Wall of Fire: A Young Adult Dystopian Novel

by Melanie Tays

  “Next, come over here,” Doctor Hollen instructs, directing us to stand on some kind of strange machine—one for each of us. The base is a rectangular strip, and there are bars to hold on to. He places a band around my head and another that encompasses my chest, then he does the same to Vander and Ashlyn. When he’s finished, he pulls out a tablet and taps a few buttons. Shockingly, the floor beneath my feet begins to shift. Not the floor, really, but the machine I’m standing on. I yelp and start walking to keep from being thrown right off. The others do the same, but without the surprised exclamation.

  “What is this?” I ask.

  “It’s a treadmill,” Doctor Hollen explains. “The bands that I just placed around you will monitor your vital signs and brain function under physical strain to assess your strength and conditioning.”

  I almost have to laugh at whoever came up with the idea of a running machine. I wonder if this is used exclusively for medical exams, such as this one, or if this is something that many people have here. Who would want to expend so much effort just to stay in one place when there’s so much you could accomplish and so many places you could go with that time and energy? Perhaps here in the Flame, with easy assignments and things like cars to drive you around, exercise is something that you have to do for its own sake because life is just too easy. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that.

  I try to settle into a rhythm, but the speed keeps increasing every few seconds. Still, I easily keep pace with the machine. I’m very glad to be wearing my good shoes today. Eason was right about that, so I guess he did help me on this trial, after all.

  Once the treadmills have reached their peak speed, Doctor Hollen excuses himself for a moment and leaves the three of us to continue running alone—if you don’t count our overhead audience leering down at us.

  “Why don’t you sit with us anymore?” Vander asks, and it takes me a second to realize that he’s talking to me, not Ashlyn. She looks a little surprised as well.

  I don’t know why he’s being so friendly today, but I don’t trust him. I want to just ignore him, but I can’t keep myself from laughing. “Why, so you can throw food in my hair, or trip me as I walk by?” I wonder if his whole purpose here is just to distract me during the trial.

  His brow furrows like something I’ve said upsets him, but he doesn’t deny it. “Eason is trouble. You should really stay away from him,” he says instead.

  “I’ll take my chances,” I snap back, but with a twinge of guilt. Maybe the dirt in my face yesterday was an accident and it’s me who’s being petty and mean. But I don’t really think so. I just can’t figure him out.

  “Hey Ashlyn, are you okay?” he asks in concern, noticing how pale she has become. Her breathing is coming in gasps now, much more labored than it should be from the exertion of running.

  She shakes her head and covers her mouth like she’s trying not to vomit, and she looks like she might collapse at any moment.

  “Dad!” Vander yells, but he keeps running.

  At his call, Doctor Hollen comes running.

  Great! So that explains why Vander has been friendly since we’ve been here. He’s the son of the doctor, and I guess he’s putting on a good show for Dad. I suspect that also means that the report about the attack that Doctor Hollen promised to make never actually happened. Still, someone overlooking the maze must have witnessed it, right?

  The doctor pulls out the tablet and uses it to bring Ashlyn’s treadmill to a stop. She immediately slumps to the floor and rests her head on her knees. Doctor Hollen offers her a pill and directs her to place it under her tongue. The relief is instantly visible on her face.

  “Thanks,” she mutters. “I’m just so nervous about everything.”

  I watch all of this without breaking stride.

  “Why don’t we finish up with you first so you can go lay down in your room?” he offers, leading her away. “You two just continue until I return,” he calls to us over his shoulder.

  I could go on jogging for much longer at this pace without difficulty, so I’m not concerned that he’s left us here. I steal a glance at Vander and smile when I see the beads of sweat pouring down his face and soaking through his exam gown. He’s breathing hard.

  The doctor leads Ashlyn behind a curtain, and soon a mechanical hum fills the room.

  “What assignment do you want?” Vander pants as we wait for our turn.

  “You can conserve your energy better if you don’t talk,” I reply.

  He falls silent, so I guess he got my not-so-subtle hint—though I’m actually doing him a favor by getting him to stop wasting oxygen. He should be grateful, but when I look over at him, the dejected expression on his face and the downturn of his pale green eyes assaults me with waves of shame.

  I groan. “I don’t even know what my options are,” I admit. “I just need to pass.”

  “Don’t we all,” he muses, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

  “How about you?”

  “Honestly, I don’t care. Any assignment is perfectly fine with me.”

  I wonder if he’s just saying that so that he won’t be disappointed if he doesn’t get what he really wants, or if he’s a believer that whatever is best for The City is best, period.

  Soon the doctor returns. We fall silent, and he waits for one of us to either give up or for our bodies to give out. Vander is panting hard. It takes a while, but finally he stumbles and is unable to regain his footing before the treadmill sweeps him off the end. With an awkward hop, he barely manages to keep from falling. But he’s off the treadmill, and it comes to a stop.

  “All right, that’s it for you,” Doctor Hollen says. I can’t tell from his expression if he’s pleased or disappointed in his son’s performance. He’s clearly perfected his stoic professional face for situations like this.

  I’m breathing hard, but it’s nothing I can’t handle for a while longer. I’m surprised because I thought that the kids in the Flame trained for the Burning. Even if they didn’t know the exact tests, I’m sure every one of them has been preparing for a test of their physical fitness. They might have treadmills of their own that they run on to practice. But it seems that no amount of manufactured exertion can train you better than the rigors of real life.

  I run in peaceful silence for a few more minutes until the doctor returns for me. A painful stitch is forming in my side, but I know I can push through it. I go for a while longer, but Doctor Hollen and the onlookers from above are starting to look bored and annoyed. Finally, I give in and let myself stumble off the machine.

  Even though I’ve chosen to stop, and I’m expecting the transition between the running belt and the ground, my feet just don’t manage to adjust fast enough. I take a tumble even worse than Vander’s, knocking my head hard against the floor, and everything goes black.

  ***

  When I awake, I’m lying on an uncomfortable bed, and the thrumming noise from earlier is nearby. I’m looking up, and it takes me a minute to realize what I’m seeing because I’m not used to staring at the back of my own head. A three-dimensional projection of myself—inside and out—hovers above me in the air. The doctor taps several buttons on a machine, and then the image disappears.

  “All right, Emery, that is all,” Doctor Hollen announces. “You have completed your Silver Trial and are free to leave.”

  I sit up and rub my head where it impacted the floor, but it feels fine now.

  I want to ask how I fared in the trial. What does my blood sample and body scan say about my value to The City? But I don’t think that’s something he can divulge right now. I remember Keya saying that the Bronze Trial would be the only one for which we would receive our ranking.

  Still, I can’t help feeling confident that, whatever else the tests might show, I can run circles around any of the other contestants, and that must count for something.

  Chapter 15

  Ablaring siren penetrates my sleep and rips me back to wakefulness. It’s just as well to be free of
the torture my dreams were inflicting on me. Bleary-eyed, I sit up and try to figure out what’s going on. It’s not until my intercuff begins to glow yellow that I think to check it for instructions.

  Report to the dining hall.

  I stagger down the hallway, joined by a few other stragglers.

  When I arrive, the main hall is full of contestants, Enforcers, maids, nutrition workers—seemingly everyone in the building is in this room. The screen that previously showed our Bronze Trial results is now displaying a broadcast from what looks like the interior of the Justice Building.

  Terrance Enberg comes into view on the screen, and my heart starts palpitating at irregular intervals. “Citizens of the Flame,” he says. “I regret disturbing you at such a late hour, but a grave situation must be dealt with immediately.”

  He gives a signal, and two Enforcers approach, hauling along a guy in handcuffs. Even though his head is down and his face shrouded, I know immediately who I will see when Terrance grabs a fistful of the boy’s red hair and pulls his head up to face the camera.

  Ty.

  A gentle hand envelopes mine as Eason claims the space next to me.

  “Ty Pierce was apprehended this evening in the midst of an attempt to travel without authorization across the Wall of Fire, from the Flame into the Smoke,” Terrance explains. I guess that explains his absence from the Silver Trial this morning, though I can’t imagine why he would do this. Was he that afraid he would fail the Burning, even after ranking sixth on the Bronze Trial?

  “The order of The City must be maintained for the safety of all,” Terrance goes on. “This is not the first of such infractions by citizens in recent days.” As he says this, I know he must be referring to me. “While in the past the punishment was expulsion to the Ash, the Council fears that the delicate balance that creates the life-sustaining system of The City is being undermined. For this reason, the Council has seen fit, in its wisdom, to elevate illegal crossings to the status of an unforgivable offense for which no degree of leniency can be shown.”

  The camera turns to the wall, and we hear the punishment administered as the Enforcers’ blasters ring out—not the high pitch of a stun blast, but the low whine of a kill shot. Then the screen turns black.

  Shaking, I shrink into Eason’s side. He puts an arm around me and pulls me close, allowing me to bury my face in his neck and stifle a scream.

  Quickly, Eason leads me toward the door. Of course, this means something more to us—the only people here from the Smoke, where Ty was attempting to go—and people intuitively move out of our way, letting us pass.

  It’s more than just that, though. In my gut, I know that this was my fault.

  I let Eason guide me, and it isn’t until he pulls me through an unfamiliar door that it occurs to me that I don’t know where he’s taken me. For a second, I think maybe I was disoriented and he’s actually brought me to my room. Then I notice that the mirror is in the wrong place, and I realize that this must be his room, not mine.

  Once sheltered inside, I collapse in on myself, sinking to the ground in a heap. It’s not just Ty and the gruesome brutality that they made us witness. How am I supposed to ever get back to Whyle if that’s what I’m up against? That could have been me. Maybe it still will be, because even now I know I’ll risk anything to save my brother.

  “They… They… They killed him!” I shout. “I thought the entire reason for the Safe Dome, The City, the Council, all of it, was to keep us safe.”

  Eason sits and pulls me over next to him, wrapping me in his protective embrace and letting me soak his shirt in my tears.

  “It’s my fault, Eason. This wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for me.”

  “How can this have anything to do with you?” he asks, trying to soothe me.

  But I can’t tell him the whole truth. There are too many things I can’t explain—about Whyle and stolen medication and a deal to decipher Eason’s secrets. Not when the long tentacles of Terrance’s surveillance could have followed us even here, to the solitude of Eason’s room.

  Eason runs his fingers through my hair, gently stroking my head, and lets me cry until my tears and strength are exhausted.

  It’s only then that I am able to speak at all, and I tell a lesser truth. I explain Ty’s bizarre questions at our first meeting. “I didn’t know what he was talking about, and he wouldn’t leave me alone. I assured him that as far as I knew, nothing had changed. I should have been more direct with him. That must have had something to do with this. I just don’t know what he thought I knew, or what he was trying to do.”

  “He may have been part of the Resistance,” Eason speculates.

  This is only the second time I have ever heard of a Resistance, both times since crossing the Wall of Fire.

  “What is that?”

  “Well, it’s nothing, technically. No organization. No leader. But the Council believes there’s a growing faction, particularly in the Smoke—though not exclusively—that is unhappy with the way The City runs. Some think they want to leave, others think they want to overthrow the Council and bring down the Wall of Fire. It’s not like they’ve ever made any formal demands, because technically they don’t exist, and that’s why they can’t be caught or stopped.”

  I listen in fascination. “And you think Ty was a part of that?”

  “I don’t know, but I bet the Council thought so.”

  “I’ve never heard anyone talk about a Resistance in the Smoke,” I admit. I can’t imagine that any rational, sane person would actually want out of The City. No matter how imperfect things may be inside, it’s far better than anything we can hope for beyond the barrier. “I don’t believe it actually exists.”

  Eason says nothing, but he chews at the inside of his cheek. He seems to be contemplating something, but says nothing for a long interval.

  I lean my head on his shoulder and relax into the silence. It feels nice, calm and safe. My eyes close and I start to doze, when suddenly he shakes me awake. He puts a finger under my chin and pulls my face up to look at him. He gazes into my eyes, searching for something. I stare back, completely open to him.

  “Do you trust me, Emery?” He’s serious and somber in a way I haven’t seen before, and I’m certain that if I say yes, he’ll tell me everything that I need to give Terrance to save myself.

  Of course I trust him. More than that, though, I am in awe at the trust he seems so willing to place in me. I want so badly to know what makes him confident and self-assured, and fearless. But for his own protection, I can’t let him say it. And even if that wasn’t the case, in this moment, I don’t care what he wants to say because I’m so overcome by the mere fact of his presence and his regard for me.

  I push myself up and press my lips to his.

  The kiss only lasts a few seconds, but it’s enough to make me feel like I’m floating, like time has frozen and the two of us fill the entirety of the universe. Nothing else can matter, because nothing else exists except Eason and me in this moment.

  “Who did you lose a bet to this time?” he whispers when I pull away.

  The spell is broken, and I go rigid like a statue. “It was a dare,” I say stupidly, as if the distinction matters.

  “Oh, my mistake,” he says with an exultant smile.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that you remembered?”

  “Because it didn’t seem like you wanted me to. I figured that if you were willing to risk everything to cross the Wall of Fire, you deserved a fresh start, if that’s what you wanted.”

  “It was stupid of me to take that dare. I’m sorry,” I say with chagrin.

  “I’m not. That was the one moment I actually regretted my decision to join the Burning. You almost made me reconsider.”

  “Really?” Even though I want to, I find that difficult to believe.

  “Really,” he replies with no hint of deception or mockery.

  Hot shame washes over me. I can’t keep playing this evasive game with him. He has to know
the truth about Terrance, and the Council, and their intentions for our friendship—or whatever this is. I just have to be careful how I tell him.

  “Eason, you need to know something,” I whisper. The gravity of my expression and tone shifts the mood in an instant.

  He puts his finger to my lips for silence. “I have to tell you something too,” he replies, equally cautious.

  He pulls himself away from me and crosses the room. When he comes back, he’s cradling a small wooden box. Instead of flipping open the lid on top, I watch as he slides a panel on the bottom, pulls out a wooden peg, and opens a hidden compartment. He removes a thin, jagged pin from the secret partition, and I recognize it as the key that was used to activate my intercuff the night it was put on, except this one is the color of tarnished bronze.

  I open my mouth in shock, and he covers it with his hand before I can utter a word. He presses a finger to his own lips, cautioning silence.

  Though I have a million questions, I keep my mouth shut as he effortlessly removes first his band, and then mine.

  Chapter 16

  “Now they can’t hear us,” he says, no longer reserved.

  This completely confirms my suspicion that we can be listened to anywhere, though I should have realized that the intercuffs are the perfect spy tool. This also means that all of my efforts to keep him from saying anything compromising over the past few days were unnecessary, and I feel silly thinking of all of my clumsy and hasty evasions and exits. All along, he was more aware of the danger than even I was.

  I rub my wrist, and it feels so wonderful to be free of the shackle. “Where did you get that?”

  “It was a gift. But that’s not the point. We can’t leave them off for long or it will be noticed.”

  Eason is full of surprises. I can’t imagine how he came to be in possession of that device. I’m positive he’s not supposed to have it. Right now, however, there are more important matters to discuss.