by K M Lovold
“So what?” Nikolina shrugged. “What do you care?”
She yanked her arm out of his grasp and thrashed harder.
Then she stopped, dropped her ax, and turned around, yielding herself to David, his finger atop the black band on his wrist.
“I said to stop.” His words were firm but quiet. “I want you to take a deep breath and come back to your senses. No more hitting the mountain as if doing so will end your life, because I know that’s what you want. But it’s not what you’re gonna get.”
Nikolina blinked, unable to move. She did as she was told—took a deep breath. Her body succumbed to David’s order as her tightened muscles relaxed, her breathing evening out.
David stood before her staring at her, peering into her eyes. Nikolina got the impression he didn’t relish taking control of her. His lips formed a small smile, and he pressed his finger to the wristband again. Nikolina’s power returned to her. She dropped her chin to her chest.
“Like I said.” David put one hand on her arm. “Take it easy. Get your job done, but don’t kill yourself in the process. And I’ll tell you more at mealtime.”
Nikolina wiped the wetness from under her eyes and picked up her ax. Before she returned to digging for Memroth, she eyed Ian not far from her, striding towards the mountain, ax in hand. His eyes looked half open, his footsteps dragging, his shoulders slumped. He reached the wall of rock and stood there, staring at nothing, then shook his head and started hammering the ground.
Nikolina pounded in sync with him and kept her gaze on him. He turned her way, and they locked eyes. She attempted an uplifting smile, hoping to let him know she knew, she understood his pain. She felt it, too.
He didn’t grin back or nod his head or give any kind of indication he comprehended her silent encouragement; he only looked away, pounding the mountain like she was doing—as if the mountain were death, or more like the mountain itself were the one who’d killed Jack.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ian had been on Reathran going on a year and a half now, and ever since Jack died six months ago, he’d struggled with his memories. They had been returning to him a little bit every time he and Jack had spoken at the train, but when he lost Jack, he also lost the return of memories. Besides that, all he could see lately in his mind’s eye was Jack being killed in front of him. It had overtaken his thoughts. He couldn’t shake the fear in Jack’s eyes. He’d been so confident, so certain he was going to be a keeper and that it was going to happen soon, and then the plans they were going to make, the things Jack was going to help Ian accomplish. How could Jack have been so off? So wrong?
And just like that, gone.
Ian didn’t know how to find out what they had suspected Jack of. Although he and Levi had passed a few notes to each other and Levi seemed to know more than Ian did, they could not talk about it.
Ian mined for memroth and had gotten better and better at it. He was stronger than most of the others, and he continued to let the keepers believe they had control over him. No matter how many times they worked the electromagnetic field, they held absolutely zero power over him. It was Ian’s struggle every single day to not let this secret out. He had to continue his ruse while he figured out what to do next, who he could talk to, and where, while he waited for his memories to return.
But after so long, he realized he had to let Jack go so he could remember again, even though their return was, in a way, like torture. There was nothing he could do about Jack now, but he could get back to what they’d been planning. Somehow, some way, Ian had to find the motivation to beat this place, these guards, just like Jack wanted.
One thing Jack’s death had produced was the memory of Elijah. Ian wracked his brain trying to remember who Elijah was and what had happened to him. Though he’d become certain of one thing—Elijah was a friend, another murdered friend. One difference between them: Elijah hadn’t been murdered in front of him like Jack. Somehow, he knew this truth.
But if Ian knew about the murder, could it be he truly was guilty? Maybe he had killed someone. But then why didn’t he remember the details as Jack had? No. Ian couldn’t have killed Elijah; he hadn’t killed anyone. But someone had. Why?
He sat on his bed in his cell, his elbows on his knees, pinching the corners of his eyes. His brain was a mess of jumbled memories and thoughts. He could never focus on one memory long enough to make sense of it. Nothing but bits and pieces came to him.
For now, he had to get out to the mountain to dig, but his body would not stand up and trudge out there. He hated this place, wished he would die instead. In a way, Jack was lucky. He was free. Yes, he had committed a loathsome crime, but he had changed on Reathran, like so many of the rest. Waking up here, after they thought they were being put to death, had changed them. Jack had real, true remorse over what he’d done; he regretted it with every fiber inside him. He needed to pay for his crime, yes, but life on Reathran was not how to go about it. There had to be a better way. There had to be.
Finally, Ian put his hands on his knees and pushed himself to standing. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes briefly, then donned his leather vest, grabbed his ax, and dragged himself outside. Most of the other prisoners were making their way there as well, the sun blazing in the sky already.
“Hi.” Nikolina fell in step next to him. “I was waiting for you. How you doing?”
Ian shrugged. “Not that great.”
“Where’s Levi?” Nikolina glanced around them.
“He left already. Said he wanted to get his quota in fast today, was hoping for more free time later.” Ian hadn’t really spoken to many prisoners since Jack died, besides Levi and sometimes Nikolina. He didn’t have it in him to talk much at all.
“Again I ask, how are you doing?” Nikolina said. “It’s been six months since Jack died. You need to try to snap out of it. So, how are you doing?”
“I told you already, not that great.” Ian’s arms and legs felt weighted down, every step requiring great effort.
“No.” Nikolina grabbed his arm. “How are you doing?”
The two of them came to a halt, and Ian finally met her gaze, her dark eyes filled with sadness and a glimmer of something Ian couldn’t quite recognize. She raised her eyebrows at him, pressing her lips together briefly. “How are you doing?”
Understanding dawned in Ian. He’d never really spoken to Nikolina about anything, but he could read between the lines. She knew he was innocent; he’d thought that the first time he’d met her. “I stand by what I said before.” He sniffed loudly and looked away for a moment. “I’m not doing that great. All right? How can I when I’m here, at this prison? How can I?”
Nikolina nodded, a thoughtful gaze washing over her face, and she stared straight ahead. “Yeah. How can you? I get it.”
They started walking again, Ian staring at his work boots plodding along the dusty, rocky ground, Nikolina’s feet stepping in sync with his. “There’s nothing I can do, Nikolina. Nothing. I’m just as stuck as you are, as everyone is here.”
Nikolina shook her head. “No. Not another word. But just know this.” She gazed up at him. “You’re wrong. Wrong.” She turned and jogged off to her usual spot. She approached the tall keeper who was always near her and said a few words with him before starting her mining.
Ian let out a deep breath and made his way to his spot to work another day of this ridiculous and dangerous job. Job. Ha. This was no job. This was torment.
He cocked his ax, still watching Nikolina, then slammed the ground, but this time something happened. Something different. He hadn’t noticed the memroth rock sticking out right in front of him, so the ax pounded directly onto it. They could get in big trouble if they were caught breaking memroth here because it was that much more dangerous in its broken-down state.
Ian did a hasty scan, hoping no keeper had seen. He knelt and picked up the tiny pieces of memroth, intent on burying them. Then stopped. Did a doubletake of them in his gloved hand.
He
stared trance-like at the bits of gem. Broken up, they had more of a bluish tint. He ran his fingers across the pieces, watching them glimmer.
And then it struck him.
As if a million light bulbs exploded in his brain all at once. The dark clouds evaporated. Truth stared him in the face. A tentative smile grew as reality sunk into his bones. He squeezed his eyes shut, then reopened them. The particles of memroth still sparkled in his hand. Only one thing was different.
He remembered.
****
At Ian’s look of despair, Nikolina had read between the lines, and when he’d said, “How can I?” she knew what he meant. How could he get better, do anything, when every word he uttered was heard by someone somewhere?
But now that Jack was gone, and seeing as it had affected Ian so deeply, Nikolina took it upon herself to take Jack’s place. She would help Ian; she would do what Jack wasn’t able to. If they got suspicious of her and killed her, too, so be it. She hated her life here, so she would fight to change it or die trying.
Right after Jack died, David told her Klaus was the one who’d killed him. Because Klaus was suspicious. Of what, David hadn’t said, but Nikolina was determined to find out.
David clearly knew more of the story, but he wouldn’t spill it. She’d stopped asking, but since she had her meal with him most days, she kept talking to him, kept working hard, kept making her quota early every day so she could help others, primarily Ian.
Becoming the first female keeper was her number one priority now—it gave her something to shoot for, to fight for. Because if she accomplished that, she could help Ian. She’d learn things, new things, she’d discover places where they could speak freely, or she’d learn how to deactivate the blasted listening devices inside them. She’d do something, anything, to help Ian so he could do what only he could do.
She looked to her right and spotted Ian kneeling, gazing at something in his hand. Then he dropped it, shoving dirt over it, glancing around quickly, before he stood up and got back to digging. What had he buried? He struck the ground over and over, just as Nikolina did, but then he looked towards her and their eyes connected. She stopped pounding. Ian wore a look of awe—his eyes wide and bright, mouth curved in a secret smile. He had to tell her something. He’d looked a wreck a moment ago. Now, his entire countenance beamed so brightly, she could see it from where she stood.
“Get back to work.” David spoke behind her.
Nikolina returned to digging. Why could they not pause for thirty seconds now and again? She returned her gaze to Ian who seemed to pound with great enthusiasm, his eyes darting to her on and off. She had to speak to him.
“David.” She turned towards him. “Have you heard any more on, you know, what you told me about… the first female keeper? Last you talked to me about it, you were waiting for Klaus.”
David shook his head and put his fingers to his lips. “Shhh. We’re not gonna talk about that now. We’ll talk at mealtime.”
“What’s the difference if it’s here or at mealtime?” Nikolina scratched her cheek.
David only put his fingers to his lips again to silence her. “’Cause out here you got work to do, so get back to it.” He moved his fingers towards his wristband.
“All right. Fine. We’ll talk in the common room at mealtime.” She peered at the sun blazing in the cloudy sky, and a gust of warm wind blew. She started mining again, dug around a rock of memroth with her fingers. Another large one. She lugged it out, pitched it into the cart, sneaking another look at Ian, who was doing the same.
She wished she could sit with Ian at mealtime. But what good would that do? They couldn’t talk about anything. She’d have to keep pressing David about being a keeper. He was her ticket to discovering the answer to that question. Maybe even her ticket out of here. She had to remain on good terms with him, earn his trust and any of the other keepers.
She owed Jack that much. She owed herself that much.
****
It had been as if a jolt shot through Ian’s body, from the top of his head down to the soles of his feet when he’d gazed upon the broken memroth, his memory surging in one huge wave. After burying the pieces, he’d gotten back to work.
He’d stolen a few glances at Nikolina, wishing he could tell her what he’d discovered, but how? Instead, he pounded the mountain and met his quota faster than he ever had. His heart raced and throbbed, giving him such a burst of energy he was heaving memroth out left and right, and all the while, memories kept dropping into his mind.
He was Ian. Ian Mitchell, not Knockshine. He was a chemist who worked with memroth on Earth. He and Malaki turned it into what was used on Earth to create renewable energy. They were the ones who’d turned this gem into the brilliant evil that it was. It was a hazardous gem, a perilous way of life, and they knew it. They all knew it. At least those in The Circle.
And Jack had been right. Memroth was being transported to Earth. In droves. Enough to provide power for the entire country, the world. Eventually. That was their end goal. And that was why Ian had gone into prison, on death row, and to Reathran as an innocent man.
Malaki. He was on Earth, waiting to hear from him, waiting for them to accomplish their task. A gigantic, seemingly impossible task.
“You done already?” Levi called out as Ian pushed his last cart practically overflowing with memroth to the drop-off zone. “How’d you finish so fast?”
“Just did. I’ll see you later!” Ian waved.
Ian shook out his trembling hands and strode back to his cell. He had to get alone for a moment to think and sort the memories out. He pressed his palms to his eyes, relieved Levi was still working.
If only Jack were here. Ian would tell him everything. Who he was, why he was here, and most importantly—his and Malaki’s plan. A pain like a knife in his heart shot through him, and he put his hand to his chest. Jack would’ve been ecstatic.
No keeper had spoken to Ian after he’d witnessed Klaus kill Jack. Ian anticipated one of them pulling him aside and questioning him, but it never happened. If they had been suspicious of Jack, they must have been suspicious of Ian, too. At least that’s what he’d thought.
He entered his cell, fell onto his bed, and lay flat on his back, his arm over his forehead.
Ian and Malaki had plotted this for years. Years.
He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples, seeing Malaki in his mind’s eye. His friend, his best friend. And he remembered Elijah. Poor Elijah. He’d fought for the truth to be exposed, and not long after, he’d been killed. Gotten rid of. That’s when Ian and Malaki had to come up with a plan, and the contents of the box left by Grandfather provided a way—the flag.
Then memories of Anthony came to him. His son. He must be four years old by now, and Ian’s throat burned. How was the little guy doing? And Shannon… He missed them, loved them both. He curled his arms over his head, taking deep breaths.
What was his next step? He and Malaki had thought this through. They’d spoken of his first steps once his memory returned to him. First, do his best to explore Reathran. And then pictures, maps flooded his thoughts. Maps of Reathran. Maps from Grandfather. Ian knew this place, had studied it while he and Malaki planned and plotted.
The train's cave was important, vital. But there was more. There were other places on Reathran where one could speak without being heard or listened to.
And where was the device implanted in him? Where, where, where…
He sat up and threw his leather vest off and unbuttoned his shirt. He felt around the right side of his chest, up near his collarbone and just below the shoulder. Sure enough, he felt a miniscule scar there.
Ian took a deep breath and pushed his shoulders back. He was innocent; the keepers had no control over him; he was a divergent; and he was powerful. With knowledge came power, and the power Ian possessed caused a sense of calm and ease to wash over him. But now, the reality of what he had to accomplish loomed in front of him like a wall extending to the heave
ns, so tall he could never climb over it.
How would he ever explore Reathran? How would he get to the flag and the vials needed to get the readings at the disposal site? Most importantly, would he be able to get any of it, including himself, back to Malaki? Would their plan succeed?
What had he and Malaki been thinking when they’d set out on this course? Ian shook his head.
And then, another memory.
****
Ian dreaded mealtime. There was no comparison between the food on Earth and the drab, flavorless sustenance they had here. But today, he walked through the door of the common room almost smiling. He strode to his usual table—his and Jack’s—and parked himself there. Levi had been joining him for mealtime lately, but he hadn’t arrived yet. Ian glimpsed the windowless cement walls. He stared down at the concrete floor beneath his dusty leather boots.
There was a room underneath, and Ian knew how to get to it. Because it contained many computers and much equipment, the common room above had become a black-out zone. Every implanted listening device was deactivated when they entered this room, so as not to interfere with what went on below them.
Other prisoners piled into the room. Some went directly to their tables and others darted to the food line. One plunked down not far from him, and Ian eyed his tray. Meatloaf. Again. The same dry-looking meatloaf they had every week. Chairs scraped on the floor and trays slammed on tables, along with prisoners talking to each other. Ian stood and headed to get his food.
Mealtime on Reathran was only made available to them so they could get the small bit of nutrients that the dismal grub offered them. Hunger didn’t exist for them—Ian’s stomach never grumbled, and he knew why. The Tetracaphoxin he and Malaki created changed their bodies in every way. They didn’t need the food, but they’d last longer and be stronger if they got the nutrients from it. That was its only purpose.
Ian shuffled forward, his tray sliding along the counter like everyone else’s. A ladle of what looked to be mashed potatoes was slopped onto his tray next to the dry meatloaf, then next to that a pile of some type of green vegetable. The vegetables on Reathran weren’t like the freshly grown vegetables on Earth. He didn’t know if they were vegetables at all.