by S. M. Wilson
“We are looking for volunteers.” Surprise, surprise.
“Individuals who are prepared to look to the greater good of the planet.” Individuals who are prepared to die.
“But this time our prime directive will be the collection of eggs.” The murmuring around her stopped. No one had seen that one coming.
“One from the tyrannosauruses, one from the pterosaurs and one from the velociraptors.” Three of the most ferocious and feared monsters alive. Three of the monsters that had caused the most casualties on any previous trip to Piloria. How on earth would it be possible to steal eggs from these dinosaurs? It was practically a death sentence.
Images appeared on the screen. But not real pictures – oh no. No one had ever got that close to a tyrannosaurus egg before. A few fragments of shell had been found in the past, but that was it. Nothing definitive.
All around her people were shaking their heads. Talking about the journey across the ocean, with no likely hope of return. Who, in their right mind, would try and steal a tyrannosaurus egg?
Then came the propaganda. The promises. Preferential health care. Promoted housing. Unlimited food supplies. Better schooling for children, and access to more power from the grid supply. All for those who were successful in securing the dinosaur DNA – and for their families.
Family didn’t matter to Storm. She didn’t have one.
“All who return from Piloria will be given extra food rations for a limited time. But only those who return with eggs will reap all the rewards for themselves, and their families.”
Eyes were glazing over around her – people were mesmerized by the promises of all the things they’d ever dreamed of.
Storm thought back to last year’s trip. The ship had been sent off with great fanfare and expected to make the journey and return in a month.
And then? Nothing, nothing at all.
The ship had finally limped home six months later, with three survivors and a whole array of inedible produce. Some of the samples they’d brought home had been poisonous – killing two other survivors on the way back. But the trip was hailed a success – and in a way it was. The grey tasteless food group cornup had been found. It was horrid, but once planted it grew in the space of one month in even the most overused soil. And to the delight of the government, it was full of energy.
There was no mention of the lost ninety-seven. It was almost as if they hadn’t existed. Hadn’t torn themselves away from their families and friends in order to try and create a better existence for all.
And that’s exactly what would happen this time too. It all seemed such a waste.
Words appeared on the screen. Telling Entrants where to register. Telling them of the rigorous selection process. The Trials would start in six days. And the Finalists from across the entire continent would be selected here – in Ambulus City.
Stormchaser turned and let herself be carried along by the crowd, back to the bottlenecked doors, then spilling out onto the ground outside. Dell appeared next to her.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
She leaned forward then back, arching her spine, smiling in amusement as Dell winced at the loud crack. There. Instant relief. The crick in her neck was gone. Standing in the tightly packed auditorium was never pleasant.
“Sore again?”
She shook her head. “It’s always sore. Breaking something vital will do that to you.”
“You should ask for a transfer. Someone with your injury shouldn’t be lugging hay bales.”
“And be stuck at the energy plant all day? No thanks. That would be worse than being in a classroom one day a week.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t answer the question.”
“About what?” She was being deliberately obtuse.
“About going to the Trials? We’re fifteen now. This is the first year that we’re actually eligible.”
She flung her hands up. “And what would be the point of that? Why on earth would I want to be part of a plan that’s trying to destroy living creatures? Let’s face it – I’m much more likely to die than them. The odds are distinctly in their favour.”
Dell’s brow wrinkled. “I don’t get you. I really don’t. The creatures you care about are safe. Milo is safe. No one’s interested in them. Why would you want to protect some of the most ferocious monsters on the planet? They’re being specific. They’re targeting the ones that mean we can’t settle on the land. No one wants to wake up with a T-rex breathing down their neck. What’s your problem?”
A few people glanced at them on the way past. Storm kept her voice low. “What if this is just the start? They say it’s only the T-rex, the pterosaur and the velociraptor now. But what if they really want to get rid of all dinosaurs?”
“We need space, Storm.” Dell spoke quietly. “We’re living on top of each other as it is. And do you really want to keep eating cornup for the rest of your life?”
Storm’s stomach turned over. Cornup might be nutritious, but it was the most disgusting substance known to man. Even the smell made her want to be sick.
Dell’s eyes widened and he moved next to her. “Do you know what I heard? Last year, at the try-outs, all the Entrants got to eat the reserved foods. I heard they had peaches. Peaches. There was even a rumour there were apples too. We’ve never even seen apples in the flesh. Imagine the sweet taste in your mouth? Even if you never progressed in the tryouts, wouldn’t it be worth it just to eat some decent food for a few days?”
Storm’s stomach gave an obligatory rumble. It certainly wasn’t the worst idea she’d heard.
Dell was still trying to coax her. Just like he always did. He knew her well, he knew the right buttons to push. Just like she did with him. “Come on, Storm, think about it. We could sign up for the Trials, eat food for a few days then fail at whatever the challenge is. How hard can it be?”
Storm was turning the idea over in her mind. Any Entrant was automatically excused from their work placement and school for the days away. Only people who held “essential” jobs, like the scientists or Stipulators, weren’t allowed to volunteer. Getting away from hay bales for a few days wouldn’t exactly be a stress.
She gave a small smile. “I’m not promising anything. I’ll think about it. What would we have to do at these Trials anyway?”
Dell shrugged. “Who cares? As long as they feed us.” He frowned up at one of the Blocks. “I’d best get home. Just think about it. We can talk tomorrow.” He waved and disappeared off through the dark streets.
Her footsteps were automatic, taking her to the only place she could get a little privacy, back to the loch. But Milo was nowhere in sight.
He’d vanished into the depths again. His appearances were becoming less frequent. It was almost as if the plesiosaurs could sense the human unrest and knew when to disappear from view.
No one cared. No one looked on the dinosaurs as anything other than a threat. Even where creatures like Milo existed, occupying lakes and lochs. Calm, peaceful creatures that were no more threat than a butterfly in the sky.
She watched, as in the distance the hump of the plesiosaur’s body broke the waves.
No one cared.
Stormchaser cared.
The streets were packed, thousands of people thronging their way through at the change of shift. For the lucky ones, it was the end of the day and they could head home to bed. The unlucky ones were waking up to a night shift, then returning home to a still-warm bed, just vacated by the day worker they shared with. Space was at such a premium it had reached the stage that one person could no longer be allocated one bed.
Lincoln was lucky in a way. His family lived in the caves. No one wanted to stay in those – let alone share them. He moved swiftly through the crowd, bumping into people coming from every direction.
The exchange happened quickly. Silently. Even the street cameras could never pick up on a hidden brushing of hands amongst the crowd.
He kept walking, scrunching his hand ar
ound the paper, keeping his shoulders back and his eyes firmly focused on the way ahead. His steps were steady, even though his heart was drumming a rapid beat against his chest. He was doing nothing to draw attention to himself.
The scrunched-up paper jagged into the palm of his hand, taunting him – a burning coal would feel more comfortable.
His legs weren’t listening to the signals to stay calm. They were threatening to break into a run. He moved swiftly, heading for home. He nodded to a few people around the caves before finally lifting the makeshift door into place behind him and sliding down the cool red wall.
He uncrumpled the paper in his hand. The writing was sprawled across the page. A list.
Three days’ worth of cornup rations. That’s what he’d had to pay.
This better be worth it.
She hadn’t seen Milo for three days. That wasn’t unusual. Sometimes he disappeared for weeks at a time, leaving the loch by some unknown means and appearing along the coastline.
But sign-up for Entrants was tomorrow, followed by Camp for who knew how many days? How long could she keep up the pretence of being interested in the Trials before getting thrown out? How much food could she eat in that short space of time?
She wandered along the beach. Ambulus City had apparently started as a fishing village but had grown exponentially, reaching inland and eventually surrounding the loch. Five thousand sectars beyond the city centre, the beach was practically the only unpopulated strip of land left. Thank goodness the sands kept shifting, otherwise there’d be dwellings here too.
The sea was flat. No sign of any of the plesiosaurs. But something else caught her eye.
A flash of red to her right on the cliff face, where it jutted out into the sea. Somebody was climbing. Climbing quickly up the rugged rock. Bare hands and feet finding holds on the wall. Strong arms and legs pushing and pulling the lean body upwards. She squinted at the figure. Blond scraggy hair, sallow skin. She couldn’t see the face. Not that she would know him anyway. She didn’t know anyone who could climb like that.
Then he hesitated, just for a second, his hand connecting with the rock face and then losing its hold.
The body tumbled backwards through the air, like a bright red spool of thread unravelling. She held her breath, conscious of the anxiety building in her chest, willing the momentum to carry his body away from the cliffs, rather than towards the sharp rocks underneath.
He disappeared into the foam-tipped waves at the base of the cliff.
She still couldn’t breathe, willing him to break the surface and reappear. Her legs carried her forward, wading through the surf. She was too far away to be of any use, but her natural instincts drove her on.
Her eyes scanned the surface of the water. It seemed an eternity before, finally, she caught a flash of red. Her breath hissed out all at once.
He was safe.
She watched. She waited. Any minute now he would turn and swim towards the shore.
Except he didn’t. He swam towards the base of the cliff once again and scrambled over the rocks. What on earth was he doing?
The waves crashed over him as he stood on the rocks, staring up at the cliff face. His head tilted slightly, as if he were contemplating his course above. Was he mad?
Then he arched his back, flexed his fingers and started to climb. This time, there was no hesitation, just a show of complete determination. The sun was beginning to set behind him as she stood on the shoreline, fascinated by the sight of the gangly youth with the determined chin making his way up the cliff.
He didn’t waver for a second. He scaled the wall like a spider, while she wrapped her arms around herself in the warm orange light, ignoring the waves around her ankles.
As he reached the top he hooked his arm over the edge of the cliff and hauled himself upwards. She waited for him to stand and look down at what he’d achieved.
But he didn’t.
He never stopped. He just walked into the distance as if it were something he did every day.
The bell was clanging, reverberating around the cave. No one was talking. His mother and sister were just looking. Looking at him as if it were the last time they would see him.
Last time they’d looked like this had been the day the man had appeared to tell them about the accident that meant his father would never be coming home again.
He swallowed and gave his mother a small nod. He couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t hug her. Arta was trying her best to look well. He couldn’t touch her either. Every part of her skin was blistered, some areas red and peeling, showing signs of infection.
Arta shook her head. “There’s still time to change your mind, Lincoln. This is silly. You’ve got nothing to prove. Who cares about the dinosaurs?”
He stayed rigid. It was the only way he could keep his safety net in order. But his hand betrayed him and reached up and touched her cheek. There was a blue tinge around the corners of her mouth. She was getting worse.
His eyes flickered over to his mother as he dropped his hand. She could barely look at him. The last two weeks had been fraught. I’m already losing a daughter, I don’t need to lose a son too. The words echoed around Lincoln’s head.
But in amongst the anger and tension there was understanding. She knew why he was doing this. She would never ask him to do it. But the unspoken words were there.
Lincoln smiled at Arta. “It’s not about the dinosaurs. It’s about us. Getting us somewhere better to stay. Finding a way out of these caves.”
Arta’s hand touched the damp wall. “It’s not so bad here, Linc. Just stay. Stay with me.”
If he remained a second longer he would crumble.
She knew.
She knew she was dying. She was asking him to be by her side while she waited to die. Any second now his chest would explode.
He couldn’t watch that. He couldn’t let her give up. It was his job to fight for her.
He shook his head. “Just wait.” He couldn’t keep the harsh tone from his voice. “Wait. I’ll be back. You’ll see.” Inside he was pleading with her to hold on, but he couldn’t acknowledge that – couldn’t say the secret words out loud. No one was admitting that Arta was going to die.
Tears glistened in her eyes as she nodded disbelievingly. He picked up the bag and walked out of the door. Out into the sunshine. Out into the fresh air.
His legs were trembling, threatening not to hold his weight and let him collapse to the ground. But every stride, every step gained a little more strength, a little more momentum.
The next steps he took would determine all their futures.
The queue snaked around the building. “Storm, over here!”
She smiled. Dell must have got here as soon as the sun rose. He had probably been in the line before the bell had tolled. She ignored the glares of a few others and joined him with her backpack in her hands.
She looked at the long, winding queue. It wasn’t quite as long as it had been last year. People were scared. They weren’t listening to the propaganda so much now. They all knew exactly how many people had come back last year.
Yet there had to be more than two thousand people waiting in line and only one hundred would eventually qualify. Some people must have travelled for days to get here. They looked tired, bedraggled. But most of all they looked hungry.
There were a few in the queue who, Storm guessed, were there for the food, like her. But the Stipulators were getting wise to that. If you didn’t pass the first stage, you didn’t get as much as a whiff of extra rations.
The line moved forward painfully slowly. The Entrants sign hung over the glass doors of the city auditorium. It took three hours to reach it.
As soon as they stepped through the doors the heat was stifling. Reban Don was hovering in the background, casting his eyes over the potential candidates as they signed up at the tables.
“Name?” The blank-faced woman was almost looking right through her. How many times would she have to do this today?
; “Stormchaser Knux.”
“Age?”
“Fifteen.” The woman’s eyes flickered upwards, running up and down her body.
“Work placement?”
She lifted her chin. “Farm labourer.” She said the words with pride. She wasn’t ashamed of the job she did – in a way, she’d chosen it. The woman didn’t even look up, just scribbled the note on her paper. There was nothing essential about tossing hay bales around. At least she knew they couldn’t refuse her for that.
The woman waved her hands. “Stand on the scales.”
“What?”
She frowned at her. “The scales. Stand on the scales.”
Storm kicked off her shoes and stood on the weighing scales. It seemed bizarre.
“That’s fine. Up against the wall, we’ll check your height.”
A man appeared beside her with a tape measure. “And your arm span, please?”
Now she was really confused.
“Hold out your arms.” He demonstrated the position he wanted her to assume and ten seconds later she was done.
The woman handed her a green card with a letter on it. “Hall C.” She pointed behind her and Storm followed the signs.
Her eyes swept up and down the corridor. Dell had been at the desk right next to her. There were some shouts from the registration desks, sounds of a scuffle. A few minutes later he appeared with a similar green card.
“What was all that about?”
“Didn’t you hear? The woman at the end desk was too light, they sent her home. No food – nothing. She travelled for five days to get here.”
“But I don’t get it. What does it matter what you weigh? Or how long your arms are?”
Dell shrugged. “Who cares? They’ve not flung us out yet.” He stepped into the hall.
“They’ve not fed us yet either,” she muttered, following him through.
Yesterday had been hard. The rations she received hadn’t even taken the edge off her hunger, or given her enough energy to carry out her job. She’d almost collapsed trying to lug the hay bales. Her supervisor had growled at her, telling her that if she couldn’t keep up, she’d be assigned another job – and that was the last thing she wanted.