I’ve had that speech repeated to me so many times, I can recite it in my sleep. Cole may be tired of hearing it, but I have had an extra ten years of my parent’s advice. My parents mean well, but they haven’t survived this long outside the walls without being cautious. A caution they are dead set on instilling within us, too.
“And make sure you eat some jerky with dinner. I know you like fruit, Samara, but both you and your brother need the protein,” my mom adds in a stern voice, giving me the “mom look” that goes along with the order.
“Okay, okay. We’ll have some jerky, too. Just stop worrying. We are fine, and if you don’t get going soon, you’ll be out after dark,” I reply, and I note my mom’s reluctance to leave us. My dad, on the other hand, just smiles at us before snatching a piece of jerky out of the leather cloth pack we keep it stored in.
“You’re right. Honey, if you’re ready, we’ll head out now. I’m going to grab the tools, and meet you at the bottom,” Dad says, coming over and giving me, and then Cole, a kiss on the forehead. But before he walks away, he drops a pouch of something into my lap, places one finger on his lip to tell me to keep quiet about it and leaves the room.
My mom follows quickly but repeats the action of kissing both of our foreheads. It may seem odd doing so, as they plan to be back in a few hours, but in The Between, you are never guaranteed to return. You have to treat every goodbye as if it is your last.
“Sammy, now that mom’s gone, does that mean I can stop studying, and go play?” Cole asks, and grins, revealing the missing front tooth he lost recently.
I almost relent to that toothy smile to be the hero big sister, but as I hear my parents’ voices move further away from our nest in the trees, I decide not to. As much as I’d like to give in and allow him to play, it would be a disservice to him in the long run. Everything our parents teach us is for a reason, and that means it is important.
“Sorry, little brother, but no. We’ll finish your studies, and when those are complete, you can play.” He starts to protest, his childish face losing the smile, but I quickly add, “But, once you do, we’ll play some games together.” At my offer to play with him, the tantrum that was building before vanishes, and he eagerly looks at me, ready to get on with the lesson.
Chapter 2
I finally get the opportunity to open the small pouch my father gave me, after I play a handful of card games with Cole. Our parents had taught them to us, and had said that they were called poker, but the old cards that we use are so worn from years of use that you can barely make out what they are anymore.
Once Cole had grown bored, he took off for his room. It is more of a small crawl space between where two branches sit closely together, but he is happy with it, and it means that I don’t have to share my space with him. I love him dearly, but I don’t need to spend every second of the day with him.
Sitting on the limb that cuts through my area of the nest, I untie the leather strings of the pouch, and pour the contents into my hand. My breath hitches as I take in the carved bird. The wooden piece is small, no bigger than the palm of my hand, but the bird appears as if it is in flight. My eyes water as I think of how much I envy the birds and their ability to fly away, to be free, and I cradle the trinket to my chest. My parents usually only give us things that have practical purposes, but this little bird, my dad has given me because he understands. He knows that I long for a life of purpose and freedom but am confined to our small home.
Setting aside the piece for a moment, I unroll the leaf that was in the bag. Written on the front with the ink mom makes is a simple sentence, but, like with the bird, the words mean the world to me. One day you’ll find your wings and fly! Love, Dad.
Tears stream freely down my cheeks as I hold both the leaf and bird close to my chest, and appreciation for both of my parents fills me again. This may not be the life I would have chosen for myself, but it was a life that I got to live. With my eighteenth year quickly approaching, I’ll have the choice of whether I will stay in the haven my parents had built in The Between, or if I will find those wings of mine, and fly.
Sam, where are Mommy and Daddy?” Cole asks as I place a simple dinner in front of him. I’ve done as Mom asked and included some jerky, but I chew my lip as I glance out of the small opening, noting the absence of the sun. It had set a while ago, and though they hadn’t given us a specific time for when they’d return, it’s always best to do so before nightfall. That’s when the Fleshers hunt.
“Don’t worry, Cole. I’m sure they’re on their way back. I bet they’ll be here any minute,” I reply confidently, successfully hiding my own fear. He begins to eat, reassured by my words.
I turn away then, unwilling to let him see how afraid I am, and grab a few pieces of jerky for myself. I’ve just taken a bite when I hear a whooping cry sound through the night. The noise echoes through the canopy of the trees and confuses my senses about where it came from. Icy fear shoots through my veins in response to that sound, as it can only mean one thing. The Fleshers are on the hunt!
Falling back on the training my parents instilled upon me since before I could walk, I prompt Cole to quietly start the preparations for going dark. While he begins to blow out the tree sap candles, I begin to pull up the rope ladder that hangs to the forest floor. If my parents return now, they won’t be able to get up, but Cole is my priority. They’ve made me repeat it enough to know that in case of an emergency, I am to protect him first, and not worry about them.
Even knowing it’s what they would want, it hurts me inside as I pull the rope, hand over hand until it finally rests on the floor of our nest, and I turn in the almost pitch-black space to ensure Cole has done his job. Noting the absence of any light, I lower my voice to barely a whisper, and call out for him.
“Cole,” I say, but when I don’t get a response, I try again. “Cole!” I repeat, slightly louder, but still no more than a whisper. The panic I’ve been fighting off starts to rise when he continues to remain unseen. Just as I decide to speak again, the snap of a limb on the ground below draws my attention and steals my voice.
“Sam, I’m scared,” Cole says from right next to me, startling me so badly that only the fear that chokes me keeps me from crying out in alarm.
“Shh . . .” I tell him, reaching out blindly until I make contact with him. I take a small step toward him. If it’s my parents, they’ll signal us by clicking their tongue. If it’s not them . . . then we’ll have to hope that the branches and leaves will keep us hidden.
Neither of us move as we listen for the signal from our parents, but when it doesn’t come, my heart plummets. Instead, voices from below reach our ears, and I tighten my grip on Cole’s arms. His sharp intake of breath tells me I’ve squeezed too hard, and I quickly loosen my hold, but keep contact.
“I’m telling you, they were headed heading back in this direction,” a deep voice says, and a sound like skin hitting skin follows.
“Well, if you had left them alive, we could have followed them back to wherever they stay. Now we won’t be able to raid their hideout,” another voice says.
I bite down on my fist to keep from sobbing as they talk about whoever had been headed this way. Oh no! Please don’t let it be our parents, I think, but still, I don’t make a noise.
“Well, we’ll just come back when it’s light out. You saw them, they’ve got a nice set up somewhere, and I want whatever it is they’re hiding. But for now, let’s head back. They’re both thin, but they had some meat to them, and I’m starving.”
It’s not until their voices have faded away completely that I finally release Cole from my grip, and sink to my knees, my grief so strong that I worry I’ll suffocate under the weight of it.
Chapter 3
The frightened cries of my brother finally pull me from my shock, and I blink a few times at the light that I find inches from my face.
“What are you doing?” I ask in confusion, knowing that there’s a reason he shouldn’t have it lit, but the re
ason is not coming to me right away. My brain feels fuzzy, as if it shut down to protect me, and is slowly trying to reboot.
“Sam. Sammy, what are we going to do? Were they talking about Mom and Dad?” he asks, his own tears rolling down his cheeks. Seeing him like that is enough to clear the fog.
“I . . . I don’t know, Cole. But we can’t wait here to find out. If they come back in the daylight, there’s a chance that they’ll be able to find the nest. We need to pack a bag and go,” I respond, pushing back the pain that threatens to return me to the darkness. Things are easy there, unfeeling, but I can’t go back. Cole needs me.
“But, what about Mom and Dad? They’re gonna be mad if they come back and we’re not here,” he says, his voice sounding younger than his eight years, and I pull him into a hug.
“Listen, Cole. If they come back, they’ll understand. I’ll leave them a note . . . Something so that they know we’re okay, but we need to get out of here. I want you to grab a pack and put your knife, slingshot, and one change of clothes in it. Nothing else. We need to make sure we fill the rest with food and our water canteens,” I say, and he straightens his posture at my authoritative tone. He might be frightened, but like me, he has been coached on what to do in these situations.
“Okay, Sam,” is all he says before he walks toward his small room, taking the dying light with him.
Taking my own advice, I pack a bag in the same way I told Cole to. My knife and canteen take up little space, leaving plenty of room for a second outfit, and a small sewing kit. I’m grateful that my mom had taught me to sew, as it is a useful skill in The Between, where things are easily torn, and extra cloth is in short supply. I also keep the carved bird in the pouch with the note from my dad. Knowing I may never see them again makes it even more precious to me, as it was the last thing he gave me before leaving.
It’s not hard to decide between what to bring. We only have what we do because once a year, our father would travel to the Forgotten City and bring back the things we didn’t have out here. Finding scraps of clothing in the abandoned city was easy, but they were usually eaten through with holes from age and rats. Plus, there was the risk that he would be caught out by the Sector patrols that traveled out there for the same purpose. If he were scanned, they’d know that he wasn’t Defective, which would label him a deserter, a title that carried the sentence of death. Because of the danger, he’d never allowed me to travel with him there. But with our haven no longer secure, we had nowhere else to go.
Within less than an hour of hearing the Fleshers down below, we set off. Our pace is slow, as it’s still dark, and we can’t risk using any light. It makes the journey slow, but it’s safer that way. We don’t stop as we work our way through the foliage, but I do slow a bit when Cole’s energy begins to wane. He may understand why we need to leave home, but he’s still just a child. One that has spent his life in the nest, or on the forest bed below.
“Sam, I can’t go any farther,” Cole says for the third time, and I turn to look at him in the light of the rising sun. Bags have taken up residence beneath his eyes, and sweat pours off him, despite the cool morning air. He looks only seconds away from passing out, but we can’t stop just yet. The Forgotten City is looming ever closer, but we are still in The Between, and there’s nowhere to rest.
“Here, put my pack with yours, and I’ll carry you,” I say, and can see the relief light up his young face. Like him, I feel like I could fall asleep standing up, but I don’t have that option right now. Not until we’re safe.
“Thanks, Sam,” Cole murmurs once he’s situated on my back, and a snore follows soon after. With his added weight, I can barely force my feet to keep moving forward, but just as I feel as though I’ll collapse beneath the weight of stress and exhaustion, we break through the tree line, and I catch my first sight of the city skyline.
With the sun rising behind it, the cityscape is set in shadows, giving it an almost sinister feel. It doesn’t matter though, as it’s the only place left for us to go. I’d be turned away from Sector A, and Sector B would be just as dangerous as the Fleshers. No, this is the only option that I have to protect my brother.
Using the last dregs of energy I have left in my aching bones, I lead us to the first building we come across and step over the broken glass of the shattered door. Ignoring the cobwebs swooping from the ceiling, and the rat droppings that litter the floor, I find the first intact door and swing it open. It’s dark, small, and smells like mold, but the door works and nothing comes rushing out to greet us, so I walk inside and lay Cole on the floor, using his pack to cushion his head. The old closet won’t do for long, but it works for now, and I’ve barely sunk to my own position against the wall before darkness claims me and takes me away.
Chapter 4
“Sam. Sam!” I wake to the panicked cries of my brother, and it takes my sleep addled brain a second to remember where I am. Forgotten City. Closet. Mom and Dad . . . A sob threatens to escape me at the last thought, but I bite my fist to hold it in. Now’s not the time to have a breakdown. Not when we’re hiding in a dirty closet, in a long-abandoned building.
“I’m here, Cole. It’s okay. We’re in the city, but I had to find us a place to rest for a while. Let me go check the place out, and I’ll come back for you,” I tell him, and though I can’t see his face, I can hear the sniffles that tell me he’s crying.
“Please don’t leave me, Sam. What if you don’t come back, like Mom and Dad? I’ll be all alone then,” he says in a whisper so quiet I can barely hear it, but I move forward at the words, and pull him into a hug.
“Hush now. It’s going to be okay. I’m going to go take a quick look around, but I promise I’ll be back. I just need you to be strong for me right now, alright? Can you stay here and be strong until I get back?” I ask him, and I feel him nod against my shoulder. His crying seems to lessen, too, and I know that he’ll be fine by himself for a moment.
“Okay, Sam. I can do that. Just, please come back,” he responds in a small voice, and I give him one last squeeze before pulling away. Reaching into my pack, I feel around in the dark until my fingers connect with the cool, hard surface of my knife, and I pull it out to take with me. The city is supposed to be abandoned, but I know that doesn’t mean anything. Dad had told us he’d seen people here more than once, so I’ll need to be careful.
We don’t speak again as I open the door, and peer out into the room. I have to blink a few times against the weak light, but once my eyes adjust, I’m able to see a small area. Everything looks as it did when we first arrived, yet the sun’s position has changed, signaling that more than a few hours have passed while we slept. Not seeing any immediate threat, I strain my ears, and listen. Dad was adamant about taking advantage of all our senses, as sight can fail us, and I make use of them now. No sounds reach my ears, so with one last deep breath to steady my shaking hand, I open the door further, and step out.
I walk around the small space but can’t tell what it was once used for. There are lots of chairs and tables, but they have large boxes on top with reflective screens. The screen is similar to the handheld Dad had, the one he referred to as a tablet, but much larger. I draw on his teachings about what it could possibly be and remember that he mentioned things called computers that were like big tablets. Realizing it doesn’t matter anyway, I continue with my search.
Mom taught us that before the sectors were created, violent crime rates had risen so high that the prisons could no longer house all the offenders. Realizing that drastic measures were needed, the sectors were built, and laws passed to separate people into one of the two sectors. Families were divided and lives forever changed, as the population was separated. These were built all over the country, leaving entire cities abandoned when the roundup occurred, and the armies brought in every last person for testing and placement.
Now, for the first time in my life, I see what all that really meant. Although the dust is so thick I have to shield my face with my scarf, I can imagi
ne how people once walked these halls, going to and from their workspaces. All that’s left now is just the memory of what once was.
I reach the doors I entered through earlier and slow my pace. Now that I’m not bone-tired, I’m able to pick up on the small details that I missed before. Like how the glass is scattered inside, as if someone from outside broke it to get in. Or how, unlike the areas further in the back, the dust isn’t so thick. This is likely a result of the wind entering through the open doorway, but the air is fresher up here, and I pull my scarf down and take my first deep breath since waking.
I’ve just taken a step outside, when the faint sound of footsteps echoes through the empty streets, and I turn to run back inside. Too caught up in my mad dash to find cover, I step on the undisturbed glass, and cringe as it cracks beneath my feet. The noise it makes sounds deafening to me, but I know that it’s only my panic making it appear so. Even so, I hasten my pace and duck behind one of the old tables, just as I hear the steps speed up and draw near.
“I’m telling you, Dex, I heard a noise over here,” a male voice says from only feet away, and I hold my breath to fight off the sneeze that wants to escape from the now-disturbed-dust.
“Yea, sure you did, Jace. Just like you saw that two-headed snake that one time. Besides, if there was something in here, Luna would alert us,” another deep voice replies, and a chorus of chuckles break out at the remark, leading me to believe that there are more than just two people out there. I also wonder how this ‘Luna’ would know, and alert them to my presence.
“Shut up, Dex! I know what I saw. Just like I know I heard something over here. Let’s at least look around. There have been more reports of that gang from the Shade traveling through town at night, and I’d rather just make sure it’s not them,” the first voice says, and I hear someone sigh at the request.
On the Brink Page 34