by P. S. Lurie
One of the guards shoots his gun into the air. “Anyone who doesn’t stand aside will be held accountable for treason.”
Plenty of my father’s counterparts have moved forward and stand between me and the guards so the sightline isn’t clear. Killing anyone else could be enough to spark a brawl. Would people just accept my death? I look around at all of the exits; to keep people in check there is only one main doorway and I’m never going to escape that way. The drainage system has a thin opening but I don’t know where it goes and I imagine a sharp, fatal drop or narrowing to a dead end. Either way, dead is the watchword.
There’s also the air-filtering system of vents and metal shafts that run between each floor of the fortress. All I need is to get out of this room and it might be my best chance. I look to where some of the technicians have opened up a grate in the ceiling, underneath of which a ladder reaches into the roof.
The guards are shouting at Lester and the others, warning them that they are obstructing justice. If I hadn’t already pushed it too far then my next move means no turning back. I hand the baby back to its mother. “Sorry,” I say, smacking the wrench into the mainframe that may affect all of the doors and the process in which the identification panels operate through the fortress, and then I grab a handful of the watches nestled in a pile on the workstation and dash to the air vent.
The guards trace me and break through the crowd. A gun fires past me and hits the ladder, and everyone in my sight ducks for cover. I scramble up the steps as a bullet pierces my leg but I’m already pulling myself up into the claustrophobic tunnel and dragging myself out of danger before the pain reaches me. I don’t stop to look at the wound because another bullet could prove fatal.
Theia
The familiar beep of the door lock. The musky smell of the stale air. The severe artificial light breaking through my lids.
I open my eyes.
I’m on my bed once more – how many times is that today? – and take in my surroundings. I play back the illusion of having to fight Maddie which seemed so real. I rub my temple where she punched me but it doesn’t hurt any more than the rest of my body. After the fake encounter with President Callister, the extra layer of deceit has veered me towards wanting to end my life. I’m not sure how many more times I can go through this torture.
I’ve lost track of all sense of time. I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep or if I’ve left this room in days or if any of what I’ve experienced is true or not. I slump back down; I don’t even know if I’m awake now.
I twist my legs out and force myself to stand up so that I can do a sweep of the room. The notepad is empty. The supposed water quenches my supposed thirst. The door is... open?
Déjà vu hits hard, even if previously I heard an alarm but this time around silence prevails. Opting to go through the door last time led to another test to prove my allegiance to President Callister. I couldn’t do it, so there’s no point in trying again and I sit back on my bed.
I felt awake last time but... this time... I do a mental scan of my body. I can’t explain it but I really do feel different, like I’m tired and I’m more prepared to stay in here. There’s no point leaving, I tell myself, because it’ll only be towards some dilemma set up by the Upperlanders to test me. But this time feels different; I’m actually tired, my legs feel weak and I don’t have a pull to leave and follow a particular path. In that skewed reality President Callister created for me I was controlled to leave. Now, I’m not so sure. Am I actually awake?
This leaves me with the obvious predicament: either I do leave which is exactly what’s expected of me or I choose to leave through a door that was mistakenly unlocked.
I throw the pillow over my head, opting for going nowhere, pleased with my choice. It doesn’t improve my chance of escape but I avoid any altercations. It’s not long before I curse myself; curiosity wins out and I force myself out of the room.
Oddly, the door opposite mine opens without any resistance. I don’t need a watch to pass through any of the doors along this corridor to decide that I’m not welcome. As a test, I hold the identification device up to a panel but nothing happens. The system actually seems powered down.
Each room that I inspect is as barren as the one I’ve been held in but there’s not a soul around, every one as empty as the one before. There’s a clear exit marked above the door at the end of this prison ward holding a single prisoner. It’s the same door that gave way the last time I thought I had escaped but I’m not ready to pass through it just yet. I need one more test.
I return to my room and pick up the pencil. I grit my teeth and ram it into the centre of my left palm. Instantly, I scream in agony as it pierces my skin and blood seeps out.
Adrenaline kicks in, not for the pain but for the realisation that I’m awake.
I pull the pencil out but the nib breaks off under my skin and leaves dots of blood to pool and spread along the lines in my palm, which sends my head into a memory of Jason’s blood trickling between the tile gaps in the Ethers’ kitchen.
There’s no time to bandage my hand. I have to move now.
Ruskin
Ronan walks with us back to our houses, agreeing that we meet the others and leave for the Upperlands as soon as we collect anything we want. I’m after something in particular. Jack falls back with Melissa and Selene, walking at her pace.
“How safe are the Middlelanders going to be considering President Callister has helicopters and heat-sensitive technology to hand?” I ask Ronan in private.
“Only thing I can tell you is to hope for the best.”
I appreciate his honesty but feel irritated that I’m out at sea clinging once more onto that damned sentiment of hope.
“You think she’ll be ok?” Ronan asks me.
“She’s strong. I only knew her through Henry but I saw her in the prison. She kept us alive. Besides, I wouldn’t deprive her of a bit of revenge.” I know that’s what overpowers hope when I need a pick up.
“And Selene?”
I turn and, at that moment, Melissa holds her hand out but Selene bats it away. “She’s stubborn. Didn’t die.”
“Where was she?”
“When we were on the Fence? Near the Utopia. She survived the blast.”
“No one else did. We swept the city for survivors.”
I want to hear that Maddie survived as well as the couple that ran towards the lift after we took the final places but we found no one during the following days and Ruskin is the first to arrive in six months. “You didn’t find us at the hospital.”
“We gave it a few days. We waited for the Middlelanders to retaliate but when they didn’t we moved through.”
I sneer. “Any survivors would have been dead by then.” It was a disgusting decision to wait but wholly expected given the track record of the Upperlanders. Selene should know that there’s no way Nathaniel could have lived through the blast after being buried under the rubble for that long. Even if he’d managed to free himself he would have stumbled around and died from his injuries. Disclosing it to Selene will keep her on mission. I’ll tell her on the way up to the Fence.
I point ahead. “We’re here.”
“Why these?” Ronan asks. He was old enough to trace a route to the street he grew up on so he must know this is a different area.
“That’s Selene’s house. Plus it’s close enough to where the Middlelanders resettled and from what we figured out no one died in them.”
“My father and grandparents died.”
“You remember them?”
Ronan nods. “I was terrified. I remember Theia running around whilst everyone ate a meal and then my mother was killed because Theia jumped over the fence into...”
“She was trying to save your life,” I interject.
“I know. But I was taught to forget. I began to work it out whilst I was pretending to be Henry in the army, whilst they trained me to hate my family. They made us believe our families had tried to kill us and that we w
ere the lucky few to survive the night. Then, when President Callister figured out who I was after learning about Leda she employed some of the doctors to go hard on me. Nothing I could do kept me from slipping away.”
“But then you saw Theia and told us to run.”
“President Callister wants Theia on her side. She might think I’m dead but she won’t tell Theia that. Even if they think I’m dead they’ll search for me.”
“Then we’re walking into a trap.”
“My friends agreed to report that they watched me jump. They’ve been pretending longer than I have.”
“I hope so.” And there it is again, the flickering buoy in the vast ocean that I cling onto time and time again. Hope. At its very best I can imagine the future when life with Jack is peaceful and we can be left alone to play out the fantasies we’ve held together for so long. At its worst... I think of the prison cell and the boy who killed himself before we were instructed to fight one another. I figure that even on my lowest days when I think about ending my life I don’t because of Jack and because of hope. It keeps me afloat, dry and safe as the sea recedes but it’s no longer about waiting for the world to sort itself out around me, now it’s about me fighting for a better future.
The others catch up to us; Selene stops with her hands on her hips massaging them.
“Ten minutes,” Jack says. Melissa and Selene enter their house.
“You want to come in?” I ask Ronan. “You must be hungry.”
“I’m fine,” Ronan says. “It’s good to see you again Ruskin. I’m sorry about your family.”
“You know what happened to them?”
“I heard your parents were executed. Your brother died in the great cull.”
“I’ll be upstairs packing,” Jack says and caresses my back as he leaves us.
I deliberate asking Ronan about my brother’s disappearance. There’s no reason he should know but there’s always the possibility. “You knew Jason?”
“No. Not at all.”
I can’t bring myself to ask. “You sure you don’t want to come in?”
“I’ll wait outside.” Ronan runs his finger along his neck under the lining of the sheen black uniform, airing his body.
“I’ll be as quick as I can.” I leave, without asking about my brother and figuring that if Ronan knew anything he would have told me. I can’t deal with hearing another person suggest he’s dead. I have to hope there’s a chance. There it is, one more time. Hope. It got me through so much already and I’ll wager that I’ll be needing it a few more times before the day is through.
Jack
“I’m up here,” I shout as I hear footsteps beneath me, and then they start to move up the staircase.
We definitely don’t need this much space for the two of us and we’ve turned the upstairs floor into a self-contained house. We’re hardly downstairs except for the kitchen at the back. It feels comforting to be on the second floor. There’re no homeless people passing the windows and we’ll be out of immediate reach from the sea in case it suddenly rushes back, but mostly I think it would buy us more time to hide if the Upperlanders attacked. We don’t even use every room up here. Ruskin and I managed together in a much smaller cell than any of these rooms and anyway it’s not like we have many possessions between us. Melissa and Selene are different; Selene occupies the lower floor, sleeping on the couch, because stairs still exhaust her.
Ruskin looks relieved as he always does once he steps foot in here, the scorn that he wears with pride washes away once his guard drops. It’s our safe haven, except for the nightmares. To this day it’s not just people that affect him. He panics in large spaces.
In the dead of night about a month after we’d moved in, he told me about being dropped off by the helicopter on the outskirts of the city into the field after spending a year in the cell. Then he lost his parents once more.
“Everything alright with him?”
Ruskin nods. “He’s had a rough time. We all have but at least they didn’t mess with our minds. Him and Selene, it’s so wrong.”
“I know.” I also know that he’s thinking about Theia and what President Callister has been doing to her. “We’ll find her. In the meantime she’s strong.” I change the subject. “You trust him? Ronan?”
“I don’t know.”
“Trust me?”
“Meh,” he says, with a small laugh and then he walks over and slips his arms around my waist before kissing me.
“What was that for?”
“For being you. For knowing the right thing to say. Are you sure you’re alright with going? My boyfriend the pacifist heading into battle.”
“This may come as a surprise to you but I’m relieved. At least it’ll get Travis off my back.”
“Let’s hope he has it if we encounter any problems.”
I walk over to the window and look down at Ronan. He’s sitting on the kerb, his feet on the road, looking like the child he is. “He didn’t shoot us on the Fence.”
Ruskin joins me. “He did send us over the bridge towards the Utopia.”
“What choice did he have? His mind was corroded.”
We watch him as he looks up and down the street, clearly pained to be back here. It was how we felt the first few weeks: surreal to be back but also distressing that we never had to leave because everything that happened was in vain. The four of us kept to ourselves at first and even though we recognised a few of the Middlelanders it was weeks before we trusted anyone. They didn’t feel like our people, they hadn’t experienced the hardships of that night or the year that followed and we didn’t feel like them either. We came back with tales of the world beyond the Fence, of entitlement and technology and finally betrayal of their own leaders. A few scouts followed our directions under the tunnel into the Upperlands, including Dante. Some returned and others didn’t but those who did verified everything we said. They also agreed that the fortress seemed impenetrable. Now Ronan tells us there may be a way up.
Ruskin turns back to the room. “What are you packing?”
“Water, mainly. This.” I reveal the gun that Ruskin took off Ronan.
“How did you...”
“Just now. Sneaky, hey.” I inspect the gun.
“Want to give it back?”
It’s almost empty but Ruskin found some bullets in the market and I go to the drawer that houses them and pick out some that fit. “Not yet. You want me to carry anything?”
“No,” Ruskin replies, as he puts on a thick pullover. He walks around to his side of the bed and takes something from the cabinet, which he then slips it into his back pocket. “Ready.”
Theia
I’m through more doors but many take me to dead ends and the areas start to become hazy instead of familiar. I move away from the corridor of holding cells, like my own room, and quickly find bedrooms lavishly designed with similar features as Kate’s apartment but there still isn’t anyone around. I remember how quiet the Upperlands were during the daytime when everyone was at work or social parties and wonder if it’s similar here, or if I’m caught up in a dream state that President Callister has distilled so that there’s only me and... I dread to think who she has waiting in store. I’m also struggling to find a window to the outside. Only now do I start to hear voices as I move farther into the heart of the fortress and never seeming to get any closer to the edge of the structure; all I remember from arriving in the helicopter was being separated from Leda and Ronan and marched blindfolded through to the room that I have been in for however long.
Then I turn a corner, peer around another door and find myself standing at the top of a dimly-lit auditorium space containing plush semi-circles of foldable seats that occupy about twenty well-raked rows. There’s a decent stage but again I’m the lone person here. There are no directions and no helpful signs stating ‘Exit’. Or ‘Leda’.
The first person I encounter is a woman setting up a dining hall. She wears a white apron, clean and pressed like the clothes in the Upp
erlands that reveal privilege beyond anything we could have hoped for in the Middlelands. She is as taken aback by my presence as I am of her. I’m more relieved by coming into contact with her than perturbed; for starters, I doubt this woman would appear heavily in one of President Callister’s hypnotic schemes.
“Shouldn’t you be at school?” she asks me, inspecting my odd clothes as I hide my wounded hand behind my back. This is either one vivid hallucination or further proof that I’m awake.
“I’m...” I don’t know what to say. I hold up my bleeding hand. “I had to go to the hospital.”
“Sweetheart, that doesn’t look good.”
“I’m just a bit lost.”
She laughs, kindly. “It is a bit confusing isn’t it, this place? I do miss the Upperlands but we’ll be out of here soon. President Callister promises it will be imminent. I don’t recognise you. Who are your parents?”
I zone out of her questions as any sense of her empathy is lost on me when I remember that somehow she’s survived all of the death that led to us being here and doesn’t seem in the slightest perturbed.
“Your name? Can I call your mother?”
“What? No...” The actual truth is too dangerous to say. “She’s a doctor.”
“Perfect. She’ll be able to sort out your hand. The hospital is down that way.” She points to a door over to the side. “You’ll find it past the ballroom and cinema.”
The word jogs one of my earliest memories into focus, of sitting in the school hall as movies played out, distracting us from the commencement of the Fence. These people haven’t changed from those I knew in the Upperlands who had plenty of amenities in their shopping mall; still living out their days enjoying themselves, putting aside any guilt of past atrocities they ignored once they found themselves in the ‘to be saved’ line.