Meritropolis

by Joel Ohman

Charley lay his still-throbbing head down slowly, catching a split-second glimpse of Grigor’s face before he turned away to walk out the door.

  Grigor was no longer smiling.

  * * *

  Sven pulled his knees to his chest and pressed himself against the gate. The metal rivets hurt his back, but it was worth the pain to have something solid to lean against.

  Looking out toward the forest, just 50 paces or so from the gates, was unsettling; it was like a dream. It was one thing to peer out and over the gates at the forest beyond in the daytime but quite another to see the forest from outside of the gates’ protection. Surprisingly, he wasn’t all that scared. He was tired, hungry, and confused, but he wasn’t scared.

  If something out here was going to eat him, then so be it. He knew that he was sinking deeper into the quagmire of self-pity, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore. He heard a rustling noise in the leaves and didn’t even look up. At least Charley was safe. Sven always knew that Charley was special. Sven was funny and likeable and he was Charley’s friend, but deep down he knew that with a Score that fluctuated between 53 and 68, he had always been close to being gate-bait. In fact, the only thing special about him was that his best friend had a Score of 118. He loved Charley, but sometimes it hurt knowing that all you had to do was look at your forearm and know that the people around you thought you were next to worthless.

  Sven tried hard to make people like him, sure, but it was only a matter of time. He always knew that, High Score best friend or not, eventually he would end up outside of the gates. He was just a nobody with a low Score.

  The rustling noise seemed to be getting louder.

  Now here he was, about to be zeroed at last. He wondered what it would feel like. A single tear slid down his dirt-streaked cheek.

  The sun was setting.

  CHAPTER 5

  Alive

  “You let him live? You let them both live?” Abigail raised one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows questioningly.

  Orson looked up from the reports on his desk. He hated to have his decisions questioned—and by a woman, no less—but he was well aware of the effect her beauty had on him. Unfortunately, she knew it too. He sighed. “The boy is important. He has a Score of 118, and given his skills, it will likely only increase with age.” Orson thought uncomfortably about his own age, then pushed the thought from his mind. He still had the highest Score in Meritropolis. For now, anyway.

  “And his friend?” she demanded.

  “He might be useful as well. He seems to be the boy’s only real friend,” Orson said in a tight voice, as if taking the time to offer her the explanation was an insult to his status.

  “Well, this high-Score boy that you think is so important is also dangerous. Maybe even more dangerous than you.” Abigail smiled wolfishly, her eyes sparkling with a strange light.

  Before he could respond, she turned and walked out of his office, head held high, a small flicker of her fingers over her shoulder, and just the right amount of sway to her hips to ensnare his gaze. She had that effect on every man in Meritropolis, and the commander was certainly not immune.

  It was only fitting that the man with the highest Score would get the woman with the highest Score as his wife eventually. He had the authority to force her to marry him, of course, but there wouldn’t be a need. She was warming to him nicely. It was easy enough to shuffle a few work assignments around here and there and make sure that their paths crossed frequently.

  However, he would have to watch her closely. Her obvious beauty played a large part in her high Score, but there was also a whip-smart intelligence beneath her lovely exterior, something that he sensed she tried to keep concealed from him. He would have to keep a close eye on her, indeed.

  But he was Commander, after all.

  There were many avenues available to getting exactly what he wanted.

  * * *

  Pitch-black. Charley’s eyes flipped open and he remained motionless and unblinking on his cot. He could see nothing. His headache was gone, and in its place he felt a new clarity of purpose.

  He knew exactly what he had to do.

  If Sven really were still alive, then only a fool would take Orson’s word for it, or Grigor’s, for that matter. He needed proof.

  It was simple, really. Commander Orson had something that Charley wanted: Sven. So Charley just had to take something Orson wanted—anything Orson cared about would do, maybe even the commander’s own life—and propose a trade: Sven in exchange for the right to keep on living, albeit temporarily. Charley was becoming convinced of one thing—the only way to truly zero the System, would be to zero Commander Orson.

  Taking Commander Orson hostage, while unarmed, and with Grigor looming, was as close an act of hara-kiri as anything Charley could imagine, but it wasn’t impossible. And it was just a working plan. Things could and would change as opportunities presented themselves.

  There were many avenues available to getting exactly what he wanted.

  * * *

  Chappy’s great bulk spilled out and under the armrests of his enormous office chair. He sat back, one leg kicked up onto his knee, powerful forearms crossed in front of his chest.

  His extraordinary bulk was made all the more impressive by the ease with which he carried it. While uncommon to see a man of his size, even more uncommon was the fact that Chappy was supremely comfortable in his own skin, lacking any awkwardness. The world made room for Chappy; he wasn’t one to adjust himself for anyone.

  What Chappy wanted, he got. There was a way to profit from any situation, especially if one was willing to do whatever was necessary, morally dubious activities included. Sure, operating a criminal empire in a city controlled by the System presented certain unique challenges, but Chappy had turned the manipulation of people’s fear of the System into an art form—and a very profitable one at that. When life handed him lemons, he turned them into lemonade stands.

  “Jibs!” Chappy said.

  Jibs appeared at the door. “Yes?”

  “What have we heard from the guards about the boy’s friend? The little one—Sven? Where are they keeping him?” he asked.

  “Still working on it. We’re asking around, quietly, of course, but none of our guys were his handlers. He’s definitely still alive, though. Word is that they put him outside the gates for a while just to keep up appearances—and to give him a little scare, too, I’m sure.” Jibs smiled crookedly. “They brought him back in before it got dark, though; not really anything for him to be worried about. Some of the guys had a bit of fun with him when they brought him in—word is that he was crying.”

  Chappy scowled. “I want him in one piece. If he’s important to our good friend Mr. High Score, and our most wonderful Supreme High Commander, then he’s important for us to keep tabs on. Keep our guys on it. If you get a chance to snatch and grab the little crybaby, then go for it.” Chappy smiled. “If we can get a hold of him, then it’s not like they can post up a ‘Missing’ poster and admit that he’s still alive and not long-gone gate-bait.”

  “Last we heard, he was taken away by some of Orson’s handpicked guys. We’ll find him. There aren’t that many places to hide inside the gates,” Jibs said.

  “Good. The first chance that you get to snatch him, do it. It would be very useful to force Commander Orson to come groveling to us for ‘advice’ on finding him.”

  “We’re on it.” Jibs turned smartly and left the room.

  Chappy stroked his chin. He didn’t care all that much about the little one, but Charley intrigued him. That was, of course, why he had gone out of his way to orchestrate the “chance” meeting with the boy on the street within his first days above-ground. He was impressed with him during their short encounter, but the boy’s little demonstration with the guards later in the day had only confirmed what the boy was capable of.

  If he had to snatch Sven to get to Charley, then he would. All in a day’s work for Jibs and the other sizeable portion of Meritropol
is’s men who were on Chappy’s unofficial payroll in one capacity or another. They were the real rulers of Meritropolis.

  Chappy had no idea how he would use Charley once he had him under his thumb, but one thing he did know: everything rare had value. And a Score of 118 was very, very rare. A young boy with a Score that high, a Score with the potential to skyrocket with experience and age, well, that was very rare indeed. And very valuable.

  Chappy allowed himself a small smile. He relished the thought of seeing that pompous cockalorum Commander Orson humble himself to beg for his precious crybaby collateral. Maybe he would give him back, if Orson asked nicely, and maybe he wouldn’t. First, he had to get hold of Sven and then use him to get Charley under his control. But that was just a matter of time.

  There were many avenues available to getting exactly what he wanted.

  * * *

  Charley sat cross-legged on the cot, his back pressed against the cool, smooth cement wall. He faced outward toward the only door, but his half-closed eyes roved the small room, devouring every detail. Not that there was much to look at. A bucket, a door he had already tried and failed to force open, and the cot he was seated on—that was about it.

  There was no chance of escape. So Charley waited.

  And his mind wandered back to Alec, as it often did.

  Charley knew that, on some level, the way he kept Alec’s memory alive was not good for him, but he didn’t care. Maybe that was the truest sign of an unhealthy obsession; when you knew it and you didn’t even care. But to forget Alec was to forget a part of himself.

  The past nine years had changed Charley. He found that the best way to control his anger was always to keep it around. It gave his life meaning. He would use it to make the System pay; he would make them all pay.

  The more he thought about it, the more his resentment toward the redheaded guard who had hauled Alec away, and all the blue-coated guards in general, festered into something dark and unpredictable. They were just following orders, sure … But they were not mindless drones—they had made the decision to snatch an innocent young boy with Down syndrome from his brother and send him to certain death outside the gates. So, orders or not, they and their fellow guards had wronged him. But the brunt of Charley’s rage was directed toward whomever in power calmly gave the orders that this or that person was fit to live or die.

  Frankly, Charley didn’t give a rip about Commander Orson’s Score, or anyone else’s, including his own. No one had the right to determine another’s fate. The System didn’t have the right. Orson didn’t have the right. No one had the right to choose for someone else. Not for Alec. Not for anyone.

  As far as Charley was concerned, anyone who was a part of the System was guilty of allowing Alec and the others to die. And as for the ones who had actually put the System in place and sentenced Alec to the gates—he harbored a special resolution for them: he would find them all and he would make them pay a permanent penalty.

  In quiet moments like this, all alone, Charley could only half-glimpse what he knew deep down inside to be true. The person he hated most was the one who had let Alec be taken away without even a protest or a fight. The passive coward who had just watched as Alec was hauled off by those snatching, grabbing government-sanctioned kidnappers.

  The person he hated most was himself.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of jangling keys. The door creaked open.

  Grigor stooped to look into the cell, his smile beaming sunshine into the dingy room.

  “You are awake. Good! Come. It’s time.” He ducked his head out of the door.

  Charley slowly uncrossed his legs, slid off the cot, and stood. He looked straight ahead and walked out the door.

  Yes, it was definitely time.

  CHAPTER 6

  The Real World

  This lesson was unlike any of Charley’s previous lessons underground, that was for certain. He was seated in a classroom of some kind, which was nothing new. And there were other “students” in the room—also nothing new. But, today, he was learning the truth.

  Charley sat at a small desk in the back of a classroom, with five other young High Scores, each of them facing forward, not daring to move. Commander Orson stood at the front of the class and spoke. “We lie to them to protect them. We lied to you to protect you. Today, we tell you the truth so that you can protect all of us.”

  Charley stiffened as Orson looked directly at him. But Charley had already decided that as long as Grigor remained present, he would be on his best behavior—the time would eventually come. For now, Charley’s goal was to do whatever it took to get Sven back. If that meant going along with Commander Orson’s desire for him to be a Hunter, then so be it. He would throw himself into his training with Grigor and learn as much as he could. When the time came, he would be ready. Ready to free Sven. Ready to zero the System. And ready to zero Commander Orson if that’s what it took.

  Orson paced in front of the class, his boots squeaking with every turn.

  “We are not alone. This may not be news to any of you since you are here because of your high Scores, after all, but I am here today to tell you that …” He stopped and then enunciated each word very clearly. “There are others outside the gates.”

  He paused before continuing.

  “We have allies, and we have enemies.”

  A tall, strapping boy about Charley’s age raised his hand from the front row. Charley remembered him from underground. Hank, or Harry—something like that. The only thing that he could recall with any certainty was that his punches hurt like the devil.

  “Are there monsters outside of the gates?” Hank-Harry asked.

  Orson smiled brightly. “Oh yes, there are monsters. There are men, and there are monsters. There are men who are monsters and monsters who are men, or, should I say, monsters who are almost men.”

  Hank-Harry slowly lowered his hand, confusion now etched on his large features.

  Commander Orson continued. “There are men and monsters and everything in between. The thing you should know about the real world outside of the gates is that the pre-Event world that you studied in your underground books no longer exists.

  “Some of us humans still exist, of course, but the explosions and chemicals and who-knows-what-else in the toxic after-cloud of the Event had some very strange effects, not just on humans but also on animals, plants, and other living things that survived.”

  Commander Orson turned toward Grigor. “Why, Grigor here, for example—” Orson stopped abruptly and seemed to reconsider his words.

  A shadow, almost too quick to notice, passed across Grigor’s eyes.

  Orson took a deep breath and started again. “Why, Grigor here … will show us an example—in fact, many examples—of these monsters.”

  He glanced again at Grigor, but this time Grigor’s face remained impassive.

  Orson turned back to the students. “Today, my young friends, you are headed outside the gates.” He smiled, this time in a not-so friendly way. “Class dismissed.”

  * * *

  Charley stepped outside the gates of Meritropolis for the very first time. It was a momentous moment. Until he looked down. His right foot was set squarely in the middle of the largest pile of animal dung he had ever seen. And it stank. He sighed loudly as his foot made a sucking sound upon removal. He looked up quickly to see if anyone had noticed.

  “One small step for man, one giant manure heap for mankind,” said a tall, red-haired girl with a smirk.

  He groaned inside. The only person to notice his misstep was, of course, the only attractive female in their group of six students.

  He smiled at the girl with a confidence that he didn’t really feel. “I would rather that mankind had made a small step and I a giant leap.”

  She laughed, her nose crinkling up slightly and showing a flash of white teeth. “Good one,” she said and turned away to keep walking behind the others.

  He dragged his foot sideways to wipe off as m
uch of the muck on the tall grass as he could and then hurried to catch up. Grigor was in the lead and had not glanced back since leaving the gates. Charley supposed that he or any of the five other High Scores could easily just set off on their own and leave the group, but where would they even go? The barren fields outside the gates and the dark forest ahead was as good of an incentive as any to stay close to the path that Grigor’s massive back charted out ahead.

  He trotted up beside the red-haired girl and found that he was just slightly taller than her. She looked at him sideways.

  “Something smells. Do you smell that? It’s almost like the smell is following us …” She tried to hide a smile. Charley slowed but then she crinkled her nose again and laughed, slowing her pace to keep even with him. “I’m just kidding! Well, kind of. I mean, something smells out here, and probably you smell, too, but a lot of things smell out here so I guess you can walk with me.”

  She reached out her hand to Charley. “I’m Sandy, by the way.”

  “I’m Charley,” he said. “Nice to meet you Sandy-by-the-way.” He grasped her hand and then released it. She had a strong grip. And a Score of 103.

  She was definitely in high-Score territory, which was why she was there, of course. But she was probably a few years older than Charley, which explained why he didn’t recognize her from below-ground. It was an ingrained habit for any citizen of Meritropolis to check out the Score of anyone they met, but with Sandy’s long legs and other physical assets, there were plenty of other interesting things for Charley to check out as discreetly as he could.

  “Ha—you’re cute. I guess that’s a plus since, age difference or not, you and I are considered prime ‘breeders’ for each other by the System. Maybe I should just let our all-wise Commander Orson force us together. At least that might keep him from ever forcing his way into my bed,” she said, lowering her eyes.

  Charley was taken aback by her sudden burst of speech. “Has Commander Orson—?” he asked.

  “No, no, but it’s not unheard of. I’ve heard talk from others,” she said.