by P. S. Lurie
“I’m not a...” Melissa starts, but gives up.
“At least he doesn’t call you kid,” Mad says, casting her eyes towards the exit. “Erica, want to come scavenge with me?”
The girl nods and they head off towards a large cabinet.
“Will you be ok here?” I ask Jack. “I want to talk to Theia.”
“Sure.”
I lean over and kiss his forehead.
“Cute,” Melissa says. “Just remember what Jack said about no violence.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. Just maybe ask Theia about the night of the cull.”
I know Melissa is angry at Theia for being here but I don’t understand her jibe about the past. I head towards Theia, who’s come up empty but Selma is a few paces away dismantling a drawer, smashing a plank of wood over her knee, and admiring the sharp edge where it’s cracked in the middle.
Theia smiles at Selma’s creativity. “Guess her fighting spirit is up, somewhere about here.” She raises her palm and holds it flat above her head, measuring the air.
“Good. We’ll need it. If we’re ahead of everyone else there’s enough space for us all to get onboard but there will be more people. This guy, Darren, who’s after Erica won’t stop until he finds her. And there’s the man with the gun. How the hell did someone get a gun?”
I watch Theia’s eyes flicker as if she’s remembering something from the past. I know what Henry used to say about his admiration for her. Although we didn’t spend much time together I can see why he liked her; she always looks like she’s working on a solution, although now she’s come up empty: “Beats me.”
She sighs and casts her eyes downwards. “Ruskin, I need to tell you something.”
“Does it involve Melissa? She hinted at something.”
“It’s something I told her. Actually, I guess she saw. Ruskin, I was there when Jason died. He saved my life.”
I freeze, trying to take in what she said but it doesn’t make sense.
“I’m sorry Ruskin. He asked me to promise I would find you and tell you he didn’t want you to be disappointed in him.”
“You were there?”
She looks ashamed. More than that. Guilty. “I sneaked into a neighbour’s house and another officer found us. Jason helped me escape but he was killed in the process.”
If I understand correctly... I work through it... If Jason hadn’t interfered, then my parents and he and I would all be together. I can visualise it. We sit up through the horrendous night and Jason finally returns. He doesn’t talk about what happened but we all know that he did horrific things for us to be together. He put our family first and then we spend the next year, the four of us, in blissful denial that others suffered, until it’s time to board the Utopia and then we all carry on living until the cull is a distant, forgettable blip on the horizon.
But that didn’t happen because Jason was killed protecting Theia. No, he was killed because Theia broke the rules.
“He died because of you?”
Theia nods slowly.
“Why? I mean, why did he put you first over us?”
“He was a good man, Ruskin. I think he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself, watching others being killed that night and not trying to intervene. Look at what you’ve picked up along the way in here,” she says, referring to Erica and Marcus. “Jason couldn’t win whatever he did that night. Imagine choosing who lives and dies and bearing the weight of that for the rest of your life. We all did it that night. Jason too.”
“I did it this morning.”
Theia works it out fast. “Your parents. They made you choose?”
“They flew me up to that fortress on the mountain. I hadn’t seen my parents for a year. They died so I could live.”
“I’m sorry Ruskin. You don’t have to forgive me but I really am sorry about Jason. And,” she pauses. “Henry.”
My turn to look down. Henry’s dead and I shouldn’t ask what happened because nothing she can say will make me feel better. I know that Henry was in love with her. Did she know? Would it help if I told her?
“Look,” Theia says. “We get through this and then you work out how you feel about me but first...”
I cut her off, done with aiming my anger towards the wrong people. “I don’t know. I need to think about it but I guess if it hadn’t been you Jason would have been the idiot he is and helped someone else.” I can’t say I forgive her, which I can see she’s hoping for. She looked for me in the prison but I still don’t give her absolution and instead change the focus. “Plus, I wouldn’t have met Jack.”
“He’s special to you, isn’t he?”
“Worth getting imprisoned for. Worth dying for.”
“So then we save him. And Selma. And the others. And we find Selene. And my brother and sister.”
“All in a couple of hours, right?”
“It’s a breeze.”
“What happened to Selene anyway?”
“I’m not quite sure how to tell you,” Theia says as she bites her lip. “Maybe it will give you more impetus to find her.”
I couldn’t begin to guess what she means but I’m confident that nothing will shock me anymore.
“I think the man that killed your brother is the same person who has held Selene captive for this past year. You want revenge? We find Selene and we’ll find Jason’s killer.”
My mind is overwrought but one thing comes through loud and clear, despite what Jack says about not stooping to others’ violence, because I now have a clear source to funnel my blame towards. I pick up the iron bar. “Let’s get ourselves some more weapons.”
Theia
It’s a relief to tell Ruskin about Jason; something I’ve imagined for a year now, but never could I have thought it would be here in these circumstances. I don’t know what he thinks but he had a right to know. And, like ripping a bandage off a wound, he knows about Henry too. I’m just grateful Ruskin didn’t ask how Henry died, or rather why he died if his parents were likely to allow him to be Rehoused. It’s a conversation I’ve been in turmoil over during sleepless nights, when Leda’s illness or thoughts of Ronan’s whereabouts or watching my mother die on repeat didn’t flood my mind, and I’m forced to mull over one more source of grief. What I don’t know is why Henry’s father turned violent. I have a feeling it is better not to know for sure because I assume it’s something Henry said to provoke him, and it wouldn’t take a genius to work out what, so I stop myself from playing it out in my head; I have enough guilt to contend with.
Back to the present. Just under an hour to survive the prison and then we need to leave safely but it’s a risk to wait too long for the others to filter out because they will beat us to the Utopia and, with eight of us, we need all the spaces we can get. Then again, if we make a break at the turn of the hour we stand no chance if there’s someone roaming around with a gun.
Selma has made quite a few nasty-looking weapons out of anything she can scramble together. Ruskin has returned to crouch by Jack’s side, whispering privately about something, probably what I just told him. Melissa sits next to Marcus but doesn’t do much in the way of helping him; I think back to when she stitched up Henry’s forehead near the shore on the day we tried to escape and how her and my mothers’ professions are admirable, with the exception of people like Doctor Jefferson who do a disservice by putting themselves first. But aren’t I doing that by suggesting we kill anyone in our path no matter their reason for being here?
Erica laughs at something Mad says and I watch them go over and investigate Selma’s armoury. I don’t know why Mad has become so protective of the girl; nothing she does fits her external demeanour of being self-serving.
A gunshot echoes from above us and the sound carries on into the kitchen and living areas and stops everyone in their tracks. It’s impossible to know how far it came from or what it was in response to, or if someone died or avoided death. I have seen lifeless bodies today, including some
still in this room, and I have watched Harriet and another woman be killed but so far I haven’t killed anyone. The most I have done is tackle that man into the room and trap him in there but I know that there is little difference between directly killing someone and being responsible for their death. Indirectly, so many people lost their lives because of me last year, but I also killed: I shot my grandfather and Henry’s father. I don’t like this chain of thought and the dizzying feeling I have just before I blank out comes but I can’t stop myself. I’m slipping from the prison, to a house that is submerged. So much for thinking I was done with the flashbacks.
My garden is sunken, the water reaching some way up my house, but this time I am helplessly observing from a new viewpoint: from Melissa’s window, watching as the younger, naive version of me moves around the neighbourhood gardens, setting into motion a cast of deaths. My mother wades out but the muddy water slows her down and...
I don’t lose myself for long, only a few seconds, which is only a short-lived relief considering I’m back in the prison. The rapid burst of a blackout instead of a prolonged blank hardly gives me solace because all it’s really doing is keeping me in the present with the reminder that I’m going to have to kill again. Right now, being awake is the nightmare.
“It’s good if he’s shooting,” Mad says, as she picks up a knife tied with some string to the end of a curtain rail, forming a makeshift spear that Selma crafted. “How many bullets can he have?”
“One more death for them, one less death for us,” Marcus says.
It’s abhorrent to feel reassured by measuring someone’s life against our own but what other choice do we have than to be grateful for any luck that comes our way? “Gratitude,” I mutter to myself. If only I’d played their game a day longer.
Thirty minutes to decide whether to leave at three o’clock or wait. I can’t make the choice on behalf of eight people and no one else is taking the lead. We need to divide the responsibility rather than leave one person to take the brunt the guilt.
“We vote,” I say. I repeat it, louder this time so everyone hears.
We gather in the living area, the room’s name unjustly hopeful considering what we are up against. Selma and Mad pile up the weapons on the floor in the middle of our circle. Jack inspects them grudgingly and considering his pacifism I know what he’ll decide: to wait. I’m not sure which way I’ll swing. I want someone to convince me. I just hope we’re not split four-four.
“What’s the plan kid?”
“The prison doors open at three. Do we try and leave then, or wait for a clear run?”
“That’s crazy to suggest waiting, we’ll lose our spots on the boat,” Mad says.
“Or our lives,” Jack replies.
Selma speaks up. “What about going there now? We have weapons.”
“We’ll be open targets,” Ruskin says. “There’s a man with a gun.”
“And Darren,” Erica adds.
“When the doors open or five minutes after? We each get a vote.”
“You mean, if the doors open,” Melissa says.
My stomach drops at the thought. I hadn’t considered the alternative that this is just one more game for the Upperlanders and they never planned for us to leave here. Would they really want any of us onboard? Even if we are allowed to live, what future would there be for us? “They’ll open,” I have to say, because anything else is unthinkable.
“Why doesn’t the man with the gun shoot his way out through the doors?” Erica asks.
Jack pushes himself up, which takes some effort. A bruise is starting to come through over his eye. “Because he wants to be in here. He chose to be in here.”
“Why would someone do that?” Melissa asks.
“You’re smart, Jack,” Mad says. “He knew about this and chose to enter the prison today. That’s the only reason he could have a gun. Although it seems dishonourable for someone who wanted to be here to not have a fair fight.”
“He doesn’t want to play fair,” Marcus adds. “He just wants to kill. My son told me that only some of the guards they recruited for the cull were Middlelanders.”
“Like Jason and my brother,” Jack says. “And your son.”
“Correct. But there were others from the Upperlands who willingly chose to patrol. They wanted to kill that night. I guess someone enjoyed it so much that they didn’t want to give up the opportunity to kill more.”
I think of the man who has kept Selene hostage for a year; he must have had a similar thrill. When I compare him to Jason, who wanted anything but to not fight, it seems impossible that we’re all human at heart. “Time to vote. When the doors open or five minutes later?”
“When they open,” Mad says.
“Absolutely,” Selma says, itching to get out of the prison and be reunited with her daughter who she never gave up on believing was alive.
Jack disagrees. “We wait and we’ll make up the time. The arena is far from here?” I nod in response. “Good. So that gives us time to overtake anyone. We play the long game.”
“You’re slow, Jack. So is he.” Ruskin looks at Marcus’ wound then returns to direct his explanation at Jack. “But we’re all dead if we wait. I’m sorry but we have to leave. I’ll protect you.”
Three for and one against.
“Hiding is best,” Erica says.
“We can’t hide from the sea,” Melissa says. “But Marcus will slow us down.”
“Everyone gets to have a say,” I say, aware that I should give mine but something is holding me back; I guess I’m listening to everyone’s decision, hoping I don’t need to vote.
“Fine, we go. Soon as possible,” Melissa says.
“Sorry Erica, but I’ll protect you.”
Four to go, two to stay. If Marcus agrees to leave then I’m in the clear.
Marcus laughs. “Half of you want to go at three p.m. If I concur then we have to move. I’ve never felt so powerful. Unfortunately, I’m going to say we bide our time. I can hardly walk let alone outrun another bullet. So,” he turns to me, “Your decision kid.”
Everyone looks in my direction and I realise I played this wrong. It seems unfair that I’m going to give the deciding vote of whether or not to walk into potential danger. Or I say we wait and we’ve gotten nowhere. Can we move quickly enough? I’m not sure Marcus can but Jack should be able to hurry with Ruskin’s aid, although waiting out the initial brawl makes sense.
But then there’s Selene, and Ronan and Leda. And the Fence being blown up and killing us anyway.
“We go,” I say, fed up with debating it anymore in my head or leaving the vote in a stalemate.
“Thank you,” Selma replies, as Melissa pulls the bandage off Marcus’ wound to inspect it, Jack stands to see if he can walk unaided, and Mad grabs Erica’s hand to comfort her, but no one has time for anything other than these immediate reactions. The vote might be a waste of time because we might not even live long enough to see three o’clock, as a series of sudden heavy thrusts against the door force the sofa out of the way and four men break through, much more prepared than Ruskin’s group.
Selene
“I could have shot you. It’s not like there’s anyone out here to witness it.”
“You would’ve killed me already.”
Nathaniel takes his time to walk towards me and stops too close for comfort, close enough that he could put his arms around me. Close enough for me to stab him with the knife, and close enough for him to draw the gun on me and not miss. To hug me or choke me, it could go either way. He notices the second watch on my wrist then looks to the door.
“Now where did you get that?”
“Your father wasn’t using it.”
“What did you do?”
“He’ll be fine.”
“You could’ve escaped.”
“You know where I’m going.”
“The prison. I figured you were still in the building but I would have gone there in time for the unlocking at three o’clock.”
/>
“The what?”
“Helps being a policeman because you get the inside scoop. Your mother and everyone else have been given a second cull. Ten can survive. At three o’clock they’ll let the survivors out and they can join the rest of us before the Fence blows.”
It feels like I’ve been kicked in my stomach again. I know my mother and Theia are capable, with resourcefulness and physical aggression between the two of them, but there must be so many people locked up, willing to kill to survive.”
“About two hundred,” Nathaniel says, and smiles when he knows that’s what I was working out. “We really are in sync, despite your best efforts to pretend we’re not.”
I look around at the deserted cityscape. Just beyond some buildings I can see glimpses of the Utopia and, behind that, towering above everything else is the Fence. I try to work out where the prison is and how long it would take to get there. Considering Nathaniel was in no rush it can’t be too far but apparently even if I went to the prison now I wouldn’t be able to get in because it’s too early. My mother will have to fend for herself a while longer. If she met up with Harriet, the promoted woman, she must know I’m alive by now.
I remember my mother’s right hook. She’ll be alive.
“I wanted to kill you,” I say.
“You don’t anymore?”
“I might. Depends on what you say next."
He laughs. “What’s the change?” I see it connect on his face. “Ah, my father told you?”
“It’s true?”
“So you don’t remember everything yet? Selene, I didn’t want to take you to the prison that night because I was impressed. Here was a girl: beautiful, able, ferocious. She survived the cull by obtaining a uniform and sneaking into the Upperlands. I thought she deserved a chance at living rather than going to jail.”
“That wasn’t your decision.”
“You wanted me to give up on you?” he shouts. “Everyone gave up on you. You told me that. Your father. Your mother. Henry. Some other girl. So I gave you a safe haven, away from the authorities.”
Do I want to hear the rest? I would’ve tried to stab him already if I didn’t.