by Amy Cross
“Go to hell,” I stammer, already tasting blood in my mouth. “Go and -”
Suddenly I'm grabbed from behind and pulled back, before being let go again. I swing wildly across the chamber, heading straight toward the woman and her stick. Somehow the tip goes between my legs, and I instinctively grab on tight with my thighs. The electrified tip is buzzing just a few inches from my face, and the woman is wiggling the stick in an attempt to get it free, but I twist around and use every last ounce of strength to kick her away. As she falls back, she lets go of the stick and I swing back to the center of the chamber, and this time I have the stick clenched tightly between my thighs.
“I told you she's a feisty one!” Patrick yells, his voice filled with anticipation. “Military-trained, for your pleasure!”
A roar goes up from the crowd, as I frantically try to maneuver the stick between my legs so that I can use it as a weapon. The job isn't easy, since I don't have the use of my arms, and I'm not sure this is going to work. Finally I pull my legs up and push the stick out past my left arm, which at least means that people will have to be careful if they come close. I'm trembling with pain and fear, and I know that another of these bastards is going to come at me from any direction at any moment.
“Who else wants to try their luck?” Patrick yells. “Ten dollars a shot, pay from your seats!”
“You're all going to hell,” I stammer, looking around at them and trying to anticipate which of these monsters is going to try next. “You're all -”
Suddenly I freeze as I see a familiar face at the back of the crowd. A shudder runs through my chest, and I stare for a moment at Mads before finally I blink and she vanishes.
That wasn't her.
It can't have been her.
I hallucinated.
That's the only thing it could have been.
Suddenly something grabs me from behind. I scream and try to turn, but I feel a blade slicing through the back of my tunic and cutting my skin. As the blade twists, I realize somebody's trying to cut the tunic away, and I try to swing around so I can see the bastard. I can hear him laughing, but – no matter what I try – I can't quite manage to get a look at his face. Still, I don't need to see him properly, not if I can twist the stick around and hit him with the electric tip.
“How often do I bring a real, live tower-dweller to you?” Patrick shouts, as the crowd roars. “She followed me like a sick little puppy! I even gave her fair warning, and she followed me right through the door!”
Applause breaks out all around me, and I hear people yelling at me, telling me I'm an idiot. I'm still trying to twist the stick between my legs, but a moment later I make a mistake and feel the stick falling free. I try to catch it with my ankles, but I'm too late and I look down just in time to see it drop to the concrete floor below.
“Come on!” Patrick yells. “Who wants a crack at her before she's too badly hurt to even feel it? Tower-dwellers are rare, so get down here with your money and take a slice!”
I scream as more and more hands reach up to grab me. Scores of people have clambered from their seats, and they're all grabbing me as if they want to tear chunks of flesh from my bones. And no matter how hard I try to fight back, all I can do is cry out in pain as I twist at the end of the chain.
I think they're trying to tear me apart with their bare hands.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Iris
Today
Grabbing a cloth bag, I turn and hurry toward the door.
“Iris, wait!” Ripley says, stopping in front of me and blocking the way. “I'm sure she's just trying to wind you up. Nissa's probably -”
Pushing past him, I hurry out across the campsite, heading toward the rickety wooden gate that marks the edge of Steadfall.
“You can't go out there hunting for her like this!” Ripley continues as he follows me. “Iris, you have no idea which way she might have gone. This is a wild goose chase and all you're going to do is get yourself into trouble. You have to trust that Nissa will eventually come back.”
He grabs my arm, but I push him away.
“Iris, you have to listen to me!” he shouts, before grabbing my arm again as I reach the gate.
This time his grip is too strong, and I'm forced to turn and face him.
“At least let me come with you,” he says finally, with a sigh. “We can cover more ground together. Just don't get your hopes up too much, okay? If Nissa's out there alone, she's going to have to fend for herself.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Asher
Many years earlier
“Get up! You! Girl! Get up!”
Before I can even open my eyes, a hand grabs me by the throat and hauls me from the ground. Coughing and spluttering, I try to pull away, but I'm quickly slammed face-first against a nearby wall, and I'm helpless to fight back as thick chains are wrapped around my wrists.
“You're lucky,” the voice grunts. “Not many people survive their first day down here. You must be made of stronger stuff, but don't let that give you any hope. It just means it'll take longer for you to get the life pummeled out of your body. And it means we'll have to be more inventive.”
I open my mouth to reply, but suddenly I feel him press himself against my back. As he does so, he grinds his pelvis, and I feel his hardness poking against the small of my back.
“I bet you wish you were up there in one of those towers now, don't you?” he sneers. “Coming down here was a hell of a mistake. Did you think you were going to somehow save us all?”
“Please let me go,” I gasp, hoping against hope that maybe I can strike some kind of deal. “Please, whatever you want -”
“I've already got whatever I want!” he says firmly, pressing himself against me yet again. “My orders are to get you ready for another market, but nobody's gonna step in and tell me how I'm supposed to do that. You're not due in the arena for ninety minutes or so, and you're already cut up and bleeding. I doubt anyone would notice a few more wounds here and there.”
“Just tell me what you want,” I whimper. “If you're going to kill me, then kill me.”
He starts laughing.
I open my mouth to beg again, but this time the words catch in my throat. I want more than anything to take this bastard down. Even if I die in the process, I at least want to take him with me. Clenching my fists, I try to pull against the chains around my wrists, but they're wrapped far too tight. My only other option is to try to turn and kick him, but I doubt I'd have much luck. As his hands move down onto my waist, I can't help shuddering as I realize that there's nothing I can do to stop him. Not yet, at least. I might find a chance later, but for now he's going to be able to take whatever he wants from me.
And then, in the distance, there's the sound of a metal door swinging open.
“Saved by the bell,” the man whispers into my ear. “Well, kind of, anyway.”
He steps away from me, and now I can hear a set of footsteps coming this way. Just as I'm about to shout out at these people and tell them to go to hell, however, I realize I can also hear a faint sniffing sound, almost as if somebody is struggling to hold back tears. Turning, I'm shocked to see that a little girl is entering the chamber, and that she's staring at me with fear in her eyes.
“Sabrina,” the man says, stepping over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. “Today's the day you're going to become a woman.”
The girl looks up at him.
“You heard me, Sabrina,” he continues. “I don't want tears or excuses. I want you to do what you've been told. Now go to the table and select your first tool.”
Sabrina hesitates for a moment, before turning to look at me. And then, slowly, she walks over to a table at the far end of the chamber, and I watch in horror as she picks up what looks like a whip.
“What are you doing?” I ask, trying not to panic.
“She needs toughening up,” the man says, coming over to me and grabbing the back of my collar. He smiles for a moment, before tear
ing my shirt open to reveal my bare back. “She's been caught crying one time too many. Patrick wants to put some steel into her soul, and he thought maybe you'd be able to help.”
“You don't have to do this,” I tell the girl as she walks toward me with the whip in her trembling hands. “Don't listen to them! You don't have to do any of this!”
She stops and looks up at the man.
“Of course she says you don't have to do it,” he says with a smirk. “She doesn't want to get her back shredded to pieces, does she?” He nudges the girl's shoulder. “I want to see ten lashes.”
“Do I have to?” the girl whispers.
Rolling his eyes, the man shoves her toward me.
“You don't have to,” I tell her, as I struggle to get free from the chains that are wrapped tight around my wrists. “You can say no! You can put that thing down and get out of here!”
I wait for the girl to reply, but she's simply staring straight at me. And then, just as I'm about to beg her again, she turns and leans over, and I watch with a sense of shock as she vomits. Gray liquid splatters against the stone floor, and when I look at the man I see that he's disappointed.
“What the hell's that for?” he asks, picking up the whip and then dragging the girl closer again. He forces the whip into her hands, before putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face me. “Now, do you remember when you practiced on those sacks of flour? Do you remember how you split the fabric open? There's nothing different here when you're working with real flesh, really. Just aim for between her shoulder-blades and use as much strength as you can. If you get it really right, the poor bitch's skin'll open up real nice.”
“You don't have to do this!” I shout. “You don't have to be what they want you to be!”
The man steps away from the girl, and she stares at me for a moment before looking down and adjusting her grip on the whip.
“You don't have to do anything you don't want to do,” I continue, and now my voice is trembling with fear. “You can get me out of here. Loosen the chains and I can leave and you'll never see me again.”
“I wonder what your father would say,” the man mutters, still watching little Sabrina, “if I had to report to him that you'd been soft again. He'd be disappointed, to say the least. You know he wants you to join the army some day, Sabrina. He thinks it's your only ticket out of the abyss, and I reckon he's right. So why don't you show us all what you're made of, eh? Look deep inside yourself and find the strength to cut this bitch's back up.”
Sabrina stares at me, and this time I think I can see a hint of resolve in her eyes. As I realize I can smell her vomit, I start pulling once more against the chains.
“Why do you want to do this to her?” I ask, turning to the man. “You're going to turn her into a monster!”
He smiles. “That's how everyone ends up eventually. There's no -”
Suddenly the girl cracks the whip, and I cry out as I feel an excruciating pain run up my back and across my left shoulder. I pull tight against the chains as I feel blood running down my back, and the pain seems to be getting worse by the second as I fall forward and press my face against the cold stone wall.
Letting out an anguished moan, I squeeze my eyes tight shut.
Behind me, the little girl is crying again.
“Not bad,” the man mutters, “but you want to get the tip all the way up. You got some skin hanging loose, though.”
He touches my back, and I scream again as I feel his dirty fingers poking into the torn flesh. He's pulling some skin aside, and all I can do is whimper as he runs his fingertips against the wound.
“That's one down,” he says finally, and then I hear him stepping back as the girl continues to sob. “Nine to go before we switch to something else. Are you ready?”
“No,” I whimper, “please...”
“I asked, are you ready?” the man continues.
“I don't want to,” the girl sobs.
“And I don't give a damn,” he says firmly. “Nine to go. Come on, let's get it down to eight.”
“Please stop!” I gasp. “I'll do anything, but please -”
Before I can finish, the whip cracks again and I feel an even worse pain splitting across my shoulders. Pulling on the chains, all I can do is scream.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Iris
Today
“I'm sure she's fine,” Ripley mutters as we hurry through the forest. “I've been thinking about it and maybe I was too alarmist earlier. The dumb kid probably got about twenty yards from the fence and then she hid. She's probably just trying to scare us.”
Ignoring his attempts to make me calm down, I hurry between the trees while looking out for any sign that Nissa might have passed this way. While the area immediately around Steadfall has been relatively clear for years, I know full well that the further she goes from our settlement, the more likely she is to run into whatever gangs exist out there across the rest of the island. Nissa has been protected from the worst of what happens in this place, so she has no idea what she might encounter.
“Plus,” Ripley continues, “she's very much like her mother, so she should be -”
Turning, I slam him against the nearest tree.
“What?” he gasps. “Asher could always take care of herself.”
“Asher wasn't nine years old,” Carmichael points out breathlessly as he catches up to us. “Asher has the benefit of military training, even if she didn't specifically remember much of it. Nissa's just a kid. A smart-ass kid, a tough kid, but a kid. We have to find her.”
“She can't have been gone for more than six hours,” Ripley points out. “How much ground can a little girl cover in that time?”
“A fair bit,” Carmichael says with a sigh. “Which way would she have gone? Would she have gone to the beach, or would she just have struck out on her own?”
“If she was smart,” Ripley continues, “she'll have made sure she could find her way back. That means taking note of landmarks.”
“We don't know what else Phillips said to her,” Carmichael adds. “Nissa might be angry. She might be upset. She might be panicking.” He turns to me. “What did she mean when she said the answer is out here in the forest? I got the impression she was talking about something specific.”
I pause, before shrugging.
“Do you know something we don't?” he asks.
I shake my head.
He stares at me for a moment, as if he can somehow tell that I'm lying, and then he turns to Ripley.
“We need to get out there and find her before somebody else does,” he continues. “We've got about twelve hours until sundown, and if her chances are slim during the day, they're slim to non-existent at night. That's when the things out there in the forest get a little braver. It's when they see the lights from our camp and edge closer, waiting to pick off anyone who strays too far. If Nissa still out here at night, they will find her.”
“Not if we find her first,” Ripley points out. “Right now, we're that little girl's only hope.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Asher
Many years earlier
“Please don't do this. Whatever they've told you, it's wrong. You don't have to prove anything. If you do this, it'll change you. They're trying to turn you into a killer.”
I wait.
She doesn't move.
I woke up a few minutes ago, drenched in my own sweat and blood, naked and shivering on the floor. In the darkness of the chamber, it took me a moment to realize I wasn't alone. The man is gone, but Sabrina is sitting cross-legged just a few feet away, staring at me with tear-filled eyes.
In her trembling left hand, she's holding a serrated knife.
The blade must be at least ten inches long.
“Did they tell you to toughen up?” I ask, trying to force a smile. “Is that what they said? That you have to be tough to survive?”
Again, I wait.
Again, she doesn't respond.
“Being tough doesn't mean this,” I continue. “It doesn't have to. There are other ways. You name's Sabrina, isn't it? Is that what he called you? Sabrina?”
I need her to acknowledge me. Instead, she simply continues to stare.
“I'm Asher,” I tell her, slowly forcing myself to sit up. My right hand splashes against something wet, and I look down to see a patch of my own blood, with little bubbles between my fingers.
When I turn to the girl again, I realize that although she's said nothing since I woke up, there are more and more tears running down her face.
“My name's Asher,” I stammer. “How old are you, Sabrina? Nine? Ten?”
I pause, before reaching out toward her. I need to show her that I'm a friend.
“However old you are,” I continue, “you don't need to -”
Suddenly she lets out a grunt and slashes the knife toward me.
I gasp as I pull back, feeling a sharp pain on the palm of my hand. When I take a look, I see a long cut running from just below my little finger, extending all the way to the top of my wrist. Trickles of blood are already dribbling from the wound, but the pain is nothing compared to the agony of my shredded back.
I try to speak again, but this time all I can manage is a faint groan.
I'm starting to shake, and I don't even know why.
“Let me take you away from here,” I manage to say finally. “Help me with these chains, and I'll get you out of here. I'll take you back to where I came from, and I'll find people who'll look after you. They won't make you hurt people, they -”
Catching myself just in time, I realize I can't make those promises.