by Martha Adele
The screaming continues in waves. Each time seems louder than the last, which leads me to believe that I am getting closer. Closer. Closer.
Here.
Through the bushes, I see a flash of something light colored run from my right to left. Before I can comprehend what is going on, I hop out from behind the foliage and run after the large pack of rodents that look just like the pack that chased me when I first arrived.
I shout, hoping to help scare them away but end up earning all of their attention. The large cat-sized rats turn to me and begin scurrying my direction. I swing my staff back and forth violently at the animals, swatting them away as if I was batting at a ball. Their drool splatters with every hit, leading me to hope that it isn’t toxic. Their dirty brown fur flies through the air, falling off each rodent as they soar.
A battle cry comes shrieking out of the trees from the same direction that I just came from, and a body emerges with an even longer, thicker stick that resembles a long log. Sam takes one large, hard swing, taking out three of the largest rats closest to him. We bat, swing, and kick what feels like over twenty of these animals before they flee to the surrounding foliage. We watch them scurry away when I hear clawing and growling in the distance.
“Come on,” I whisper to Sam.
As I track the rest of the rodents, Sam ignores me and runs off, swinging his log at what I am guessing is another rodent his eyes fix on. His battle cries shoot through the air as he runs off in one direction, and I run off in the other.
I sprint to the person’s aid, and the rats’ low growling and crazed scratching grow louder. Louder. Louder.
Here.
A few other rodents are jumping and clawing the base of a tree about fifty meters away from our batting point. The person’s body is clinging to the tree about five feet above the ground. I look around to see a few stumpy bits protruding on the large and thick tree trunk, which was most likely what made it possible for her to escape the rats.
I run over and use my full upper-body strength to take one final swing, knocking three rodents away and launching them off into the air. They squeal as they fly and let out a small squeak when they hit the ground. The three thud noises come one after another as they meet the ground. Thud. Thud. Thud.
The blonde hair is the first thing I notice. It hangs over her face and runs down her shoulders but stops at the bottom of her shoulder blades. I hear her loud wheezes and try to follow her attempts to speak but fail to understand what she is saying.
I hesitantly ask her, not knowing how she will react, “Hey, are you okay?”
Her head jerks over to me, causing most of her long and wavy hair to flip aside and leaves a few strands in her face. With eyes as wide as they can be, she stares at me, seemingly pleading. Pleading for what, though? Does she want me to go away? Does she want help down? Is she hurt? Is she scared? I’m scared too, but I haven’t gone into complete panic mode. Her wheezing seems to get quieter, and her grip on the tree loosens the longer our eyes are locked.
I extend my hand upward to her and wait for her to take it. “It’s okay. They’re gone,” I say in a calm voice, hoping to coerce her into coming down.
She takes a few deep breaths, and we stand there for a few moments, me holding out my hand and her holding the tree. After what felt like a minute, she slowly makes her way down without my help and meets my eyes again. She pushes some of the hair out of her face, revealing her bright green eyes that matched the color of the trees back home. The same color eyes that my mom had. The color my dad would describe as “golden hazel” and that Gramps would describe as green. Right below her left eye lies a scar, hopefully one she didn’t get here. It looks as if she had been grazed by something sharp.
There are so many questions to ask, but the first one that comes out is “Are you okay?”
Her breath, still shaky, squeaks as she tries to answer but is interrupted by Sam’s pounding footsteps running up to us, causing the girl to begin wheezing like she was when I first came to her.
Sam runs up to us both with the log in his hand and growls at me, “Logan, I got them,” causing the girl to fall back and grab my shirt as she leans against my chest. Sam looks from me to her and twitches his head while trying to contain his scowl. Before I know what I am doing, my arms are wrapped around her, holding her close. Sam drops the log and puts his hand up in surrender, not really knowing what to do. I stare at him for a moment, then look down to find her hands covering her face as her breathing steadies.
We all stand there for minutes. I feel her breathing slow as I watch Sam’s face unscrunch slowly. His twitching eases slowly over the course of our wait for the girl to calm down. I watch as his breathing pattern slows and feel as hers follows.
“I-I’m sorry.” Her voice, muffled by her hands, surprises Sam and me. She pulls away slowly and wipes away any and every tear on her face. She sniffles, “I have never been that … I’ve never had that …” She looks from me to Sam. “Never.”
“It’s okay.” I nod to her. “I doubt you have ever been attacked by a pack of rats before.”
She gives me a weak smile.
I return the smile. “I’m Logan.” I find myself squeezing my eyes into a blink three times.
Squeeze. Blink.
Squeeze. Blink.
Squeeeeeeze.
Blink.
Each blink is harder than the other and satisfies me less than the one preceding it.
She turns her head to look at Sam as he wipes his forehead.
“Sam.” He lifts his hand and gives a quick wave.
Her eyes follow his dried-blood-covered arm as it falls back to his side. “Mavis.” She gulps as she turns and glances at me and then back to Sam. “Thanks for helping me out.”
Sam nods.
I nod back. “Come on,” I whisper to them. “We need to go ahead and find somewhere to stay for the night.” I bend down to pick up my staff and begin walking into the woods.
Confused, Mavis hesitantly follows. “Huh?”
“Those rats aren’t the only things that can get you down here,” Sam whispers.
I turn to Mavis, walking backward now, and point upward. “The trees are the safest place to be. So far, we haven’t met any animal that can climb them.”
Mavis nods to us and looks around. She scratches her arm as she follows.
“How long have you been out here?” I ask.
“Me?” Her scratching ceases for a moment as she processes. “Oh, um … today.” She looks around, and the scratching picks back up. “Or maybe yesterday, depending on the time.”
Sam’s head jerks back to her. “Today?”
Mavis’s scratching slows, but not to a complete stop. I continue to stealthily move forward and stumble upon another tree like the last one Sam and I rested in. I reach out for one of the large flat shiny leaves and slide my hand across it. “I think this’ll work.”
Mavis gives Sam a shy smile, ignoring what I just said. “Yes, today. What about y—”
Sam interrupts her, saying, “Is today your birthday?”
She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow to him as her scratching becomes slowly more violent. “Yes? Why?”
“It’s mine too.” He smiles back to her. “Happy birthday.”
I wave them over to the tree, hoping that they will listen this time. “Come on. Let’s talk up here.”
Sam makes his way over to the trunk and puts his hand on one of the lowest-hanging branches. “Where are you from?” Before she can answer, Sam bombards her with questions and information. “Were you assigned to the military too? We were. I’m from Bouw. Logan’s from Minje. We met so—”
“Sam!” I shout in a hushed tone. He looks back to me, confused. “One thing at a time,” I chuckle.
He turns back to Mavis and shrugs. “Sorry.”
She stops scratching long en
ough to grab on to a branch and pull herself up. She chuckles, “It’s fine.”
We all make our way up the tree and stop about thirty feet up. After everyone finds a branch to settle into, Mavis fills us in. She is from Bloot, just like Charlie was. She lived with a single parent, just like Sam and I did. And she was drafted, just like we all were. We talk a bit about ourselves before we start discussing the theories of why and how we ended up out here.
Sam holds up one of his pointer fingers to us and taps it with his other. “Option 1,” Sam lists, “this is all part of some sort of training. Only the strong are allowed into the Stellen military.” Sam leans back into the tree’s trunk and stares somewhat angrily at his finger. One of his eyes begins to twitch slightly, but he squeezes his eyes closed to try to get it to stop.
“Option 2,” I add, thinking back to all of the times I went against the officials’ orders and played in the woods, “we are now old enough to face a punishment for any and all crimes we have committed.” I turn to Mavis, who is counting off these options on her fingers as well but is staring blankly at them as opposed to Sam, who has his eyes squeezed tight as he counts. I continue, “Meaning we are criminals, and this is our punishment.”
We all sit in silence and think these options over. The heavy sound of the cricket songs around us seems to make this punishment seem a lot more soothing than it actually is. The light breeze blowing through the air ruffles the leafy dome around us, sending me into a bliss that I hadn’t felt since I woke up here.
“Option 3.” Her voice surprises me with its serious nature. I have never heard such a mix of deadpan and realization before. Mavis looks up from her fingers, which are now holding the number 3, and straight into my eyes. Through her knowing smile, she chuckles out the third theory. “Bloot was right.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Mavis
Logan cocks his head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean what I said. Bloot was … is right.” The boys continue to look confused, so I try to elaborate the best I know how. “What do you know about Bloot?”
“They are small!” Sam blurts. “And poor.”
Logan gives a quiet gasp as if he thinks I am offended. “Sam!”
“No, no! It’s fine,” I tell them. “Is that all you both know about us?”
Sam takes a moment and shifts his weight on the branch he is using as a seat. “Sort of. Am I right?”
I confirm by nodding.
Sam continues, “My grandpa had always wanted to move there for some reason, so I guess it was a pretty cool state either way.”
My mouth finds its way into a smile, and I let out a slight chuckle. “Thanks. I know we are hardworking, but cool?” I shrug as the thought passes through my mind. “I don’t know.” I have never once thought of Bloot being a “cool” state. It is definitely not considered cool in Harbaugh, my precinct.
Sam shrugs. “Well, Grandpa was a bit of a loon anyways, so what do I know?”
I take a deep breath and look around us to find the dome of leaves shedding as it releases a few old leaves to fall like rain over us. One in particular floated down beside me and brushed my arm on its way to the ground.
I give my arm a quick scratch and catch a glimpse of the boys, who are obviously still confused. I sort through my many thoughts and begin, “Where should I start?”
I look back to Logan, whose eyes seem to be staring at my hand as it scratches my arm. Feeling self-conscious, I stop scratching and continue as his eyes meet mine, “Let’s start with what I know …” I hold up one of my fingers as I begin to count off the things I need to cover. “One, Bloot is absolutely hated by the Stellen government.” We are forced to be poor so that the government can supply luxuries to the other states. “Fact.” I hold up my second finger. “Two, we are only educated for things that the Stellen government considers helpful. Fact.”
Logan’s eyes dart toward Sam as they share a quick moment of realization.
I continue, “Three, there are rumors throughout Bloot that people were being exiled for no apparent reason other than population control.” I look back and forth to and from each of the boys. Logan’s thumbs rub each of his fingers rapidly, and Sam’s feet twitch out of rhythm. Another leaf falls, and we all watch it slowly float to the ground between us.
I take a deep breath to finish and am interrupted by Logan, who says, “Fact.”
I shrug. “That’s what it looks like.”
We sit in silence, watching a leaf fall once every few minutes before Sam scoots back on his branch and leans against the trunk of the tree. “Well, enough revelations for now. I’m going to sleep.”
Logan and I exchange one final look. “Good night,” he says.
I smile and nod back to him as I climb up a few more branches. With the boys below me, I find myself sitting toward the top of the tree trunk, with a thick branch in between my legs to help keep me stable. I lean forward and rest my head on the trunk and try to get some sleep but fail. I notice that the bark covering these trees is much rougher than the trees back home. If I had tried to lay my head on one of those trees, their smooth surface would have comforted me, reminding me that I am safe. But the rough, bumpy, and protruding bark of this tree is cutting into my skin the longer I sit.
I pull my head back and observe the bark for the first time since my arrival. My hands run across the surface of it slowly as I feel the uneven texture. The higher up into the tree you climb, the thinner the branches, trunk, and dome of leaves become. I glance by the trunk in front of me and take notice through the leaves surrounding us that in front of me, a long ways away, is a mountain range.
The very top of the mountains is covered by what appears to be low-hanging clouds, while their bottom is hidden by the jungle of which we are in the center. I turn around and try to look through the leaves on the other side to see if I can find the wall anywhere but fail. The leaves are too thick on this side to see, so I shift back to my original resting position and try to sleep. I lay my head back against the tree and lean in. Before long, I fall asleep to the sounds of crickets chirping and a sort of bird’s song that I have never heard before.
It is a restless night. The cool breeze sends shivers through my body every time the wind picks up. I admit, I most likely would be warmer if I moved down the tree a bit more, but I don’t care. In and out of sleep I go, only to be woken by a ray of light peeking through one of the patches of missing leaves around me.
I squint and look around and see that the sun rose directly across the mountains, which helps me slightly figure out where we are.
My eyes slowly flutter open as I wake and take notice of Sam’s heavy breathing. It is not exactly snoring, but it is loud enough that I can categorize it as such. I wipe my eyes and look down to see Logan with his eyes closed, still rubbing his fingernails, one by one, three times each. I find his rubbing routine soothing. Watching it is mesmerizing and somehow makes this whole situation seem less horrid than it really is. I am reminded of the horrors when Logan looks up at me and rubs his eyes open.
“Hey,” he whispers.
I smile to him and look back at Sam, who is fast asleep. I crawl down the branches to sit closer to Logan. Trying not to wake Sam, who appears to be the only one of us who can get some sleep, I whisper back as quietly as I can, “How’d you sleep?”
Logan shrugs. “Not important. How about you?”
Not important? I tilt my head at him and wait for him to answer my question.
He sighs. “In and out. Mostly just uncomfortable, waiting for the sun to rise.”
I scoot back and lean against the tree trunk. “Me too.”
“Same here,” Sam moans. He turns his head back to us and takes a deep breath, still not opening his eyes. “What time is it?”
“The sun just came up, so maybe six?” I guess.
Sam moans.
Logan smiles and turn
s to me. His eyes are pools of tawny and caramel that blend together in a way so that you can distinguish each strand of color from the other. Not so much that it looks like stripes, but enough that you can tell the different colors radiating from his pupil to the cinnamon barrier on the outskirts of his iris. “What’s the plan for today?” He looks to Sam but is ignored due to the fact that Sam’s eyes are closed. Logan glances back to me and continues, “We need to secure food and water. I know that much.”
I nod in agreement.
Sam gives a light grunt of what seems like approval.
I lick my chapped lips in hopes of bringing back a little moisture. “I saw that there are some mountains west.” I point in their direction. “Doesn’t that mean there should be a freshwater stream?”
Logan smiles back. “Sounds about right to me. Back in Minje, we have a few mines in the mountains. All of the construction happened to be close to a few of the streams, making them dirty and undrinkable.” His dimples become more obvious as the sun rises, along with the temperature. He sighs. “Hopefully, we will have better luck over there.”
Sam sits up and wipes his eyes. “Wait, which way is the wall?”
I yawn. “I tried looking earlier, but I couldn’t see it.”
“As long as the mountains are far away from the wall, we should be good.” Sam yawns back.
Before I can ask why, Logan joins in and yawns with us. We chuckle as we try to finish yawning but get stuck in a state of openmouthed laughing that we cannot control.
I wait a bit and catch my breath from our quiet laughter before asking, “Why do we need to stay away from the wall? Can’t they help?”
Sam leans forward, finishes his yawn, and stretches. “You would think so, but apparently not.”
Logan, just as confused as me, asks, “What do you mean?”
“Well, while I was being chased by that cat beast that I told you about, I found the wall.”