He whispers, “Martha?”
Immediately, the light goes out. The dark hums in his ears as his sister settles back into her bedroll. “Don’t worry, Asher. They’re gone now.”
He wants to believe her, but he can’t stop the incessant shivering up and down his spine. “Are they coming back?”
She takes a beat too long to answer. “I don’t think so.”
“What if they do?”
“Don’t worry, Asher,” she says again. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
And in spite of everything that has already happened, he trusts her. He has absolute faith. And with that tiny coal of warmth burning life back into his bones, he gently falls into the black ocean of his dreams.
When the boy opens his eyes again, there is dull sunshine filtering through the trees. He almost forgets where he is, where they are going. The moment he remembers, he peers over the side of the branch, and finds Martha already sitting up below him. When he looks further, his stomach turns; there are huge patches of blood on the earth below, but no bodies. The guard dogs are gone.
“Martha?”
She looks up at him, squinting in the sun and brushing her red hair back from her eyes. “Finally awake?”
But Asher wastes no time. “Martha, where did the dogs go?”
Her mouth twists into a grimace, her false bravado failing. “I don’t know, Asher.”
“Are you sure you hit them?” But it’s a foolish question. He can clearly remember the path of the flashlight across ruined flesh.
She shrugs. “They were there last night. Maybe I just didn’t hit them as well as I thought I did.”
Martha is a better shot with her rifle than most of the men they left behind at the barracks, but it is easier to lie than to consider the guard dogs creeping back to Invictus City with their wide open skulls. For a moment, brother and sister both hesitate in the trees, unwilling to return to the spoiled earth below.
“Come on,” Martha says eventually. “Let’s get these bedrolls packed away and our feet back on the ground.”
With silent assent, Asher begins unlatching clasps and rolling away straps. When Martha starts climbing stiffly back to earth, he follows close behind. Her feet land in a puddle of thick, clotted blood, and she gags, barely choking back vomit. She turns and opens her arms to the boy in the branch above her head. “Come on, jump. You don’t want to walk in this stuff.”
Without argument, he tumbles into his sister’s waiting arms, gratefully letting her carry him to the edge of the gore. Over her shoulder, he silently absorbs the sight of the massacred tree trunk, the bark torn to ribbons by sharp claws. He sits quietly in the grass and sips from his canteen as Martha returns to unsling her pack from the tree. After, she says his name three times before winning his attention, and must coax him to his feet. Once he is moving, though, some of the colour returns to his face. Soon, they are back on the path, each chewing bits of venison. Martha stomps the bloody mud from her boots.
The sun is high in the sky, the cameras thick in the trees, when Martha realizes that Asher hasn’t spoken all morning. She glances over her shoulder and finds him trailing behind, dragging his feet. His eyes are haunted.
“Asher?”
He flinches, peering at her through his hair. “What?”
“Are you okay?”
He shakes his head slowly, rubbing his arms as if chilled. “What were those things, Martha?”
She won’t let him see his own fear mirrored in her face. She will be strong. “I don’t know, Asher. I’m sorry, but I really don’t. We got away from them, that’s all that matters. We’ll be in Invictus City before nightfall this time, don’t worry.”
His eyes narrow suspiciously. “You promise?”
She pulls him into a crushing hug, another gesture he is too old for, that he allows in the wake of his fear. “I promise. Let’s get moving.”
Asher is renewed as the pair continues down the path. The sun climbs high, and he flaps his arms, hopping from one foot to the other as he tries to escape his shadow. Soon, making her think of smiles and harvests, he begins to sing.
It is mid-afternoon when Martha catches her first glimpse of the city gates in the distance. She stops Asher, pointing out the glint of steel to him, and a wide grin spreads across his face. She does her best to hide the grimace she can’t suppress. Has he already forgotten the strange creatures in the forest? She shrugs the pack off her back, and with a pang of regret, shoves her rifle into a wide, empty pouch.
If she approaches Invictus City armed, they’ll kill her on sight. This is something everyone born in the Outland knows. Even the boy. He doesn’t question her as she zips the pack shut and pulls it onto her back.
“Come on,” she says, smiling for his sake. “We’re almost there.”
Her hands feel empty without the weight of the gun. She is naked and exposed, barely restraining the urge to tuck Asher behind her back. With every step they take, the wall draws closer. She can feel the heat it throws, blinding her with bright beams of sunlight. It is so unnatural, so huge and flawless, she has never seen anything like it. She must fight against the animal instincts that scream for her to turn and flee. Her brain floods with adrenaline, her muscles twitching and ticking, but on the outside she is calm. She is stoic, a monument. Asher cannot know that she is afraid.
The forest comes to a sudden stop twenty feet from the wall. Martha and Asher both hesitate in the shadows, unwilling to step into the sun, finally able to see the full, imposing height of the structure that looms before them. Martha’s hands reach compulsively for the rifle, and her mouth goes dry when they come up empty. The wall stands taller than any building she has ever seen. She has been to every city in the Outlands, travelling with the general, and she has never seen anything that can compare. In the Outlands, the people are simpler. They do not build monstrosities.
Asher’s voice is very small. “Martha?”
She scans the entrance to the city, a very narrow doorway that is guarded by a single man dressed all in black. The visor of his helmet is tinted dark, and he wears thick leather gloves. From this distance, she cannot see if he holds a weapon. This is the only way into the city, for those who don’t know the raiders’ secrets. It is the only way out. After dark, it is locked up tight, only opened when the sun returns to the sky.
She whispers when she speaks, although she isn’t sure why. “What is it?”
“Are we really going in there?”
Her brother’s eyes are wide, the eyes of a boy who expects to wake from a thrilling dream at any moment. “We have to, Asher.” She touches his shoulder, remembering his innocence. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
He shakes his head, balling his hands into fists against his chest. She takes the first step, emerging into the clearing, and the boy must follow or be left behind. Martha feels the hot sun beating down on the back of her neck, and she longs for the comforting weight of the rifle in her hands. The guard at the gate lifts his head when he notices their approach, but he is unsurprised. Surely he was warned of their impending arrival. The tiny eyes behind every camera have been watching them all day.
Martha resists the urge to flee. Her steps are slow and even as she leads her brother to the gates of Invictus City. It seems there is a great desert stretching out before her, but within moments, she is standing in front of the guard, close enough to hear his breath. She waits in silence as he slowly slides up his visor with one hand and scans them both from head to foot with impassive eyes. Martha inhales sharply at the sight of them; his pupil is black, but his iris, if it is there at all, is pearly white.
She stands perfectly still with Asher at her side, unsure of what to do or say. The raiding parties never had any suggestions on how to legally enter the city. Silence seems safest, but the guard lets her suffer in the heat for a long time. She has just begun to question herself when he finally speaks.
“Present your citizenship.”
She swallows past the lump in her
throat, wondering how her tongue has suddenly gone so dry. “We’re not citizens. We’d like to request visitor’s passes.”
The guard looks fleetingly from woman to boy, and then turns to a small screen mounted in the smooth wall behind him. “Purpose of visit?”
She squirms. “Leisure?”
A moment later, a narrow bar telescopes out of the wall beside the screen. “Rest your hand on the block, palm up.”
She does as she’s told, resting her arm along the bar. Too quick to pull away from, a flash of light shoots from the seemingly flawless metal, striking the back of her wrist. There is a burst of heat, a prickle across her skin, but she doesn’t let him see her react. She sets her jaw, pretends it is all common place, and when the light extinguishes, she draws her arm back slowly. She inspects the brand that the city has left on her.
It’s a barcode. Martha rubs one finger across the marching vertical lines. It’s swollen, stamped under her skin like a tattoo.
“Your passes will be valid for twenty four hours. You must have your barcode scanned when you leave Invictus City; it will be removed for you then. No goods purchased within the gates may be taken out of the city. You may open a frequent visitor’s account at a local bank to store your goods for future visits. Rest your hand on the block, palm up.”
His speech has the preprogrammed quality of a computer recording, and Martha shudders in spite of herself. Asher gasps as the light burns a barcode onto his tiny wrist, quickly backing away and latching onto her pant leg. She rests one hand on his head.
The guard watches their display with distaste. “We recommend chemical augmentation for all visitors. It makes your stays much… smoother.”
Martha purses her lips, snaking her arm around Asher’s shoulder and holding on tight. No one leaves Invictus City once they’ve submitted to augmentation, not unless they’re rescued a raiding party. This is something that everyone born in the Outland understands, but those born in Whispering Peak know it better than the others. She doesn’t respond. The guard doesn’t seem to notice.
“Set your bag down here, please.”
She drops her pack onto a small silver plate set in the ground beneath the screen. When something inside the wall beeps affirmatively, she shrugs it onto her back again.
The guard waves his hand dismissively. “Alright, go on through.”
Martha offers a quick, “Thank you,” and she pulls her brother through the gates, onto the smooth stone streets of Invictus City.
Asher has never seen so many people. There are hundreds of them flooding the streets, all moving at the same pace, all dressed in the same plain grey clothes. Martha leads them into the throng, and Asher gasps for air. It is as if his head is slipping below water. He holds tight to his sister’s hand, but she is moving too quickly, dragging him along behind her. He skips and jumps to keep up, losing his footing and then nearly his shoe.
“Martha,” he stammers, “Martha, wait.” He is dangerously close to tears, stumbling at every step. “Martha, please! Please, slow down, I can’t go that fast.”
She turns quickly, in exasperation, but the look on Asher’s face stops her short. With instant regret, she drops to one knee and folds him into a tight hug, pressing her cheek against his. “I’m sorry,” she says fiercely, and when she looks again, she is rewarded with his tremulous smile.
“Thanks, Martha.”
When she turns to continue, though, she finds that their display has attracted attention. The flow of the pedestrians, which had been so even and measured a moment before, congests around the pair as people slow to watch. They stare with perplexed eyes and gaping mouths, stumbling as they pass by, peering over their shoulders so they don’t lose their view. Asher shrinks away from their haunted gaze, wrapping one arm around Martha’s leg and burying his face in her hip. But his desperate need for comfort only makes them stranger. A crowd begins to gather, a tangled knot around them.
Asher’s breath comes fast and hard. “Martha?”
“It’s okay,” she says, knotting one hand in his hair and trying to decide which citizen she’ll take down first to get him out.
A hand in black leather falls onto her shoulder. Martha swings around quickly, pushing the boy behind her and holding up one hand defensively. There are two city guards standing before her, one ushering the crowd onward and the other standing at attention, his hand resting meaningfully on the butt of his pistol.
He says, “Present your citizenship” in a hard voice.
They have succeeded in moving along the crowd. The citizens are unwilling to linger near the guards.
“We’re not citizens,” Martha says carefully, and holds out her arm. “We got passes at the gate. We’re visiting.”
From another holster, opposite his pistol, the guard pulls free a different kind of gun and scans Martha’s barcode. Seemingly satisfied with the reading that appears on a small screen, he bends to scan Asher’s arm. Martha must peel him from her side, his eyes wide with terror.
The man holsters the scanner, and his other hand falls onto his gun.
“We’ll need you to come with us, miss. Both of you.”
Martha bristles instantly. “Did we do something wrong?”
He shifts his weight, and she follows suit, mirroring his slightest movements. “You’ve caused a disturbance.”
Martha tucks Asher behind her again, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “No we didn’t. The citizens caused the disturbance, not us. Why do we have to go anywhere?”
But the guard will not be swayed. “We’ll need you to come with us, miss,” he repeats. He slides up his visor, and Martha inhales sharply. He is an exact copy of the man at the gate, with his smooth face and white eyes. They could be twins. “Both of you.”
Martha’s grip is white knuckle tight on Asher’s tiny tattooed wrist, but he knows better than to cry out. He grits his teeth and endures his torment, as his sister faces down the dragon in their path. “Where are you going to take us?”
“You’ve been requested at City Hall,” The guard says, his fingers caressing the butt of the gun. “There are officials who are concerned with the validity of your passes and your intentions in Invictus City.”
Martha forces her pounding heart to be still. “Which officials?”
“You will be provided that information when we reach City Hall.”
She looks at her brother, considers a moment. If she can convince the officials that they’re just visitors, they may allow her to see the general. She knows that if she finds him, he will be able to lead her safely out of the city. He knows all the raider tricks. Asher stares up at his sister, all hope and trust and big, wet eyes.
She turns back to the guard, and she nods. “Alright. We’ll come with you.”
He signals to his partner. The crowd has dispersed, the streets well under control. As they begin to walk, following close behind the guards who are a perfect matching set, Asher tugs her hand. He whispers, “What’s wrong with everyone?”
She glances quickly at the men ahead, making sure they haven’t heard. She whispers, “That’s how everyone acts here. It’s why we lived in Whispering Peak instead.”
He tugs her hand again, fretfully. “But why?”
She looks at her brother, who doesn’t know of the small black machines mounted on the ribs of the citizens. These are the first people he has ever seen who have undergone augmentation. Martha has never been to Invictus City, but she has seen the rescues in Whispering Peak, struggling to think through a soft white haze, until their injectors run dry and they are left in a chaos of crippling withdrawal. The chemicals they use for augmentation can only be found in Invictus City, and they are only handed out by council elected officials. They are guarded more closely than the medicines and weapons that the raiding parties steal so often.
Few survive the withdrawals. Those who do are never the same.
But she tells the boy none of this.
“It’s a medicine they take,” she whispers. “It makes them�
�� feel less. So that they don’t get hurt or worried like we do.”
Asher’s eyes widen further, a feat she had not thought possible. “But why?”
“I don’t know, Asher. They think it makes them stronger, I guess.”
To this, he does not respond.
The guards lead them down the street for a long time, and then up a set of huge stone steps to a tall building carved of marble. One guard holds the door while the other ushers them inside, Martha with her arm locked tightly around her brother. The guards walk behind them as they shuffle uncomfortably down a long hallway lined with columns. When they arrive at a tall desk, a small woman seated behind it, the guards seem to melt away. Martha glances over her shoulder, and they are gone. When she turns back, the woman is dressed all in grey, holding up a scanner expectantly. Martha hesitantly stretches out her arm. Asher stands on tip toe to do the same.
The woman reads something on a screen that Martha cannot see, nodding to herself. In a monotone, she says, “The validity of your passes is in question. What is the purpose of your visit to Invictus City?”
Martha’s mouth is dry, her tongue swollen and dead between her teeth. It is too late now to be coy. They know where she has come from, probably they have already guessed her purpose. “I came to see General Forrest of Whispering Peak,” she says quietly. “He came here a week ago seeking a visitor’s pass, and he never came home. I was hoping to find him here and escort him back to our village.”
The woman nods, tapping keys on a keyboard and staring into the hidden screen. “I see,” she says, and stands abruptly. Coming around her desk, she gestures down the hallway to her left. “Come this way, please. You have a meeting with Councilwoman Hart.”
Martha hesitates again, looking down at Asher, who is clinging to her hand like a life preserver. But there are no other options, now. When the woman walks away, she follows behind. There are columns lining this hallway as well, but between them are ornate wooden doors, each with a small silver name plate. Asher counts them carefully as they pass by, and has reached thirty three before the woman stops. She gestures to the door on their right, the door that would have been thirty four. “Just go in and present your passes for verification.”
Whispering Peak Page 2