black tiger (Black Tiger Series Book 1)

by Sara Baysinger

  “Sorry,” I say. “My da––some people believe Whitcomb and his politicians have us all squashed under their thumbs.”

  “Sounds like you believe that, too.”

  I pick at a deep gash in the wooden bar. “I honestly don’t know what I believe.”

  “No? Allow me to enlighten you. We’re not slaves. No one is a slave here. The Chief has created a… utopia of sorts for us. There are no homeless people. Criminals are being taken care of. Everyone is treated equally.”

  “Everyone except the politicians, that is.”

  His mouth opens slightly, then he closes it. “The politicians are the ones working the hardest to keep the government functioning. They deserve a little more than we Proletariats do for their hard work.”

  I snort. Usually people I have this conversation with are a bit more passive. I mean, sure, at first glance they talk about how great the government is, but dig a little deeper and they’re more agreeable than argumentative. I tell them how messed up our government is, and they nod and say, “Okay, yes, yes.” But Forest here is about as clueless as a stump and as stubborn as a boulder. Brainless. He’s one of the brainless who just does whatever is asked of them. Well. I should probably fix that.

  “What about the criminals?” I lean forward. Might as well plunge right in to prove my point. “If you have any measure of conscience, you can’t agree with the executions. Why can’t criminals just spend some time in prison and go to a trial where they receive justice? Why does the smallest little act of rebellion have to end in a dramatic death sentence?”

  “Because no one would be afraid of stealing or standing up against the government if they only had to endure a few months in prison for it. Everyone knows the law. If they didn’t want to get an execution, they shouldn’t commit crimes in the first place.”

  “What’s wrong with standing up for what you believe in?”

  “Um…” He chokes out a laugh and returns his gaze to his drink, both hands wrapped around the bottle, his knuckles white. He’s tense, maybe even angry. He has to be a Loyalist. Oh, rot. I should have kept my shoddy mouth shut.

  “I’m sorry.” I should probably cover up my tracks now before he turns me in. “You’re right, of course, Forest. The politicians do a good job running our government. We’re lucky to live in such a prosperous society.” I wince at my own sarcasm. Prosperous. That’s the joke of the century. Only politicians live in prosperity, and according to Forest, they deserve it for all the hard work on their part.

  Forest straightens, studies me through narrowed slits, crosses his arms, then says. “You don’t have to lie to me, Miss Ember.”

  Miss Ember? That’s a first anyone’s ever called me miss. I kind of like it.

  “I’m not going to turn you in,” Forest continues. “I just—” He swallows, a look of confusion flitting through his cobalt eyes. “I’ve never heard anyone speak so forcefully against our government. I mean, I knew there were people out there who had problems with it.” He shrugs, laughs a little. “But I guess since I live in the city where we’re constantly monitored, no one risks talking like that.”

  And he seems so incredibly honest right now with no sign of resentment that I can’t help but ask, “So, do you agree?”

  “I don't necessarily disagree. I just need some time to think about what you said.”

  “Oh.” How has he not taken time to process this information before? But the majority of Ky is like that. People brainlessly working for this higher power—Titus Whitcomb and his snotty politicians—without giving second thought to how they’re all treated like common slaves. It’s pathetic, really. Kind of embarrassing. And I’m glad Dad raised me to think for myself and not conform to following society.

  I pass my empty glass to Judd, who is still talking to Leaf about who-knows-what.

  “I guess,” Forest says. “I can see why you chose this tavern instead of the one on the north end of town.” He smiles a little. “You would have been arrested within the first five minutes of our argument if they’d have caught you on camera.”

  Some of the tension leaves my body. Maybe he really won’t turn me in.

  “You’ve got to watch what you say, though, Ember.” His smile fades and he leans toward me, so close that I catch the heady whiff of cinnamon coming off his body. “You talk so casually about the government,” he whispers. “But if they hear your treason, they will kill you.”

  His gaze is so intense, blue sapphire eyes burning into mine, and I have to look away before he sees into my very soul and knows everything I’m thinking, including how wonderfully attractive he is and how I have to remind my heart to beat because one look from him just. Makes. Everything. Stop.

  I try to breathe again. “I guess I feel so far removed from the government. All the politicians are in the city, and the city is miles away. The Tap always feels so safe—”

  “This place may seem safe.” His gaze flickers past me. “But people might be watching.”

  All the tension creeps back into my shoulders, and I follow his gaze. To the corner. A man sits alone at a table. He holds a paper in front of him, as though reading it, but his eyes scan the bar. He wears farmers clothes, but they’re crisp and clean, not like the worn, threadbare clothes the rest of us wear. We still have three months before new uniforms arrive. On one finger, he wears a giant gold ring. No one in the Community Garden can afford a piece of jewelry like that. His eyes find mine and I quickly turn around. My heart is pounding so hard, I wonder if he can hear it clear across the room.

  “A spy.” I look at Forest. “How did you know?” All this time he acted like this place was safe.

  Forest offers a sad smile. “Spies are everywhere to keep crime under control. I would think you of all people would know that, based on your…” He flips his hand in the air. “Conspiracies.”

  I don’t know how I missed it. Of course the government wouldn’t tell us they had a spy in a building. If they did, everyone would behave. And they want to weed out those of us who aren’t brainless loyalists. Those like me, Leaf, and Dad. Goosebumps flesh out across my skin. How long has this place been watched? Will the Defenders come after me now? Can that man hear me from across the room? I glance at Judd. Does he know this place is being watched? Surely not, or he wouldn’t be passing out free drinks.

  Forest clears his throat and takes on a less rigid position. “So, which career do you hope to receive tomorrow?”

  “Farming.” The word tumbles out of my lips before I can stop it, but by the look in Forest’s eyes, I wish I hadn’t said it. “B-but I'll be happy with whatever career is given to me. Of-of course.”

  A small smile touches his lips. “If you move to the city, you’ll have a lot of changes to get used to, Miss Ember.”

  There it is again. Miss Ember. Who even talks like that?

  The door to the bar bursts open, and the piano music stops. Shivers weave up my spine one vertebrae at a time, and I slowly turn around. Ten Defenders stride into the bar, their guns in hand as if ready to fire. My breath freezes in my lungs because I just said a whole bunch of things I shouldn’t have verbalized, and there’s a spy in this bar right now, and I’m going to be arrested. I’m going to be killed for my free thoughts. I’m going to—

  “We’re looking for Jonah Walker.”

  My lungs remember how to breathe. Jonah Walker. They’re looking for some guy named Walker. I could almost laugh out loud from relief, but instead, I’m completely confused because I’ve never heard of Jonah Walker, and I know everyone in the Community Garden.

  I look at Forest. Is he hiding his identity? He looks suspicious with his shoulders hunched, his hand up by his face, as though hiding from the approaching Defender. But when the Defender passes us, showing us the picture on his tablet, I realize Forest looks nothing like this Jonah Walker. Walker has wild green eyes, slick black hair, and a peppery beard. A deep scar runs from his left temple to his chin. Apart from his green eyes, he looks like the majority of the citizens
of Ky.

  After the Defender passes us, I look at Forest. “Do you know him? Walker, I mean?”

  Forest frowns and gives a brief shake of his head, but something in him has changed. His jaw is set, his blue eyes frosting over like ice as they scan the room.

  “But you’ve heard of him, haven’t you?” I press.

  His eyes find mine. “You haven’t?"

  “Um. No?” Should I have?

  “He’s a notorious criminal.”

  “What’s his crime?”

  Forest studies me for a long moment, as though considering his answer. Then he shrugs and says, “It doesn’t matter. Doesn’t look like he’s here.”

  “I wonder why they thought he was.”

  “Spies. He was probably here a moment ago and then snuck out. No one even noticed, it’s so crowded in here.”

  He’s right. If there are any criminals about, The Tap would be the best place to go to blend in, even with Mr. Creepy Spy hunched over in the corner, who is now gone, his paper left discarded on the table like it didn’t cost him a few precious Coins of Good Service. But…how does Forest know who this Walker guy is? There must be a lot going on in the metropolis that we country folk don’t know about. It’s harder for word to spread when us country folk are so thinned out. Our only news comes from the Defenders, who share only what they’re instructed to share by Chief Whitcomb.

  “You have beautiful eyes, you know that?”

  I look up. Forest is leaning toward me, all the commotion clearly forgotten as he studies me like I’m some sort of new specimen.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Your eyes,” he says. “They look like they’re always smiling.”

  I blink. Twice. No boy has ever given me a compliment like that. It’s far too forward a thing for shy country boys to say. And I should probably put my guard up, because Dad always says that forward city boys are not to be trusted. Nonetheless, heat invades my face, and I look away, hating myself for smiling just a little bit at the compliment.

  “Thanks,” I mumble.

  Leaf clears his throat too loudly beside me. “Ember, it’s late. We should get home. Big day tomorrow.”

  I quickly nod. After the scare of the Defenders storming the tavern, and now this strange confusing buzz I get just by one look from Forest, I want desperately to get out of here.

  “It was good meeting you, Miss Ember.” Forest stretches out his hand.

  I take it, a shudder racing up my spine by the warmth of his long fingers, and for an instant, I’m lost in the ocean of his blue eyes. He smiles, his gaze searching mine as though he’s trying to tell me something.

  “Forget,” he says slowly. “Everything we talked about here.”

  Of course. Of course I’ll forget it. What he said was vital information, and I’ll never rat him out for sharing it with me. Releasing Forest’s hand, I follow Leaf out of the tavern and wonder if I’ll ever see Forest again. But there’s no way. Unless I’m given the career of a farmer, which isn’t likely, I’ll be headed to the city tomorrow.

  Or worse, the Line of Defenders.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A chilly wind sweeps in from the east as we step outside. The sky has darkened to black velvet and no stars shine. Fitting. Stars are made of fire that burns and burns and burns, transmitting endless amounts of energy amidst the infinite void of black. Stars are a sign of hope. And right now, I feel no hope. Only an aching longing for things to be different. Better. Improved and corrected. So, the fact that no stars shine tonight echoes the feeling in my soul.

  “Who was that you were talkin’ to?” Leaf asks when we’re halfway home, far away from any listening ears or cameras.

  “His name is Forest. He works in landscaping.” I lower my voice. “I guess spies go to The Tap to keep an eye on things. There was one sitting in the corner tonight.”

  “Really?” He snorts out a laugh. A pathetic thing. “I’m not surprised. I wonder if they’ll send me to the stadium for un-careered drinking. Welcome to Ky, the place where one innocent drink can get you executed.”

  I smile and kick a pebble into the ditch. “You had way more than one innocent drink, my friend.”

  “They don’t know that. For all this spy knows, I could’ve been drinking water.”

  “Yeah, water dolled up by Judd’s magic syrup.” I roll my eyes and look ahead at the dark abyss in front of us. The Garden electricity has already been turned off for the night, but I can just barely make out the gravel road. Way out, the tall buildings glitter like stars offering false hope. The city never sleeps, so they say. People work all day and all night there. And that’s why it makes perfect sense that the criminal the Defenders were looking for is on the loose here in the Garden. You can’t find anything in this pitch black of night here.

  “Hey, do you know who that Jonah Walker guy is?” I ask.

  Leaf clears his throat. “No idea. But the Defenders were pretty determined to get him.” He shoves his hands into his pockets.

  “He’s a notorious criminal. It’s kind of creepy that a criminal is on the loose out here.” I walk a little closer to Leaf and spare a glance at the dark fields surrounding the road.

  “How do you know he’s a criminal?”

  “Forest told me.”

  “This Forest guy seems to know a lot.” He offers a forced laugh. “You sure he wasn’t one of the said spies in the bar?”

  “Um, no. He was way too honest to be a spy. He’s from the city, though, and I guess this sort of information is more accessible to him.”

  “I guess.”

  Another freezing wind whips at my shirt, announcing the too soon arrival of winter. Seasons used to be a little less cruel, a little more friendly as they merged together like a symphony, but that all ended around the same time the White Plague struck. Now winter is a brutal thing. Without much warning, icy winds sweep in at the speed of a train and wipe away the green and warmth and food and all us gardeners hibernate for a while. We hide in our living rooms, huddled together by our fireplaces while snow wages war outside our windows. And it’s snow snow snow and storms and flurries and winter vortexes all through December and January and then spring.

  Spring arrives with a rising sun melting away the snow and nightmares. Spring is the kiss from the universe, the proof from heaven that, if there is a God, he maybe remembers us and might still care a little.

  We part ways when we pass Leaf’s fields, and I make the rest of the trek alone. Running. Just in case this Jonah Walker is lurking around. When I step onto our porch, Dad opens the door before I have a chance to twist the knob.

  “Where have you been?” he asks. Has he been crying? No. Not Dad. “I was worried sick about you.” He wraps his arms around me and crushes me to his chest.

  “Why?” I ask, pulling away. “Did you hear about the criminal too?”

  Dad frowns. “Criminal?”

  “Yeah. Like a notorious one.” I use the big word Forest used. “He’s loose in the Garden.”

  Dad stares at me a moment longer than necessary. “I was worried because my only daughter is leaving tomorrow. I might never see you again, and instead of coming home, you…you—what? What were you doing?”

  My throat constricts. “I—I went to The Tap. With Leaf.”

  Dad sighs. Nods. Pulls me into another embrace.

  Guilt is a vicious thing. It shatters dignity. You look in the mirror and see all the wrong things you did and you’re left wondering why you were even born if it means hurting people all the time. I shouldn’t have gone to The Tap. Not on my last night here. I should’ve stayed home, spent what precious little time I have left with my family. Instead I just thought of myself and what I wanted in that very moment.

  “Come inside.” Dad takes the box of rations from me and carries them into the kitchen.

  Elijah’s sitting in the living room playing his harmonica. I sit cross-legged beside the fireplace and stretch my freezing hands above the dying flames. Dad returns a moment later w
ith a bowl of soup he made from a powder from our rations. Just add hot water, and you’ve got a full meal of vegetables and meat ready in exactly sixty seconds.

  “So what’s this about a notorious criminal?” Dad asks.

  “Some guy named Walker is on the loose.”

  Dad stops chewing his food and looks up. “Walker?”

  “You’ve heard of him?” Am I the only one who hasn’t heard of him?

  Dad nods and looks into his bowl. “I’ve heard of him.”

  I take a bite of my soup. “Also,” I say between chews, “they have spies at The Tap.”

  “Shoulda seen that coming.”

  Of course. We all should have.

  “God knows there’s no escaping the giant eye examining our every move,” I say.

  “If there is a God, he left us to rot centuries ago.” Dad scrapes the bottom of his bowl with a wooden spoon. “He probably meant for the White Plague to wipe our species out entirely, but here we are, little cockroaches who survived the big blow out, scraping on meager rations of food and wondering what the shoddy inferno we’re still doing here.”

  My lips twist into a cheeky smile. “Way to be optimistic, Dad.” I look down at my broth and pick at the orange carrot bits in the brown gravy. But I can’t stop the curiosity from picking at my brain. Is there a God? And if there is, does he enjoy watching us with cool indifference? I mean, he sure helped the Patricians get to where they are, but the rest of us? We’re the dirt the Patricians build their empire upon.

  These are questions that always plague me, questions that I can’t bring up in front of anyone, because, well, I’d be sent to Frankfort Prison if I do. All religions were banned long ago, the churches burned to the ground. To speak of God is treason, and nowadays, ridiculous. Religions are ancient myths, something our fool ancestors believed in.

  And yet…I feel the strange pull again. Like something or someone is calling out to me, nudging me, begging me to seek it out. And I wonder—I wonder if it’s just my brittle emotions because of my current predicament, if it’s my desire for something bigger, or if there really is something bigger out there, watching, waiting to make a move that’ll wipe out our current system and completely transform the entire future of Ky for the better. It’s really the only way anything could drastically change a system as established as this one.