The Surge Trilogy (Book 2): We, The Grateful Few

by P. S. Lurie

  Finally I am commanded to stop. I feel the grips of the handcuffs being unfastened then the guards walk away and a door closes behind them. I am all alone, or at least I imagine I am as the room becomes silent.

  I stand still for a while, wondering what I should do. I stretch my arms and feel my fingers come back to life. I reach for my blindfold and fumble with the knot until it loosens and I pull the cloth from my face.

  My eyes take some time to adjust to my surroundings.

  I am in what appears to be a grand room, with chandeliers above me, spilling out bright light. Everything is expensively decorated and furnished. Three empty throne-like chairs are placed at one end of the room. I turn to my left and realise that I am not alone.

  Two more people are also here, standing side by side, still blindfolded, but they too are relaxing the ties. I don’t need to see their faces to know exactly who they are, even though it’s been a year.

  My parents.

  Theia

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” I say as I hurry through the door into the lavish apartment and remove my shoes. It’s warm in here and I let my body savour the temperature.

  Kate appears from behind the kitchen door. “Good. I was half-thinking you wanted to lose your loyalty status,” she says with a laugh. “Cassie has to get to school so hurry and make her breakfast.”

  I nod but think to myself, ‘You couldn’t have managed?’

  I enter the kitchen and watch for a moment as my boss ignores her daughter and fans herself with an unopened letter. I want to laugh. Even after a year I still can’t quite believe where I find myself. A kitchen full of functioning appliances, a postal system, heating that is warm enough that Kate needs to cool herself down.

  I get to work and put some bread in the toaster and set it on a low level because heavens forbid I let the bread darken too much; precious Cassie would not touch it and kick up a tantrum. I work silently, also preparing drinks. I don’t need to ask what they want because it’s the same routine every day.

  “Are you excited about the announcement?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, yes,” I correct myself after her suspicious glance, because every answer here has to be positive when it comes to the ruling of the Upperlands. If I don’t show gratitude I’m in trouble. “I’m sure the news will benefit us all.” I’m quite impressed how I have trained myself to sound anything but sarcastic.

  “Me too. The Utopia must be ready to board soon.”

  The pit in my stomach expands. Any time a decision is made that risks Leda’s safety I feel this sensation. The promise for months is that we’ll all be moved onto the Utopia in preparation for the water reaching the top of the Fence. This does little to comfort me because I’m not sure how Leda can be Rehoused for a second time along with the rest of us.

  I hope Selma has arrived back at the barracks to check on her.

  The doorbell rings and Cassie jumps up.

  “Have a good day,” Kate says, inattentively.

  It is me that hands Cassie her packed lunch and jacket. “Have a good day,” I also say to her. No reply.

  I hear the door go behind the girl and I am left alone with Kate. My boss usually swans around, commenting on my cleaning, until she is ready to head out for a social drink with the other mothers in this part of the Upperlands, or a trip to the gym or manicurist or one of the other frivolous excursions that pass the time.

  Instead, she sits at the dining table and beckons me over. This happens every few weeks and is worse than when she is in a dismissive mood. I put down the sponge, sigh whilst I still face away from her, and then sit opposite. She stares at me for a while and then grins. I know what’s coming.

  “I want to nominate you.”

  “There’s no need,” I reply, too hastily. Kate believes I have proven my loyalty and gratitude enough for me to be one of the lucky few to leave the barracks and become an official Upperlander. My own apartment. My own cleaner. Comfort. Freedom. A guaranteed place on the Utopia.

  Survival.

  It all sounds perfect. Except for the obvious drawback.

  The problem I now face is that there is no reason why I should want to refuse. I’ve exhausted every argument I can think of and use my tried and tested answer. “There are others more deserving.”

  “You’re not deserving?”

  “I’m young and healthy. The older...” I stop myself. It’s an annoyance that I was randomly allocated to work for Kate because someone else that was uninterested in me would have made my life easier.

  Kate’s face drops and I watch the discordance grow. To her, the Upperlanders are benevolent so to imagine ill health and poor conditions in the barracks would shatter her illusion. Then again, this is someone who agrees that the so-called great cull was truly that.

  “You’re so brave, Theia, but this makes you even more loyal to the Upperlands because you want everyone to experience a better life here. If only you showed more gratitude towards me.”

  “I am grateful. I’m just in no rush. I like it in the barracks.”

  “Is it because you’ve become close with people and don’t want to leave them behind? You don’t think you can do that again?”

  I want to walk away from this conversation because I know where she’s going with this. “Tell me again about the night of the Great Cull. Your family sacrificed themselves for you. What a wonderful family.”

  I feel myself rise out of my body and disappear, as if I have been transported to my now-flooded bedroom in the Middlelands. Out of my control, I begin to space out, teleporting between different rooms, sometimes even to the house either side of mine. Or the garden, from behind the tree where I watch my mother being shot. This time I hear the plunge of the knife and I see my father’s eyes glaze over. I smell the blood from where he punched me and broke my skin. I flash on every dead body in these houses. I feel my lungs burn. I’m there. I’m in the past.

  “You must miss them.”

  I dig a nail into my palm, like Ronan did to me in the van when he was scared. The truth is I don’t know whether he actually did this or I imagined it but he unwittingly taught me this great technique to keep me grounded and bring me back to the present time. I stare on with a stern expression, until I break and grin over-expressively at Kate. “They were wonderful. I’m lucky to be here.”

  “Excellent.” She’s convinced with my answer and walks towards the hallway. “I’m going to get ready for the announcement. Why don’t you head off soon and come here afterwards?” She looks me in the eye and winks. “Unless of course you want me to nominate you and then you’ll have your own house and cleaner.”

  I’m left alone in the kitchen, working out how to stop myself from screaming or throwing something or breaking into a panic attack. Every time I’m reminded of what happened one year ago the memory intrudes into my mind and I’m terrified as I’m catapulted back there. Somehow I stop myself from telling Kate what I really think because what I actually want to say is, “How dare you speak about that night so frivolously? Are you so stupid, so naive to think it was good? How would you feel if it was Cassie and you?”

  But I don’t.

  I say nothing except try to show my gratitude and loyalty to the Upperlanders’ decisions back then because as much as it would be bad to be promoted and leave Leda behind in the barracks it would be just as bad to show dissatisfaction, and then to be found guilty of disloyalty and ungratefulness. I’ve seen what the repercussions are, and I’ll probably see them again in a matter of hours.

  The doorbell rings.

  “Get that, would you?” Kate calls from her bedroom, no doubt trying on outfits to impress the crowds that will gather on the upper tiers of the arena.

  I open the door to a familiar face.

  “Selma?”

  A tall, blonde lady, the spitting image of someone I used to know but thirty years older. This unexpected guest is one of my roommates in the barracks. She’s the only person I talk to openly about that night because I o
we it to her. Because she sent her daughter away before the Surge, and because I sent her daughter into the unknown at the stroke of midnight. Together, we have no idea what happened to her and if Selma feels guilt for Selene not being Rehoused it’s only matched by my own. Something tells me she’s not here to talk about Selene.

  “Theia. I risked coming but this is serious.”

  I step out of the apartment and look up and down the hallway. We’re alone.

  “What are you...” I start, but trail off as I notice the bulge under her coat, and the way she clutches at her chest.

  I stare on dumbfounded at the predicament I find myself in.

  7 A.M. – 8 A.M.

  Ruskin

  One year ago, my parents, Jason and I found ourselves in a plush apartment. Spacious, clean, fully furnished and electrical appliances that worked at the click of a button. We couldn’t believe our luck that in a matter of hours our lives had improved a hundredfold. We washed, put on fresh clothes, sampled everything in the fridge, and then sat in the living area, embracing for the first time that we were actually living rather than just existing. We had our reservations but for those few hours we didn’t want to question anything for fear that we would wake from a fantasy.

  Jason checked his watch compulsively throughout the day. My parents and I were to get our own at some point but so far no one had come to greet us, although the promise that we would be welcomed officially was written in a guide left on the kitchen table. In hindsight, the words were less of a promise and more of a threat.

  At some point in the afternoon Jason told us he had to leave but not before uncharacteristically hugging each of us in turn and then giving us a mumbled apology. The words he said were vague and unsettling, as if he couldn’t tell us what he was really sorry for. We tried to ask where he was going but he said it was best we didn’t know and added that he hoped we wouldn’t be disappointed in him. We didn’t understand; if anything, whatever he had done had saved us. His last words were to turn the television on just before seven o’clock.

  We did as he commanded, settling on the sofa and flicking through channel after channel of mindless programs that were unfamiliar to us; wasteful and pointless conversations about so-called celebrities or cooking demonstrations of foods we had never tasted let alone heard of. I thought of how the Upperlanders had so few cares in the world that these shows existed to pass the time. Then the hour hit and we were confronted with what Jason wanted us to see. We found ourselves watching at the same time as the Surge would begin in the Middlelands. The broadcast meant that our old neighbours were still to be Rehoused and nothing in our new surroundings did anything to explain why we had been given priority access over them.

  At exactly seven o’clock, although the sun was setting outside of our windows, the channel we were watching automatically transferred to the scene of a golden field during the daytime, and a blonde woman took centre stage.

  The explanation was sickening. Whilst Rehousing would happen, it was designed to be brutal: due to a lack of resources one member of each family would be given access to the Upperlands and the rest would die to prevent an uprising. From my experience of the city behind the Fence so far, a lack of resources was far from reality but I didn’t know that for sure. They did however have copious electricity, disconfirming a lie the Upperlanders had spouted for years.

  None of us wanted to believe the news because it meant that, while my family was spared the terror of deciding who lived and died, our neighbours were not as lucky. It also meant that we were now living amongst those who had given these orders and I didn’t know how I could face anyone I came into contact with. We felt unsafe and now also terrified for Jason’s wellbeing because we assumed he had some part to play.

  So we sat and waited, not saying the words out loud but thinking about whom we would and wouldn’t see and, when Jason returned, how we were lucky to be a whole family when no one else would be offered that luxury. We had lots of questions for my brother but I wasn’t sure I wanted the answers.

  Of course we didn’t sleep and not a lot made sense that night, especially not when there was an unexpected knock on the door shortly after midnight.

  My father opened the door and three guards entered. They didn’t say a word but instead cuffed us, dragged us out of the apartment and took my parents in a different direction to me. We were too shocked and powerless to resist. It was dark outside, I was disoriented and terrified and, after being led into a dilapidated building, I eventually found myself alone in a cell with two beds. Shortly after, another boy arrived.

  That was the last time I saw my parents and for exactly one year I hadn’t known if they were alive.

  Until now.

  My parents take their blindfolds off and recognise one another and then me. From their unfazed interactions with one another it’s clear that they haven’t been apart so the attention is turned to me. We hug but not out of relief. The questions we want to ask don’t take form. The main one is: Where is Jason?

  Despite the reassurance that my parents are not dead and that they are here with me I have enough experience with the Upperlanders to know that this is not going to be a happy reunion.

  Theia

  “Come inside,” I say as I gesture Selma into the apartment, preferring to risk Kate prying than any curious stranger stumbling upon us in the hallway; I’ve seen what happens to traitors at the announcements and my secret is worse than any other crime I have heard of. I start thinking up believable reasons for why my roommate would detour here to see me in case Kate asks. Does Kate know Selma isn’t a nanny, or can I pretend she is babysitting for an Upperlanders’ family? Have I mentioned Selma before? Have I mentioned I have a baby sister? I want to smack my head: I used to have a baby sister, that’s what I’m meant to say.

  “I didn’t want to bring her.”

  “It’s ok.” I know that she’s risking her own life bringing Leda out of the room in the barracks for the first time since our arrival so this decision wasn’t on some impulse. Selma must have logged into the building with her ID and, since she has no reason to be here, this wasn’t an action taken lightly. I’m surprised a warning about her suspicious behaviour hasn’t already been brought to the guards’ attention but they must be busy with preparations at the arena.

  Selma opens her coat and hands over Leda. My younger sister’s body is hot but she shivers. It’s definitely the illness that has passed around the barracks, just more advanced than we were allowed to get. We were given injections at the hospital, more to protect the Upperlanders from becoming ill than to cure us, because the outcry that we stopped cleaning and nursing and serving their population until we could come out of quarantine was unfathomable to our new bosses who had forgotten what it was like to take care of themselves. However, these treatments were closely monitored and because Melissa had no access to the heaviest dosages she couldn’t sneak them out for Leda, instead only managing to bring back weaker painkillers.

  I hoped my sister would be able to fight off the virus with this stolen medication but the fever is taking its toll and only getting worse. I’ve spent too many sleepless nights cradling her and dampening her forehead with a cold flannel but she requires proper medical attention. The problem is that she has no identification. Everyone has an ID chip in a personalised watch except for Leda, and suspicions would be raised if she was presented at the hospital without one. I can’t pretend that she is Kate’s child; even if I could slip Cassie’s watch away and act as if it was lost for a few hours the ID would show the girl’s age, which is a good six years older than Leda.

  Leda has no right to be here. Her age just doesn’t add up so the only option was to tend to her and helplessly watch her slow decline into sickness. As my mother reminds me, she’s my responsibility and I’m failing her.

  “I should go,” Selma says, hushed.

  She’s right. She shouldn’t be here. Her watch will forever document that she came to this apartment block. Stepping out of line is
one of the main arguments for disloyalty at the monthly arena announcements, and a severe enough crime for punishment. The Upperlanders have deemed Selma to have proven her gratitude but not her loyalty, the opposite of me. Being caught wouldn’t just revert her to full pending status; this would be seen as a crime worthy of punishment. Maybe not the monthly execution that befalls some of those determined as the most ungrateful and disloyal but at best she would face imprisonment. In a matter of hours I will have to witness more deaths but I can’t think about that right now and turn my attention back to the problem at hand.

  “Thank you,” I say, as I pull Leda into me. She’s light for her age, not much heavier than when we were in the Middlelands. She should be verbal but the sickness has left her passive.

  Before she leaves, Selma clears her throat. “I’ll see you at the announcement?”

  “Yes,” I reply, although I have no idea what I should do in the next hour before it starts. We have to pass through identification gates along the tunnel on the bottom level so, whatever happens, Leda cannot come with but I have to be there. Not attending is yet another crime. Disloyalty or ungratefulness, I can’t remember which.

  “And you’ll...”

  I take her hand and smile. “I’ll look for her.”

  Although we’re separated by tiers, the announcements are the only time the whole population comes together. We’re supposed to stare ahead at the screens that present close-ups of President Callister but Selma, Melissa and I agreed to glance behind us as much as possible to see if we can spot Selene. Harriet looked too, before she was promoted but none of us has seen our previous roommate since. So far there have been no sightings of Selene but Selma won’t believe her daughter died that night. Thanks to me, acquiring a uniform and setting up a diversion, Selene was on her way from Henry’s to their family house but never arrived. We could spend forever guessing what happened but nothing will prove her status one way or another, except for finding her in the crowds. Amongst the tens of thousands it’s unlikely we’ll manage to pick her out, which itself is the rationale for Selene being alive that Selma clings onto.