by Rachel Broom
“Can one of you escort Violet to the branding room and then to her new living quarters?”
“I have to be branded?”
“All hunters do,” Plantarch said. I stared at the white Pax symbol on my wrist - two hands holding a heart. It felt symbolic, like I really was preparing myself for slaughter.
“I already told Bronte I don’t want anything to do with this,” the healer said.
“I can’t because I’m on duty,” Bronte said.
“Fine. I’ll meet her in the centicular, but I won’t be there for the branding.”
Plantarch stood back as I scooted off the stretcher. I noticed the healer glance over his shoulder at me as I was led away by Plantarch to the back of the healing center. Plantarch led me through a side door where there was a chair in the middle; it was cold and hard when I sat down. Plantarch took my wrists and locked them against the chair, strapping my torso and legs down as well.
Plantarch went to the corner of the room and tapped the wall. A screen appeared. He tapped the screen a few times. There was a loud click as part of the wall opened up to a steaming iron. I noticed a large ‘H’ at the end of a stick. I tightened my arm as Plantarch picked the rod off the wall and brought it over, holding my arm down as the iron collided with my skin. The searing metal iron melted my flesh. I bit my lip and held back a scream as my lungs caught fire and my head burst. The smell of hot rust filled my nostrils. Curls of smoke wafted past my head and up into the vent in the ceiling where they vanished. My mind flashed to a room similar to this with a different person and the healer’s face I had seen minutes before. I closed my eyes and blocked the image, wondering why the healer’s face had appeared.
It felt like eternity when Plantarch pulled the iron away and covered the ‘H’ with a wet cloth. I swallowed the blood I held back from biting my lip. Even though the cloth covered most of the burn I could still see the shiny pink skin, bubbly and blistering, underneath. My stomach churned.
“It will heal with time,” he said.
I wanted to reply with some rude remark but I couldn’t muster the words. This was how we lived now: in silence. The inhumanity of it all disgusted me. Pax never even treated their animals like this. We believed in peaceful living throughout every part of our life, not just in war. It was our job to keep the peace, an expectation that had been formed over the years.
When the Free Land Amendment, a law installed to privatize several hundred acres across Rinfero in order to preserve uninhabited land, was instated three years ago, many Trux fought against it and as a result the Rinfero Council granted five hundred acres to Trux military. It was rumored that the Pax let the Trux take the land instead of protecting it in order to avoid an uprising.
I remembered the Free Lands before they were militarized. One of the happy memories that I could recall was visiting a meadow in the Free Lands, away from Rinfero’s capital where I lived. The Trux never truly appreciated its beauty like we did. The rare spaces where you could walk for miles and see nothing but rolling hills and the open sky above you were masterpieces.
I imagined what that sky would feel like, and sometimes in those dark moments when I lay awake I would let myself go there and picture the soft grass under my back and the burning sun on my face. There was always laughter in the background, but I never figured out who it belonged to. I knew it wasn’t mine.
I let out a shaky sigh when Plantarch released me. I got off and felt his hand grip mine.
“I’m sorry,” he said. His eyes were strained. This was where I felt a human gesture should have been given, as we Pax were known to do. Affection was common; friendship and forgiveness came easily. But I didn’t respond. I pulled my arm away and walked out of the room, heading through the healing center into the centicular, also known as the dome, to meet the healer.
He straightened up when I came closer and strode over to me, wrapping his arms around me. I took a step back.
“I’m not going to hurt you. You just looked like you needed a hug after what happened back there,” he said.
“I think I’m just overwhelmed, that’s all.”
“I understand.”
I scrunched my eyebrows as I eyed the healer. “Why is it that I feel like I know you somehow?”
“Maybe you do and you just can’t remember.”
“I know I’ve never met you before, though.”
He held out his hand. “It’s about time you did. Sam Pately.”
“Violet Hansen. You can call me Vi.”
“Vi. Beautiful name.”
“Thanks.”
He lowered his voice. “So how are you feeling?”
I shrugged.
“I’m so sorry. Truly.”
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” I replied.
“Well I’m here if you do. Come on.” I could not help but notice the casualness of his hand on my lower back as he walked me across the centicular and down a hallway that led to the elite living quarters. I wondered if I would get quarters like this for myself now that I was a hunter.
One thing I learned as time passed was that the base was a maze. Tubes wound in circles around the dome and it could take you hours to find the exit if you didn’t know your way around. Once you entered the dome, there were more mazes and endless hallways, some with dead ends and others that led to nowhere. I only knew this because often times I would sneak out of the tubes at night and explore. I stopped once the skryers found out and started beating me, though.
Sam gripped my arm and pulled me in as two skryers walked past, guns strapped to their belts. I hated knowing I was going to become a killer like them; the only thing that differentiated us at the moment was my grey suit contrasting with the white ones they wore. And the klaves. They always had those. There were only a handful of skryers that carried guns, but most of the time those ones were Trux.
Guns and klaves weren’t the skryers’ favorite weapons, though. Whips were. I saw too many whippings to know that if you irritated them you would end up in the healing center as Bronte tried to piece your skin back together.
We turned down a hall that was lined with solar windows, light pouring in on either side. Outside was a group of people huddling together. I used to hate being forced outside in the cold but now I envied them. They were free.
Sam pointed ahead. “The hunters’ quarters are over there.”
“Oh.”
“Yours is the fifth door on the right.”
“I get my own room?”
“Privileges of being a hunter.”
“Aren’t you coming with me?”
“No one else is allowed beyond this point except hunters. Not even me.”
“Right. Hey look, Sam- ”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
He tilted his head. “For what?”
“For caring when no one else does. It’s a nice change to being in here all alone.” I waved my hand up at the hallway, knowing he would understand I was referring to the base.
“I know what it’s like to be on your own. It’s hard.”
I knew tears were coming but I didn’t want to cry, not now. “Yeah.”
“Well, good luck,” Sam said.
“You, too.” I gave him a small wave as he left. I walked down the hall, counting the doors that I passed. Fifth door on the right. I stopped at the fifth door and hesitated as I lifted my hair and tilted my neck so my tracker faced the door. There was a small beep, then the door slide aside.
The room, my room, was huge. Twice as big as my old one, at least. The bed was two feet longer than mine back in the tubes, and there was a blanket folded at the end of it. In the corner was a small sink and mirror, and above that a tap popping out of the ceiling.
I grabbed the blanket off my bed and held it to my nose. It smelled like lavender. I almost forgot what that smelled like. Next to the bed was a small cubby hole. I reached across the bed and dragged a black jumpsuit out of the cubby; the fabric was soft and ran through my hands li
ke water.
Your trainer will be here shortly.
I touched my neck where my tracker was. It had been ages since I’d received a message from my tracker and I assumed that was because I worked in the kitchens, which wasn’t considered an important assignment in the base. It was weird to receive one after all this time of living in silence; I wasn’t quite sure if I liked this new voice in my head.
“Violet Hansen?”
I jumped and lost my footing, falling off my bed. Something large appeared out of the corner of my eye. A man almost as big as the doorway towered over me. His stern dark eyebrows almost hid his eyes. A true meathead, if I ever saw one. His dark hair was slicked back, something I wasn’t used to seeing. No one cared about their appearance here in the base. All we cared about was survival. It occurred to me that he could be a Trux working for the Head.
“I’m your trainer. My name is Trent.” He held out his hand. I realized I was still sitting on the floor. I scrambled to my feet and held out my hand. His hand could have crushed mine easily.
“I’m Violet-”
“I know who you are,” he cut me off. “Why aren’t you wearing your jumpsuit?”
“I just got here.”
“I don’t have time for excuses.”
I scooped up my uniform then turned and stripped down, sliding my old jumpsuit off and pulling the new one past my legs and shoving my arms through the sleeves, buttoning up the front. There was a faint ‘H’ stitched into the top right corner. The jumpsuit hugged my body differently than my old one, almost as if it was designed for me. The thought made me shiver.
I turned to see Trent eyeing me. “What?”
“Nothing. Come on!” he snapped. Trent went over to the door and scanned his neck.
“How does the scanner know who to let in?”
“Trainers have the same level of access as hunters. Don’t get used to privacy, though.”
I back at my room before following Trent, my old uniform lying in a pile on the floor. There was no turning back to my old life in this base. I was a hunter now.
Trent was silent as he walked. He didn’t stop until we had gone through a maze of hallways past the healing quarters to what appeared to be a dead end. Did Trent know that? I didn’t want to say anything in case I could get in trouble. We probably weren’t allowed to explore the base like I had when I lived in the tubes. Trent stopped and rested his hand against the wall and waited. There was a Pax tattoo on his wrist. I guess he wasn’t a Trux after all. That surprised me. After a few seconds the wall moved and opened up to a long hallway. The base had more secrets than I thought.
Trent reached the end of the hall where there were three doors.
“Which one will we be training in?” I asked.
“All of them eventually, but for now we’ll start with the middle one.”
I followed him through the middle door and gaped when he moved aside to reveal the room. It was huge. Pillars shot up in the center of the room, three stories high, holding up a glass ceiling that was warped and aged. All around me were other hunters on the strangest machines I had ever seen – a rope with spikes on it that shot down from the glass ceiling, u-shaped hovercrafts with glass orbs resting inside, and a large pool filled with silver liquid. To my right several hunters punched the air in front of them, some grunting and clutching their stomachs as if someone had hit them. In the center of the room was a group of hunters next to a fighting arena with pillars surrounding it. They pointed through the pillars to someone who must have been inside. It felt unsafe to be amongst so many hunters as I walked to the center of the room. More eyes followed and the room got quiet.
“Why are they staring at us?”
“They’re not staring at me, they are staring at you.”
“Why?”
“You’re a hunter. The last time we had a new hunter was six months ago,” Trent said. “Come this way. I will introduce you to your new combination. It is the group of hunters you will be hunting with.”
“Sorry, my what?”
“Your combination.”
“How many hunters are in a combination?”
“Five. For the most part you’ll hunt together but sometimes you will split up into smaller groups to go on separate missions. This is the group of people you’ll spend most of your time with here in the base.”
We came around a wall designed like a cliff where two hunters were climbing. Three people stood in a huddle next to the cliff, their arms crossed. Next to them by the wall was a huge box reaching halfway up one of the pillars, wide enough that I could have lie down inside. High pitched screams were coming from inside of it. I shuddered at the sound.
“Severin, Malina, Vincent, here is your new hunter.”
The man on my left with cool grey eyes and a scar across his face scoffed. “You can’t be serious.”
The woman laughed and rested her arm on the Trent’s shoulder. “This is your replacement?”
“What does she mean, ‘your replacement?’” I asked Trent.
“Quiet,” he said, pointing at me. “It wasn’t my decision, Severin.”
The man with the scar who Trent referred to as Severin rolled his eyes. I tried not to stare at the scar that ran across his cheek and snaked its way around his neck then disappeared at the collar of his uniform.
“What are you staring at?” he snapped.
“Nothing.”
“Leave her be,” the other man spoke. I hadn’t really noticed him because of Severin’s overpowering presence. This man cleared his throat and stepped forward, offering his hand. “Vincent, but you may call me Vince. Welcome.”
Vince appeared older, more wrinkles and warm brown eyes compared to Severin’s cool grey ones. I shook his hand. “Don’t mind Severin-”
“Sev,” Severin corrected him. He was so pale and sick compared to Vince, even though Vince gave the impression of being older and worn.
“My name is Malina.” I noticed the woman. She had long silky blonde hair that she tossed over her shoulder.
Malina, Sev, and Vince. There was still one more hunter of my combination that I had yet to meet. “Where’s the last hunter?”
Malina pointed to the huge box where screams were coming from.
“Is the noise coming from the box or the hunter inside?” I asked.
“The hunter. This box is a fear-induced simulation,” Trent explained. My stomach churned.
“Zanna is the last member of your combination.” Trent caught Malina’s eye. “How long has she been in there?” He jerked his head at the box.
“Ten minutes,” she said. “Last time she was in there for twenty.” The box shuddered again and the side popped open to reveal a figure who must have been Zanna. She struck me as the most warrior-like out of the group. Her long dark hair was strung on top of her head like a whip and her cat-like eyes danced from one person to the next.
“Who are you?” she asked me.
“She’s the new hunter,” Trent said.
“Huh. She’s frail.”
“I’ll fix that,” Trent interrupted. He turned and pulled me away from the group. I peeked over my shoulder at my new combination parting their own ways, then back at Trent.
“So that’s it? You introduce me to my combination, I train, and then I kill?”
“It’s not that simple. Your mind will fight this more than anything else. As a favor I’m warning you that if you want to survive you’ll have to let go. You’ll have to accept the complexity and morality of what you are about to become.”
“You don’t think I know that? I’ll be a cold-blooded killer.”
“It’s much more than that, Violet. So much more.”
CHAPTER TWO
It made me sick listening to Trent for hours, drawing diagrams and repeating formations and concoctions that I needed to know as a new hunter. I thought I was going to explode. He went on explaining about the three weeks of training I would receive. The first two weeks revolved around physical and intellectual tra
ining, while the last week was to be devoted to mental and emotional training. Trent didn’t let me leave until the end of the day when the sun had gone. I was starving when I left the training center.
It was hard to remember which way led back to the centicular. I paused for a moment before deciding to turn right. The halls were eerily empty. I wasn’t used to the base being this quiet. When I used to work in the kitchens it was noisy and full of people bustling past one another. Here in the openness of the hallway I felt exposed and alone.
I came to a fork and turned right again, my steps echoing off the walls as I walked past doors and more empty hallways. My mind wandered as I walked. Even though I didn’t like working in the kitchen division before, it sounded like the best thing in the world right now. Everything was familiar there. I knew the rules and what I was allowed to do. People didn’t see me as a threat and I didn’t have a target on my back, or in this case, an ‘H’ branded into my wrist. Although I didn’t have many friends in the kitchens, I felt safe.
Strange things happen when you’re alone with only your mind to keep you company. You start seeing things and hearing voices, like whispers in empty hallways and eyes where there are only walls. When I was young I got lost in the woods that ran alongside my house. I spent what seemed like hours wandering the woods, crying and calling out for help. Finally I found my way and returned home to find I’d been gone for only an hour. Relief flooded through me, but I couldn’t seem to shake how I felt in those trees with all sense of direction lost. It taught me how easy it was to become lost in a place you thought so familiar, including your own head.
I felt that way now as I did back in that forest when I was eight years old: vulnerable and alone. Time began to lose its meaning as all the hallways started to look the same. I stopped and turned around. How was I supposed to find my way back to my room now?
A few minutes passed before I saw someone appear at the end of the hallway. I took off jogging in his direction, calling out to him.
“Hey!”