The Light of Hope

by Ernie Lindsey

  “But won’t they question why an esteemed captain like yourself would be ordered to bring a single person to a place like this? Wouldn’t you have better things to do?”

  “Good thing is, Mathers,” he says, pulling me down the street with him, “our grunts are taught not to question authority. What I say goes, and we’re at least safe in that regard. We’ll get to the door, they’ll stand aside, and we’re in. The only thing we don’t want is errant whispers after the fact.”

  “At least for you, right? Because we’ll be long gone by then.”

  “At least for me, yes, and that’s why I’m giving you permission to punch me in the face when we get inside. That’s for your village. That’s another gift from me, but make it look real. I can take it.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem,” I say, and when I wink at him, I watch as he tries to hide a smile.

  21

  We approach two blackcoat guards standing at attention in front of large double doors. They’re not that disciplined, because both have one knee cocked, their guns aren’t at the proper angles on their shoulders, and if I’m not mistaken, the one on the left has what looks to be part of that morning’s breakfast on the lapel of his coat.

  Tanner barks, “Straighten yourself up, for God’s sake. Act like you’re proud to wear that uniform, soldiers.”

  Both do, and then they fire off rigid salutes. What surprises me is that they were so lazy about it; they waited until Tanner said something before they tried to look presentable. Not that we were much more disciplined in our distant outpost, but even the rebel Hale had strict codes of conduct for his revolutionaries hiding out in that abandoned warehouse.

  “Captain Tanner with the First DAV…Digby, is it?”

  The one on the right answers, “Sir, yes, sir!”

  “Requesting entry. Delivering a package to… Actually, who’s in charge here, son?”

  “Captain Coalson, sir.”

  I feel some of the bravado leak out of Tanner’s disposition. I don’t know what Captain Coalson has to do with anything, but Tanner isn’t happy about it.

  He says, “Then we’ll see him once we go in. Now if you don’t mind—”

  The one on the left—the name stitched over his breast reads Caldwell—says, “With all due respect, Captain Tanner, our orders strictly prohibit anyone from gaining entry while the citizen servants convalesce.”

  Tanner tilts his head back, staring down his long slope of a nose. “Caldwell, I’ll have you not interrupt me again when a superior officer is addressing you, understand?”

  “Sir, yes, sir. It’s just that—”

  “Caldwell, I don’t care if Coalson says you’re not to let people inside for a glass of water if they’re on fire. Stand aside, both of you, and I’ll discuss it with Coalson once we’re in.” He tugs my arm, shakes me around a bit like he’s disgusted with me. “This little rodent right here was caught trying to escape, and it just so happens that she has some critical information pertinent to Coalson’s objectives.”

  “But, sir—”

  “Stand. Aside. Now.”

  “Sir, yes, sir.”

  Digby and Caldwell nudge themselves to the side, granting us access to the large set of double doors. They salute again when we walk past, and Tanner acknowledges them with an annoyed snort of disapproval.

  Once we’re safely inside and the large metal doors have slammed shut behind us—sending an echo down the length of the hallway—I ask him, “I felt your, um, disappointment when they mentioned Coalson. Will he be a problem for us?”

  Our footsteps, especially Tanner’s army-issued boots, also echo down the hall as if they’re announcing our arrival ahead of time. There’s no sneaking up on anyone this way. Tanner answers, “He’s best to be avoided. Shouldn’t be too much of a problem, but you felt my annoyance, not disappointment, because he’s a real stickler for honor and duty. All you felt was me recognizing the fact that it would make it more difficult for us to get past any guards we might encounter. The simpleton grunts under his command practically worship the guy, so we’ll steer clear of him as much as we can.

  “And, to be perfectly honest, it adds another small layer of complication. Coalson will be on top of any and all reports passed down from Central Command. Any other officer in charge would more than likely be fine with me dropping off a visitor unannounced, but Coalson, if he catches us here—he’ll want to see paperwork. Documents. Orders from men with more power than me.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Avoid him until we locate your parents, and then I’ll drop you off with them. Be calm; don’t make a scene. Instead of proceeding with the original plan—unfortunately you won’t get a chance to punch me in the face, Mathers—I’ll drop you off, and then the three of you slip out in the middle of the night. It’s better that way.”

  “So now you’re stealing my plan like it’s your own?” This is the idea that I had proposed back in the hospital room. Before we left, I had suggested that staging a daring escape in which I punch out Tanner so that it looked like he was a hero trying to do a good job was the dumbest idea I’d ever heard. If I was supposed to be dragging Mother and Father along with me, what were we going to do once we got outside? Surely we wouldn’t be able to escape on foot. I told him I could on my own with my Kinder powers. Yet even then, I wasn’t entirely sure what powers I did have because I hadn’t tested them out yet.

  It didn’t matter. He insisted his plan was the best. I assume it was solely because he wanted to spare his own hide, and I went along with it. At least, I had allowed him to believe I had, with the full intent of figuring something different out on my own once we were inside.

  As we walk, we pass glass cases with small golden-colored figures in various poses. Some are holding what appear to be balls, some have books, some have…I don’t know what they are. They remind me of the figures that the Elders hand-carved out of wood and used for a game called “Chess.” I never played it, but it always looked interesting. That is, if you wanted to kill a couple of hours not helping out the encampment with hunting, gardening, or hauling firewood.

  Tanner sees me looking at them and says, “Shame. They shut down this school five years ago because of a viral outbreak and never reopened it. Dozens were lost. Children, parents, teachers. So many of them. The survivors never wanted to come back—too many horrible memories. They shut it down and left everything behind. Trophies like those. Baseball, football, spelling bees. The classrooms still have finger-paintings taped to the walls. It’s almost like everyone vanished.”

  “What’s…” I hate showing him my ignorance. “What’s a viral outbreak?”

  “Sickness, Mathers. Didn’t they teach you anything out there in the woods? Ah, here we are,” he says before I get a chance to give him a snarky answer. We turn right, down a shorter hallway, void of any decoration. It’s painted a plain light green color, like the underside of a maple leaf. It’s dark in here, and the hallway lights struggle to penetrate all the way to another set of double doors. I listen to the hum of activity on the other side. “Everyone is there in the gymnasium.”

  I don’t bother asking what a gymnasium is as Tanner reaches for the metal bar and leans his weight into the door. I do, however, nudge his shoulder with mine and say, “Wait, what if he’s in there?”

  “Coalson? Please, Mathers. He won’t be anywhere near the unwashed masses. That’s what his grunts are for.”

  He pushes against the door again and has it open six inches before I can wriggle my wrists free from the scratchy rope. I yank him back inside the shadowy hallway. “Stop. Shouldn’t we check first? You said we need to avoid him until nightfall, right? If we go barging in there, someone is going to notice you, and they’ll for sure notice me. If anybody from the PRV recognizes me immediately, we’re in trouble, because one, they’ll start asking questions about why I abandoned them, or two, they’ll be loud and excited because they think a Kinder is here to rescue them.”

  I don’t know w
hy all this didn’t occur to me before. I was so excited about rescuing my parents and being free from the chains of what my horrible life had become, I had neglected to really put some thought into the consequences.

  “Mathers—”

  “Can we back up a second and think this through? Have you really not thought about all of this? Were you really so blinded with the idea of trying to save your own ass that you never considered all of these little possibilities? Some commander you are. No wonder a girl beat you silly. And come to think of it, how have you not been promoted higher after all this time? Forty years in the military and you’re only a captain? Is that why they stuck you up front with the vanguard? Were they thinking maybe you’d finally do something dumb enough to get rid of yourself?”

  Tanner seethes. He reaches out to slap my face.

  I duck under his hand, pop up on his left side, and flick his earlobe, feeling his hand swish past the empty spot where I once stood. I think I might be quicker than I used to be.

  He winces and yelps.

  “And here I thought you were some mighty officer, walking around quoting the Bible and trying to intimidate people. You’re nothing but a pathetic old man who couldn’t cut it at his life’s work, and all you’re doing is hiding behind those stripes on your shoulder. You couldn’t plan a way out of your own bed in the morning.”

  Tanner grins at me and steps back. It’s a grin of hidden information, and I’m surprised I didn’t pick up on this before. The grin molds into a chuckle, and the chuckle turns into a hearty laugh.

  “What’re you laughing at?”

  “The folly of youth.”

  “The what?”

  “Mathers, have you ever heard of Mark Twain?”

  “No.”

  “Famous American author, died hundreds of years ago. There’s a quote that’s often attributed to him, but only anecdotally because there’s not proof he said it. Regardless, it’s quite apropos to this situation.”

  “Apro-what?”

  “Supposedly, Twain said, ‘When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant that I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But, when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years.’ Now, whether Twain said it or not is beside the point.”

  “What is your point, Tanner?”

  “You call me a fool? Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

  “Well, I—”

  “And did you really think that I would risk my life to free a gloating brat of a child who, admittedly, defeated me on the battlefield and then asked to have me murdered in her capital?”

  I should snap his neck off his shoulders right now. I’m so dumbfounded I can’t move. I should’ve known this was too good to be true.

  Betrayal. Everywhere, betrayal. I trusted Finn—betrayal. I allowed myself to trust Tanner, thinking he’d changed—betrayal.

  Blotter, the sharpshooter who’d saved my life? Him, too? Did Blotter know this was coming? Is that why he rescued me from Chalmers, so that I would be okay for whatever torture Tanner thinks he’s going to put me through?

  Tanner gloats, “Did you really think that I would be so stupid that I would walk into a guarded facility and help you escape with your parents? After what you put me through? After what your people put me through in that godawful prison back in Warrenville?”

  “I was in there, too. I never saw you.”

  “When the sun is gone from the night sky, does that mean it doesn’t exist?”

  “You never marched with my people, did you?”

  “Oh, no, that part’s true. I saw you and that giant oaf murder a blackcoat soldier and, believe me, I had a long walk to come up with my own plot for revenge once I discovered you were alive. Pity I had to dispose of the idiots who didn’t recognize me and left me out there rotting with your lot of walking corpses. They owed me, Mathers, and they paid in blood. You will, too.”

  “Then why did you make me a Kinder again? I could kill you right now.”

  “You do, and Mommy and Daddy Dearest will never see the light of day, since I’m the only one who knows where they really are. Regardless, making you a Kinder again was never my choice. He wanted it. He wanted one last battle before this was all over. Call it icing on the cake, a cherry on top of the sundae, a wish granted for a job well done. Name it what you must—Finn asked for this. Killing you as a pathetic mortal would’ve had little satisfaction, Mathers. He’s built for battle, and you’re going to give it to him.”

  “You let my Mother and Father go, and I’ll do whatever you want.”

  Tanner shakes his head. “If you win, which I know you won’t, I’ll acquiesce that you’ve earned the right to save your kith and kin. If you win, I’ll make sure you leave this place alive, agreed? There’ll be no attempt to save your people with this little arrangement. If anything I said was true, it’s that. Freeing forty thousand people is impossible, and I dare say getting out of here with your life is, too, but in the spirit of battle, you get to try.” He steps to the side and points. “Open the door, Mathers. You may have lost the war, but there will always be another battle to fight.”

  22

  I take two determined steps forward, but before I open the door, I swing a fist abruptly and unexpectedly, and land a solid backhand across Tanner’s jaw. He trips backward, falls against the wall and stumbles to the side, then drops to the floor, crumpling like a wet shirt. I would like to think it’s because he was such a weakling, hiding behind a few bars on his shoulder, and that I really am that strong, but more than likely my added strength as a Kinder is the cause.

  Pausing, I watch him breathe, wishing I had the foresight to punch him much, much earlier. Being able to read minds, or at least hear the thoughts of others, isn’t part of my current skill set, apparently. If I’d been able to see inside his head back in the hospital, maybe I wouldn’t be in this situation. Maybe I could’ve come up with a different plan, one that didn’t involve me battling with Finn. Yet if he can sense the existence of another Kinder, wasn’t he always going to know that I was out there somewhere?

  I kneel down and lean over Tanner, slapping his cheeks to shock him back to alertness. He looks at me, and it takes a few seconds for his eyes to focus completely again.

  “I’ll see you again,” I whisper coldly.

  What I don’t say, out loud, is that I may have to haunt him to do it, but I’m determined not to let something like death stop me from making this man’s life a living hell from now until his mortal candle burns out.

  I stand and back away. The door’s handle presses into my back, and the thick, metal click signals the beginning of my end.

  I don’t think there’s any way I can beat Finn, but I’m going to do everything I possibly can to keep from waving the white flag.

  I enter and cautiously look around, but I see no sign of him.

  The stench of unwashed bodies assaults my nose once I step inside the gymnasium.

  What surprises me the most is that no matter how dirty they may appear, they look…good. Refreshed. I had fully expected Tanner to be lying about them being treated better than when they were living freely back in the PRV.

  I experience another brief moment of shock when I see children running, laughing, and playing. It’s not what I anticipated at all. Mothers, fathers, grandparents, and Elders, they sit around pots bubbling on makeshift tables, small flames dancing out of metal cans underneath.

  They look happy.

  But how can this be?

  It’s crowded to the point of people sitting and standing shoulder to shoulder, lying on cots that have little breathing space between them. There must be a thousand people in here. They’re chatting, eating, and playing cards. It’s certainly not what I would’ve imagined for them after being stolen from their homes and marched for hundreds of miles, watching their friends and family members murdered in cold blood for something as simple as stealing a loaf of bread.

  How quickly we forget.

  I
tap the nearest woman on the shoulder, and she turns with a smile. Her face is clean, free of the grime and muck of the long walk. Her clothes, a gray jacket with a forest green shirt underneath, pants that are too long, and boots that are too large for her feet, are dry now that they’ve spent some time out of the pouring rain.

  “What’s going on in here?” I ask her. “Why is everyone so happy?”

  “Are you… Are you new?” she answers, confused, as if I should already know what has them in such high spirits.

  “They assigned me here,” I lie, not knowing what else to say.

  “Oh, well then, you’re going to love it. I’m Angel, by the way. Nice to meet you.” She offers her hand, and when I hesitate, she adds, “Come here, you,” and pulls me in for a hug.

  “I’m Caroline.”

  “Wonderful! Such a beautiful name!”

  I’ve never seen something as simple as my name result in so much excitement. “But you were all—you were all stolen and forced to come here. I don’t… I don’t understand.” I absolutely can’t wrap my mind around it. Why?

  Why?

  “It’s such a wonderful place, isn’t it? So much to eat and drink. They say we’ll never run out.”

  “And that’s it? You’ve given up your lives for that? Didn’t you see how many people died before we left home? There were body parts everywhere. You had to have seen them when they marched you out of Warrenville. Angel, it was horrible. Horrible. They forced you to march until your feet bled, and they murdered women and babies. I don’t understand. I don’t.”

  “You’re going to love it here, I promise. Our group, everyone you see here, we get to work sixteen hours a day in a metal factory where they make machine parts for cars. Isn’t that so exciting? And we actually get paid for it! Six whole cents an hour!”