Shymers

by Jen Naumann

  She motions for me to follow her and we run down the sidewalk for many blocks beyond the school. The girl stops at a small, yellow car parked next to the curb. The paint on the hood is cracked, and the bumper looks to be held on by a twisted wire. Even though the vehicle looks unsafe, I waste no time crawling in through the passenger’s door.

  Every muscle in my body is tense as the girl races the car down the street with the headlights turned off. It has been years since I actually rode in a vehicle. My parents used to own a small black car when I was younger. Not many Shymer families owned a vehicle, and my parents soon learned it was because no one in our territory knew how to repair one. When they tried to take it to the Future territory for maintenance, they were turned down. After all, they were registered as living with Shymer children.

  “So you’re Lani?” I ask.

  “Obviously,” she answers, rolling her eyes. “What were you doing back there? Hoping to attract the attention of some soldiers?”

  I snicker. “Like you don’t stand out as being a Rebel?”

  “Whatever, man. I’m only doing this favor for Tayrn.”

  I shrug, trying to think of something Olive would say in the situation. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful. It’s a great thing you did for me—coming out in the middle of the night to help me out like this.”

  Her eyes narrow when she looks over to me. “Like Isaid, I’m doing this forTayrn.”

  Many moments of silence pass as she continues driving through the back streets. I have only been to this part of the territory a few times in my lifetime. It is the same place my mother used to work. A couple of cars pass, filled with adults on their way to work in one of the factories. When the sun is up and we can actually see where we are going, Lani still drives at an uncomfortably fast rate of speed. My fingers clutch the door handle beside me.

  Lani turns to regard me in the daylight. “Tayrn says you’re running away to the Free Lands.”

  “Can you help?” Her eyes turn back to the road just before we come to a light that I’m fairly certain means we are to stop. The little yellow car screeches to a stop. I have to hold my hand out to keep from hitting my head on the dashboard. “Aren’t you worried about thetraffic laws?” I ask through clenched teeth.

  She shrugs. “The car is registered with a fake name.” Just how many tricks does this girl know to keep her safe from the government’s reaches? I decide not to ask too many questions. She clearly wants nothing more than to be rid of me, anyway. The light changes to green and the car jets forward. “My friends can help you. We have to wait until the first shift of the day is complete.”

  The Future territory operates in two shifts. Those considered to be lower class—like my mother—have the overnight shift that ends around lunch time. It will be hours until that shift is finished, and a few more hours in this small car with this strange girl would be too much. There is barely enough cool air blasting at us to take the bite out of the heat. “And until then?”

  A slow grin spreads across her face. “I’m going to introduce you to a whole world you Shymers have only ever dreamed of.”

  * * *

  The old metal warehouse at the edge of the Future territory has the appearance of a fully functioning factory from the outside. Smokestacks puff steady streams of white clouds into the air, just like the other run-down buildings surrounding it. Lani parks the yellow car in a tight alley behind the warehouse and jumps out to retrieve a large folded object from the trunk. I follow her to the back. The neighborhood smells like something rotten.

  “Help me out.” Lani throws the object over the car. I grab a corner of the thick material and watch Lani pull her side down over the car, so I do the same. We continue pulling the material down until the car is completely covered. We each take a step back. The car now blends in with the graffiti on the brick wall. The farther I step away, the less noticeable the shape of the car appears.

  “How did you come up with that idea?”

  Lani snickers. “The Rebels know how to do way more than you could ever imagine.”

  Hearing Lani say she is a Rebel is not a surprise, but the thrill that consumes me is. She pulls a set of keys from her pocket and uses them on a door to the building. The door swings open and I follow her inside. A horrible smell washes over us, ten times stronger than what I first got a whiff of outside. I cover my mouth.

  “That’s the smell of dead animals!” Lani shouts over the loud noises coming from machines deeper inside. “This is a rendering plant! The government doesn’t like to come here often, so it’s a pretty safe cover!”

  We learned of these places in lessons. They break down the fat in dead animals for the use of butter and animal feed. But I had never actually seen—orsmelled—one until now.

  Lani leads me down a narrow hallway. We pass many people dressed in white aprons who look like Shymers with their less than perfect faces and dark shades of long hair stuffed inside hair nets. They greet Lani with bright smiles, but stare me down.

  At the end of the hallway, she crouches down to remove a rug from the floor and a wooden panel underneath it. An old set of wooden stairs are revealed, barely visible without any lights below. I climb down first with Lani right behind me. She grabs a robe on the panel to pull it shut over our heads. My breath draws tight as we are momentarily seized by total darkness. A second later there is a clicking noise, and Lani’s face appears next to a small flame of fire.

  “Follow me,” she says.

  By the damp smell of earth, I know we are underground. Muffled, angry music mixed with a loud buzz of voices rings out. An entirely different smell—one that is sweet and almost pleasant to inhale—slams into me. We come to another door that Lani unlocks with a twist of her hand. She turns to me, her eyes bright and her grin wide.

  “Welcome to the Rebel world.”

  Olive

  13 – Come See How Beautiful Living Can Be

  Rather than take me to the fortress off in the distance where I guess my mother is being held, Zeke drags me inside the smaller stone building. Part of me is filled with hope—maybe there is a chance I can somehow slip away from him and still find Tayrn and Harrison. The other part—the more quiet and sentimental part—is worried that I won’t find a way to see my mother.

  “Zeke, please,” I beg as he pushes on the glass doors to the building. “Can we just talk about this first?”

  Cool air rushes to us inside. We both exhale from the sudden relief at the change in temperature. A muscular, blond-haired soldier steps out in front of us to take an eye scan, first from Zeke, then from me. He frowns at the scanner and narrows his blue eyes at Zeke. “You’re the commander’s son. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to see my father,” Zeke tells the man. “I caught this Shymer trying to leave Society.”

  “I was only going to visit a friend,” I insist. It’s the first lie that comes to mind. Since we are now well beyond the uptown area, the excuse Tayrn gave me may no longer work. Then again, I don’t know that anything will work at this point.

  “Why are you calling her a Shymer?” the soldier asks Zeke, his frown deepening. “She’s registered as a Future.”

  Zeke’s hand falls from my arm and he glares at the soldier. “You’re wrong. She’s a Shymer.” He yanks my sweat-filled hair aside on my right to show the soldier. “See?”

  At least I now know the mark is on my right side.

  The soldier leans in to look at it. After pulling the scanner up to take another read, he shakes his head. “If this is some kind of a joke—”

  “It’s no joke,” Zeke assures him in an angry tone. “She goes to my school. I know for a fact that she’s a Shymer.”

  The soldier frowns on me. Just when I fear he is going to call someone on his communicator and draw more attention to us, he waves us through. “Go, see your father then. Maybe he can figure out what all of this is about.”

  Zeke grabs my arm again to push me through a second set of doors. The air in the ma
in part of the building is so frigid it feels as if we’re diving into an ice-cold bath. Everything inside is bright and clean. The stone floors shine from a recent wash, and every wall is a stark white. A large cluster of lights hang from different areas of the ceiling, the glass around the bulbs sparkling.

  Men and women mill about the building with definite purpose, not even bothering to stare at the two sweaty Shymers among them. They are each dressed in the same long sleeves and pants of a dark material that nearly cover every part of their skin. Metal pins with some kind of metal object hanging down cover the place above their hearts. Some of them are wearing pointed little hats. The temperature in the building probably cooler just to keep everyone from overheating in their heavy-looking uniforms.

  “Looks to me like you really don’t fit in here,” I tell Zeke under my breath. “Do you think your father will be pleased to see you?”

  “C’mon,” he barks, his fingers digging painfully into my arm.

  Stumbling forward, I try to think of a way to get myself out of this mess. Facing Zeke’s father could be the end of all hope.

  We approach a row of identical metal doors. Behind them are large metal boxes that rise and fall above our heads. When I realize Zeke intends to place me inside one, I plant my feet as best as I can. Is this suspension? Is he able to unceremoniously throw me inside and lock me in? Is this how it works?

  Zeke glares down on me, frustrated. Then a sudden recognition crosses his face and his eyes roll to the ceiling. “I almost forgot you were raised in the wild. They’re calledelevators. They take us higher up in the building so we don’t have to walk up the stairs.”

  A tall man enters one, and the door closes behind him. I watch the box as it moves higher into the air. A few doors down, two women emerge from one of the boxes, laughing together. By the willingness of these Futures to enter, maybe theyare as innocent as Zeke claims them to be. I finally decide it’s safe and allow him to lead me inside.

  After Zeke pushes a numbered button on a panel, the metal door slowly closes. Between the metal walls and the heavy door shutting behind us, the air feels limited. My breathing becomes labored and tight. Small spaces have always terrified me.

  Just as I begin to worry we will suffocate, the box moves up and my stomach slams down. The strange sensation of the moving box and the threat of what will lie behind the metal door when it opens again are terrifying. I clutch the metal bar attached to the wall and look at Zeke with wide eyes.

  He watches on with amusement. “Only a few people have died in one of these. You would know if your time was up, right?”

  “No, Iwouldn’t know,” I assure him.

  His eyes narrow. “Whatwas that little mix-up down there about you being a Future, anyway?”

  “When the soldiers took my mother away, they told me I was a Future. Even the director at the orphanage knows I’m a Future.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” he scoffs. “Why would your parents have taken you into hiding if you were a Future? Why would you have themark?”

  I shrug. “Maybe they didn’t want me living this kind of life, regardless of what I am.”

  It’s the first time I have been able to come up with my own excuse, although it still doesn’t explain the mark. Just the fact that my parents never told me I had such a thing, or even ever mentioned the existence of the marks feels like a betrayal. I try to push the bad feelings aside that continue to creep into my subconscious. My parents must have had their reasons for not telling me these things.

  Zeke shakes his head. “It has to be a mistake made by the scanners. They wouldn’t have given a Future the death mark as an infant.”

  Crossing my arms in front of me, I glare back at him. “Have you considered what will happen if you’re wrong? What do you think your father will say? Do you think he will be pleased that you, as a Shymer, tried to stop a Future and questioned her status?”

  Zeke’s eyes grow wide. He hasn’t thought of this. His fingers on my arm shift nervously and his breathing quickens. He anxiously watches the numbers above the metal door flipping by.

  “What do you think he’ll say, Zeke?” I ask again.

  His other hand reaches out to the panel of buttons, his pointer finger hovering over them, shaking uncontrollably.

  “You better think real hard,” I say, my voice hard.

  His finger darts out to push a button and the box jolts to a stop. We both stumble for a moment, jarred by the movement. He turns to stare at me. Beneath the greasy dark hair, tears fill his eyes. “All I ever wanted was my father’s approval. But I’ve tried everything. There isn’t much time left. I don’t know what else to do.”

  Smiling, I place my hand over his arm. “That is exactly why I can’t stay here any longer. Your father never should have abandoned you the way he did. Just think of all the years you could have had together before your DOD. Just because your life is shorter than his doesn’t mean it’s any less meaningful, Zeke. Society iswrong. It’s just like back in the old world, when people were judged on the color of their skin, or who they wanted to marry. If you come away with us, you won’t have to live your final days in suspension. We can leave this horrible place, and maybe even work on your playlist.”

  “Society isn’twrong,” he says through clenched teeth.

  “Yes itis,” I insist. “You’re a good person, Zeke. I understand you want to know your father’s love. But this isn’t the way.”

  “I don’t have a playlist,” he mutters as tears roll down his face. His grip on my arm is lighter. He squeezes gently when the sorrow of his situation overtakes him in waves.

  I smile brightly. “You can still make one. I’m sure there are things you have thought of that you have always wanted to do or see. You said yourself you don’t have long before your DOD. In the Free Lands you won’t be able to do all of them, but you’ll be free to do what you want. Wouldn’t you like to reallylive life these last few days and do things how you want and when you want, without other people telling you you’re not worth it?”

  His lips shake. He finally nods with more tears splashing from his eyes down onto his shirt.

  I step forward. “Come with me, Zeke. Your life is worth something. Come see how beautiful living can be.”

  His hand drops from my arm.

  * * *

  As we re-enter the lobby, people seem to notice us this time. Maybe it’s because Zeke’s eyes and face are red from crying, although his hair obscures a good portion of them. Maybe it’s because I’m biting my lips to keep from grinning with the relief that we’renot going to see Zeke’s father. Whatever the reason for the unwanted attention, it makes me uneasy.

  We come upon a small hallway near the entrance where there is a set of lavatories. I push on Zeke to get him to turn into it with me. “I need to ask you a favor.”

  My once-captor, now-possible-friend nods.

  I lean closer. “I need to see if there is any way I can visit my mother before we leave. What if you told that soldier over there that your father ordered you to take me there? Maybe he could get us some kind of clearance to enter the facility without raising too much suspicion.”

  Glancing down the hallway, Zeke sighs. “I don’t know. What if they check with my father to see if we’re telling the truth? I don’t think many people are allowed to stop by suspension forvisiting hour. It sounds too dangerous.”

  “But it might work, right? If you walk over to him and act demanding about it, he’ll have to listen. He knows you’re the commander’s son. If he becomes too suspicious then we just run like hell.”

  His face morphs into a funny little expression when he pulls his head back. “What doesthat mean?”

  Sometimes I forget when I use the sayings my parents would utter from the old world. People in Society must not be familiar with them. I huff in amusement. “It means we run for our lives and don’t look back.”

  “Oh,” he says, nodding, although his eyes are still puzzled.

  I squeeze his a
rm. “You candothis, Zeke. Attitude is everything.”

  “What doesthat mean?” he asks, giving me the same strange look.

  Apparently Harrison’s family had been big on sayings from the old world as well. “It means we go over there, and you order that soldier to let you take me. Now take me by the arm again and pretend you really mean it.”

  I wince when his fingers grip my already tender arm. Even though my body temperature is finally returning to normal from being in the cold air for so long, I am still somewhat overheated and Zeke’s sweating hand feels cool. We take long strides back in the direction of the soldier.

  I think of terribly sad thoughts ranging from never seeing my mother again, to never being able to show Harrison the good things in life or even him dying all alone. By the time we approach the soldier again, I am crying real tears.

  “My father ordered me to take her over to the suspension facility to clear things up,” Zeke tells him. His voice is too stiff and monotone. I lightly press my elbow to his rib cage. “He said you were to give me clearance.”

  The soldier’s eyes narrow. “You sure weren’t up there very long.”

  Zeke huffs impatiently. “He realized she was a Shymer and somehow had her registry altered to make her appear to be a Future. He told me to take her over there at once. Would you like me to go back up and tell him you won’t comply with his orders?”

  As the soldier considers this, you can almost see his brain trying to work. In all reality, he wouldn’t normally take orders from a Shymer, but the threat of Zeke’s important father seems to be enough. The soldier shifts his weight and sighs loudly before punching something into the scanner. He runs it along my eyes, then Zeke’s. “Go on then.”