“Ashley, this isn’t kid’s stuff. It’s time to grow up and accept the way things are.”
“Come on. We’ve always worked through our problems together. We’ll work this out too. Just let me explain it to the elders. I didn’t do it on purpose. I’m sure Elder Mattli will listen.” Beyond desperation, she was babbling, frantic for any solution that wouldn’t end with Mason dead and her alone.
“Mattli probably would listen,” Mason said softly. “And so would Alkoff. He seems like a decent man. But the others outnumber them. You would lose, Ashley, and you know it. Branneth would kill you with her own two hands if it came down to it.”
“But, how can you just lie down and die? Why won’t you fight?” she asked, incredulous at his response. She refused to imagine her life without him. It wasn’t even a possibility.
He didn’t look at her. Instead, he stared at the trench he’d dug with his stick. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”
Hurt, she stood and backed away from the enclosure. She felt like he’d been sentenced all over again, but this time, he was the one who’d chosen his fate. “I’m sorry that’s how you feel,” she said quietly and walked into the darkness.
Wandering aimlessly around the island, Ashley kicked every stone in her path, trying to vent her frustrations. She was so lost in her thoughts that she hardly noticed where she was going, although the island was far too small for any islander to ever truly be “lost.” The fact that she was walking along the fence surrounding the restricted section barely registered.
She was frustrated by how the conversation had gone. She hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye. Maybe she should tuck in her bottom lip and turn back. Tell him that of course he was right and give him some peace in his final moments, even if she didn’t mean it.
Then his words came back to haunt her.
What if he’s right? What if there isn’t anything else? No one but us in the whole wide world. She picked up her pace, trying to stay ahead of her despair, even though she knew it wasn’t possible. A rock she’d kicked bounced off something that sounded like metal.
She was at the edge of the woods, near the shoreline. Looking around, she realized she hadn’t been to this side of the island very often. In fact, she’d walked much farther than she’d intended. It would take her a long time to get back home. She spied a metal shack rising just beyond the fence.
Ashley didn’t even take a moment to consider her actions. After all, what did she have left to lose? She quickly scaled the fence, entering into forbidden territory.
No announcements about the forbidden fence had been made at school or in a social gathering. The islanders simply knew that whatever lay beyond it belonged to the elders and was banned to everyone else.
Ashley and Mason had played games near the fence when they were kids, and they weren’t the only ones. They used to dare each other to get close to it, and once, she’d actually scaled it and sat on top of it. Made of a mishmash of materials, the original fence had most likely started as mere chain link. Since then, it had been reinforced with wood stakes and the barbed wire that was made on the island to keep the farm animals from wandering.
Having scaled the fence once before, Ashley managed to get into the so-called forbidden section with minimal damage to her hands and clothing. She looked around in the moonlight, trying to see what was so forbidden about the place. It looked a lot like the rest of the island—wooded, with small buildings scattered around. It was nothing special if you asked her. Maybe it was just another one of the elders’ mind games.
She was about to turn and leave when curiosity got the best of her. Well, I’m here. Might as well see what’s inside the sheds. Since she assumed it was just rations or something just as ordinary, her momentum waned a bit when she saw the massive lock on the door.
Looking around for something to crack it with, she started to feel ridiculous. What are you doing? Of all the things you could be doing at this moment, looking for something to break into this shed probably isn’t the most constructive one. Ignoring her inner voice, she found a big rock and started pounding the lock.
The first time, it made such a loud noise that she was sure everyone on the island must have heard it. She froze, waiting for the consequences to come crashing down on her, but nothing happened, so after a few heartbeats, she hit the lock again. She ignored the tingling in her arm from the repeated impacts and kept pounding it. Over and over again, she channeled her grief, her frustration, and her helplessness into the lock until it finally gave way. It sprang open abruptly, and she held the rock aloft for a moment longer than necessary, ready to strike again as she blinked absently at the broken lock.
The rock tumbled from her hand, and she reached for the lock with shaking hands. It followed the rock to the ground, and she undid the latch on the door and swung it open.
Peering inside, she squinted in the darkness. Wishing for a kinetic flashlight or a candle to light her way, she slowly walked into the shed. Running her hand along a cold, smooth, rounded something made of metal, she knelt down to get a closer look. It was big, and it seemed to be pointed on either end.
“What is this?” she asked aloud.
“It’s called a canoe,” a high-pitched voice said from behind her. “And it means an end to all your questions.”
3.
Elder Branneth stood behind her, in the doorway of the shed. Since she was silhouetted by the moonlight, Ashley couldn’t see her face, but she could feel the disdain pouring off her. Branneth’s pointy features stood out against the backlighting as she put her hands on her narrow hips.
Branneth had been in love with Wesley for as long as Ashley could remember. Even as children, they had never been far from each other, with Branneth fawning over him, and him just eating it up. Despite the fact that Branneth was five years older than he was, the two had been of a like mind on just about everything, Ashley included. Branneth had never missed an opportunity to tell her just how low and unworthy she considered her.
Wesley had tried to use his status to select a different match. He’d been displeased to find himself matched with Ashley—an orphan—rather than Branneth or one of the other women with a higher social standing. Ashley had heard two women talking about it at work one day. Somehow, the words had stung more than any of Wesley’s slaps.
One time, after Wesley had lost control and hit her in the face—something he didn’t often do because he didn’t like her bruises to show—Branneth had commented that she should use more caution next time.
“I didn’t even tell you what happened. How do you know it was my fault?” she’d asked.
Branneth’s sneer had morphed into a hideous smile, and she’d closed the distance between them until she was close enough for Ashley to feel her hot breath. “Believe me. I know you. It was your fault.”
In the light of the moon, Branneth approached her slowly, as though she didn’t want to scare away the opportunity to exact her revenge.
Ashley straightened, not willing to be intimidated. In the time before, there had been all kinds of boats, everything from massive ships used to cross oceans, to small fishing boats. Now there were none. The elders explained that boats were an unnecessary luxury, since all the food they needed could be caught from shore. But this find proved she was right. She finally had proof the elders were hiding major information from them. There was a canoe on the island.
What else are they hiding? Ashley wondered.
“A canoe? We have a boat?” she asked.
Branneth neither answered nor moved from her position in the doorway of the shed.
“The elders always said boats weren’t necessary, since there’s nowhere left to go.” She thought of the campers Mason had mentioned. Were the stories about them true after all? Had they tried to leave and been punished for their insubordination? What would happen to her now that she’d been caught in the forbidden area? Fear threatened to become panic, but she held it back, and kept herself standing tall in the face of Bra
nneth. Without Mason in her life, what did she have left to lose?
“There isn’t anywhere left to go.” Branneth finally approached her, stopping mere inches from her face. “At least not for you.” She grabbed Ashley’s arm roughly and led her out of the shed.
She didn’t struggle. With nowhere to run, and not much of a future in sight, Ashley didn’t see the point.
Branneth dragged Ashley to the nearest elder’s home, which wasn’t all that close to the forbidden fence. They walked past the island’s farmlands—the wind bending the wheat and corn that would be the last harvest of the summer. Fall hung in the air, and Ashley knew the farmers must already feel a sense of urgency to harvest the crops before it got too cold.
While the rest of the animals slept, a lone pig was up and scrounging around for food as Ashley and Branneth whisked past his pen. Eventually, they left the farm lands behind and returned to civilization—at least as far as the island knew it—arriving at Mattli’s home on the shoreline.
His house was one of the biggest on the island, per his status as the second-in-command elder. All the homes were from the time before, and Mattli’s was considered modern for that period, with a slightly angular roof and picture windows all across the back, offering a full ocean view from most rooms. The combination of stone and cedar on the outside gave it a rugged appearance. Truth be told, it was one of Ashley’s favorite houses on the island.
Branneth knocked loudly on Mattli’s front door, never letting go of Ashley’s arm. When Mattli finally answered, dressed in a velvet robe and slippers, Branneth pushed past him, dragging Ashley behind her. They rounded a corner into his front living room, where Ashley was unceremoniously thrown onto a microfiber-covered armchair. Lucky for Ashley, Mattli’s things were nicer than her own, and she bounced back without bruising anything. Branneth then left without a word, probably to retrieve the other elders.
Mattli gave her a quizzical look as he sat in the chair across from her.
“I found the canoe.”
He leaned back, groaning as he sank into the chair. “We can’t keep meeting this way.” Perhaps he’d meant it to be funny, but his tone was deadly serious.
She nodded, remembering when he’d come to her aid once before. “Everyone at work still hates me. But at least they’re quiet about it now.”
Children on the island were expected to start contributing as soon as they were able, so the day after Ashley turned thirteen, she was given her work assignment to be a net maker.
Being given a work assignment was the island’s own form of coming of age. Based on grades, aptitude, social status, and a few other variables, each islander was assigned a job they would do for the rest of his or her life. In being given a work assignment, the islanders were ultimately given their place, and importance, on the island.
Ashley couldn’t have been more relieved about her placement. Terrified she would be selected to make clothes or pass out rations, she hadn’t slept a wink in the days leading up to her official assignment. In hindsight, she wondered if the elders had allowed her to do what she liked out of pity for her losses.
Though Ashley was smart enough to study medicine, meticulous enough to make clothes, and loved getting her hands dirty enough to work the fields, she loved the sea. Her father had been a fisherman, and she cherished the memories of helping him work fish out of the nets, fixing any holes they’d made. Nets fascinated her—what made them strong, how to find a weak point before it turned into a hole, what materials were best, and how to improvise when those materials weren’t readily available. It was satisfying work for her, like finishing a puzzle.
The three years between her father’s death—which took her away from the familiar world of docks and nets—and her work assignment had felt very long indeed.
As it turned out, Ashley had a knack for net making. She picked up the craft quickly and soon, she was one of the best on the island. Fishermen requested that she repair their nets, knowing she would do the best work.
Her popularity came at a price. The other women started to resent her. Who did she think she was, coming in and stealing all the good work? She hadn’t even paid her dues.
Ashley could feel the undercurrent of animosity growing toward her, but she was just a kid, and an orphan to boot. She didn’t know how to deal with it, let alone diffuse it. So, she kept her head down and tried to lay low, focusing on her work.
By the time she was nineteen, she’d gotten a fair amount of skill under her belt. One day, she was working on a particularly complex repair when a man loudly interrupted her thoughts. “Ashley! Come quick! We need you!” Peter Adams brushed past all the other women and came to a screeching halt in front of her. His blue eyes were filled with panic.
Her first instinct was to jump up and rush to his aid. Obviously, this man needed help—from the others if not from her. But her coworkers just glared at her, not moving a muscle to come to his aid.
“Peter, surely, I’m not the one you need,” she said in a meager attempt at making peace.
“No. You’re the only one with enough skill.” She winced at the compliment, knowing it wouldn’t sit well with the others. He paid her no mind. “Quickly now! They’re saying he’s going to lose his foot, the damn fool.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet, practically dragging her past the other women and their inferior work.
The docks were close by design, so the fishermen never had to carry their wares far. Still, Ashley struggled to keep up.
When she reached him, Peter was speaking quickly to Tristan Wharwood. “She’s right behind me, kid. She’ll be able to help you. I know it. Just hold on.”
Assessing the situation, she saw the net piled next to Tristan, whose leg was extended out in front of him. His shoe was off, revealing a foot that was an unhealthy grayish color—not quite blue, but not even close to the shade of flesh. A portion of the net was wrapped around his ankle.
“Can you get it off?”
“Why don’t you just cut it? We’ll fix the net! Cut it off right now!” She yelled the words, becoming frantic, not understanding why these men were willing to sacrifice someone’s foot to spare a net. Yes, resources were always scarce on the island, but Ashley didn’t think it was worth a man’s foot.
“I’ll make you another one that’s even better. One with smaller holes so you can’t get your foot stuck in it. Just cut it!”
“We tried. But it’s so tangled that we just made it worse,” Peter said, his voice heavy with guilt.
Ashley looked at the net a little closer. It was a tangled mess, all right, and Tristan’s foot was right at the center. “I’ll take care of it.”
It took her twenty minutes, but she managed it. Each cut and pull she made gave the poor man more relief. By the time she was finished, the net was destroyed, but his foot was starting to look a little better. The doctor said they weren’t out of the woods, but she’d given him his best chance at keeping his foot.
Her celebrity as a net maker was raised to hero status. The next day, she was still riding on cloud nine from all the praise she’d gotten when she was called into her boss’ office.
Her good feeling shriveled and died when she saw Mattli sitting across from her boss. Elders only attended such meetings when there was a big problem. People who lost their jobs on the island were shunned. They usually ended up being relegated to positions as waste collectors or janitors, forced to clean up after everyone as an example. Everyone had to contribute. That was the island’s creed.
She swallowed hard as she made eye contact with Mattli. “Good to see you, Elder Mattli,” she said as she sat down across from the two people who held her fate in their hands.
He nodded at her, but her boss spoke before any more pleasantries could be exchanged.
The woman wasn’t terribly remarkable to look at. Average height and build, brown hair and eyes. She wasn’t intimidating until she spoke. Her voice was deep for her size, and it could be formidable when she was angry.
“There have been complaints about you among the workers, Ashley.” She didn’t reply, so her boss continued. “They say you’re taking their work and deliberately making them look bad. Most recently, you destroyed one of their best nets. One that took months to make.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She tried to bite her tongue and think fast to save her job and her skin. “But, ma’am, the fisherman’s foot was saved. And I promised I’d make him a new net. The others won’t be saddled with the work.”
“What makes you think you deserve the chance to make another net for anyone? Many of the girls are calling for you to be fired.”
“I…” Ashley trailed off. She felt like she was about to be a sacrificial lamb, all in the name of keeping the peace among a bunch of jealous workers.
Mattli spoke up. “I think that’s a bit harsh, don’t you, Marsha? After all, the fishermen are proclaiming her a local hero.”
“They’re not the ones I’m concerned about.” Her voice was cold. “Did you know that I made that net, Ashley?” she added. “It was my last before I became the manager here. It meant something to me.”
Ashley couldn’t tell if her boss was telling the truth, or if she was just digging a deeper hole for Ashley to lie in. “I didn’t know that, ma’am.” She looked her straight in the eyes. “I am truly sorry about your net. If you’ll give me the opportunity, I will make a new net for the fishermen on my own time, with my own supplies. It will not detract from my workload at all.”
“That seems more than fair, Marsha,” Mattli appealed.
“To you, it may seem fair, Elder Mattli. But how will it look to the others?”
Mattli turned on the woman so quickly that it startled both her and Ashley. His voice changed from soft and encouraging, to cold and hard. “Marsha, it seems to me you have difficulty managing your people. If this is an ongoing problem, I’m sure the elders can find someone else to do the job.”
The Dead Room Trilogy Page 3