The Forsaken (Forsaken - Trilogy)

by Lisa M. Stasse

  I feel like bursting into tears. If I were alone, I probably would. But I refuse to cry in front of Gadya. I’m mad at myself for even feeling like I want to.

  I glare back at her. “So what if boys are giving me attention? Back home I was invisible for the first sixteen years of my life. Boys never gave me the time of day. Ever. I was just a random orphan girl.” I swallow hard, to stop from getting teary again. “Here, I feel different, like I’ve found people who don’t look through me. Like you, Rika, Veidman, and yes, Liam too. But I am not going after him, or anyone else, okay? So back off.”

  Gadya blinks a couple times, keeping up a hard face to mask the emotions roiling beneath the surface. “That’s exactly how I felt before I came here,” she finally mutters. “Invisible, I mean. I guess it’s been so long that I forgot how it was back home. I could never get along with anyone. I don’t even know why things are so different here.”

  I keep glaring at her.

  She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, her face softening. “Look, I’m an idiot, okay?” Words come tumbling out like a painful confession. “Maybe I’m used to getting a lot of attention from the guys. Not as much as Meira gets, of course, but Veidman scares everyone away. And yeah, I do remember what it was like to feel unwanted in the UNA, like you’re just part of the wallpaper. Or a crummy piece of old furniture. A number instead of a person.” She exhales shakily. “So do you forgive me for acting like a spaz?”

  “Yeah,” I say, relieved. “Of course.”

  She steps forward, and we hug. Then she lets go of me. “I guess I still haven’t gotten over Liam, huh? Pretty dumb to get hung up over a boy.” She pauses. “And for what it’s worth, I dumped him because he wouldn’t spend any time with me. He’s only interested in hanging out with his buddies and talking about hunting. But it still hurts.”

  “At least you guys had a relationship. I’ve never even been on a single date,” I confess.

  “You will soon, with the way boys look at you here.” Gadya grins at me.

  Our argument has ended as quickly as it began, like a summer rain shower.

  Just as we move to the edge of the clearing and start walking up one of the trails, I hear a sudden crash. Assassin Elite comes running out of the forest. I gasp, startled, banging into Gadya.

  “Boo!” he yells, cackling wildly.

  “Moron!” Gadya yells back. “Were you eavesdropping on us?”

  “You wish!” He laughs as he playfully dodges a blow from Gadya’s fist. “Your girl talk doesn’t interest me. But it might interest Liam!” He laughs again as Gadya tries to kick him between the legs.

  “Get out of here, you perv!” she yells. Still laughing, he races up the path away from us. Gadya looks like she wants to chase him, but she just sighs. “He’s a good hunter, but he’s so immature, he drives me crazy.”

  I hear him cackling in the distance. “He’s the kind of guy who makes girls wish they were still invisible,” I say.

  Gadya laughs. “No doubt.”

  “What’s his real name, anyway?”

  “Sinxen Ro,” Gadya says, spelling his first name out for me. “He’s really touchy about it, probably because it’s so freaking weird. Everyone calls him Sinxen anyway, instead of Assassin Elite.”

  “Good to know. I like it better.”

  We keep walking, ducking our heads under branches. I’m not even sure where we’re going. “So, what do you think about David?” I finally ask. “He seemed really normal to me. And last night he actually tried to help me and Rika when the drones attacked.”

  “I trust Veidman. If he thinks something fishy is going on, then I believe him. But if David’s who he seems, then he’ll become part of our village, just like you.”

  I nod. “And what about Tiger Strike? What do you really think about it?”

  “Honestly? Rebuilding sucks. I’m burned out. We need to find a way off the wheel before it’s too late.”

  “So you’ll go with the expedition party? I mean, if they leave?”

  “Yup, with the rest of the hunters.”

  “I guess I’ll just stay here in the village with Rika,” I say glumly.

  “If enough hunters go, there might not be much of a village left.”

  I don’t reply. Obviously I’m hoping a lot of hunters decide to stay, because I don’t want to get slaughtered. But I also realize that on the wheel, I might not have the luxury of keeping my hands clean. If I want to stay alive, I might have to get down in the dirt. And fight.

  THE CAPTIVE

  THAT AFTERNOON, I VOLUNTEER for another assignment. Veidman needs someone to bring a tureen of vegetable soup to David and the other prisoners, so I tell him that I’ll do it. This is partly because I want to feel useful, but mainly because I want to check in on David and find out if I can help him.

  The tureen is a large, heavy copper drum with a lid on it. Gadya and Rika help me get it into a backpack made from dried hoofer skin, and I hoist the pack over my shoulders. I have a walk ahead of me. The prison kennels are set half a mile from the main camp for security reasons.

  “Watch your back around the prisoners,” Gadya advises me. “Even if David turns out to be okay, the others definitely aren’t.”

  “Yeah, just give the soup to their guard, and he’ll dole it out,” Rika adds.

  “Who’s their guard?”

  “Markus Horvath. He’s from New Portland.”

  I try to loosen the vine straps over my shoulders. They’re biting into my flesh, but I don’t complain because I don’t want to sound like a wimp. “How many prisoners are there?”

  “Fourteen. We had fifteen, but one ran away a month ago. It was a big relief actually, because then we didn’t have to waste food on him anymore.”

  “Gadya likes to pretend she’s heartless,” Rika adds, giving my backpack a pat. “If you haven’t figured that out yet.”

  “I’m not pretending,” Gadya retorts.

  With a wave, I start heading up the path leading to the kennels.

  “Be careful!” Rika calls after me.

  I hike through the forest, my feet crunching on twigs and dried leaves. Thick vines hang overhead, crisscrossing the path like electrical cables. Sometimes I have to crouch and duck underneath them. Tall trees on either side form natural walls of foliage, as dense as a hedge maze in places.

  I realize this is one of the first times I’ve been alone since arriving at the village. Every sound is magnified, my senses on high alert. I quicken my pace. The backpack grows heavier, but I settle into a good hiking rhythm.

  Strange birds trill and call to one another overhead. I tilt my head up and catch a glimpse of multicolored wings fluttering past beneath the canopy of trees. No place with such beautiful birds can be all bad, I tell myself. But I’m not sure I believe it.

  Eventually the path ends in a small clearing that houses the kennels—two long rows of bamboo prison cells, about thirty in all. There’s no sign of a guard.

  Worried, I slow down. From my angle of approach, I can’t even see who’s inside the bamboo cells.

  “Markus?” I call out.

  There’s a shuffling noise nearby, and I startle, making the liquid in the tureen slosh. All kinds of awful visions dance through my mind. Maybe the prisoners escaped and they’re planning an attack! I glance around in jittery panic, prepared to dump the soup and run.

  Then I see a figure stumble out of the trees. It’s a tall boy with curly blond hair. Markus. He’s not overweight exactly, but he’s large and fleshy, with big hands. He’s zipping up his pants and looking around.

  “Hey!” I call out.

  He turns to me. “Alenna, right? Sorry. Just taking a leak.” He motions to my backpack. “You got my soup in there?”

  I nod. I swing the pack off my shoulders and gently lower it to the ground. Markus walks over and scoops up the backpack easily in one hand. He doesn’t look particularly friendly.

  He takes the pack over to a dilapidated wooden picnic table at the edge
of the clearing and unloads the tureen. I keep glancing at the kennels, but the prisoners are hard to see in the shadows, silent and still.

  Markus turns to me as he opens the tureen. “Wanna help me feed these bastards?”

  “Sure,” I say. “I can start with the new guy.”

  “Oh yeah, David-something-or-other. They’re all the same to me.” He picks up a wooden ladle and a green ceramic bowl from the table and thrusts them at me. “Knock yourself out.”

  I begin filling the bowl with the thin watery soup. It smells like potatoes.

  “He’s in the isolation cell,” Markus instructs. “It’s at the end of the row on the left, set off from the others. We keep the new prisoners in isolation for a week, just in case they’re real crazy. I’ll start feeding the rest of ’em.”

  Carefully holding the bowl, I move toward the bamboo cages. Thin, sturdy stalks of green bamboo form the sides and ceilings of the cages, woven together to create a strong mesh. Vertical bamboo sticks are dug deep into the dirt at the bottom to keep the prisoners from digging their way out.

  The densely woven bamboo slats make it hard to see inside. I squint as I get closer. I thought the prisoners would be noisily clamoring to get out. But they’re oddly quiet.

  I glance down to keep the soup from spilling out of the bowl. When I look up again, I’m almost at the first row of kennels. I pause, nervous. Inside the nearest cell I see a thin dark figure sitting against the back. The cell is too small for him to stand up in. I can’t tell if he’s asleep or secretly watching me.

  I pass him by. The other kennels also hold silent, motionless figures.

  “They wake up at night,” Markus calls after me. I glance back. “They sleep most of the day. The heat, I guess.” He gestures at the cages. “After sunset they’ll be screeching and banging on the bamboo like monkeys. But the new guy’s different.” Markus points at the isolation cage, that lone bamboo cell near the edge of the clearing. “He’s awake now because he hasn’t fallen into their pattern yet. But he will.” He doles some soup into a bowl for another prisoner. “Oh, and watch your hair. They like to pull it.”

  I turn back and walk the rest of the way to the isolation cage. I can finally see David crouching inside, a shaft of light illuminating his eyes through the bamboo slats. He looks a bit groggy. Maybe it’s from the aftereffects of the truth serum.

  “David, it’s me,” I say, kneeling in front of his cell. I hold the bowl up. “I brought soup.” I lean down and push the bowl through a rectangular opening at the bottom. “You’ll feel better after you eat this.”

  “Alenna.” He hunches forward. More light falls onto his face. His eyes are red, like he’s been crying. “You gotta get me out of here.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Why am I still locked up? I told them everything I know.”

  “They think you’ve got some kind of secret plan, maybe put there by hypnosis. That you’re working for the Monk. It’s crazy, I know.”

  He shakes his head. “I barely spent any time in the drones’ camp. I didn’t even pass my initiation rite with them, because I didn’t kill anyone. And they definitely didn’t hypnotize me.”

  “I believe you.”

  “So what are the villagers planning to do with me?”

  “Veidman said they want to ask you more questions or something.”

  “So the drones are after me, and the villagers don’t trust me. No side wants me.” He looks down at the bowl, and then back up at me. “I just don’t wanna end up like them.” He points at the occupants of the other cells. “There’s something wrong with the prisoners, and not just because they’re drones.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think they’re being drugged with more than truth serum. They’re acting like zombies. Don’t you see that?”

  I glance behind me. Markus isn’t watching us. He’s ladling soup into bowls. “Tell me more.”

  “Maybe someone’s putting drugs in their food to keep them docile.”

  “Well, no one put anything in your soup. And you’re probably safer in here than anywhere else on the wheel.”

  “I doubt it.” He leans closer. His cheekbones catch a flash of sun. His skin is tight across them. Dirty, bruised. He moves closer still, pressing his face against the bamboo, talking softly. “I just want to be free.” His black hair is matted. “And I can barely see. My glasses got smashed by the drones, right before they attacked the village.”

  “I’m—”

  Without warning, one of his hands lashes out of the opening at the bottom of the kennel.

  I try to leap back, stunned. But I’m not fast enough. David’s thin fingers grab me around the wrist.

  The soup bowl spins sideways with a clatter, spraying its contents over the earthen floor of the cell. David must have been creeping his hands closer to the opening the whole time he was talking to me.

  He yanks me forward, off balance. I tumble against the bamboo slats, slamming my face against them. I open my mouth to scream for Markus. David’s fingers tighten like claws.

  “Don’t yell,” he whispers, his breath hot in my ear. “Just listen.”

  But Markus has heard the noise and is already rushing over from across the clearing. I try to pull away, but David won’t let me go.

  “There’s something you don’t know about the wheel! Get me out, and we can figure things out together! I can help you.”

  “I’m not the one who needs help!” I yell at him, still shocked at what he’s doing.

  “Yes, you are. You just don’t know it yet.” He presses himself against the bamboo, his words rushing out: “Nothing here is what you think it is! I heard the drones talking when I was in their camp, after they interrogated me about my arrival on the island. I mentioned your full name—I saw it when you wrote it on the leaf. They went crazy when they heard it. They asked me a million questions. I think your parents were—”

  “My parents? What are you talking about?”

  Suddenly Markus is there, towering over me, screaming at David. He’s holding a thin pointed stick. He jabs it between the bamboo slats just as David releases my arm. The stick catches David in the shoulder and tosses him back against the other side of the cell.

  Markus puts his hands under my armpits and yanks me to my feet. “Did he hurt you?”

  “I’m fine,” I say, although I’m shaken and my mind is spinning.

  Your parents. That was what David said, unless I heard him wrong. What could he possibly know about my mom and dad?

  Markus lets me go. We both step back from David’s cell. “I told you to watch yourself,” Markus says sharply. “Drones are like animals.” He stares into the cell, brandishing his pointed stick. “Touch her again and I’ll thrash you, understand?” Markus pokes the stick through the slats again, trying to prod David. But David suddenly grabs hold of the stick and starts a tug-of-war.

  “Let go!” Markus yells, but David keeps holding on. Long enough that he has time to stare directly at me.

  “I think your parents got sent to this island!” he starts yelling. “Thomas and Leah Shawcross, right? Dissidents like them were shipped here after the UNA got formed.” Markus wrenches the stick back and cracks David across his forehead. David yelps and tumbles back, hands pressed to his head.

  “Shut up with your nonsense!” Markus yells at him.

  “Let him speak,” I plead. But Markus keeps jabbing him.

  “All drones do is lie,” Markus says. “They’re liars and thieves and scumbuckets!”

  “But how could he know about my parents?” I ask desperately. “I never told him their names.”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care.” Markus turns back and slams David with the stick again.

  “Stop— Don’t—”

  Markus isn’t listening.

  David is gagging. One of the blows caught him in the throat. I see that his lip is split.

  “You really hurt him,” I tell Markus as he steps back, sweaty and
breathing hard.

  “Good. Us villagers are trying to make the best of things on the wheel. His kind are trying to make the worst.”

  “He only fell in with the drones because they caught him when he helped me and Gadya escape. Don’t torture him!”

  “Torture?” He sounds incredulous. “Veidman gave him the truth serum and still doesn’t trust him. They’re working on a stronger serum to give him next. And there’ll be a stronger one after that, believe me.”

  “Just let me talk to him one more time, okay?”

  Markus steps back, rolling his eyes like I’m an idiot. “Be my guest.”

  I kneel down. David is still choking, trying to get his breath back. I whisper, “I’ll make sure you get out of here. I don’t think you’re a drone, or a spy, or anything else bad. Just tell me what you heard about my parents.”

  The choking sounds resolve into words, forced out between gasps of air. “I think your parents were here—years ago, on Island Alpha. It’s not just for us kids.” He coughs and hacks, spitting out blood. “Grown-ups got sent here once. . . . I heard drones say that your name is carved on rocks. Near where they all break through the barrier into the gray zone—part of an old prison colony.”

  His words have become indecipherable to me. Fractured and incoherent. “A prison colony?” I ask.

  “He’s messing with your mind,” Markus interrupts, sounding frustrated and exhausted. “Alenna, I need you to head back to the fire pit now.” It sounds like an order. “And get your arm looked at too. Infections happen fast out here.”

  I don’t know what he means until I glance down and see that David’s fingernails have torn my skin. Droplets of blood dot my wrist like a red bracelet.

  I want to stay and help David, but Markus is firm about my leaving. There’s nothing I can say to make him change his mind.

  I decide not to press my luck right now, because I’m new to the village. Instead I just decide to lie.

  I look Markus square in the eyes. “Maybe you’re right, after all. Maybe he is just a crazy drone. He’s not making a whole lot of sense.”

  Markus seems relieved by my sudden change in attitude. “Exactly. All we gotta do is feed ’em and not think too much. If I still had my UNA earpiece, I’d wear it around the prisoners. I’d rather listen to Minister Harka’s propaganda than these drones.”