really gets it.
It’s terrifying.
“Watch your back, Morgen,” Cato threatens, cracking his knuckles.
Nazirah reaches for his hand. Cato looks at her then, looks at their joint hands. Nazirah can see his anger diminishing, if only slightly. She takes the opportunity and pulls him away, dragging him towards the main building. Halfway there, Cato strides ahead of her, slamming angrily through the doors. Nazirah follows him inside, taking one final look back at Adamek. He’s still in the same position against the fence, has not moved at all. But it’s his expression that completely unsettles Nazirah. Adamek stares almost longingly at the swings, still swaying back and forth in the breeze.
Nazirah doesn’t dwell on that as she walks through the door. Moving quickly, she catches up to Cato by the mess hall entrance. He waits for her there, arms crossed.
“What was that?” she asks.
“What was that?” Cato snaps. “You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not kidding!” Nazirah says hotly. “You completely provoked him! He was just standing there!”
Cato looks at her in disbelief. “Are you seriously that naïve?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“I’m sorry. But he wasn’t just standing there, Irri. He was watching you … only you. Just steer clear of him, okay? I feel like he’s singling you out.”
Nazirah hates the way he babies her, speaks in delicacies, keeps her from the whole truth. “It’s not like we exactly hang.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Fine,” she says, hoping to drop the subject. She tries to reassure him with, “Don’t worry about me, Cato. I can handle myself.”
Cato sighs as they walk through the mess hall doors. Nazirah knows he isn’t convinced. She doesn’t blame him.
She isn’t convinced either.
Chapter Six
Nazirah falls to the floor hard, air crushed from her lungs. She cannot breathe, cannot move. Someone hovers over her threateningly. Her arms are scratched and bruised. Blood drips into her right eye from a cut above her eyebrow, blurring her vision. One side of her face swells. From the corner of her unaffected eye, Nazirah sees Cato move to help her. Lumi puts a firm hand to his chest, stopping him. Grimacing in pain, face strained, Nazirah slowly rises to her feet.
Combat training.
It started two weeks ago and has been torture ever since. On the first day, a rainy Monday afternoon, the recruits shuffled lethargically into the old gymnasium with their fighting instructor, Grum. Grum is an exceptionally cranky, middle-aged intermix. He takes every chance he possibly can to beat his students down, both physically and emotionally. Not much is known about him except that he was a rum-runner in his adolescence. Caught by Medi soldiers, he was brutally maimed for it. They left him alive, horribly scarred, as a warning to other bootleggers. His scars mar an already vile face, most notably with a thick keloid that runs from lip to eyebrow.
When Grum told the class they were to start learning actual fighting techniques, the recruits didn’t take him seriously. They laughed and joked and practiced mock karate moves on one another. Nazirah got into plenty of fights in Rafu, but always with bullies who tried to mess with her. She never started fights, and the thought of battling her fellow recruits was disturbing. Nazirah hoped they would practice on dummies, like when they learned to throw knives or shoot guns – or maybe just watch Grum perform a move and follow his directions.
But that was not the case.
Grum made them form a semicircle, selected two recruits at random, and forced them to battle each other. Only when they both were bruised, bloody, and crying had Grum said it was enough. If the recruits viewed rebel training through rose-colored glasses before, well, the glasses are definitely off now. They are being groomed to win. And in order to win, they have to fight and kill.
For the last two weeks, Nazirah has been losing touch with reality.
Nazirah slowly faces her opponent, an Oseni named Anzares. Nazirah has never spoken to her before today, but she knows from watching Anzares fight in class that she is vicious.
Anzares doesn’t give Nazirah even a moment to prepare. She kicks her full in the stomach, sending her sprawling onto the floor again.
“Enough of this!”
Cato yells at Grum from somewhere to Nazirah’s left. Cato has defended Nazirah each time she has to fight, but Grum never lets her off that easily. Nazirah holds her hands over her stomach protectively, the blood rushing to her ears. Anzares stands over her, looking up at Grum, seeking his approval to end the fight. But Grum shakes his head.
“Either she learns to fight now,” Grum says to the class, pounding his clipboard, “or she dies on the battlefield. The same goes for each and every one of you! Is that what you want?”
It’s certainly not what Anzares wants.
Anzares kicks Nazirah hard in the leg with renewed intensity. “Bitch, get up!”
Many of the recruits feel Nazirah receives special treatment because her brother is a Commander. They are practically begging Grum to pair them up with her. Nazirah rises to her feet once more, standing passively in front of Anzares, waiting for the next attack. It won’t be long now. Won’t be long until Nazirah gets what she’s been waiting for.
It’s been like this for two weeks.
On the first day, even though Nazirah had fought plenty in the past, she froze up. She was unable to move, unable to strike out at her opponent. It was like when she met Adamek at the prison. She wanted to kill him so badly, but pulled away at the last moment.
Is she a coward? Had it started then?
Nazirah thinks it probably started four months before that, on the night she found her parents and everything changed. She changed; she isn’t that same carefree girl she was. She feels sick at the thought of hurting another person, feels unbearable guilt at the sight of another’s blood. She doesn’t even see her opponents before her anymore, but rather the haunting faces of Riva and Kasimir. She sees their hollow, accusing eyes asking Nazirah the same question she has asked herself for months.
Why didn’t you save us?
It overwhelms her. So she stands there, reveling in her guilt and shame, and feels salvation in the punches. She embraces the pain that comes with the blows and beatings, and the blissful relief that follows. Because this is what she deserves. This is what, if just for a moment, makes her feel something besides guilt … besides nothing at all.
But Anzares doesn’t see this.
Grum doe
sn’t see this.
The rest of the class doesn’t see this.
All they see is a girl who won’t fight. Who won’t even try. And this enrages them.
Anzares throws Nazirah a final punch to the cheek. Nazirah sees the blessed stars for a second before collapsing to the floor on her knees.
Like she’s in prayer.
Because isn’t she?
And isn’t this her salvation?
“Enough,” Grum says, shaking his head. He holds his scarred hands up, indicating that Anzares can stop and that class is over. “Enough,” he repeats, more to himself.
Anzares spits on the floor and cracks her neck before walking out the door. The rest of the class quietly follows. Taj and Lumi look hesitantly at each other, knowing that Nazirah doesn’t like to be helped. Cato gives them a reassuring nod. They both shrug their shoulders and walk outside.
“Come on,” Cato says, helping Nazirah to her feet and supporting her weight. “I’ll take you to Bilungi.”
They make the short journey to the compound’s hospital, which they could both trek in their sleep by now. The walk is longer than usual since Nazirah is hunched over, needing to lean on Cato for support. The first day this happened, two weeks back, Cato picked Nazirah up to carry her. Nazirah screamed at him and threw a fit. She doesn’t want his help any more than necessary. This is her burden and hers alone.
Cato doesn’t try to pick her up anymore.
Several minutes later, they hobble into the makeshift emergency room. It’s a small room, narrow, with several hospital beds lined side-by-side. Thankfully, only one is currently occupied, partitioned by a sheer white curtain in the far corner.
The head healer on duty, Bilungi, is speaking to someone softly behind the partition. Bilungi is a pure Deathlander from Rubiyat. She has ebony skin and wears a perpetually harsh expression. She also has extremely unorthodox methods of healing.
Cato gently leads Nazirah to the nearest open bed, forcing her to sit down. “Healer Bilungi!” he yells loudly, one hand cupped to the side of his face. “Your afternoon walk-in is here!” Cato gives Nazirah a searching look. He must be itching to know why she’s suddenly unable to fight, after a lifetime of scrapping with nasty Eridians. But Cato doesn’t ask.
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