by P. S. Lurie
She gasps. “That was him? Of all the people, you trusted him?”
“I thought so. Maddie...”
“Mad,” the girl corrects me abruptly, which I guess means that we are friends. Considering I have my suspicions we were put in here to face her wrath it’s probably better this way.
“Mad,” I start again, which sounds horrible but I go with it. “Is there anyone in the prison you want to find?”
“There’s me, you and Harriet. No more, no less. I’m not looking to gather a merry gang of ten.”
“I’m sorry but I’m not leaving without some others. Selma and Melissa, our roommates from the barracks. You came from there or you were born in the Upperlands?”
“The Middlelands, with a brief detour in the barracks.”
I wonder what she did to be imprisoned but not drowned. “And you don’t have anyone in here that you shared with?”
“A woman lived in here for a while but, what can I say, I like my own space.” She thinks for a moment. “Fine, a few women but they’re already dead.”
“Actually, I need to add another to the mix. There’s a boy, Ruskin. I made a promise to his brother a long time ago to tell him something. I’m not leaving without him.”
Mad sighs, then smiles. “You know what? I changed my mind. The more the merrier. I’m less of a target if there are more of you covering me. So we agree: three more before we head on out. No more punches. For now. Harriet, you’re in?”
Harriet’s only other choice is to go it alone, so predictably she nods.
“Believe me, I’m itching to go have some fun but we lay low and work out the mood of this place for a while. If you want me to come with you, and believe me you do, we don’t find your friends yet.”
It’s not what I think we should do because today is less about outlasting time as it is outlasting other people, but she does have a point because numbers will drop quickly. I think back to the cull and how I didn’t expect families to turn on one another so soon. I have a feeling that as much as Mad worries me she would be good to have around, so I have to accept that we don’t move for a while and hope that Selma, Melissa and Ruskin have found some hiding places until then.
“Theia,” Harriet says. “I don’t forgive you but since we’re here now I need to tell you something.”
I’m not sure I want to hear anything else because my mind still hasn’t processed what we’ve found ourselves in the middle of but what choice do I have? “Go on,” I say with a sigh because what else could it be? It’s hardly going to be good news.
“I found Selene.”
I don’t even need to think. I may have lost Leda and Ronan and I will do everything to find them but now I have more than enough motivation to get going.
Ruskin
Am I a coward? I don’t know. Maybe I should move but if the man was anything to go by then some people will react immediately and I’m not sure I could reason with any one of them. Because when it’s a case of kill or be killed what reasoning is there to be done?
I wedge one of the bars under the door, as there is just about enough space in the grate where the trays have been pushed through. I wonder if today was the reason we have been given food to keep us alive for a year rather than just left to die. Has this been the Upperlanders’ plan all along: wait until there’s a decent group of us for a bit more of their sadistic version of whittling down numbers? What did President Callister say... something about them observing from afar; are they having fun with this?
I force the bar into position by smacking it with the other one, knocking it farther under the door, diagonally downwards, until I am satisfied with my attempt. I stand and pull on the door handle. It doesn’t budge. I hope that pushing the door from the other side isn’t any easier but there’s not much I can do apart from wait and see if anyone tries.
I sit down and regain my composure, ignoring the dead body on the other bed. Not that long ago he was a source of distress to me and now he hardly figures on my radar of things I need to worry about. I try not to dwell on it but, if anything, killing himself has made my life that much easier, although I do spare a thought to whether he could have been an ally if he was still alive.
It’s ridiculous how effective the Upperlanders are in tearing people apart. First we had to choose one member of our families to survive over the others, and now we have to fight those that are also imprisoned, many I assume wrongfully so. It’s as if the Upperlanders have deflected the source of our hatred away from themselves and onto one another. What has everyone kept saying to me today, that we should be grateful? Since some of us will be allowed to set sail, they have us exactly where they want us: ready to kill for them and reduce the numbers, all the while being hopeful that we could outlive the flood alongside them. And then grateful for it.
Just as I start to work out how long I should give myself before I move on, fixed in my mind that whenever it will be it won’t be just yet, my plan is scuppered by the wails of a young girl racing down the hallway towards me.
“Someone help me.”
I move to the door and drop down so that I can see under the gap. The most I have ever seen in the past are pairs of boots belonging to the guards who drop off food for us but I don’t see anything yet. I only hear her voice echo down the corridor.
“Help me,” she shrieks, before she has reached me. She’s begging anyone for help. “Let me in.”
Suddenly, a pair of bare feet rushes into view and stops outside my door. Why my door? I curse myself for wedging the bar so far under because it must stick out and give me away. Even in her panic, this oddity tells her a few things. Firstly, someone is in here. Next, that person, being me, has a good way to protect themselves. And lastly, if I’ve trapped myself inside then that probably means I’m not looking for a fight.
What she doesn’t know is whether I’ll help. I don’t know either.
I also don’t know if it’s a trap and her ‘pursuers’ are waiting just around the corner for me.
I start to push myself off the floor and back away because this isn’t my problem and I can’t save everyone, no matter how conflicted I feel, but before I have a chance she has dropped to the ground and locks eyes with mine.
She’s so much younger than me and I don’t know what she’s doing here. Her blonde hair falls across her face, revealing her panicked eyes.
“Please,” she whispers. She’s so young.
She looks down the hallway, and then hurries her eyes back to mine. “I can hear them.”
Am I really going to let her be killed? Am I risking my own life by helping her? I don’t know what to do because there is no obvious answer so I do what feels right and start to loosen the iron bar from under the door.
“Come on,” I say, as I open the door, just enough for her to slip in. I ram the bar back in its place but not as far this time as to be noticeable to anyone outside. I’ve hardly finished this before I feel the force of something slam into my body. I have made a mistake. What’s she attacked me with?
I’m wrong. It is only the impact of her arms tightening around my waist, hugging me in gratitude.
I hear the shouts of a group of men drawing near, probably from whom she was running. I allow the embrace to carry on a moment longer because I need it too, then hold her back at arm’s length and take her features in but it’s a mistake because it gives the girl a chance to scout the room and of course she sees the dead boy. She backs away from me and screams.
“No. He was here already. We need to be quiet.”
She screams again, giving herself, and me, away.
I don’t have long before the noise of multiple footsteps and jeering flies down the hallway until it is directly outside my door.
There’s a moment of silence, which is nothing more than a mean trick, before the banging on the door starts and amidst this, a single voice.
“Erica. Come out and play.”
Selene
I smack the suitcase into my fiancée again but he ex
pects the attempt and grabs it, stopping the force from sending him over.
“That’s not nice, princess” he says, reclaiming the upper hand.
I turn to run into the kitchen so that I can arm myself with the knife but the dress makes it impossible to move fast and, in my shuffling speed, Nathaniel jumps over the bed and sends his body into mine so that I hit the doorway.
Neither one of us moves for a moment, the air knocked out of both of us, but I start up again and try to get some distance on him. He lunges forward and grabs my leg, and I trip and fall, my body splayed halfway between the bedroom and the hallway.
Nathaniel clambers on top of me and flips me over violently so that I am facing him. He sits on my chest and pins my arms by my side; no matter how hard I struggle I cannot overpower him.
“It’s such a shame. Why did you have to go and recognise your mother? We were doing so well.”
I look at him, confused.
“I really wanted to marry you.” His face turns sombre and his tone serious. “We still could.”
I know I’m not in the best position to upset Nathaniel but I can’t help but look disgusted. My voice breaks. “Why did you do this to me?” There are so many other questions that consume my mind. How did he do this? What did it take for me to become this subservient? What was his plan going to be if I ever remembered in the future? But the main question has to be: Why.
Nathaniel breaks into a laugh.
“Why are you laughing?”
“You don’t remember.”
“Remember what?”
The doorbell rings and Nathaniel looks up. “Damn.” Then he looks back at me. “I asked Doctor Graft for some more medication. Sorry,” he adds after a pause. I don’t know what he’s apologising for but then I see him raise his hand, clench it into a fist and pummel into my face and, instantly, my world goes dark.
12 P.M. – 1 P.M.
Ruskin
I don’t know how many there are of them outside my cell. It’s only an hour after the announcement and people have already ganged up. I wonder if declaring that ten of us can survive has hurried along the violence; we are only given a few hours to reduce our numbers rather than an entire night for the families in the Middlelands and I guess that allowing groups has reduced the time people waited to take action. If only one of us could live, would people have hidden out longer? I don’t even know whether the Upperlanders will keep true to their word that the survivors won’t be executed. There’s no point thinking that far ahead so I turn back to the problem in front of me.
From the chatter, I guess there are at least five boys. Or men. Or a combination, it’s impossible to tell. I can’t hear any women’s voices in the crowd from behind the door but there might be some, waiting on us silently.
Even with my weapon there’s no way I’d have any chance if they force their way in, considering that it’s just me and an eight or nine year old, who they seem to be targeting.
“We know you’re in there darling,” the man who named her Erica says.
“I can see two pairs of feet,” another says.
The girl moves to the side of the cell but pointlessly as it’s too late to hide. I stand firm, pushing against the door.
The first man starts to speak. “Give me the girl and you can go free, mystery man.”
I turn to Erica and crease my eyebrows. Who is she to this man? What did he do to her? Or rather, what did she do to him? She looks terrified and I’m as reassured by his declaration that I won’t be harmed in the process as by anything the Upperlanders have ever said.
There’s silence as they wait for me to reply but I stay resolute. What is there to reply with?
I feel the door move the merest of a fraction as they exert some force on the other side but the bar keeps it in place and I can rest assured that until we need to leave we are out of harm’s way, not that it’s much of a solution but it’s a relief.
The banging starts up again. “Give me the girl,” the man shouts, this time much angrier. They’re not hiding from anyone else coming their way. They don’t care that the other prisoners can hear them so I figure that they must be certain they’re a strong group.
The girl begins to cry, huddled in the corner.
Then I hear a scream from farther away and all hell breaks loose outside. Yells of “This way” and “Let’s get him” and then a final “Don’t go anywhere” directed at us. It sounds like we’re being left alone whilst, in the distance, someone is being chased.
“I’m Ruskin,” I say, not only to distract the girl from the horror nearby but to distract me too because what we were told would happen has started already and is too terrifying to listen in on. I have to distract myself because I keep picturing this victim and only Jack’s face fills the void in my mind.
“Erica,” she says between sniffs, but I already know that.
“Who was that man?”
“I ran away from him.”
“He was trying to kill you. Why?”
The obvious answer is because it’s a numbers game but there must be more of a connection.
“I didn’t want to but they said it was allowed. I miss them.”
“I don’t understand.”
“In the Middlelands. You’re from there?”
I realise she is talking about the killings a year ago. I skipped that part, until today. It’s too complicated to explain. “Sort of.” What did she have to do to get here? If she’s from the Middlelands then he can’t be her father or brother if they’re both in prison because only one of them should be alive. Or, was she in my situation and Rehoused a day earlier? I don’t think so because it sounds like she’s talking about the cull.
“I killed my sister and my parents. I was scared. They told me to.”
“You had to do it,” I say automatically. Did she? I don’t know. “No one blames you.”
“He blames me. He was Frances’ boyfriend.”
I think it through. The man was dating Erica’s sister and, whilst she died, he survived. But that means he had to lose his family to be with the person he loved. Yet he blames Erica for surviving. How can that be right? It’s such a complicated mess in my head. “Then he found you.”
“Outside the barracks. On the way to my job.”
Job? This girl should be at school. I realise I have no idea what life has been like in the Upperlands for the Middlelanders who survived. She must have had to grow up even faster than we did.
“Darren threatened to kill me and I was scared. That’s his name.”
“So you got yourself imprisoned,” I say, filling in the blanks within her story. She had been so terrified that she saw prison as a safe haven. Little did she know what would be waiting for her today. What sort of life was it outside of here to want to hide herself away?
“I stole from the people I cleaned for. So many things, until I was caught. I made it obvious. I hoped they wouldn’t drown me.”
My mind casts back to my parents’ deaths and I feel sick.
“Darren got himself locked up to get closer to me. Not that it mattered until today. He won’t stop until I’m dead. This is perfect for him. He said the last thing he’d do would be to kill me.” With that she shivers. “He said this would only end when one of us was dead.”
“Your sister wouldn’t have wanted this,” I say, but I’m trying to convince the wrong person.
She doesn’t have an answer because that would suppose Darren is thinking rationally, which he isn’t. There might be more to what happened than what she’s telling me but I don’t push her. For now, we’ve wasted too much time already and I’ve allowed myself to be distracted from finding Jack. On top of that I also feel obliged to protect a young girl who has a murderous gang after her, and they won’t stop until she’s dead. Darren won’t be far but I guess he’s with his crowd because, if he’s smart, then there’s safety in numbers so he will follow wherever they go.
I think it through. Darren has no idea who I am as long as I’m away fro
m here, and away from Erica. She isn’t my problem. No, I need to protect her. I can’t leave her here...
The window. I’m too big but she may fit.
“I have an idea,” I say, as I pull up the sheet from the bed.
Theia
“You two are just full of surprises,” Mad says. “I’m glad I haven’t killed you yet because I’m intrigued. My last friend was du-uh-ull.”
I don’t doubt she would have killed us already if we hadn’t provided some drama; I can see her ears prick up every time we hear a scream in the background. I think back to the night my family were killed; peace lasted for only a few hours before violence entered my house, and that was without any of us starting off with murderous intent. Then I’m reminded of Doctor Jefferson’s death spree in the hospital because what’s happening in the prison isn’t dissimilar from his circumstance. I’ve thought often this past year about how he was able to kill so many others.
The answer was in his desire to be reunited with my mother.
I still couldn’t believe he would kill so many for the sake of one person. But now I not only know this is the answer but feel the drive he must have had because Leda and Ruskin are my reason for not giving up, and for justifying killing others in order to be reunited with them.
“Mad, we need to arm ourselves.”
She holds her fists up to me. “What’s wrong with these? Harriet’s found her pair.”
“We need more than that. And to work out where Selma and Melissa are.”
“They saw our cell so maybe we should wait for them,” Harriet says.
I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from arguing back that we can’t wait but I hadn’t considered that maybe they’ll come to us. Harriet’s right. It’s a sensible plan because no doubt they will want to find us as well and there’s no point making it more difficult for them by making ourselves harder to find. “We give them thirty minutes. Then we move. If they haven’t reached us by then it means they’re not going to or...”