“This happened because I was weak and selfish. I should have asked her first. I should have told her. But I really didn’t know until it was over, until I was standing there and the crowds were yelling and I was draped with all those prizes. I mean, how could I have known that he really had fixed it for me? I couldn’t. I didn’t know. I thought, maybe he could do it. But why would I have trusted him? Why trust anyone in the Regime? What was in it for him? All those others—the ones that went over the edge. All that blood and the bodies. All those others . . .” His voice faded.
Miriam watched the muscles of his face contort as he tried to regain his composure. He looked intently at the water in front of them. It looked thick near the shore with a recent algae bloom, rolling like a sheet of green rubber.
“But he told me I would come to him one day. And I did. I did and he fixed everything. For me. Why for me? What had I ever done that he would want me to win? Nothing. Not a damn thing. Yet he did it. And then all those prizes. Do you know where the winner gets to live?”
He didn’t wait for an answer.
“There’s a compound way up in the north end. Surrounded by high walls and small guard towers. Guards sit there all day long just watching. Inside the walls there are actual houses. Not high-rises but low buildings. And swimming pools. They put huge ice blocks in them every morning to keep the water cool. All the food is fresh. Fish just off a boat. There are sports fields and coconut trees. I never saw a coconut tree before. And servants who take care of you. They clean your house and water your lawn. Yes, there’s grass everywhere. There’s a zoo with animals you’ve never seen except in books and birds nesting in the trees and singing. They even gave me my winning bike. Every day a mechanic would tune and clean it for me, they said. They said I can ride it anywhere I like in The Compound. They even built a track for the winners. I’ve never seen the others, though. They must be there somewhere. There’s a team of what they call handlers assigned to me. I don’t like them. They told me I could have anything I wanted any time I wanted it.”
He stopped to take a breath, so she asked him, “What do you want?”
That seemed like a simple question, but Miriam felt that most people had no idea what they wanted. They know what they think they need. It’s usually related to money or things. Even the people who have money usually want more of it. And then they’re afraid someone will take away what they have, so they start looking at other people with suspicion. And trying to arrange society to protect themselves and their money. They wall themselves off. Like being inside The Compound.
He looked over at her with a blank stare as if she’d interrupted his thoughts and he’d lost where he was. The cut on his face looked deeper from this angle. For a moment, she wondered if he’d fought his new keepers and she wanted to ask him about it.
“Before The Race I thought that I just wanted to stay alive. I had a one-in-thirteen chance. Not very good odds. But better than refusing, I figured. And I had some idea . . .”
He paused and looked down at the ground. She waited, not wanting to interrupt him again.
“I mean, I thought I had a shot. You know, like Romeo thought. What the hell, he thought. He was in love, and it mattered more to him than anything. So he took his shot. It didn’t end so well, but while he was at it, he was happy for a little while. Wasn’t he?”
He looked up at her like a wounded deer. It was almost as if he was asking her to put him down. She was afraid to ask but did anyway, softly as if he were a small child and she was his mother.
“What happened, Niko? You chose El. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
He jumped up from the bench. His arm muscles tensed so hard they looked like boulders. His jaw set even harder, and he balled up his fists into tight knobs.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” he hissed, and whirled around to face her like a cornered snake.
For an instant Miriam was afraid. She didn’t take her eyes off him, but the thought crossed her mind that he’d been followed and they were both about to be in trouble. Then his expression changed again, softened, and his head drooped. His muscles relaxed for a time, and he looked up at the sky in a pose of supplication. Then he whirled again back to face her, his jaw set again, his eyes narrowed, a scowl between his eyebrows.
“Do you?” he challenged. “Do you know? Do you have any idea?”
She shook her head, not sure what he was referring to. She thought it best to go along without asking more questions.
“They tell you everything’s going to be laid at your feet. Anything you want. They want you to choose a woman. Choose someone you don’t even know. They don’t care who or what she is. To them, she’s just a body. Someone to screw. Or do whatever you want with. Like the ones at those clubs they go to. You know about the clubs?” he asked sincerely, as if Miriam was so far removed from life she had no idea what really went on.
“I know,” she told him.
“Yeah, like them. But I didn’t want any of those girls. I only wanted El. And I thought she wanted me, too. That she wanted us to be together and have it all. That she would be glad.”
At this his head drooped, and all the anger drained from his face. He sat down again, crossed his arms on his knees, and lowered his head to rest on his folded arms.
“What happened?” Miriam asked. Looking back on it later, she realized how little she’d understood of the whole situation, how deeply perverse was the structure they lived under and how it twisted everything, even love.
It began when Niko stepped off the reviewing stage and inadvertently created an uproar. It didn’t take long for drunken revelers, partying until the sun emerged, to graffiti the city with one word scrawled over and over on every available surface and so the name—NIKO—instantly morphed into a rallying cry and a major problem for Villinkash and the Overseers. And inside the well-cloaked rooms of The Compound, Villinkash ranted with a series of Vesuvius-like eruptions. The news of this got out to certain circles, journalists among them, and took on its own anti-humor scree cascading freely and picking up heft as it traveled through the city. People would suddenly erupt in wild yelling or machinations, ranting “Niko” over and over. Others would pick it up, sometimes in groups, sometimes just one-on-one, almost inaudibly mouthing “Niko” and repeating it as a kind of secret society’s signal.
But Niko hadn’t begun to react to what had happened. While the city transitioned from pre-Race suspense to post-Race debauchery, the handlers led Niko and El away from the cameras.
Niko was in a daze, the kind you hear about after someone’s been in an accident. Husky, heavily armed handlers, the kind Niko wouldn’t want to tangle with on the street, led him off the roof with El by his side, shaking like a kitten. He wanted to tell her everything would be okay but couldn’t find the words, thinking as he allowed the handlers to shove him forward that they were going to be treated like royalty, wherever they were being taken.
From the corner of his vision, he saw some men lift the bike he’d ridden onto a platform and wheel it out of sight. Later, when it was presented to him, he would thank them and say, “It’s a fine bike. And good brakes.” He’d laugh at that: a short, nervous laugh. It was ironic because when he was driving the course, he couldn’t even remember how to apply the brakes, as if his mind was stuck in some gear. And then, when he saw the first bike go over, his brain came back alive and he started calculating how his odds had turned. It all went by so fast, he couldn’t tell how long it lasted or who went over next or how many were left. By then he just drove that thing as fast as he could, figuring if he was going over, he wanted to fly really high into the air, wanted to feel free for that second before the fall. So he just gunned it and went all out. And when it was over it was like he was in a trance. Like there was a bubble around him and all he could see was El and all he wanted was her in that bubble with him.
The handlers led them off the roof onto the big elevator that had brought all the bikes and food and chairs and everything up to the r
oof. They had to work the cables by hand as they went down and down, slowly to the ground floor. It seemed to Niko longer than The Race itself. When they finally reached the ground the screaming surrounded him, and it was then he noticed another sound. The sound of an engine. And scraping, like some sound Niko remembered from long ago. The sound of metal against concrete.
Around the corner, three big black cars were waiting. He couldn’t see inside of them. They were idling, but that wasn’t the engine he’d heard. He looked past the black cars to the street and saw the blood. And the bikes, all busted up, tires split, wheels at right angles. Some of them had fallen on top of others. Handlebars all jerked to hell. Lights hanging by a wire. Fenders crushed. Chips of mirror all over the place and molten metal bent out of shape.
There were body parts mixed in with bike parts, all twisted together, with blood all over everything and running in a river down the street. Niko broke away from the handlers somehow and ran to the biggest pile, and whoever it was had a skull so crushed there was no face left. So he ran to the next pile and then the next, where there was one bike and one rider alone. It was Thomaso from Building Five. Niko remembered he was a good guy. He played the trumpet with Father Ignatius. Both his arms were gone, but his face stared right at Niko. He was smiling. Just a small smile like he was happy.
Then two of the handlers grabbed Niko and dragged him back to the waiting cars and shoved him inside next to where El was sitting way over against the other door. They smacked the car hood hard, and it took off. And there was someone else in the front seat, but Niko didn’t care who. All he could see was Thomaso’s smile. The whole ride to wherever they were going, that smile went with him like a ghost. As they sped away, he caught sight of a mother with tears streaming down her face, a face of agony, scratching at the man holding her back and, behind her, the Collectors riding in on their huge scooping machine to scrape what was left off the concrete.
The sun was searing now, and Miriam shifted on the bench to try to get maximum shade from the flimsy tree. Niko didn’t seem to notice the heat or anything else around them. She felt sorry for him in an abstract kind of way. Sorry for what all these boys had to endure. Sorry for the ones who hadn’t made it and, again, in an abstract way, for the parents who were grieving. She didn’t yet understand the depth of Niko’s pain.
“I’d never driven in anything like that before,” he said. “That car was plush and cool. They had drinks for us in the back. And velvet cushions. And soft music. At first all I could see, all I could think about, was those bodies on the street, all mangled and bloody. So much blood. I wanted to scream or hit something. Finally, I shook off enough of the shock to sneak a look at El. I wanted to take her hand. I guess, in some way, I wanted to feel less alone back there in that quiet car. But she was hugging herself and crammed against the door, so I didn’t see any way to approach her. And she wouldn’t look at me either. She just stared out as we passed all the street people. Drunks. Scavengers. People dancing and yelling. One of the other black cars was in front of us, and the other behind us. I think they were shielding us from all the people in the streets. I’d never seen so many people out all at the same time.”
Miriam nodded a little to encourage him to keep talking. Looking at him in profile as he sat there, she could see his face was set in a grim stare. And the cut on his cheek had turned a deep purple that she found compelling and repellent at the same time. He seemed to be aware she was staring at it and raised his hand to cover it lightly with his fingertips. It seemed like a loving gesture to her, which was odd and out of context.
And then he said, “I’ll tell you about this.” He let his hand drop, and she noticed once again the tattoos on his arm. She wondered what they meant and when he’d gotten them.
“I guess I lost track of where we were in the city, and I think I nodded off for a few minutes with the motion of the car and the cushy seat. I suddenly felt so tired. I do remember that.
“And then we stopped and the car doors opened and those handlers were there again. They took El by the hands away from the car and one of them opened my door, so I stepped out. I had no idea what would happen next. We were inside The Compound I told you about. Everything was scrubbed looking, even the plants; they were clipped and neat. There was no moon, and the lights were all low and dimmed but placed in a way that lit up what you needed to see to get around. I climbed out of the car, and now I was waking up again. Alert, I guess. In case I got jumped or something.
“I saw them lead El into a low building nearby. And as I turned to follow her, someone took my arm and turned me around. The handlers faded back away from me, and there he was, Huston, facing me. He’d been in the front seat all along. He was smiling and he said, ‘You did real well tonight. And now you get to see how a winner lives. Just be careful. Choosing her’—he nodded toward where El had gone—‘was a really risky move. Villinkash won’t like it at all. You’re on his list now. I’ll do what I can. Just remember this: You’re always being watched. And you know what’s expected of you tonight. With her’—he nodded toward the building a second time—‘make sure she’s . . .’ and he seemed not to know what to say for a few seconds. Then he sort of pushed at my arm and said, ‘You know what I mean. They’ll examine her tomorrow, so you better be sure you get the job done tonight.’ And then I knew what he meant.”
Miriam did, too. They were the Purity Squad. A bunch of pseudo-doctors who people suspected had never actually studied medicine. They rounded up the girls before The Race to make sure they were—what did they call it?—intact. Sure, she knew.
Niko had started talking again.
“But I thought it wouldn’t be a problem. I thought El and I had an understanding. So I just nodded. ‘Don’t worry,’ I told him. ‘I’ve got this under control.’ And he smiled and let go of my arm and motioned to the handlers to take me away. He got back in the car and it rolled away, and I smelled meskitta smoke in the air. It must have been Huston lighting up in the car.”
Miriam began to see where this story was going and was also sure she didn’t want to hear about their quasi-wedding night. So finally, she spoke.
“Niko, you don’t have to tell me the details,” she said. “I’m sure you did what was natural, and there’s nothing terrible about it.”
Immediately she was sorry she’d opened her mouth. She almost apologized, but he snapped at her before she could speak again.
“You don’t get it, do you?” His voice was harsh for the first time, and he turned to look at her, his hands raised. For a moment she thought he was going to grab her throat and choke her. It was the only time she had ever been afraid of Niko, and she saw, in that instant, how ruthless he could be, if needed.
“I’m not telling you this for all the . . . What’s that word you taught me once? Salacious details? Are you that stupid? Don’t you realize what I’m telling you?”
“Niko,” she began.
But he raised his hands as if to tell her to stop.
“Please,” he begged. “Let me tell it all. I have to tell someone. I have to tell what happened. What I did. I can’t tell anyone else. You’re the only one. I did something else bad once. But I never regretted that. At least I don’t think I did because I had to survive. But this . . .” His voice trailed off.
Miriam nodded and said, “Okay, Niko. I understand. Go ahead. Tell me everything.”
“I know you come from another time. You think things can go back to the way they were. But they can’t. Not ever. They’re getting worse all the time. I know that now.”
Miriam gazed out at the water. He was right. She used to hope for change. But now . . .
“They led me to a room with low lighting. There was music playing softly somewhere, and I could smell something, some flower blooming at night somewhere outside the building. And there was a girly guy in white pants and this sort of tunic thing. He told me what the flower was, said it was jasmine. He led me to a huge bathroom where another girly guy had towels and oils and so
aps and stuff, and they told me to undress. They didn’t say ‘strip,’ but ‘undress.’ They called me ‘sir.’ They had filled a big tub with bubble bath, and I thought, If they try to fuck with me, I’ll kill them both. But they just told me to soak and wash and pull the bell cord when I was done. Then they laid out new clothes for me and left me alone. I looked everywhere for the camera, but I couldn’t find one. I really was all alone. And I have to say that bath was the greatest thing I’ve ever experienced.
“I don’t know how they knew what size clothes to give me, but they fit. They were loose pants and a sort of jacket thing that buttoned up the side. Very comfortable. Black, I think, or navy blue, with my name embroidered across the chest in white. I don’t know how they got that done so fast. And these sandal things that were very soft. After I finished and pulled the bell cord they came back in with a tray of champagne. Yes, champagne. I know because they told me that too. And they said there was a dinner ready in the dining room. I drank a glass. It was great. Kind of like what I imagined drinking sunlight under a splashing waterfall might be like. And they led me to where the food had been laid out. There was a big dark wood table and two comfortable chairs. This big chandelier over the table and candles, lots of candles burning everywhere.
“I sat down and started in on the food. Stuff I’ve never seen before. Everything fresh and so delicious I could have eaten every single thing on that table. And I realized I was famished. But after a few bites, a door across the room opened, and El stood in the doorway under a pale spotlight. And I can tell you I will never see anything more beautiful in my life. I stopped breathing, she was such a sight. They had done her hair long, with curls, and put on a dress that was more like something you would use for sleeping. But fancy. It was the color of the champagne and had lace and feathers and tassel things down her arms and a belt that wound around her waist and up the middle of her chest and over her shoulders. She wore some kind of slippers with high heels and more feathers. And they glittered like the necklace she had around her throat. It all looked as soft as one of those clouds.”
A Place Called Zamora Page 11