“We don’t like it when heathens refuse,” the drone hisses. “The crowd will tear you to pieces like hoofer meat.”
Gadya looks at our group, eyes wide.
“Choose! Choose!” an anonymous male drone in the crowd begins yelling. Soon his words are taken up as a chant. The chant picks up steam. Drones begin pounding their spears on the ground.
“Choose! Choose! Choose!”
I hear the anger and excitement of a thousand deranged kids. The expectation of delight, and the frustration of pleasures being thwarted. They really are going to rip us apart with their hands unless we do what they want. The Monk must be permitting this as a way to demonstrate his power. But why? He’s already won.
The drone presses the sharp tip of his spear to Gadya’s throat. “Choose now, girlie,” he says beneath the roar of the crowd. “Or I’ll make you kneel in front of me—before I slit your throat!”
“Choose! Choose!” the crowd keeps screaming, like one giant hive-mind.
I know that Gadya’s choices are limited if she picks a girl. There’s only me and Rika. And I’m the one she has a grudge against. That’s why I know exactly what she’s going to say before the words leave her mouth.
“I choose her!” Gadya yells, her roving eyes finding mine. She points directly at me.
The crowd roars its approval. Drones rush up behind me and grab my arms, dragging me forward. Everyone is screaming in my ears. The sounds just run together, becoming a deafening sonic blur.
As I’m pushed and pulled, I catch glimpses of individual drones within the crazed mob:
A one-eyed girl clutching a hairless baby.
A boy with scars across his neck, wielding a barbed club as he shrieks and wails at the moon.
A grotesquely fat boy with raw meat in his hand, bloody juice dripping down his slack jaw.
Then fireworks start exploding above us again, and these impressionistic images get burned into my mind forever.
I’m yanked forward in front of a fire pit, and placed directly across from Gadya. She stares at me with a cold expression I can’t read. I stare back. The crowd is still screaming, pleased with Gadya’s choice.
I realize that here, we are the monsters. We are the different ones. The infidels, the heathens. Reduced to entertainment for a mindless mob.
Markus, Sinxen, and Rika are watching nearby. I know they want to intervene. Yet if they do, they’ll instantly be struck with arrows and spears.
Gadya’s face tenses as a drone hands her a spear. She’s going to bring everything she has against me because she doesn’t have a choice.
I know that my feelings for Liam are partly what brought me to this point. Anger has been building inside Gadya for a long time, and I understand why. But I don’t regret anything I’ve done. If I have to die now at Gadya’s hands because I ended up falling for Liam, then so be it.
A spear gets thrust into my hands. I hold it for a moment.
Then I look at Gadya, and drop it onto the muddy ground. The crowd pelts me with stinking garbage and roars its displeasure.
“Pick it up!” Gadya yells.
I stare back at her. Foolishly, I decide to try reasoning one last time. “We don’t have to fight! Maybe they won’t kill us if we refuse.”
Before she can reply, a skinny drone darts forward and picks up the spear. He shoves it into my hands and snarls, “Drop it again, and I’ll carve up your pretty face like prime rib!” There’s enough menace in his voice to let me know he means it.
I clutch the spear nervously. Other than the day Liam sparred with me, most of what I learned about combat, I learned from Gadya. There’s no way I can defeat her. The crowd is in throes of ecstasy.
“Heathens, begin your death battle!” the drone with the psychedelic face paint screams. The volume of the crowd explodes, louder than the fireworks. “The battle ends when only one of you is left alive!”
Gadya sinks into her warrior stance, bending her knees, keeping her center of gravity low. She holds her spear lightly with both hands so that the weapon remains flexible. The iron tip is angled in my direction. She never takes her eyes off my face.
I try to mirror her stance, but I feel clumsy and awkward. My knuckles are white around the spear because I’m gripping it too tightly. Am I really going to die? Killed by the very person who saved my life here? Everything is starting to get slow and dreamlike.
Gadya advances, moving rapidly on the balls of her feet like a dancer. I’m immediately forced into a defensive pose. I decide to use my spear as a shield, holding the shaft in front of my face, hoping to deflect the inevitable blows coming my way.
Gadya always told me to watch my opponent for signs that they’re about to strike. She told me that faces, eyes, and posture can help you gauge what you’re up against. Give you an advantage.
Most warriors have a “tell,” Gadya once explained during one of our training sessions. That’s how you knew to throw your spear at the big girl. You sensed what she was about to do. Always be on the lookout for subtle movements and adjustments, ones that accidentally reveal your opponent’s true intentions.
I have fought with Gadya at my side. And I’ve practiced with her in mock battles back at the village. But the only tell I’ve ever observed is a slight widening of her eyes before she makes her first assault on an opponent. Other than that? Nothing. And here, in the firelight, I can’t even see her eyes well enough to read them.
Gadya must also know all of my tells. But hopefully I won’t give my plans away today, because I’m not going to be attacking. I’m going to be defending. She must strike first, because I refuse to strike her.
Gadya dances closer, and I raise my spear a split second before she lunges forward. My spear catches the tip of hers, deflecting the blow. She has hit me hard. My arms reverberate with the impact, my palms aching and burning. I stagger backward, almost falling down.
I know I should lunge at her now and strike back. That’s what the roaring crowd wants, and probably what Gadya wants too. It’s what I’m supposed to do. But I just crouch in my defensive posture. Waiting for the next blow to arrive.
The whole time, food, trash, and spittle are flying past both of us. It’s like being in a storm of garbage. I can smell the stench coming off the crowd. Fireworks explode above us continually, leaving acrid gray trails behind them.
Gadya comes at me again. This time she aims lower, but I deflect the blow once more. Her spear slides up mine. I move my hand at the last second to avoid getting my fingers sliced off. Our spear tips lock at the top for a moment.
We’re breathing hard, our heads close together. Gadya hisses something at me. I barely catch it.
“What?” I whisper back, startled, thinking I heard her wrong. She’s pushing as hard as she can with her weapon. My muscles strain. I struggle not to get pressed down to the earth.
“Quit fighting!” she spits again. No one else can hear us. They’re just excited that we’re in such close combat. “I’ve got a plan!”
Can I trust her? Or is she messing with my mind? Sweat runs into my eyes, stinging them, but I can’t wipe the droplets away. “What are you talking about?”
The crowd is still screaming. They probably think we’re hurling insults at each other.
“I picked you because you can fight!” Gadya whispers. “I need you.” Her mouth is pressed against my ear as we struggle—although I’m slowly starting to understand that it’s a mock struggle. Just for show.
“What do we do?” I whisper back.
“We turn around,” she continues. “Each of us stabs the drone behind us. Markus knows what to do next. I’ve signaled to him secretly.” We’re both straining to breathe. The crowd is getting louder. I know we can’t keep talking, because they want to see blood.
Gadya starts to release the pressure on my spear. “We attack on the count of three. After that, we get into the forest and run!”
I know she’s right. If we keep playing by the rules of the Monk’s drones, one of
us is going to die. And neither of us deserves to. Weirdly, I’m not scared anymore. I’m just relieved that Gadya is still my friend.
Gadya begins whispering the count as we continue to lock spears and fake like we’re fighting.
A million thoughts race through my mind in those final seconds. I don’t know what’s going to happen when I spin around and plunge my weapon into the nearest drone behind me. I’ve never stabbed anyone, let alone killed someone! Will I be able to do it?
Gadya said that Markus and the others will rise up, but I know they don’t have weapons. There’s just too many drones, and way too few of us.
“Three!” I hear Gadya scream, and all thought leaves my mind as I transform into a creature of pure action. I twirl around and lunge at the long-haired drone behind me.
He’s taken off guard.
He is careless.
The tip of my spear disappears right into his stomach, making him wail. He topples back into the crowd, screaming as I yank the weapon out. I hear cries behind me. I spin and see that Gadya has skewered her drone too. The shaft of her spear sticks right through his chest. When she jerks it out, a geyser of blood spews from the hole.
Markus and Sinxen are leaping on the other drones. I see Markus grab a knife and begin stabbing the very person he took it from.
The glee of the drones at seeing me and Gadya battle each other has now turned into terror. Some run screaming. Some stand there openmouthed. I know that any second, they’re going to recover their wits and end our lives. But for one brief moment, we’re in control again.
Then a blow hits me hard between my shoulder blades, and I drop to the ground. As I roll onto my back, I see the fat boy coming at me. He has dropped his chunk of raw meat along the way. He doesn’t have a spear, just two big pummeling fists.
I slide sideways as the boy’s right fist slams into the dirt, an inch from my face. He’s big but he’s slow. He comes at me again. I clamber to my feet, clutching my bloody spear. He hesitates.
“Touch me and I’ll kill you!” I scream, baring my teeth and brandishing the spear.
He starts backing away.
I hear Gadya call my name. She’s right behind me. We move into formation, each of us getting the other person’s back. Markus, Sinxen, and Rika stand with us now, clutching bloodstained weapons. This was obviously not the kind of death battle the drones expected.
Of course we’re still massively outnumbered. We’ve injured or killed about ten drones at most. But hundreds more surround us in every direction. There’s no chance to run into the forest.
I feel Gadya’s hand grasp my arm. “You did good.”
“So did you.”
Our group gathers even closer together. It’s clear we’ll be overwhelmed soon. These are probably our final moments together.
“I’m sorry I blamed you for Liam,” Gadya whispers, gripping me even tighter. “It’s not your fault, I know. Friends?”
“Friends,” I whisper back. “I’m sorry for everything too.”
In these last seconds, I need her more than ever.
At least after they kill us, we won’t be on the wheel anymore, I think bleakly. Who knows. Maybe death is the only solution. That’s something I never considered when my dad told me about Sisyphus. Maybe death is what Sisyphus spent his time daydreaming about; maybe death was the only thing that could truly set him free.
“Come get us, you cowards!” Markus screams at the assembled throng. There are no more fireworks. The drones just stare at us in outrage.
Sinxen notches an arrow into a stolen bow. He takes aim at the crowd. All of our weapons are drawn.
“Attack, why don’t you?” Gadya yells.
But they don’t attack, and I don’t understand why. The drones have the advantage. And they don’t really seem like cowards. They’re too stupid, drunk, and brainwashed to be scared of death.
There’s total quiet now. I hear only the crackling of the fire pits. And then I hear a lone, strange sound.
The sound of laughter.
I peer past the flames into the darkness and see the crowd parting reverently, as a drifting object moves toward us. I realize it’s the Monk in his cushioned chair, carried by his drones. He practically floats through the air, like he’s defying gravity.
He draws closer, clapping his crippled hands together in unabashed delight. All the drones stand silent in his presence. He glides up to us, his mask looking ghoulish in the firelight.
“You betrayed us!” Markus cries out. “We trusted you!”
His laugh gives way to a hacking cough. His men lower his platform, so he can gaze at us at eye level. I have never hated anyone so much as I hate this deranged, terrifying figure.
Then he speaks. “You passed. All of you. You passed my test.”
“What the hell are you babbling about?” Gadya spits.
“I was watching.” His voice grows louder. “I was judging you. And you have pleased me.”
“I don’t understand,” I call out, my voice shaking.
“My devotees follow me unquestioningly. They believe in my powers as a messiah, and in the glorious afterlife that awaits them off the wheel. But now I know that even you—the faithless, the infidels—can act as one as well. For the benefit of your group.” His head turns from side to side. “You can put down your weapons.”
“How do we know this isn’t another test?” Gadya challenges.
The Monk’s wooden mask gives only its implacable smile. “You don’t.”
“Then we’re not going to surrender!” Markus tells him.
The Monk swivels his head back and forth lazily again. “You don’t need to. My devotees will surrender to you.”
At his words, the members of his camp begin lowering their weapons and putting them on the ground. Hundreds of them. I glance at my companions, but they’re as puzzled as I am. I want to rip the mask off the Monk’s face and see who’s behind that wooden façade. But all I can see are his eyes. They’re dancing crazily again. Dancing happily.
We stand there, not sure what to do. The drones are all unarmed now.
“See?” the Monk says. “They do as I ask, because they know I can save their eternal souls. My followers pose no threat to you anymore.” He claps his hands together. His four throne bearers hoist him up even higher. “Disperse, my faithful ones!” he rasps loudly.
The drones begin to shamble away. A few of them drag their injured or dead companions with them. Most of them resume their previous activities like zombies, like nothing happened. Meanwhile I stand there, totally panicked inside. I thought I was about to die.
I watch as drones return to the fire pits, to their feasting and dancing. Other than a few lingering stares, it’s like no one cares about us anymore. Or the fact that we hurt and killed so many of them.
I realize this camp truly is a hive, with the Monk as queen bee. They follow his orders without thinking. Where is their free will? Maybe they don’t think free will is important, just like our government back home clearly didn’t.
The Monk stares down at us from his chair. “I will explain how to get through the barrier tomorrow. There’s only one way it can be breached. But tonight you must rest. You must gather strength. The journey beyond the barrier will be . . . challenging.”
None of us can think of anything to say in response. He claps again, and his bearers take him away back into the forest. The trees and the darkness close around him. He’s just a specter. We finally start lowering our weapons. The threat is over for now.
My legs feel shaky.
“He’s insane, isn’t he?” Rika whispers. Her face is ashen. She still hasn’t lowered her spear. Gadya notices.
“It’s okay, Rika. You can put that down now.”
Rika is still staring after the Monk.
Gadya takes Rika’s spear and gently lowers it for her. “If they make us fight again, I’ll protect you.”
“We’ll protect each other,” Sinxen adds. “We just have to live through this.”
>
Markus nods. “If the Monk is telling the truth, then he’ll help us get through the barrier. But we’re the ones with a map of the gray zone in our heads. He needs us more than we need him. We’ll get our revenge on the other side.”
I don’t know what’s in store for us. But I think of the Monk’s word—“challenging.” It carries an air of menace. On the wheel, “challenging” can mean only “life-threatening.” But it’s too late to turn back.
“Let’s get some food and try to sleep,” I say to the others, shouldering my weapon with aching arms. “It’s going to be a long night.”
THE GRAY ZONE
THE LIGHT OF MORNING eventually finds us, illuminating our ravaged faces. None of us got more than a couple hours of sleep. Despite the Monk’s promise that we would be safe, two of us kept watch at a time, just in case. We’re all exhausted and chilled to the bone. What little sleep I got was haunted by dreams of Liam being taken.
The Monk’s people don’t have shelters or hammocks. They just sleep outside by the fires in the filthy mud. From what I’ve observed, they don’t care about themselves, or about anyone except the Monk. They only survive because there are so many of them. I’m guessing that when a drone dies in battle, or is taken by the feelers, more flood in to replace him.
I still don’t know why they come to the Monk, why they’re drawn to him like children to the Pied Piper. I suppose they’re seeking meaning and structure, like Gadya said. But anything the Monk has to offer is just an illusion.
There’s still no sign of David. Maybe he’s at another camp, or maybe he fled and lit off on his own. I guess part of me was hoping he’d turn up and help us, but I guess we didn’t treat him too well when he came to our village. Maybe he’s somewhere watching all of this.
In the morning light, Gadya stretches. “I wish we didn’t need these maniacs,” she mutters. “I wish we had more time to figure out a way through the barrier on our own.”
The Forsaken (Forsaken - Trilogy) Page 20