Writing on the Wall (Survival Series)

by Ward, Tracey

  Phil shakes his head, ignoring my sarcasm. “No, you’re watching the inner courtyard.”

  “Why? What’s the threat there?”

  “Look, the outside is fine. Just worry about what’s going on inside.”

  I stop following him. “You mean we’re not watching to keep anything out, we’re making sure everyone stays in?”

  “The people need to be kept safe.”

  “From what? The cows?”

  “Themselves.” he says firmly. “Now walk.”

  I follow him but I want to shove him off the structure. I daydream about it for the rest of my shift. Getting out of here was going to be tough but now that I’ve seen all of this, the Risen outside and the guards watching every corner, it feels impossible.

  “That’s why they showed it to you.” Vin tells me.

  We’re standing in the back of the common room after dinner with some of the people in our rotation. The Colony is divided into three groups who live on three different schedules. It ensures that someone is awake, on watch and working at all times. It’s like a 7-Eleven; it’s always open.

  “Well, it worked. I’m worried.”

  “Don’t be. I’m working on something.”

  “Oh yeah? What?”

  “That.”

  He nods in the direction of a group of women sitting on the floor across the room. They’re watching a movie playing on the television, some bubble gum 90s romance monstrosity that makes me ache for the brilliance that is John Hughes, and I can see Barbie sitting in the center of it. Breanne is with her looking every bit the team player. I’ve already counted her as one of them.

  “Breanne?” I ask incredulously. “What? Is she doing an inside job?”

  I can’t believe it could be true. Breanne is a sweet girl but she is simple. She would find the layers of an onion confusing.

  “No, I am. On her.” He points to my nemesis.

  “Barbie?”

  “Caroline.”

  “Whatever. How are you working an inside job on her?”

  He looks at me pointedly but doesn’t say a word. I stare back at him, not getting it, not until—

  “Oh, God, gross.”

  He grins. “There it is.”

  “But you hate her.”

  “Violently, yeah. Girl’s dead inside. But when a woman offers to get naked for you, you don’t pass that up. Not in this economy.”

  “I would think in your line of work that you’d be at the point where a naked woman is not that exciting.”

  He snorts. “If I ever get to that point, I better be dead.”

  “So are you just sleeping with her or are you getting something out of her?”

  “Oh, I get something out of her. Every time. I’m very thorough.”

  “Again, gross. Are you getting anything useful to the rest of us?”

  “Not yet, but give me time. Right now she’s slumming but once she starts falling in love with me she’ll start spilling her secrets. Pillow talk is very important.”

  “Once she’s in love with you? So this is a long con. The kind of plan that has no hope of getting off the ground before I’m old and gray like you.”

  “Ouch.” he chuckles. “Do you have so little faith in my charms?”

  I shrug, not looking at him. I have no doubt about his charms. In fact, if I was a ten years older…

  “Not your type, huh? Not like your boy Ryan?”

  “Don’t talk about him.” I say quietly.

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t like to talk about him.”

  I don’t like to think about him. Not in here. My memories of whatever it was we had, whatever was starting between us, are starting to fade and distort. He’s on the outside living free and wild with the Lost Boys and the part of me that I imagined with him feels far and faint right now. As though it’s ceasing to exist. As though maybe it never did.

  “Will he look for you?” Vin asks softly, his usual careless bravado shelved for a brief moment.

  I shrug, watching the screen fixedly. There’s a guy talking to a girl on the busy streets of a large city. He reaches up to push a lock of her hair behind her ear. She beams up at him like an idiot, like that small, simple gesture means the world to her.

  “I doubt it.”

  “If he went missing would you look for him?”

  Rain begins to fall. The guy pulls out an umbrella to cover her but she pushes it aside. They’re drenched in an instant, both of them a mess. They kiss.

  I feel the pang in my chest again.

  I nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

  ***

  Two nights later I visit Nats at her newly assigned work station. She’s in the maintenance room, the place that impresses and intimidates me most. I think it’s because of the dull hum of electricity, something I’ve nearly forgotten about. That of all things here feels the strangest to me. Functioning lights that go on and off with the flick of a switch. Power readily available at your fingertips whenever you need it. It was such a huge part of my life before the world ended, one I never actually thought about, and to have it back is almost unnerving. It’s like an old friend you thought was long dead is back and insisting they’re alive. I don’t trust it.

  Nats is thriving here in this room. She’s working with just one other person on her shift. When I sit down across from her at the table where she works, I think I hear him snoring. His head is on his folded arms resting on a desk. He didn’t move when I enter the room.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” I ask, perching in front of her.

  “Good.” she says distractedly, making notations on a chart and frowning.

  “Something wrong?”

  She purses her lips, then tosses the pen aside. “No, not really. I was just noticing how inefficiently they’re using the power here. If they’d divert it from some sections to others at regular intervals, moving with the shifts, it would make so much more sense. They need to create dead zones, yanking the power entirely from areas like the dorms. Someone is always sleeping, why do you need power flowing there? If you need light, use candles. And the useless bathrooms. You can’t flush the toilet but you can turn on the light. Why? It’s ridiculous.”

  I lean forward to look at the chart in front of her. It’s gibberish to me. Confusing, foreign language, Greek gibberish.

  “You got that from looking at this chart?”

  “Yeah, it’s all here, plain as day but none of them want to see it.” she grumbles.

  I shake my head. “Scary as the thought may be, I’m with them. You’re a genius, Nats, cause this all means nothing to me.”

  “Just below, actually.”

  “What?”

  “Just below a genius.” she says casually. “At least by the standards set before. Now I’m considered a moron because I can’t skin a cat and cook it for dinner.”

  I smile at her. “It’s an acquired skill. What did you do for a living before the world fell apart?”

  She shakes her head, standing up and gesturing for me to do the same. “That doesn’t matter now, it’s in the past.”

  I follow her as the takes up the clipboard and begins her rounds. “You don’t like to think about it?”

  “There’s no sense in thinking about it.”

  “Ok.” I say, dropping the topic. I don’t like talking about life before either so fair enough.

  She sniffs the air around me. “Do they have you in the kitchens now?”

  “How’d you know?”

  Nats smiles. “You smell good. Like pumpkins.”

  I nod. “I was canning. They do a lot of canning in there.”

  “Did you know how to do that before?”

  “No.” I scoff. “Do you know how?”

  “Yep, but I’m from a different generation. Do you like it in the kitchen?”

  I shrug as I step closer to one of the generators. There’s a discoloration on the side like rust. I run my finger down it. “It’s alright. Better than the gardens.”

 
“But you don’t like it?”

  “I don’t hate it.”

  She looks where I’m touching the generator and frowns. “Make friends in there.”

  I straighten up, scowling at her. “Why?”

  “Because something is rotten in the state of Denmark,” she tells me, her voice dropping low. “I promise you not everyone is happy to be here.”

  “Really?” I ask, shocked. They all seem so… brainwashed. “How do you know?”

  She gestures silently over her shoulder toward the sleeping guy and mouths the words Not happy.

  I look over my shoulder at her co-worker but he’s still out cold. I turn to ask Nats who else isn’t happy but I catch her frowning at the generator again.

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “I don’t know.” she mutters. She reaches out to touch the discoloration. “It looks like rust but I don’t think it is. The pattern is all wrong.”

  “Could be blood.” I say offhand.

  She looks at me sharply. “Do you think it is?”

  “I don’t know. Looks like it. If it is, it’s old.”

  “They said this facility wasn’t that old. They haven’t been here very long.” she mutters to herself.

  “This thing had to come from somewhere else. It was probably salvaged from an old building. Maybe the blood got on it there.”

  “Maybe.” she says, still frowning.

  There’s a snort from the guy on the desk and Nats steps back, her entire demeanor changing. She’s suddenly light and happy.

  “Where’s Vin tonight?” she asks loud and clear.

  I roll my eyes. “With Caroline.”

  “He’s working that angle hard, isn’t he?” she says, shaking her head.

  “Does he really do it to get information out of her or is he doing it—“

  “You mean doing her.” Nats says with a smirk.

  “Sick. Is he doing it just because he can? Or to show he can?”

  “Oh, honey,” she laughs. “He knows he can. Have you seen Vin? Just because you have your heart and panties all knotted up over some boy on the outside, it doesn’t mean Vin isn’t a show stopper.”

  “He told you about that?”

  “He tells me about everything. And here’s my take on what he’s doing with Caroline. It’s a power trip. He’s spent his entire life, even his life before this one, under someone else’s rule. Out there in the wild he can’t do much about that. He’s risen as high as he’s gonna go and he knows it. But in here he has options. And I think that’s what he’s doing with Caroline. He’s exerting power and control. He’s in charge with her and he likes it. Sort of his way of literally stickin’ it to the man.”

  “What was he before?” I ask, trying to shake away the imagery that phrase is attempting to force into my mind.

  “He was you.” she says, matter of fact. “And that’s why he likes you so much.”

  “What do you mean he was me? Ten years ago nobody was living like I do.”

  “Vin was. He was a kid your age from the wrong side of town living almost exactly as you do now. A runaway alone, trying to avoid becoming affiliated with a gang and scraping out a life for himself. And he wanted more, just like you.”

  “I don’t know that I’ve ever wanted more.” I say softly, feeling embarrassed somehow. “I think I’ve always just wanted to keep what I had.”

  “This Ryan of yours, is he something new for you?”

  “Yeah.” I admit softly.

  “He’s something different. Something more, and I can tell from your eyes that he’s something you want. You’re a hard as nails survivor and a closet softy. So was Vin. He still is, he’s just locked up the softy in the closet tight and he’ll never let him out again.”

  “It’s probably for the best, right?”

  She shrugs. “That’s not my place to say. Everyone has to decide for themselves how they want to handle this life. You need to choose whether or not you want to survive or you want to live.”

  I stare at my hands thinking of brown eyes, stolen kisses, scribbled messages and how, despite my present situation, it was all worth it.

  “Living is harder, isn’t it?” I ask, looking up at her. “It’s more dangerous.”

  “Much more.” she agrees. Then she smiles at me. “Which is why I know you can do it.”

  ***

  That night I wake up to the blurry sight of a dark face coming at me. A hand grips my head, clamping down on my mouth. It’s my worst nightmare come true; a crawler catching me sleeping.

  I don’t have time to think. I go on autopilot and my system is programmed for violence. I punch the face as hard as I can. There’s a groan as I make contact and the hand falls away from my mouth. I sit up quickly, rear back and punch again, this time catching the thing in the side of the head behind the ear. It screams, something that should strike me as odd, but I ignore it. I’m still half asleep and scared out of my mind so it could stand up, plead for mercy forwards, backwards and in Latin and I’d still beat its face in.

  I grab the pillow off my bed as I launch myself at the figure. I grab its dark hair and yank its head back hard until it falls backwards onto the ground. Then I pounce. I’m straddling its chest, just about to bring the pillow down over its mouth to protect me from its teeth while I drive me knee down on its throat until it snaps, when it speaks.

  “Please don’t! Please stop!”

  I hesitate. My chest is heaving and every muscle in my body is screaming to finish the job but I rein it in. I take in my surroundings. I remind myself where I am. Who I’m with. And when I look down I realize with horror that I’m about to kill a living human being.

  I scurry backwards away from her until I’m pinned up against my bed’s frame.

  “What the hell?” I gasp.

  The girl sits up slowly, swaying side to side. She’s holding her hand to the side of her face where I punched her in the cheek. I can’t see her very well in the dark but I know that’s going to bruise because my right hand is aching. It’s nothing compared to what she must be feeling. Or what she’ll be feeling tomorrow.

  “What’s going on?” someone calls from the other side of the room.

  “Nothing.” my assailant calls lightly, shaking her head as though to clear it. I got her good behind the ear. Her equilibrium will be jacked for a while. “The new girl had a bad dream. I came over to check on her. She’s fine.”

  “Go back to sleep.” someone else grumbles nearby.

  “We are.” she replies. As she stands up, she has to grab onto a nearby bed to keep her balance. She offers me her hand. “Right, Joss?”

  I shake my head and stand up on my own, watching her closely. She’s drenched in shadows and I can’t make out her face. All I know is her height, build and that she’ll have a hell of a black eye tomorrow.

  “This isn’t over.” I whisper fiercely. “I’m gonna find you.”

  She nods faintly and whispers, “I hope you do.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next morning I’m on shiner watch. I’m looking at every woman I pass trying to find long dark hair, a petite build and a face with my knuckles written all over it. At breakfast I sit with Vin as I always do but I notice we’re not alone. Two other men about his age come to sit with us and a middle aged woman I’ve never seen before sits herself right down beside me. I look her over quickly. Too tall.

  “Joss, have you met Sandra?” Vin asks, gesturing with his fork between myself and the Amazonian beside me. I’m surprised by his genial tone and use of my actual name.

  “No. Hi.” I reply curtly.

  Vin frowns at me but I ignore him. He talks and laughs with his new friends as I slowly eat my pancakes. Throughout the meal I scan the crowd. I don’t see anyone that fits the shadow I wrestled with last night and I’m starting to wonder if she’s even on the same sleep cycle. Maybe she was just coming off shift when she decided to stop by and try to murder me.

  As the room clears out I begin to lose hope o
f finding her today. Vin’s friends eventually leave. I go to stand to leave as well but he stops me by slamming his hand down on my tray, knocking it back to the table loudly.

  “What’s your deal?” I exclaim, glaring at him.

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You need to get to making friends with these people.”

  I shake my head and look away. “You sound just like Nats.”

  “She’s a smart woman, you should listen to her. I know social skills aren’t your thing, but at least try.”

  “Why do we need to make friends with them?”

  “To use them.”

  “That’s chipper.”

  “Do you want out of here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then get off your high horse and help me out.”

  I sit back from him, taking in his angry eyes and the harsh line of his mouth. He’s never been mad at me before. It’s intimidating and I hate it that he can do this to me.

  “What are we using them for?”

  “Eric and Tim, the guys sitting beside me who you ignored, they work in the fields. Do you know where the fields are?”

  “Outside the building where we’re not allowed.” I reply quietly.

  None of us were selected for outdoor duties permanently. Not yet. We’ve had private counseling sessions with our Team Leaders (mine is Melissa and I’m just grateful it’s not Barbie) to discuss our transition into the community. Despite his charms, Vin wasn’t chosen to go outside either. They don’t trust us near the fence lines unsupervised. I can’t say I blame them. Given the chance I’d risk the freezing waters to get out of here. No question.

  “And Sandra works in the laundry. How could the laundry be helpful to us, Joss?”

  I thought it was weird that he was using my name before but I find it condescending and annoying now. He’s treating me like a child. I’m thinking I’ve already punched one person in the past 24 hours and I wouldn’t mind doing it again.

  “Clothing. Warm clothing and lots of it.”

  “Nailed it.” he says, smacking his hand on the table loudly. “Next time I expect you to act a little friendlier and remember that we would like to get out of here before we die.”