Enmity

by E. J. Andrews

  I stand where I watched John lose his life, mere minutes after his attempt at kissing me. Would I feel worse if he had succeeded?

  As I turn to walk away, having said my goodbyes to the boy who unexpectedly had the misfortune of choosing me, someone drops from a tree branch, and it’s a keeper.

  All I see is the plain grey uniform they all wear and I panic, moving backwards hastily like a deranged person running from a demon.

  ‘Hi.’ I hear just one small word exit his mouth.

  He looks quite confused at me trying to escape while still facing him. We are now at least five or six feet apart.

  ‘What are you doing?’ is all I can think to ask, though it’s more an accusation than a question.

  I actually get a look at the guy, and he can’t be much older than me, a year at most I would say. His eyes, they are most striking, but I have no idea why. I don’t usually like brown eyes, but his are so deep they seem profound.

  ‘I was just introducing myself, I heard that was polite?’ he says in a strange accent I can’t quite place.

  I guess he must be one of those new colony kids who don’t really belong to a country from the old world. I’ve only met very few people who have this accent and this guy seems like the strangest of those few. I guess he has never been out into the world—some over-protective and borderline hypochondriacs don’t let their kids, or themselves, outside—and met the likes of the poor who live in abandoned houses, without power or any real food. They are called Old Walkers, because they are usually too old to work, so they walk the streets in hopes of finding a meal. Collins III has set up a plan to rid the streets of them, which I think is outrageous. The new colony kids, like this guy, have never seen nor touched anything pre-flare. I suppose they know what happened, but they do not live in it. So their words are different, and so they are different.

  ‘He sent you,’ I say, another accusation, knowing that this is the only reason a keeper would be at all kind to me.

  ‘No, I always come here.’ He seems surprised that I would instantly condemn him.

  ‘You come here every day?’ I counter, and he smiles as though I am amusing him.

  ‘No, just every third day of the week.’

  ‘You mean Wednesday?’

  The boy in keeper’s clothes looks troubled.

  ‘No, the third day,’ he says, as though I haven’t understood him and maybe I’m a little slow.

  I grin, and then realise I shouldn’t.

  ‘Well, where I’m from we call that Wednesday.’

  Then the boy smiles as though I’ve said something even more amusing than before.

  ‘They said you people from the outside were strange,’ he says.

  ‘The outside?’ I question, but I know straight away that I am right, he doesn’t know what it’s like to live outside of this place.

  There is a silence like I have never felt. I have often sat in silence, uncaring of the way people expect you to jump to the silence’s aid and say anything that pops into your head. Now, I feel as though I will fade into non-existence unless I say something.

  ‘So he didn’t send you?’ I pretend I never asked my previous question. Part of me wants to believe that Darria had nothing to do with my meeting with this boy, but a bigger part knows I never will.

  The stranger looks at me for a moment, and I feel all his words seep deeper into my skin.

  ‘Nope,’ he answers. ‘But I did have to get special permission and no one said anyone else would be here.’ He steps forward, just a few steps, almost absent-mindedly.

  I take a few steps back, matching his pace. We each wait, watching the other.

  This guy, it seems as though he has no walls at all, nothing to protect him from unwanted emotional attacks—that, or he is immaculate at hiding it. Mine, on the other hand, are completely up, with an extra internal layer of concrete for protection from any possible human feelings.

  ‘I’m Hermia,’ I say and then extend my hand. I know that he knows who I am; I’m just trying to figure out his game.

  ‘I’m Chase.’ He closes the gap between us and takes my hand, shaking it quickly, his face hardening a bit after he lets it go. ‘Apparently I was named Chase because, well, I’m good at chasing people.’

  The feeling of Chase’s hand grasped in mine is still a fresh imprint on my skin, and his words seem like a challenge. I know he was just making conversation, but I cannot help wanting to run. I give him the most wicked smile I possess and take off, leaving him standing there, bewildered.

  I know I’m fast—to still be alive after everything that has happened, I would have to be.

  My aim is the start of the tree line, but I don’t even make it close. His hand is on the back of my shirt, pulling me down to the soft blanket of the grass, flattening the daisies underneath me.

  I stare up at the sky, wishing it were the real sky, and trying to catch my breath.

  ‘Told you I was good,’ Chase says as he crouches down by my head.

  I turn for a moment and look at him, and then, feeling like looking at him might cause me harm, I look away before I answer his non-question.

  ‘Had to make sure.’ I lie there and watch the clouds pass over like they are just lolling and have nothing better to do.

  After a moment Chase sits down next to me and we both watch the sky for what feels like a long time.

  ‘I have to leave soon.’ He speaks very softly.

  My eyes flicker to my right, where he sits, yet I don’t look directly at him.

  ‘Where do you go?’ I am curious.

  ‘Home, I guess. I don’t have any more training today.’ I catch his eye and see that he wasn’t meant to say that.

  ‘You train too?’ I say, and I can see in his eyes that he wonders if I was meant to say that.

  ‘We all train,’ he says after a long moment of hostile silence.

  I don’t want to ask more, but the part of me that has kept me around this long can’t contain my curiosity. I pull myself up on my elbow so that I’m half up to Chase’s height.

  ‘How many of you are there?’ I try and make it sound like simple curiosity but he sees right through it.

  ‘A few,’ is all he answers with, and I am most definitely not satisfied.

  I turn and sit up on my knees, right in front of him. He watches me as though I’ve done something strange yet interesting.

  ‘Have you ever been to the outside?’ I try my questioning again.

  ‘A couple of times.’ He looks thoughtful, almost caught in the memory, then seems nervous again. ‘Not long enough to really get a sense for it.’

  I nod, intrigued now.

  ‘So you’ve never really seen the city you’re so willing to give your life to fight for?’

  Chase looks at me for a moment and then says simply, ‘I know some things about it—’

  ‘Some of nothing still isn’t a lot.’

  I’ve cut him off, and feel like I shouldn’t have, as I seem to be working for every word he speaks. And I hate to work for anything I want.

  ‘I have to go.’ Chase stands, and I feel my body pulling up to stand with him. I am a good foot shorter than him, which I instantly hate.

  I stand before him, not knowing what it was I wanted to say.

  ‘Do you only come here on a Wednesday?’

  Chase looks perplexed; his brow furrows and then smooths out. His brows are very full and dark. Interesting, yes, I would call them interesting.

  ‘Only on the third day,’ he is very sure to correct me, though he is wrong.

  Chase turns to leave and I feel like my breath is slipping from me as he walks away.

  ‘Come back tomorrow.’ As the words slip out I could almost kick myself for not thinking them through before they slid off my tongue.

  Chases turns halfway back to me, the hint of a wicked smile of his own there on his face. The corners of his mouth turn up only ever so slightly, but the effect is devastating.

  ‘I think it will be a lot har
der for you to get back here than it will be for me.’ He seems sure of himself—little does he know.

  ‘I have a way of getting what I want.’

  ‘You have something over him? What?’ Chase seems interested, and I am pleased.

  ‘Yes, but I can’t tell you, otherwise it won’t make for great leverage, will it?’

  Our eyes meet and linger a long time.

  A little too long.

  I am checking to see what it is that he is. Why is this Chase guy so elusive? Is it just because he’s a keeper?

  ‘Tomorrow evening,’ he says slowly, raising his head a little to look at me with a hint of superiority. Chase gives me a measured look as he turns away to leave.

  ‘Wonderful, evening sounds perfect.’ I mirror his tone, though I feel as though I don’t have it quite perfect, so I add in a hint of my own rough hostility. ‘Can’t wait.’ This time, I’m spot on.

  Nate

  Every single inch of me is saturated and I’m having a hard time remembering what it’s like to be dry. I cannot see where the rain falls from, but I know there must be sprinklers in the ceiling or something—how else could they manage to create a rainstorm inside?

  I hear a scream that sounds remarkably like Lola’s voice. She has obviously realised what I have feared all day; we are in the maze. It is dark, gloomy and cold. I can barely see half a metre in front of me through the darkness and rain—how do they expect me to get out of here?

  I start to move down the alleyway I have come in through. Turning back, I see the door I entered has been swallowed by the darkness. I search my mind for details of the maze that I will find useful. What way did I turn first?

  My gun is raised, ready, as I come to the end of the alley. There is a light that I am guessing is the centre, turning the air around me tinged with green.

  A shot rings out. I grasp my gun tighter.

  My heartbeat fills my ears, which makes it hard to hear if someone’s approaching.

  I spot a keeper off to the left and fire without hesitation.

  Then, after it is far too late, I hesitate.

  The keeper lies on the ground, shaking. I look at my gun and realise that they must have given us stun bullets. I wonder if the keepers have them too.

  Wishful thinking, echoes through my mind.

  ‘Nate—’

  My gun is pointed at her face before I know what I’m doing.

  Hermia doesn’t move. She just continues to stare me dead in the eyes as she stands there looking like a drowned rat, the water continually falling around us.

  I lower my gun and then move closer to the keeper, who is lying face up, in the mud.

  I lean down and carefully try and pry the gun from the keeper’s hands. He is not very willing to let it go, even though he is unconscious.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Hermia is scowling down at me as though I’m a child.

  ‘Checking his gun,’ I hiss back and then spin around when I hear footsteps.

  It’s Marina and Isaac, who both hold their hands up as soon as they see the gun in my hands pointed at them, as if they are surrendering. I lower it and then turn back to the unconscious keeper.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ Marina now asks as she and Isaac move closer.

  ‘Checking the keeper and his weapons, for some reason,’ Hermia says, sounding like she’s pissed at me because of this.

  I open the keeper’s gun and check the bullets. They’re real. Pure metal, these will bring nothing but pain and death.

  I wait for a second, trying to make sense of everything.

  ‘Nate,’ Marina says right next to me. She looks concerned. I just watch her face in the artificial gloom. It feels strange, to be so clouded in darkness when I woke up not even two hours ago.

  I hold up the bullet from the keeper’s gun.

  ‘It’s real,’ I say as she takes it from my hand, looking carefully at the indents of the silver-cased bullets. ‘And ours aren’t.’

  This gets Marina’s attention back to me; her blue eyes lock onto my green with so much fear it makes me afraid—though I wonder why I wasn’t afraid before.

  ‘What does that mean?’ she asks.

  Marina looks different without her hair flowing around her; she still makes my heart pound with her hair dripping wet, though.

  I think about it, and the answer is simple.

  ‘I’m taking it—’ I say as I sling the gun’s strap over my arm. ‘We’ll be damn careful, find the others and get the hell out of here,’ I say, then try and pull my gaze away from hers. It’s harder than I thought it would be.

  A hammering of thunder starts overhead as we set off again. I wish this rain would stop.

  The four of us move around the made-up town, with its empty half-made buildings. I suspect they always sit in this degree of shadow. They have windows that contain no glass, and doorways that contain no doors. You can tell this place isn’t real; it is so hollow. The houses are all derelict, but no one ever lived in them, that’s not why they’re falling down. It is somehow curiously familiar, though—it looks like the parts of the city that my father always warned me away from, near the docks.

  ‘Nate!’ Marina calls me back to myself. I see that my three companions have gathered over by the end of the alleyway, where the street opens up and lights flicker over the walls and down towards us.

  Within a few seconds, we’re there, at the centre of this arena, at the epicentre of it all.

  There, standing in the middle, is the rest of the group. Robert stands with Lola against a far wall, and Georgie is off in the foetal position in a small corner created by two buildings. I can only see Kane’s back but I can tell what garners his attention.

  Winter stands in the middle of the square; there is a keeper behind her, holding a gun to her head.

  As we approach, I can see the keeper is uneasy about having so many guns on him, though he probably knows our guns won’t kill him.

  ‘Let her go,’ Kane says from in front of them. His leg is still in bandages, though he seems able to stand on it now.

  I can tell he has heard us approach, but he can’t take his attention away from the keeper.

  ‘No.’ My heart stops for a split second as I hear Winter speak the word. ‘Let him kill me.’

  ‘Winter.’ Kane’s voice breaks on her name.

  I see the keeper whisper something in Winter’s ear and her eyes go wide. Kane repositions his gun at the keeper’s head more fiercely.

  I slip my gun back and hand it to Marina. She gives me a bemused look.

  I move forward a few steps, holding my ground, and the gun that I stole off the other keeper.

  ‘He told you to let her go.’ My words are quiet; the pounding rain quite literally drowns them out.

  The keeper only looks more anxious as we all stand with our guns on him, though he believes he holds all the power.

  ‘My father will make you pay for this,’ Winter says.

  ‘Your father won’t do shit,’ the keeper spits. ‘You really think your father cares? He knows what’s coming in this war, and he’s saving all the protection he can for himself, not his stupid, pathetic little daughter!’

  I am tempted more than ever to shoot, feeling the keeper’s words cut into Winter.

  All in a second, the picture in front of me changes. Winter throws her elbow backwards, into the keeper’s face. In the same second she grabs his arm and pulls it around until it looks as though it might break with the smallest movement of her hand. The keeper drops his gun and it clatters to the wet puddle of the ground. Winter throws the man’s arm back, not breaking it but causing a grunt to extrude from the inseams of the keepers chest. Winter’s knee goes into the man’s face and he falls to the ground.

  We all stand in shock as Winter looks down at the man who a moment ago looked as though he had full control of her.

  ‘Pathetic, huh?’ she sneers.

  ‘Enough!’ A voice booms from beyond the empty expanses of the room. The rain starts to ease
off and lights start to blare and break through the darkness. I always love that, the way that light moves through the dark in rain.

  After a few moments, I see who the voice belongs to. An older man steps forward, though he looks like he has only hardened with age, his face lined and scarred. He stands before us, two keepers on either side of him.

  ‘I am called Law, because here in your training, you live by my rules.’ My eyes flicker to the youngest keeper I have seen so far. He looks ever so slightly like this Law character and I wonder if it is his son. The other one is Hermia’s keeper. He looks as menacing as ever.

  I wonder if that is how it works here, if there is a whole community of them living and breathing battle, breeding new soldiers to go off into the war zone.

  ‘Tomorrow you will go into the training room and choose a weapon. This weapon will become like your right arm, and you will need to know every tiny little intricate detail about it.’ They are trying to train us, but how can they expect our loyalty when we have guns pointed at our heads?

  Law turns now, but the rest of the guards wait, watching us, and Law turns back.

  ‘May I offer some advice?’ His question and gaze move over all of us, his eyes not lingering on anyone in particular, until he gets to Winter. ‘You—’ He takes a step towards her and points his finger directly in her face.

  Winter just stands with her eyes wide, almost as though she fears Law’s finger may fire off some deadly bullet.

  ‘Your greatest advantage was that the rest of them,’ he sweeps his hands around in a circle, gesturing to the nine of us, but also to the keepers standing with him, ‘had no idea that you could crack a man’s nose like that.’ His tone almost turns teasing. ‘Your greatest advantage was in keeping that secret. Now—’ he steps back, resuming his stand-offish composure ‘—they all know what you can do.’ There is a double beat, then he utters, ‘Let’s hope you’ve got more fight than just that.’

  Hermia

  I watch Chase from where I stand, hoping more than anything that no one can see me staring. No one knows that I know him; no one knows that we have spoken. So why am I so afraid of the others finding out?