The Dead-Tossed Waves

by Carrie Ryan

  “I need to know if you were out there with them,” she says. I want to see her face and read her expression but I can’t. I push myself up on my elbows, the sweat-soaked sheets falling away. I open my mouth but nothing comes out.

  “I need to know what to say if the Council asks me,” she pushes. “I won’t have a vote in what they do with the others. But I need to know about you.”

  I have never—not once—lied to my mother. And for a moment I think about telling her the truth. But I can’t. I can’t put her in the position of choosing me over her duty to the Council.

  I can’t bear her disappointment.

  “No,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “I was too afraid.”

  She drums her fingers against the windowsill and I hold my breath, waiting to see if she believes me. If the truth of my fear is enough to cover the lie that preceded it. And then, because I can’t stand the silence any longer, I add, “I’ll never cross the Barrier.” I draw my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. “I’ll never leave Vista.”

  She looks back out the window and as the light slides along her profile I think I see sadness. And I wonder if she’s sad that I’m so weak and so afraid when she’s always been so strong.

  I feel like everyone’s watching me as I make my way alone through town to the square with the rest of the crowd gathering for the Council announcement. News of the night before is swift and I hear people murmuring. They must know I was there. They must know that I ran away and abandoned my friends.

  Or they know that I wasn’t there and they feel sorry for me. The only one not invited. The outcast. The one who was too afraid.

  My hands shake as I walk past the old crumbling concrete boxes that house shops and homes. Rough-cut logs replace what time and age have dissolved, so that the buildings look like patched dolls with too many mismatched parts. Old women stare out the windows, kids’ shouts echo up the narrow streets.

  I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to face what happened. I want to run back home and crawl into bed. But I push myself forward anyway, swallowing back the acrid taste of regret. I have to see Cira. I have to make sure she’s okay.

  I finally make it to the center square of the town, the other residents of Vista pressing in around me. It feels too tight, the bodies near me slick with sweat and heat and a stench of hard work and long days. Even my own skin doesn’t feel right and I try to stretch my arms and neck but can’t move in the crush of people.

  On a platform against the Council House are two large cages. In one are two boys and a girl. They sit limply on benches, their eyes cast down, staring at their feet. The girl has bandages wrapped around her arm, the boys both have bandages covering their legs. Blood dots the gray-white of the fabric and I shudder.

  I remember seeing the girl get bitten. I remember the sound of her screams as the Breaker’s teeth sunk into her flesh. I look away quickly, not wanting to see them, not wanting to see the blood and hopelessness.

  In the other cage are five more from the night before and I’m relieved to see Cira among them. I stare at her, wanting to shout out but keeping silent. She stands with the rest, their eyes scanning the crowd, their shoulders held back, as if defiantly ready to face their punishment. But I know my best friend well enough to see that her fingers are shaking, her skin pale and lips thin as she presses them together.

  I think back, trying to account for the whole group. Not everyone is in the cages and I wonder if maybe I wasn’t the only one to run. At least four of us died last night or are missing: Catcher, Mellie and two others. My stomach cramps with the realization of it all—with the reality of what happened.

  Dead. That means my friends—Catcher’s friends and maybe even Catcher himself—are dead. Gone. Will never dance, run away to the Dark City, sing in the night, hold hands. The truth, the severity of it all, slams into me and I stagger back, catching my breath. A few hands push me forward, grunts sounding in my ears.

  So much of me was hoping to see Catcher. Even if he was with the others who are infected. Hoping that maybe I’d have a chance to talk to him one last time. To hold his hand in mine so that I could remember it. Could remember him.

  It’s as if the spin of the world has stopped, thrown me off and away. I squeeze my eyes shut, seeing the bite on his shoulder in my mind. It didn’t look severe—nothing he could have bled to death from—which means it would normally take days for him to turn. For the infection to spread, to shut down his organs. To kill him so that he can rise again.

  But now, at this moment, Catcher should still be alive. The Militia should have found him last night, and that they didn’t—the fact that he’s not up in the cages with the others—means he’s either turned or he ran away.

  I force myself to breathe deeply as dizziness overwhelms me. I clench my fists and remind myself that I know nothing. Catcher could be okay. He has to be okay. I cling to this idea, this hope. I hold it as if it’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

  Never have I wished more that I were standing beside my mother. That I could slip my hand into hers and have her anchor me. But as the keeper of the lighthouse and the shore she’s an advisor to the Council. She’s with them, listening as they decide the fate of my friends. If I’d been up there in the cages, they’d have been deciding my fate as well.

  A part of me feels lucky for having escaped the same punishment as my friends but my heart still skips beats and I wonder how long my luck will last. Wonder if it’s only a matter of moments before someone in the cages spots me in the crowd and calls out that I was there last night and I’m hauled to the stage.

  Around me I hear the whispers. I hear fear-laced voices murmur about the Breaker, speculating that she washed ashore and somehow made it past the dunes and seawall into the ruins. As they talk about the rumors of the night before, I see it all in my mind again and again: Mellie, kneeling on the ground with her hand over her arm, the blood seeping through her fingers. The look in her eyes as it was happening.

  She didn’t understand how everything could change. She was fighting against the inevitable. Against the reality.

  And then she was nobody. She was nothing but a hungry shell.

  I swallow and start backing my way through the crowd, tripping over feet and being rebuked for pushing against the flow. I’m at the edge, ready to run through the narrow streets and to the safety of my bed, when the people around me still and I realize that I can’t go farther. I can’t leave my friends. I can’t hide from what happened.

  Shaking and afraid, I wrap my arms around my chest and stand with the people of Vista. We watch as the Council takes the stage, watch as their advisors, including my mother, file onto benches behind them.

  The Chairman steps forward and the world around me drops to nothing. Hundreds of people holding their breath at once.

  “What are we if our barriers fail us?” he begins. “If our security fails us? If our safeguards fail us?” The Chairman’s voice is deep, loud. It rolls over each one of us, filling the crevices between us. Everyone around me leans forward, all eyes on him.

  “One bite,” he continues. “One bite will wipe out a city. One bite is what wiped out our world so long ago. One bite is everything that stands between what we have built here and annihilation.”

  A few people shift; a child calls out and is hushed. “We have our rules for a reason. For the good of all. And we make those rules clear to all. Including the fact that sneaking past the Barrier is a serious offense. One of the worst offenses. Because once infection breaches our walls, we are all as good as dead.”

  My hair sticks to my neck in the heat as the Chairman’s words drive into me. Everything he’s saying is true and makes me wonder again and again why I didn’t try to stop the group from going last night. The girl in the smaller cage is crying now, and even from here I can see the sunlight glisten off the tears trailing down her cheeks and dripping onto her knees. She doesn’t bother to wipe them or hide her face. I watch as the boy next to he
r places an arm around her shoulders, and again it hits me—that could be me. And maybe it should be me.

  “Last night several teens from Vista took it upon themselves to flout our rules, and some have confessed that this is not the first time such a breach has occurred.” Heat creeps up my neck and claws at my face. I look around, expecting everyone’s eyes to be on me. But they all stare at the stage. All paying rapt attention.

  “I was young once, I understand the urge to test boundaries. But we have made it clear that some boundaries cannot be tested. And they have paid the price for their actions.”

  He sweeps his hands out to the cages on either side of him. “Two have already died, killed after turning. Three more are infected. The rest will be quarantined to ensure our safety. And two others …” He lets his head drop and then raises it slowly, his eyes scanning us all. I feel as though he pauses on me and I duck behind the person in front of me.

  “Two others are missing. We’re told that they were infected and that given the nature of the attack they also would have likely turned Breaker. Their souls forever gone, beyond the redemption of a quick and eternal death.”

  Whispers and murmurs swell around me at confirmation of the news. I just stand there limply, his words revolving in my head. Two died: Mellie and the boy I saw Cira killing. The three in the cage are infected. And two—Catcher and Griffin, the redhead who danced with Mellie—are still out there. Catcher wasn’t caught by the Militia. My body begins to hum and buzz with the tiniest bit of hope—he could still be alive.

  “But the real question is, what happens next?” The Chairman pauses, as if he’s an entertainer and not the man appointed by the Protectorate to lead us. “The Council has been meeting this morning. We have heard a number of suggestions, advocates for and against those standing before you.

  “You must understand that our lives are not about the individual. Our rules exist for the collective. They are about survival and safety. Millions of people have sacrificed their lives in this battle. It is our duty to honor those sacrifices. And you must know that we, as your leaders, do not take our duties lightly.”

  These are all words I’ve heard before, all warnings we’re told over and over again. So often that they lose their power. But hearing them now makes me want to grab every person in this town and force them to see what I saw. Make them watch their friends bitten and turned. Make them see that beyond the Barrier is nothing but death and pain, no matter what dreams they might have.

  He takes a deep breath, lowering his voice. Forcing us all to lean forward to hear him. “We did not come to our decision easily.”

  My entire body is numb with fear. I swallow. I don’t want to hear what he’s about to tell us but I know that not hearing won’t change anything. The Chairman has never shown mercy in the past, even on lesser infractions than these. He will take any opportunity to set an example. To prove to the Protectorate that he can be a ruthless leader worthy of promotion.

  “We have made our decision.” He pauses again.

  My eyes flick between the two cages. At the three Infected, their arms around each other, their knuckles white. At the quarantined, who stand defiantly even though their anxiety is obvious.

  “The Infected will be taken by the Militia beyond the Barrier. There is nothing we can do for them anymore. They will be given their eternal rest.”

  A woman wails and tries to run through the crowd but people hold her back. I recognize her. She’s one of the infected boys’ mothers. Her screams become muffled as her neighbors pull her away. At least she has a chance to say good-bye, I think, wishing I hadn’t run from Catcher so fast. At least her son had time to remember what it is to be alive before he’s dead.

  At least he won’t become Mudo.

  I cross my arms over my chest, trying to hold myself together. Everything feels cold. Even the heat of the sun burns like ice. I close my eyes, wondering why Cira didn’t run away with me. Wondering what punishment she will face that I may not.

  The Chairman raises his hand to his face, wipes at his eyes and for a moment I feel relief—that he’ll show leniency, that maybe this decision was too hard on him and that he and the Council will be compassionate.

  But then his voice hardens. “The others,” he says, waving at Cira and the rest in her cage. “They will be sent to the Recruiters to serve for two years, though they will not be allowed to claim the honors that come from such service. They will not be granted full citizenship, nor will they be allowed to enter any of the Protected Zones, including the Dark City. Not after their service, and not ever.”

  The crowd explodes around me. But I’m speechless. I can only stand there in shock. My legs wobble, my muscles refusing to hold me, and I sag against an older lady. She wraps an arm under my elbow.

  “You poor dear,” she says, clucking over me. “Are they friends of yours?”

  I nod. Every city and town like ours that falls under the control of the Protectorate is required to provide a quota of goods and services, including young men and women to the Recruiters, the army of the Protectorate. In return we get protection, the benefits of a unified confederacy and the ability to trade goods with other members. We’ve never forced anyone to serve the Recruiters. We’ve never had to.

  There have always been volunteers willing to risk their lives on the promised reward of guaranteed access to the Protected Zones and full citizenship to all who serve. While anyone with unique skills or enough goods to trade can pay the exorbitant rents to live in the Dark City, only those who serve the Recruiters are guaranteed a place to live, and those who distinguish themselves in service don’t ever have to pay rents.

  Except for the ones on the stage. Even after two years with the Recruiters they will not be allowed.

  The punishment stuns me with its harshness. To be forced to serve, with no reward.

  “Aren’t you a smart one not to get caught up in that mess,” the woman next to me says, patting me on the back.

  But I was with them, I want to tell her. I should be up there with my best friend. I shouldn’t be hiding. I shouldn’t have run away but I don’t know how to change it.

  And even if I did, I can’t find the strength or the words to step forward and turn myself in. I hear the Chairman speaking more but I can’t make out what he’s saying. I just stand there staring at the cages. Staring at Cira. They seem just as shocked as I am and it makes me ill how the Chairman has meted out his punishment in public like some sort of sick spectacle. Though I shouldn’t be surprised, since the Protectorate has never really cared about our town; we’re too far away from the Dark City and became useless after the pirates took over the seas.

  Around me people begin to flow out of the square and I catch snippets of their conversations.

  “Could have killed us all …”

  “Can’t believe the Council would do such a thing …”

  “They brought it on themselves …”

  “Those poor kids …”

  I can’t move. I can’t bring myself to leave. So I just stand there, a rock in the middle of a river.

  My best friend is being sent to the Recruiters. Everyone there last night will be sent away, sent to the lines of the war to fight the Mudo, with no possibility to reap the traditional rewards of service.

  Except me. And what scares me more than anything else is the thought that I won’t get away with it.

  And then questions begin slipping into my head: Why didn’t the others tell on me? Why didn’t they tell the Council that I was also there?

  What happens if they tell on me now?

  I glance back at where the Council is huddled around the Chairman to the left of the platform, surrounded by the parents of the Infected and quarantined. Some are resigned and some angry, shouting and crying and pleading. But no one is there to speak for Cira. As an orphan, all she had was Catcher and now he’s gone.

  I don’t want to face her but I know I have to. No one stops me as I shove my way to Cira’s cage. She doesn’t see
me at first but Blane does and she pushes toward me, fury creasing her face.

  “Feeling guilty?” she yells. She slams her hands against the bar. “Come to taunt us?” She leans forward.

  I jerk my head around, looking to see if anyone else heard her, and she just laughs. My cheeks flame. I’m embarrassed at having been called out on my cowardice and ashamed that we’re on opposite sides of these bars. And then Cira steps forward, places her hand on Blane’s arm, and Blane moves away. Leaves us alone.

  I’m surprised to see my friend with so much sway over this older girl.

  “Cira, I’m sorry,” I murmur, because I don’t know what else to say.

  “It’s okay,” she says. “You were smart to run. To get away.”

  I shift, feeling only more uncomfortable. “I didn’t want to,” I tell her. “It was Catcher—he told me to go and I didn’t think.” I have to force my mouth to speak his name, my voice breaking at the sound of it.

  Her fists clench around the bars. “Where is he?”

  “I …” I shake my head, swallow. In my mind I see the bite on his shoulder, see the blood trailing down his arm. I thought Cira had seen it too. I thought she knew.

  Her eyes bore into mine.

  “I don’t know,” I finally say. I can’t bring myself to even form the words of the truth.

  I watch as her face dims, as if the last lights of hope are blinking out. Already resignation has settled in deep lines around her mouth. “But I thought he went with you.”

  I see my old friend in her eyes. I see the same hesitation that I feel—the vulnerability. But it’s the last tendrils of hope I hear that hurts the most. I don’t want to be the one to tell her about her brother, and yet I realize she deserves to know. I might have run from everything else but I can’t run from this.

  “Catcher was …” I swallow. “He was bitten. I thought you saw.”

  Her skin, already pale, becomes ghostly. As if she herself has Returned. She runs her tongue over her lips, wetting the cracks. “But he wasn’t there when they came and got us. You’re wrong, he must still be alive. He must be out there. Maybe he’s hurt. You’re wrong!” She raises her voice and the others in the cage step forward like a wall surrounding her.