Enmity

by E. J. Andrews

  Everyone’s eyes are on her, though I see a few take sideways looks. What could be so secret about the reason she’s here that she can’t tell the rest of us? We are all in the same boat, after all.

  Hermia turns to the person on the other side of her, as if handing on the conversation to him.

  A medium-set guy with reddish, almost brown hair begins to introduce himself.

  ‘I’m Kane and, um, I think I’m here because about a year ago, I got the Statesman science scholarship, so apparently I’m like a genius or something.’ Everyone nods. I remember that at school he got presented with an award. Everyone knows that his scholarship is basically Collins buying him to work for him, but it’s still a pretty big honour if the president wants to buy you.

  ‘I’m Lola,’ the girl next to him carries on quickly, keeping the conversation moving. ‘I definitely know why I’m here, though I think he’s going to be disappointed.’

  We all look around ourselves at Lola’s reference to Darria, feeling like he may appear just out of thin air.

  ‘My mother is Doctor Andrea Jacobs. She’s the one who came up with the new genotype that cures everything—disease, mental illness.’ I must say this is impressive, and I expect that Lola is well versed in human biology. ‘And my father is Doctor Solomon Jacobs, the head surgeon, and the best, at Quay Hospital, if not the world,’ Lola says and I allow myself a small smile.

  She obviously loves her parents, and they are obviously a great influence on her.

  ‘Problem is—I can’t stand the sight of blood. I faint, pretty much instantly. I got a bleeding nose once, just from the heat or something, thought I was having a brain haemorrhage, fainted and fell off a two-storey balcony.’ Lola lifts her hand to her forehead, as though she can still feel the pain from her fall. She wrinkles her nose and I see the patterns of freckles that cover most of her face jump around and then return to their normal residence. ‘It fractured my skull.’ She nods earnestly and then finishes, ‘So my parents may be amazing doctors, but I’m nothing like them.’

  There is a short silence, and then a scruffy-looking guy takes the floor.

  ‘I’m Isaac,’ he says. I wonder how he would have looked before he came here, if this is what they have made of him. ‘I’m pretty much a hardcore gamer.’

  Just from that I know there’s more to it. But I’m not sure how to push for more from these strangers. I want to know why they are here, why I have been grouped with them, but they all seem to be guarding secrets. I know there’s no way of pushing for more at this point.

  Now it is the girl, the one who almost made my heart falter.

  ‘My name’s Marina. My dad really likes boats.’ Another small laugh carries through the group and I can feel my cheeks hurt for a moment.

  Marina’s striking blue eyes flicker over a few faces in the group. I pray for them to catch mine, though my prayers go unanswered.

  ‘I have no idea why I’m here—I’m not smart and my parents are boring and middle class. But for whatever reason, I’m here.’

  In that moment I know that none of it matters, the only thing important is that she’s here. That I have met her.

  ‘My name is Winter.’ A darker, olive-skinned girl starts to speak, wanting our attention. She looks familiar. Her hair is in such tight curls it is an afro. ‘And I’m here because my father is the president.’

  Yeah, that’ll do it. Every eye is on Winter. I realise now why she looked familiar.

  ‘You’re Winter Collins?’ Lola asks, shocked.

  ‘Yes, and I’m here because I refuse to sit by and let people threaten my father and dismiss his rule just because it was passed down to him from his grandfather.’

  It is true, President Collins didn’t actually get voted in, so he is more like a monarch than a president, but he is doing a lot better than his father did.

  Now there are just two people left and then it’ll be my turn. The bright side is the crying girl has to go first.

  ‘I’m Georgie. And I miss my family.’ That is all she can manage to say, but I must admit, it wasn’t as bad as I expected. The bruising on her cheek is getting a lot better, the purple and green slowly fading back to the pale cream of her complexion.

  ‘Ah, I’m Robert, and I think I’m here because my dad was an army general. But he’s dead, so . . .’

  There’s a pause. Pretty much the entire armed forces have been wiped out now. About five years ago a rebel group, The Cain, got about as big as the army itself. They were trying to overthrow Winter’s grandfather—told you he was bad—and they succeeded, but unfortunately they also succeeded in killing a lot of innocent people at the same time.

  I want to say something, but nothing comes. No words come to anyone. And now it’s down to me.

  ‘We had history together, at school,’ I say to Robert and I see him nod his head in approval.

  ‘Yeah, sixth period on Friday was the worst.’ Robert smiles slightly. He is plain-looking enough. Short army haircut, obviously passed down from his father. Simple brown eyes, simple in general. But he seems strong, I’m just not sure where his strength lies.

  ‘I’m sorry about your dad.’

  ‘I’m sorry about your entire family,’ Robert responds, and I don’t know how to answer that. So I nod back at him.

  ‘I’m Nate and I don’t know why I’m here either,’ I say, looking towards the others who also had no idea. Though they smile at me, Winter is the one who speaks.

  ‘Oh, Nate, don’t worry, we all know why you’re here.’ Her voice is harsh and her words are mirrored within the tight squint of her eyes.

  I’m so much more confused than I was a few moments ago.

  ‘Well, anyone want to fill me in?’

  This time it’s Georgie who speaks, and for the first time her words are not clouded with tear-soaked sadness. ‘You’re the leader, Nate.’

  Hermia

  ‘Leader of what?’ Nate says stupidly.

  Obviously he is the leader; he has the natural authority about him that I hate in people. He’s right though, of what? These losers?

  ‘Well, you didn’t get a smack to the back of the head, did you?’ Isaac says with a hint of sarcasm—the guy’s kind of cute in that ‘I’m a mess’ kind of way. Though his face is too heart-shaped and his eyes are far too heavily set for my liking.

  ‘I was almost expecting it, actually, had my wince all ready and everything.’ Nate’s words are clouded with shame, with just enough mockery.

  We all look around at each other, not knowing where to go from here.

  ‘We’re obviously here for a reason, so what are we going to do?’ Winter speaks as though she is certain of everything. Just as the words exit her mouth, ten keepers walk in.

  The guard who took his gun from my back just minutes ago is now standing before me again.

  ‘Up.’ He has his gun pointed at my chest.

  I move towards the guard, looking back at the people I know will become something of my family.

  But families, as I have learned, are useless.

  My guard walks off, his attention diverted by another keeper. Most of the group are talking among themselves, but I want to try and find the seam, where the walls are. There must be walls, and a ceiling, even though I can only see the endless sky above.

  I see the tree line twenty feet to my left; it looks endless. The light seems to be swallowed up the further you go into the depths of the forest. That’s got to go for a while, so that’s not the way to go. I look to my right and it seems the same. I shrug. Got to try something.

  A hand grabs my arm and I am swung around to come face to face with my guard.

  ‘Not a chance.’ The look in his eyes is so sharp the feel of his gaze almost hurts.

  I pull my arm from his grasp.

  ‘We’re leaving.’

  Then he walks off and I have no choice but to follow him.

  We exit room 731 and walk down the hallway for a couple of minutes and come to room 730—I know now that
the meadow must be huge from the distance we are walking to get to the next room. My keeper opens the door and walks in first, again expecting me, and everyone else, to follow.

  ‘This is the training room,’ my guard says to the group as we file in.

  It is a large room with very high barred windows covered in mesh. The walls look like wood but I think they’re laminate, and so is the floor, which is mostly hidden by a huge blue mat. It looks thick with padding, like a gymnast’s mat.

  ‘You will be brought here almost every day and presented with a challenge. Once each and every one of you,’ he looks directly at Georgie, ‘has finished the challenge of the day, you may return to your own level and your rooms. Easy.’

  We are each taken over to a small table with a gun sitting on top of it. A Colt M1911, a beautiful handgun that was a feat of engineering back in its day.

  ‘Disable the gun and set the pieces out in front of you.’ I find this task mundane and almost a little boring, but I find solace in the fact that Lola and Georgie both look as though they are about to vomit.

  I pick up the gun and take out the magazine. The first rule of using a firearm: never try and do anything with it loaded. Except shoot something. I pull the slide back and lock it into place.

  Then I hear a shot.

  Everyone turns towards Lola, who has fired a warning bullet into the roof. Remember, safety first, children.

  My guard is already all the way across the room, in front of Lola, giving her a dissatisfied look, and takes the gun off her in a swift snatch. I know now that it would be impossible to run from him.

  ‘Stand over by the wall,’ he scolds. Lola lowers her head in shame and walks over to the wall by the other keepers. Georgie follows soon after without having to be told.

  I’m just about to finish when John and Isaac both slam down their stripped gun bodies onto the table within a second of each other.

  My guard goes over to check on them. He nods and then continues down the line to look at the rest of ours.

  ‘You are being too meticulous,’ my guard says to Kane. ‘You don’t have to strip the very soul from this piece of machinery, you know.’

  Kane nods, but looks very disheartened. It is true, though. Not everything requires complete annihilation.

  My guard stops in front of me and picks up two of my pieces, examining them suspiciously.

  ‘Good,’ he says and I give a tiny sigh of relief.

  The rest of the group dismantle their guns, taking a pitiful twenty-five minutes. Then, finally, it’s over.

  ‘Now you can all help Georgie and Lola with theirs. You can instruct, but only Georgie and Lola themselves can touch the guns.’

  ‘You sure that’s a wise idea?’ Isaac says, two spaces down from me.

  My guard gives him a tight-eyed look and answers, ‘If you want to sleep in a nice warm bed tonight, I’d suggest you help them effectively.’

  We all gather around Georgie and Lola, who are now standing at the first two benches with their guns still fully intact.

  ‘Why don’t we take the magazine out first this time, hey Lola?’ Winter says, her voice derisive.

  Lola looks at Winter as though she’s mocking her. Well, she is, but hey, Lola started it by being an idiot.

  ‘The little button on the side releases it,’ Nate says to her, trying to dispel the animosity between them, I guess.

  Lola presses the button and Georgie follows suit.

  And so on.

  And so forth.

  Once both of their guns are in pieces like the rest of ours, there is a little celebration in the form of pats on backs and well dones.

  I don’t really know why. A group is only as strong as its weakest link, and our weakest is a miserable crybaby who doesn’t want to be here. Why did Darria choose these people?

  Go team.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ my guard yells and we turn towards him and the other guards. ‘You will put them back together.’

  We are led out into the hallway, taken to the elevator and down to what is apparently our level. We all exit but the keepers stay put at the back of the elevator.

  ‘Feel free to roam this level as you please. But don’t try to use the elevator, though; you don’t have that privilege yet.’

  The doors close and we are alone.

  We are ten young people with all the freedom of a single floor inside a million square metre building.

  ‘Suppose we should roam, then.’ I turn and walk through the crowd in front of me, over to the kitchen to our left.

  On the far side there is a large marble benchtop with a sink that could bathe three small children at once. The stove is huge and it looks as though it has come out of an old cookbook I found once. The lights are low pendants with beautiful, almost chandelier-like shades over them. They reflect just enough light to make the room feel shiny and expensive. These are the only lights that actually seem like lights, not fluorescent ceiling tiles.

  The only disappointment is that the walls are white. It makes everything feel so sterile.

  I walk over to the massive refrigerator and see that it is fully stocked with anything you could imagine. I have not seen so much food in one place since I left home, and even then the fridge was never this stocked.

  Over to the right there is a small lounge set up, with a huge TV and a bright green sofa on one side and a deep red love seat against the wall. Isaac lets out a little gasp and runs towards the TV, trying to find some video games probably.

  Looking back I can see some of the others picking out a chair at the dining table. I allow myself a small smile. Even if I do hate it here, at least I might finally stop looking nutrient deficient.

  I walk over to the little lounge area and take comfort in a large blue armchair as Isaac investigates the TV embedded in the wall. Across from me is the bookcase that runs from the floor to the ceiling; it is a black polished wood and it is beautiful. I am just about to stand and go over to it, feeling the need to run my fingers over the spines of the books, when I see John watching me from where he sits at the empty dining table. His eyes hold a deep curiosity; he is looking at me as though he should know me. I break my gaze and walk straight back to my room, closing the door securely behind me. There is no reason for anyone to look at me as though they know me; no one knows me.

  I stand on the line, or the long piece of bright yellow electrical tape they have stuck to the horrible blue carpet to symbolise a line, and wonder if I should fake it, play my abilities down a little. But I know my pride won’t let me. I think I actually hear someone gasp when I hit the small red centre of the vast target.

  We have put back together the guns we dismantled earlier today, and are now shooting them, unfortunately at targets and not people.

  The guards all nod in approval at me. I hate it—I don’t like them judging me, acting as though they can decide if I am good enough or not. I suppose that’s what they are here for, though. We’ve been told to refer to them as our keepers, which just annoys the hell out of me. It’s like we’re animals being kept in a zoo, here for the interest and entertainment of others.

  So anyway, the keepers stand in a line at one end of the room and watch us with moderate interest, up until Isaac shoots the centre of the target on the first go as well. Then I can see a few raised eyebrows and more nods.

  It takes Georgie all of forty-eight shots to hit the centre of the target, and even then it was on the line.

  It takes Winter five shots, which is surprising, as she has been bragging about what a good shot she is all morning.

  Nate is the last to step up. He holds the gun in his left hand and inspects it with his right. Then he lifts the gun and shoots before it looks like he’s even aimed. It is a perfect shot, right through the centre of that red bull’s eye. Nate’s eyes squint as he examines the gun again, then he lowers it and walks back over to the rest of us, taking his spot back next to me.

  ‘You’re left-handed.’ I state, there is no question in it.

&nbs
p; Nate looks straight ahead, but utters ‘Nope.’ And shakes his head slowly side to side.

  Why the hell would he—oh I get it. He was considering the same thing as I was. To downplay his talents. But I guess it backfired, as he seemed to impress the keepers as much as some of the others, maybe even more.

  My keeper comes to stand in front of us on the large blue mat of the training room.

  ‘Your next task is going to be what we call “The Maze”. But since I believe none of you are ready for it—’ wow, way to disband all of the confidence you’ve given these no-hopers—‘you will be doing a tamer version of the maze first.’

  My keeper moves out of the way and reveals a large wooden box in the centre of the blue mat.

  The other ten around me seem hesitant to approach it. Nate and I both take a step forward at the same time, then he looks at me and smiles, extending his arm as though to tell me to go first. I oblige and the rest of the group seem to follow suit.

  The box would have to be the size of most people’s dinner tables, maybe two metres square.

  ‘Remove the lid,’ my keeper says from his post behind us.

  We all gather closer, taking an edge each.

  ‘Move it over to the left,’ Nate says from his grasp at the opposite end of the box to me, so we are going to my right. ‘Lift,’ Nate instructs.

  We lift and the lid comes clear, I hear a gasp but I can’t yet see the reason for it. We place down the wooden roof and take a look at what we have in store for us.

  Inside is exactly what my keeper told us, it is a maze. The walls are made of clay and render, they are a deep grey colour and I can’t wait to feel the texture beneath the base of my fingers.

  There are other things inside this maze too; there are tiny street lamps on each corner, there is a bridge that runs over a small creek—some may call it a river if they don’t know the difference—near the middle, and right in that centre module, almost like the square of a city centre, is a small glowing ball, the size of a button. Except this button has the look of an opal, like there is an entire universe inside that white ball with bright blue, green and orange flecks.