Donor 23

by Beatty, Cate

  He waved his hand at the guards, and they dragged him out.

  Gates and Biggs remained in the room, standing in silence. Gates violently swung his hand at a chair, knocking it over. Biggs flinched. Displays of anger were uncharacteristic for the Governor.

  “That 23…She’s causing evasions—putting ideas of escape into the heads of donors. She’s threatening the very security and well being of the Alliance. I can’t let that happen.”

  Biggs remained silent, a hint of fear in his eyes. Gates walked over near a wall and stared at a photo of his grandfather on the wall. He ran his fingers along the frame of the picture.

  In a calmer voice, “I’m going to do something I rarely do, Biggs: change my mind. We have to get number 23 and bring her back. Arrest those two donors whom the TEO asked for and send them west. Make it so.”

  On his way to meet Jack at the depot, Kaleb first had to say good-bye to his grandmother, Zenobia. He wouldn’t leave without doing that. Crossing the street to her apartment, he noticed there wasn’t any traffic. As he rounded a corner he saw why: a TEO van. Instinctively he stopped and furtively glanced around. Above him, he saw Zenobia’s apartment window. A snatcher leaned out the window. They saw each other.

  Kaleb turned to run, but right behind him stood two snatchers with their guns drawn. He pushed at them, but one of them fired his dart gun. The dart went wide, missing Kaleb. And the two snatchers, both startled, fell backward. He took off running. The snatchers followed.

  Kaleb ran as fast as he could. He kept glancing behind him, not realizing that slowed him down. If he could reach a sewer grate, he could hide in it. He knew the sewer system. The underground used it to move about. Looking around, he saw the snatchers not far behind.

  A group of children ran right in front of him. He slowed, trying to make his way through them safely without mowing them down. As he held the arm of one child—a little girl—she looked up at him and smiled sweetly, just as a dart slammed into her neck. The poison took immediate effect, and she went limp. Kaleb kept a hold of her and caringly laid her on the ground.

  The snatchers weren’t far away, and after missing Kaleb and instead shooting the girl, they paused to reload. He jumped up to run. Coming from the other direction were two more snatchers, cutting off his avenue of escape. He looked back. The snatchers behind had reloaded.

  Something shoved hard against his arm. He saw the orange fluff of a dart disappear into his sleeve as he lost consciousness.

  Jack and Reck paced back and force at the depot. The tractor-trailer waited to leave, loaded with boxes, but with a comfortable space squeezed in for Reck and Kaleb to hide. The drivers impatiently smoked nearby. Kaleb was not there.

  Jack looked at his wrist phone, “We can’t wait any longer. You have to go.”

  “I’m not leaving without Kaleb. I shouldn’t have left the ghetto without him.”

  “You don’t have a choice. Don’t worry. I’ll check on him. He probably just got held up at the gate while leaving the ghetto. I’ll get him out on another truck. He’ll join you—”

  “No. I’m not leaving. I’m not leaving Kaleb.”

  “Listen, this isn’t a game. This isn’t like those meetings of yours. This is real life. You have to go.” He softened, “Look, Joan is there. These trucks’ll take you west. Near the last Alliance fort, I’ve arranged for someone to pick you up and take you to the Nomad camp. With him you’ll have to cut across some wilderness—where there aren’t any real roads. Probably in a month from now you’ll be with her. I promise, I’ll find Kaleb and get him out there, too.”

  Reck nodded his head. “For Joan.”

  26

  The rays of the early sun crept under the edges of the tent as Joan lay in her sleeping area. She woke up slowly, groggily, and lazily—enjoying the sounds from outside of the camp awaking and coming to life.

  Summer. Joan relished the warm weather. Her birthday was in early summer. She had lost track of the days, but she must have turned eighteen recently.

  It had been a month since Nox’s visit, and nothing had happened. The weeks had passed by like a dream. Life had gone on. A good life. She relaxed more and was taking great pleasure living with the Children. Life was not particularly easy here, physically speaking. The Alliance certainly offered more luxuries and more technology. But the simplicity and the straightforwardness of the Children rekindled in her the same innocence and freedom she had as a young child.

  Crackling Fire jumped up and ran over her to get out, stepping on her leg, causing Joan to groan.

  “Sorry, Lionheart,” he tried to whisper, but it came out as a shout. “I’m going, Shima.”

  Old Owl, who always arose early, crawled into the tent, and the boy almost bowled him over. Old Owl didn’t express any of his customary grumpiness. Crackling Fire’s commotion awoke everyone else, and the girls jumped up.

  “It’s Flower Day! It’s here! It’s here!” Red Lilly informed her animatedly. Though just waking, Quiet Snowfall jumped up cheering sleepily.

  Flower Day came once a year. As they excitedly explained to Joan, it was the traditional day when the boys, about ages fourteen to sixteen and reaching that certain level of adulthood, showed off for the girls.

  The boys were absent from the camp all morning, giving it a silence and calmness. Crackling Fire had run off to watch the older boys prepare and to learn for his turn in a few years. The young girls adorned flowers in their hair.

  “I see how it got its name,” Joan remarked to One Who Sees.

  “No, not because of the girls. Wait till you see the boys with their horses,” One Who Sees said knowingly.

  Throughout the morning, the anticipation built among the girls. Around noon, a solitary man walked through the camp, playing a flute. The sound was magical. Whimsical, Joan thought. The trees and tents of the camp formed a natural amphitheater, funneling the music and making the melody lilting to the ear.

  It was a signal. The girls lined up. The boys were ready. Following, not far behind the flute player, the procession came. Each boy walked with his horse behind him. They had spent the morning beautifying the animals.

  The horses’ manes and tails were braided, flowers woven throughout. Some had what resembled blankets made of flowers around the necks, reminding Joan of horse races back in the Alliance. One boy had made a tiara of golden flowers, resembling a jeweled crown, and put it on his pony’s head,. Another wove hundreds of dandelion seedlings into his horse’s tail, so when the horse swished its tail, it sent the white, fluffy seeds flying through the air like snowflakes. Joan bent her head back and stared at the fluff as it floated above her. She plucked one out of the air and held it for a minute, then blew it and watched it float away. A few boys wove flowers into the ropes and halters.

  The paintings on the animals struck Joan. Many were simple, consisting of handprints on the horse’s rumps and withers or a decoration down the nose. Others were quite intricate. One boy depicted a sunrise on his pony’s right withers, and on the left a nightscape with a moon and stars. Joan’s gaze held on the moon painted on the horse, and she thought briefly of Duncan. One boy had a hunter with a bow and arrow in mid-hunt, shooting a deer.

  The boys stopped walking, and it was the girls’ turn to walk among them. This was the chance for the boys and girls to mingle. Boys offered rides to the girls, helping them onto the horses and walking them around the camp.

  There was an innocence about them—pure joy on their faces, tempered with the budding masculinity and femininity of years to come. But not now. Now it was sheer delight, pleasure, and harmony. The older ones remained silent, remembering. All the while the lyrical, melodic, flute could be heard, gently flowing throughout the tents, the sound waves traveling on the wind.

  For Joan the emotions were infectious. She experienced joy and smiled freely, without even thinking about it. As the young girls and boys hovered around the decorated horses, Joan returned to the tent in a contemplative mood.

  She began
preparing acorn soup, a staple of the Nomads. One Who Sees had taught her how. Joan had shelled acorns the day before and set them out to dry overnight. Now she grounded them to a powder with a mortar and pestle. When it became the consistency of flour, she intended to mix in deer fat and cook the mixture. Then she would add water and salt and heat it to boiling. One Who Sees had a collection of herbs, and she knew which ones to use for a perfect flavor. Then they would add vegetables and meat.

  As Joan picked up an acorn, she smiled as she thought of the wonderful dessert One Who Sees made out of acorn paste, sugar, fat, and pieces of fruit, forming it into patties and cooking them on stones near the fire. She would drizzle honey over the cookies, adding an extra sweetness. They were the cookies she had enjoyed the day after Arrow Comes Back had rescued her. Contentment spread across her face as she recalled how the children always argued about the honey—each trying to outdo the others. Each one wanting more dribbled on their cookie. Each one complaining that the other got more honey than they did.

  Joan leaned in as she ground the acorns, trying to get the granules as smooth as possible. One Who Sees sat down next to her and sighed, “Such a special day. I don’t feel like working today. Come on, Lionheart, I want to show you something.”

  They packed food. Then the two women began walking with Quiet Snowfall and Red Lilly running back and forth ahead of them.

  They hiked awhile under the midday sun, coming into a clearing. In it nestled a small pond, glimmering in the sun. Its surface shone like glass. One side of the pool crested at the edge of a hill, which abruptly dropped away from the pond, giving the water the appearance of lying between the earth and the heavens and extending to infinity.

  “No one else knows about this place. It’s formed by an underground spring. I call it Glimmerglass. Its surface is like a sheen, huh? Arrow Comes Back and the kids and I will spend whole afternoons here. Sometimes at night, after the kids are asleep, he and I come alone. Ah, when the full moon shines on the water…” she said wistfully.

  The women laid a blanket on the ground. One Who Sees sat on it, eating dates and enjoying the sun, while the two children played nearby. Poignant thoughts of the morning—of Flower Day—still echoed in Joan’s head.

  “Sort of magical,” One Who Sees commented, referring to Glimmerglass. “I mean, the water comes straight up from the ground, right from the insides of the earth. Like a gift from its heart.”

  Joan walked to the water’s edge and dipped her toes in. Ripples rolled across the surface, sunlight shimmering off them. The water invited Joan, beckoned her. At the Fitness Center, she had always been modest, never stripping in the locker room. The women of the Children had a private area for bathing, and it had taken Joan a little while to learn to bathe in front of the other women.

  Glancing around she confirmed they were alone, so she took off her clothes and dove into the water. She let the warm water envelope her and wash her, both physically and mentally. As she swam, the heat of the water surrounded her like a cozy blanket. Suddenly, when she didn’t expect it, cold effervesce of the water bubbling up from the bowels of the earth would prickle on her skin, causing tingles and momentary shivers.

  Floating on her back, she looked up at the sky. She breathed deeply, feeling the pressure of the water around her chest. The sun beat down on her, and she held her hands out of the water, examining them. At some point over the two months she’d been with the Children of the Fallen Star, her tattoo had been removed from her—not from her skin, for it still marked her wrist and would until she died. It had been removed from her mind—from her heart. She was no longer a number, a thing, chattel. She was Joan. She did not exist to serve the Governor. Her body was not a supply of goods—not a thing to be sustained for its usefulness to others. She was allowed to think, to sense, and to love. She began to perceive her innermost being—her soul. To live, to be truly alive, means more than to just survive. Life must be more than what each of us can see, feel, and hear. Joan reached beyond herself and beyond her physicality. A sense of exaltation spread through her body, as she reveled in a never-experienced sensation of triumph—an unlimited prospect. She felt as if she could do anything.

  She took a breath and dove down, deep, to the recesses of the pool, turning up to face the top. The sunlight glinted magically through the water, almost playing with her. She remained under the water, there in the silent insides—in the very womb of Glimmerglass—until she felt her lungs would burst. Then she shot up, propelling herself out of the water and into the full light of the sun.

  Joan didn’t know it, but she had just taken the first step toward healing. By escaping, she had broken the physical chains with which the Alliance bound her. Today she broke the mental chains, and an unseen shackle snapped open. The intellectual and emotional stranglehold the Alliance held on her was no longer.

  Dressed and seated on the blanket, Joan soaked up the sun. Red Lilly brushed her wet hair. She gazed at the clouds floating by and enjoyed the relaxing touch of the comb stroking her hair. Everything in the world, the sky, the grass, had changed colors and appeared more vibrant. She squinted against the light—it seemed everywhere. Glimmerglass invigorated her. Quiet Snowfall played at the water’s edge, and One Who Sees lay beside Joan, her eyes closed, dozing.

  Quiet Snowfall shrieked, “Red Lilly, frogs!”

  Red Lilly dropped the comb and ran to join her sister. Joan picked up the wooden comb, admiring it. Its handle displayed a beautifully carved flower.

  “Arrow Comes Back gave that to me when I was pregnant with Red Lilly. He carved it,” One Who Sees said. She had opened her eyes and looked over at Joan.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Here,” she handed Joan a date. “Try these. The girls picked them this morning.”

  Joan ate one. The sweetness invaded every part of her mouth. The succulent, meaty part melted on her tongue.

  “Good, huh?” One Who Sees asked.

  Joan nodded, savoring the fleshy essence and syrupy flavor. Sadly she thought of the ghetto. Donors wouldn’t have time or inclination to sit like this and enjoy such a simple pleasure as a good date fruit.

  Joan fingered the comb Arrow Comes Back had carved and said, “He doesn’t talk much, does he?”

  “Ah, that’s what everyone thinks. You should hear him when he and I are alone. He won’t be quiet!”

  Joan laughed and thought for a while, “How does a person know when they’re in…well…? I mean…how’d you know how you felt about Arrow Comes Back? That you loved him?”

  One Who Sees gazed up, but she wasn’t looking at the clouds. A joyful visage covered her face.

  “Well, I thought of him all the time, even though I tried not to.”

  “Tried not to? Why?”

  She sat up and took a breath. Fingering a piece of grass in her hands, she admitted, “I didn’t want to be with any boy, after my time with the Walled Nat—Alliance—soldiers. The things they did to me. The things they made me do.”

  She shook her head and paused; gloom passed briefly over her face.

  “Life with Old Owl was good. He’s a wonderful noshi—father. I didn’t want that to end. Boys would come around—not many, mind you. I wasn’t considered a great catch.” She chuckled. “I gave them the cold shoulder, so they stopped coming. But Arrow Comes Back kept coming back. Finally, one night he snuck into our tent with a lit candle.”

  “Candle?”

  Nodding, she continued, “That’s our way. The boy will make a light and sneak into the tent of the girl he loves. He finds her, wakes her up, and shines the light on his face. If she likes what she sees—if she loves him—then she blows out the light.”

  “So you blew out the light?” Joan asked excitedly.

  “No. I told you I didn’t want that.”

  “So what happened?”

  “He left. Old Owl was awake and saw the whole thing. He thought I made a big mistake,” she smiled.

  “The next morning we walked outside our ten
t, and there was a horse tied up—a beautiful, young colt. I knew it was from Arrow Comes Back. I untied it, hit it on the rump, and sent it off. The next morning it was back, along with another. I did the same—untied them, hit their backsides, and sent them running. The third morning, it was three horses. I did the same thing. Then it stopped. I have to tell you, when I went outside that fourth morning, my heart sank when I saw there were no horses. Arrow Comes Back stopped coming back. I was so… miserable.” A deep breath, “I knew I had let my past keep me from…what I loved. From what I really wanted. A few days passed, and I only felt sadder.”

  “Did he come he back to your tent? He must have.”

  One Who Sees shook her head. “He wasn’t going to come back. I realized that.” She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head. “So I went to his tent.”

  Joan leaned in with expectation.

  “Yes. I took a lit candle. I was so nervous. I didn’t know what to do. I only knew I wanted him—to be with him. I held the candle tightly. I remember my hand was shaking. The dripping wax singed my wrist…” She rubbed her wrist and stared ahead, seeming to be in another place.

  Joan couldn’t wait. “So what happened? He blew out the flame?”

  One Who See’s eyes broadened. “He took the candle from me and held it up to my face. Then I blew out the flame.”

  After a few moments, she continued, “Old Owl told me later that I was different after that. He said Arrow Comes Back had purposely shined the light on me. He said a shadow had been lifted from me. I guess I realized there wasn’t only darkness in the world.”

  One Who Sees regarded Joan, sitting calmly in the sun.

  “Lionheart, what about you?”

  “Me? Nothing.”

  “What about Yellow Wolf?”

  Joan didn’t know any of the Children with that name. The Children usually used the term “yellow” to refer to one with blond hair. Then suddenly Joan’s eyes widened. Duncan’s blond hair flashed in her mind. Could she be talking about Duncan?