The Survivor

by Dylan Steel

  A familiar, quiet humming sound reached her ears. This wing was teeming with tech.

  “Here we are.” Uzzi pushed open the door and motioned for them to follow him inside. Sage was the first to enter, sticking as close to him as she dared.

  The room was larger than Sage had expected, fitting nearly fifty personal tech tables inside its four walls. Most of the tables were already occupied—and mostly by citizens who looked no more than a year or two older than the new recruits.

  “Alright. Listen carefully because I don’t like to repeat myself, and I have to check in on the other groups too.” Uzzi cleared his throat and crossed a large set of arms over his chest.

  “You’re all qualified techs, so that’s what you’ll be doing. I don’t know much about your job, and I don’t intend to learn it, so ask your fellow techs.” He spat out the word with a trace of disgust. The boy sitting at the nearest tech table spared him a disapproving glance out of the corner of his eye before returning to what he was working on.

  “Your day to day duties will change as needed. Since you’re the newest recruits around here, you’ll mostly be on call to support officers’ needs. That means alternating shifts, starting as soon as you’re fully trained. On quiet days, you get to monitor the feeds.” A wicked grin spread over his face. “But don’t expect that to happen too often. You’ll be running around a lot.

  “I’m sure you’ve been told your role as a tech is invaluable, like you’re irreplaceable.” He snorted. “That couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  Sage felt the blood drain from her face. That was exactly what she’d been counting on.

  “The fact is,” he continued, “there are more and more of you every year. In the worst case scenario, we’ll just be short staffed for a few months. And we can borrow from the generic tech network as needed. Just because you’re dedicated staff at the Peace doesn’t mean that you’re any more skilled than a hundred others who could easily jump into your role tomorrow. Remember that. Any questions?”

  “Uh… Do we have immunity from our Chances being stripped while we’re working? Like officers?” A lanky boy asked from his position just inside the doorway.

  Uzzi raised an eyebrow and put his hand to his wrist, clasping his thick fingers around his bracelet.

  “Ooh-ow!” The boy cringed, lifting his shoulders.

  “Does that answer your question?” Uzzi sneered.

  “Y-yes, sir,” the boy stammered, worry creasing his face.

  “Good. Find a shadow and get to work.”

  Before anyone could ask Uzzi what he meant, he walked out the door, slamming it closed behind him. Sage and the others blinked in confusion.

  “A shadow?” One of the other new recruits finally dared to speak, but his timid question hung in the air, unanswered.

  The boy who’d been unimpressed with Uzzi’s assessment of techs sighed audibly and collapsed his project. He pushed his chair back, nearly knocking into Sage as he did. She hopped back, and he stood to face the newcomers.

  “Eric Havers,” he said, giving a two-finger salute as he introduced himself. “He meant that you need to work one on one with someone in here for the next few weeks. Go everywhere we go, do everything we do. Watch and learn.” He shrugged. “Go ahead and pick someone—none of us are going to volunteer, but since it’s protocol, we can’t exactly say no.”

  Short speech over, Eric grabbed the back of his chair, getting ready to sit again. Swallowing hard, Sage made a quick decision before anyone else could.

  “Eric?” She set her hand on his arm. “Will you be my, uh, shadow?”

  His grip tightened on the back of his chair. “Figures,” he muttered under his breath. Then, louder, “Sure. Pull up a seat.” He jerked his head toward the empty desk beside him.

  Sage let out the worried breath she’d been holding, immediately retrieving the chair and dragging it over. The others scattered around the room, following suit.

  Eric might not be thrilled to be stuck with her, but he didn’t seem to be a fan of Uzzi either. At least she knew they had one thing in common.

  3. THE MEETING

  Sage looked down as she yanked the covers up to the top of the bed, smoothing them with her hands. A pang of guilt shot through her. She bit her lip as she pulled open the curtain at the end of the bed and leaned her head out.

  “You can take the bed tonight,” she said. Maybe they could switch every week or something.

  Everett was busy in the kitchen and didn’t even glance up as he answered. “That’s ok. I don’t mind the couch.”

  Her eyebrow shot up. “I want to be fair about it.”

  He waved a spatula in the air. “Really. It’s fine.” He finally looked up, one corner of his mouth lifting into a half-grin. “That thing’s too soft anyways. I’d wind up oversleeping. Probably wouldn’t make it to work on time.”

  She knew that couldn’t be true, but the selfish part of her didn’t want to argue her case too hard. Half the couch was lumpy where the cushions still existed and the other half was poky where the springs had worn through. The bed was the only comfortable surface in the entire place. She wouldn’t be surprised if it was a deliberate attempt on Eprah’s part to make sure that pairings were successful.

  “Well, let me know when you get tired of it,” she called over her shoulder as she walked into the bathroom. He grunted in acknowledgment.

  Sage checked herself in the mirror one last time, pinning back an unruly section of her hair. Good enough. If she didn’t want to be late, she needed to leave now.

  She walked back into the main room in the apartment just as Everett was pulling their dining chairs down from the wall. She grimaced. “Oh, sorry, I forgot. I can’t eat breakfast. I have to leave, like, now. Uzzi wanted me to come in early today. Something about running an update.”

  “Again? That’s the third time this week.” Everett’s face fell.

  “I know. But I don’t make the schedule.” She shrugged apologetically.

  “It’s ok.” All trace of his disappointment had already vanished behind another grin. “I’m actually starving. It probably didn’t make enough for both of us anyways.”

  Tossing a glance at the stove, Sage quirked an eyebrow. Unlikely. There were enough eggs in the pan to feed four people.

  “I really am sorry. I’ll make it up to you—” she staggered toward the door, pulling on a shoe, “—just not now. Gotta go.”

  “See ya tonight,” Everett said, waving the spatula again as he heaped eggs on his plate.

  Without so much as a backward glance, Sage flung the door open and raced down the hall. She had to hurry.

  ***

  The sun was just starting to rise, so the streets weren’t too busy yet. Patches of darkness lingered, slowly being swept away by rays of light. Perfect.

  Sage scanned the street to make sure no one was watching, then ducked into an alley between two tall buildings. She’d only been working at the Peace for a few days, almost a week, but she already knew it wasn’t a dead end and would actually shave some time off her trip in to work.

  All the same, squeezing into a confined space limited her options if she had to run from someone who wanted to strip her Chances, so this wasn’t her first choice of routes. Plus, she didn’t think Beautification ever visited this section of town unless they were collecting a body. There was junk and trash piled high against the buildings’ exteriors, barely leaving enough room to navigate through it all. She’d only come this way because—

  “Oomphf!”

  Something grabbed Sage’s arm and jerked hard, pulling her behind a pile of rotting furniture. She opened her mouth to scream, then let out a small gasp instead.

  “Nic!” She swatted his arm. “I nearly—”

  His lips moved to hers in an eager kiss, cutting her off. He pushed her against the wall, crushing his body against hers. She moaned softly as he drew back, searching her face.

  “Good morning to you too.” He grinned, dragging a finge
r over her lips. She nipped playfully at his finger, catching it between her teeth for a split second before releasing it with a kiss.

  “Good morning,” she murmured, pulling him closer. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his breath wash over her skin, sending pleasant tingles down her body.

  “Oh, I almost forgot.”

  Sage’s eyes flew open again, disappointed that he’d pulled away.

  Nic took a step back and leaned over, retrieving a pair of drinks. He grabbed her hand and began walking down the alley again, pulling her along beside him. “Breakfast. Courtesy of the café.”

  “Oooh, thanks. I’m starving.” Smiling, she took one of the glasses from him and downed a big gulp. Her face instantly twisted in disapproval.

  Nic laughed, nearly choking on his own. “Yeah, I guess they went a little heavy on the lemon.”

  “You think?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t exactly have time to taste-test it before coming here.” He bumped her shoulder and winked. “Had to make sure I got here first.”

  She lifted an eyebrow as she absentmindedly stirred the drink with the straw. Part of her wished she’d stayed an extra five minutes to have breakfast with Everett. His eggs tasted way better than this.

  “So, bad news,” Nic continued, changing the subject. “I think we’re going to have to figure out a different way to meet. Carnabel’s already acting suspicious.”

  Sage frowned. Guilt swelled in her chest again for lying to Everett, but she pushed it aside quickly. She didn’t owe him anything. They weren’t supposed to be paired. And besides, it wasn’t like either one of them was happy about the arrangement. He’d made that much clear from the first day they’d stepped into their apartment.

  “Why don’t we just tell them?” She dropped her gaze to their interlaced fingers. “We want to be together. It’s not like it’d be a huge surprise to either one of them, right?”

  “Sage…” Nic’s voice held an edge of caution. “You know it’s not just about their feelings. Eprah paired us with them. They’re our duty.”

  Her eyes flashed to his for a moment before looking away. She pulled her hand away, gripping the cup tightly between both her hands.

  “Our duty,” Nic repeated, putting a finger beneath her chin and lifting her eyes to his, “but that’s all. We don’t have a choice in it, but I choose to love you.”

  “But you’re with Carnabel,” Sage said.

  “Only for a little while. A few months, tops.” He trailed a finger along her jaw. “Once she’s pregnant, I won’t have to be with her anymore.” He sighed. “And if it really bothers you that much, I may be able to hold out for the medical intervention—but we’ll have to be apart longer.”

  Sage stiffened, swallowing her revulsion. The drink had definitely lost any remaining appeal. She didn’t want to think about what she was expected to do—what they were all expected to do. It bothered her that Nic didn’t question their duty. That he somehow accepted what he had to do. With her.

  “I don’t want you to…” She stopped. She couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud.

  “Then I won’t,” he said softly, his golden eyes flickering fiercely with his promise.

  “I still don’t understand how she was able to turn us both in,” Sage said, changing the subject. “We’re Kunbriat. It’s her fault we’re not together—why I’m working at the Peace instead of the Cabinet, why—”

  “No, Sage,” Nic said quietly. “It’s our fault. You know it’s a result of choices we made. We got caught breaking the rules, and now we’re just dealing with the consequences.” He shook his head. “We should be grateful that’s all they did.”

  She clenched her jaw, looking away. That wasn’t all they’d done. Eprah had taken everything from her, and she wasn’t about to pretend it was her own fault that almost everyone she cared about had died—or that it was her fault the headmaster had a personal vendetta against her not being punished more severely years ago.

  “But she’s Kunbriat.”

  “I know.” Nic exhaled slowly. “But the ultimate purpose of the Kunbriat is to serve Eprah. She said she was keeping us in check the only way she knew how. If we’d already graduated, and she’d stripped Chances, that would be one thing, and the Kunbriat would deal with it, but…” he trailed off, rubbing his forehead. “She did what she was allowed to do, for both our sakes and Eprah’s. It’s just a crazy coincidence that she and I wound up being paired.”

  Sage pursed her lips. Coincidence? She didn’t believe that for one second. Either Carnabel or the headmaster was behind this coincidence. They both knew exactly what to do—what would hurt her the most.

  The end of the alley was within sight. Sage’s shoulders slumped. She knew what was coming.

  Nic wrapped his arms around her once more, pressing a final kiss to her lips. “You go first today.” He nodded toward the street, which was beginning to fill with citizens rushing to work. “I’ll leave in a few minutes.”

  He pushed her forward, but she stopped and turned around, frowning. “If we have to change when we’re meeting, when will I see you again?”

  His brows furrowed for a moment. “I’m not sure. But I’ll let you know when I figure something out.” His lips brushed against her forehead. “Soon.”

  She bit her lip, nodding thoughtfully.

  “Now go. Can’t have you making us both late.” He flashed her a teasing grin and made a shooing motion.

  She rolled her eyes and stood on her tiptoes for one last peck, then turned and walked out of the alley into the chaos on the sidewalk. She tossed the disgusting breakfast in the nearest trash bin and headed straight for the Peace, trying to ignore the unsettling knot settling deep in her stomach. Another day on the job that she’d never wanted at the place she’d always hated.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she forced herself to forget about work and focus on figuring out a way to meet Nic again. In the days since graduation, their secret meetings were the only thing she had to look forward to—the only bright spot in an otherwise bleak existence.

  4. GRIEF

  All it took was a flash.

  A bittersweet, unbidden memory of Penelope’s brows pinched together in comical disapproval when Sage had said she needed to finish another assignment instead of sneaking into the older students’ Common Lounge. But the memory crashed into Sage hard, mercilessly assaulting her as cool water dribbled pitiful trails over her shoulders.

  She sucked in a ragged breath and leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the wall of the shower. Sobs wracked her body. Her shoulders heaved as she slumped toward the ground, helpless to win the fight against her emotions this time.

  In the days since it’d happened, she’d tried not to think about it. She had to block it out to function. There was only so much loss—so much death—a person could take before losing their mind. And no amount of grieving would bring Penelope back.

  Her crying must have been louder than she realized because after a few minutes of uncontrolled release, she heard a soft knock on the door.

  “Sage?” Everett’s concern drifted through the door, his uncertainty obvious. “You ok?”

  Her shoulders tensed, but she didn’t answer right away. She reached up and turned off the faucet, stopping the slow flow of now frigid water—not that it had ever even reached lukewarm. Nothing in their apartment was warm or comfortable or automated like it had been at the Institution. It was another reminder that they were no longer protected, no longer considered special. They didn’t get any extra resources—they hadn’t proven that they deserved them yet. Somehow, though, that didn’t bother her in the slightest. She wasn’t sure anymore what she wanted Eprah to think of her. Or if it really even mattered.

  “I’m fine,” she finally managed to croak. Her brows pulled together at the unpleasant, strained sound of her voice. She tried again, but her words still sounded foreign to her, like someone else was speaking. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Alright.”r />
  Sage could hear Everett pacing just outside the door. She wished he would leave her alone. His nervous energy wasn’t making anything better.

  Her limbs felt like lead as she picked herself up off the floor. Shivering as she grabbed a towel, she wiped at her tear-stained cheeks first, then patted the rest of her body dry and wrapped herself in its warmth. Sucking in another shaky breath, she swept her hand across the mirror, revealing how splotchy her face was now. Oh well.

  She yanked the door open irritably. “See? I’m fine.”

  Everett stopped pacing just long enough for his eyes to flick over the length of her body. He looked away quickly, studying a spot on the wall. His cheeks flushed slightly. “That’s good,” he mumbled. “I was… worried.”

  “You don’t need to be,” she said curtly. If she wasn’t so annoyed at his concern, she might find his effort at being a gentleman almost amusing. It wasn’t like she was showing him anything—she had no intentions of that happening at all. Ever. She put a hand over the top of the towel, making sure the edge stayed securely tucked in.

  “It’s not like anything bad’s going to happen to me in the shower,” she retorted.

  He frowned, unable to keep his eyes from drifting back to hers. “Was it Penelope?”

  Sage’s lip quivered. She didn’t respond. Instead, she clenched her jaw and marched out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Slipping a lightweight dress over her head, she dropped the towel, letting it pool around her feet before picking it up to return it to the bathroom.

  “Have you talked to Savannah lately?” Sage asked, deliberately changing the subject. She didn’t want to talk about Penelope. She glanced over her shoulder in the mirror as she combed through her hair.

  Everett’s jaw tightened. “Not really. I don’t think she’s missing me though. Not with Chad around.”

  “Oh.” Sage pressed her lips together. The hint of annoyance in Everett’s voice told her not to push the matter any further. Savannah had been obsessed with Everett when she thought they’d be paired, but based on Everett’s reaction, her affections had been easily swayed once the pairings had been finalized at graduation.