by Lisa Jade
“What the hell happened?” she cries.
“It’s okay,” I say, but my mouth is swollen and the words sound distorted and strange.
“It was Wirrow,” Kane mutters. He and the others are now working to barricade us in, shifting several of Jensen’s larger computer units towards the sliding door. I notice they’re leaving a sizeable gap. They probably haven’t realised that Nate’s not with me yet.
Pan grimaces.
“The Guard from the Mill? What’s he doing here?”
“He tracked us down. We should have expected it.”
Pan makes a small, sympathetic noise and turns back to me with a frown.
“Look at you… I hope you lot beat the hell out of that Wirrow guy for this.”
“He’s not a problem anymore,” Kane says. There’s a certain finality in his voice as he says it, as though to confirm that the Guard lying in the hallway is dead.
Suddenly, Jay speaks from the doorway.
“Noah. I know you’re in pain right now, but just answer me one thing.”
I meet his eyes – they’re a little bloodshot. He’s stressed again.
“Nate,” he mutters, “he’s not with you.”
The others pause, as though they’ve only just noticed. I shiver.
“No.”
“Captured or dead?”
His voice is dull and heavy as he asks, as though neither answer would surprise or disgust him. Suddenly, I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes a moment longer. There’s no point trying to hide it – even if I wanted to, I can’t.
He’s gone, isn’t he? Nate’s familiar smile, his heavy movements, his booming laugh. All gone. Lost in the chaos. One more person screaming in agony amongst a dozen other screams. Another river of blood across the floor of our home. Nate has been one of the unshakeable pillars of the Clover, always present, always laughing – and now, he’s gone for good.
“Shh, it’s okay.”
Pan dabs at my cheek, trying in vain to stop the flow of tears streaming down it. My body is wracked with sobs that only exacerbate the pain in my head. I can feel Jay’s eyes on me as I fall into Pan’s embrace and start wailing.
It’s been three hours since the glass ceiling was shattered.
Three hours of listening to the chaos upstairs, which is showing no sign of slowing down. Three hours of hushed grief. Three hours of sitting in relative silence, punctuated by the occasional pained whimper from Jensen. His leg was crushed by some rubble when the doorway collapsed before, leaving the bone in a state. Still, he powers through, showing remarkable bravery considering the size of the injury.
I sit uneasily on Jensen’s chair. The spinning has long since stopped, but as I turn and catch sight of myself in the darkened screen, I grimace.
I’m a mess. I’ve got a cut on my head and a bloody lip; my nose is definitely broken, and although Pan was able to push it back into position, it still looks purple and swollen. At lease it’s not completely malformed. The pain has faded, but there’s still a certain heat under my skin, pulsing like some bizarre, inhuman heartbeat. My eyes are bloodshot from crying. I still hiccup every few minutes.
Nate’s death has left everyone shaken. Even Kane and the others, who barely knew him. It’s starting to set in that this is serious. Pan had me explain what had happened in excruciating detail; but Jay had simply turned his back as I’d spoken. He didn’t want us to see him cry. I can understand. It’s more personal to Jay than anyone else. Nate practically raised him.
A particularly large explosion overhead sends tiny bits of plaster raining down from the cracks in the ceiling. Instinctively I wince away from the noise, pulling into myself and wrapping my arms tightly around my chest. This is awful.
I had thought this was something to scatter and frighten the Clover. But this… it’s not a warning. This is all-out destruction. There’s no telling from the screaming overhead whether people are being killed or arrested, but I’d rather not know. I remember all the people I’ve met during my time here. Nelson, Hue, Marla. I can’t stand to think of them being hurt.
The others aren’t dealing with the chaos any better than I am. Their heads hang, misery dominating their faces. Jensen’s the only one who’s still calm, and that’s only because of the painkillers Pan scraped together. He’s leaning back against the pillows, his eyes half-closed. Not asleep, but not completely awake, either. Envy flits through me.
My eyes are drawn to Jay. He’s standing in the centre of the room, the only one of us who has the strength to remain upright. His hands are clenched in anger, and his eyes are still red from the tears he refused to show us. I know this is hell for him.
Hell because he’s left behind all the people he promised to protect. Hell because he should be out there, fighting alongside them. Hell because he’s afraid to stay and afraid to go, and hell because he won’t be able to forgive himself no matter what he does.
A particularly loud scream sends a jolt of pain through my still-sore head and a whimper escapes my lips.
“You okay?”
Pan glances over, her face awash with sympathy.
“Y-yeah.”
“You sure?”
She doesn’t believe me. She’s already tried pushing the painkillers onto me, too. But the thought of not being aware during these moments is unbearable. I want to remember this.
“This is horrible,” I eventually say. I don’t really know what response I expect; there’s nothing anyone can say or do to make this easier. But it’s almost physically painful to be trapped in here, and I can hear my voice cracking when I speak. I don’t want to be here anymore.
“What do you want us to do about it?” Jay snaps.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“It’s fine. You’re right. It is horrible.”
Suddenly, I can’t stand it anymore. I push the chair back and stand unsteadily. It takes a few attempts, but I eventually manage to take a good step forward, crossing over to the shoddily-made barricade. I reach out to move the first piece.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Out,” I mutter, “I’m going mad in here.”
“There’s nowhere else to go,” says Pan, “what do you plan to do?”
My hand tightens against the edge of the computer.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Jay says, his voice hard, “you can barely stand up. You’re not going anywhere.”
“But we need to do something.”
My voice sounds weaker than I’d have expected. I smack my lips a few times, realising we’ve not had food or drink since walking down the road to the city. No wonder my head hurts so much.
Jay takes a step forward, conflict warring on his face. I can tell that he wants to go, too. Wants to fight, even if it doesn’t result in a win. But he’s smarter than me. He knows we won’t win. Knows we’ll all be killed, one way or another.
“They’ll catch us, Noah. You know that.”
“I don’t care.”
“At best, they’ll shoot us on the spot. At worst, they’ll make a spectacle of us. Right out there, right on the doorstep of Maynard’s tower. Just like they did to Mom and Dad.”
I pause. I’ve seen the clips; two youthful figures cuffed at the top of the steps. Maynard herself, surrounded by Guards, talking nonsense to a number of Hoverbots and the small crowd of citizens who came to witness the demise of innocent people. I remember how she’d swung a shock baton around like it was some kind of performance. Just before she’d set it to max and shocked my parents to death. I hadn’t been able to watch that part.
“But…”
I turn to Jay, saddened by the agony in his eyes. His face twitches and I know he’s taking in the cuts, bruises and broken bits of my face. A timely reminder, if it were needed, of what the city’s willing to do to everyone he cares about. He sighs.
“You’re right. Guys, help me clear the barricade.”
Pan objects loudly, but he ignores her. Darus, Kane
and Sara move forward to clear the computers – they don’t question his sudden change of heart. Neither do I, at least out loud. I don’t believe for a moment that he’ll actually let us fight. But he’s allowing the barricade to be cleared, and that’s the first step.
Finally the door is clear, and Darus presses his ear to it for a few minutes before declaring this particular piece of tunnel to be clear. I feel a small rush of relief at that. Despite the big talk, I don’t want to fight anyone. Jay’s right; I’m in no condition. But we have no choice.
Jay stares at the door for a moment, then sighs. That singular sigh seems to encompass all the horror we’re feeling, all the fear of what we may yet face. But then he glances back at Pan, a warm smile playing on his lips.
“Pan. You’ll look after everyone, won’t you?”
She nods – but her face fills with sorrow as she does so.
“I understand. Of course.”
“What?” I ask, “what’s going on?”
He just looks at me; and in his face I see guilt and deception in equal measures. The sense of dread grows.
“Y-you’ve got to be kidding me,” I blurt, “you have a plan, right?”
“Yes. The plan is to walk out there, and let them do whatever they want to.”
“Why would you…”
“Listen, Noah. They’re here to destroy the Clover. Do you really think they’ll stop without finding the leader? Because they won’t. Maybe if they have me, they won’t need to search so much for Pan, Jensen and the others. Maybe if they have me, they’ll leave.”
Suddenly, my mouth is dry. Even more so than before, if it were possible. I can’t let my brother – my only family – go to his death. Not like this. Not without a fight.
As he heads out into the tunnel, I follow on unsteady feet. It’s dark out here and the place sets my heart racing, but I can’t let him just leave.
“D-don’t be stupid,” I say weakly, “that won’t work. We can fight our way out together. If we can just get to the bikes…”
He comes to a stop a few feet away and half-turns to face me.
“It won’t change anything. You’re in a state, and there’s no way we can move Jensen right now. He needs medical attention, and we can’t get to our supplies while we’re stuck in here.”
I bite back on my retort, shooting a concerned look back through the doorway, at the dazed figure on the bed. He’s right. This is the only way to clear the Atrium of Guards. Until we can do that, there’s no way to treat his leg properly.
“Then I’ll come with you.”
“That won’t work. You and your friends might be the secret to unlocking this thing. You need to stay here, where it’s safe. Maybe one day, you’ll figure out a way to stop the Cull. But for now, you need to stay safe.”
“But…”
“Look down, Noah.”
I do as I’m told, and instantly regret it. Wirrow’s corpse is still outside. His face is almost unrecognisable, the pain of his death still etched into every line. I stumble back, unreasonably afraid of him even now. Jay shakes his head sadly.
“That’s what those weapons do to people. I can’t let that happen to anyone else, least of all you.”
“But I just…”
The sentence fizzles out in my throat. He’s right. He’s right about everything. This is the only thing that makes sense, the only way to make sure everyone stays safe and alive. Except him. He said so himself. If he goes out there, they’ll kill him. Maybe immediately. Maybe later. Maybe Maynard will try to make a spectacle out of his death. But it doesn’t matter how they do it; he won’t survive long outside of this room. Something hot pricks at the back of my eyes.
“But… I just got you back.”
A warm, heavy hand finds my shoulder, just like it did earlier – like it did when he’d smiled and told me how proud he was. He’s got that same expression now, all love and sadness and goodbyes.
“The Clover collapsed before, you know. Back when Mom and Dad died. It needed a member of the Young family to bring it back, better and stronger than before. You might not like the name, but no matter what you say, you’re still a Young. Even without me around, I know you can do this.”
And then he smiles. He pulls his hand away, and for a moment I consider grabbing it. I could wrestle him back into the room. I consider screaming at him, threatening all kinds of horrible things if he dares to leave. I could cry. I could tell him he’s abandoning me. There are things I could do to force him to stay.
I can’t.
He turns towards back into the darkness. It’s taking all his strength to keep up the illusion of confidence – and as much as it pains me, I can’t break that.
“Stay safe, Ada.”
His footsteps fade away.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
It’s another half hour before the Atrium and tunnels finally fall silent. When they do, there’s little reaction from within our sombre group. Jensen’s asleep now, oblivious to the horrors of today. At one point I consider slipping into the bed beside him and trying to get some sleep – but there’s no point. I’m too tense.
It’s been hard to keep from crying since Jay left. If I were alone I wouldn’t hesitate. But when I think about what he said, I need to at least create an impression of strength. Pan’s hands have been trembling for a while now, a sure sign she’s on the brink of tears again. But when I gaze questioningly at her, she looks away. She doesn’t want to be comforted.
We wait another full hour. Silence.
“Anyone else goin’ stir crazy?” mutters Sara. She’s stretched out on the floor, head in her hands, plucking through one of Jensen’s magazines. For her, the chaos and fear has fallen away to boredom. Jay leaving means less than nothing; he’s just a stranger who happened to leave the room. She doesn’t quite understand what that means.
I close my eyes and let out a long, slow breath. The spinning has stopped, giving me chance to stand and move around. I touch my face gingerly; it’s bruised and beaten, but that’s all. Nothing I’m not already familiar with.
I tap open the door with a hesitant hand. The others watch nervously as I poke my head out into the hallway, but all seems quiet. The lights flicker slightly overhead, making me wonder if they did something to the electric – but it seems safe enough. I beckon for the others and we steadily make our way towards the Atrium. Along the way, I catch myself wincing at the signs of struggle in the tunnels; deep gouges in the floor, darkened splatters on the walls. I feel slightly sick at that, and catch myself hoping that the stains are something else. Anything else.
“I don’t want to know what’s up ahead,” Darus mutters. I’m suddenly happy that Sara stayed back in the room with Jensen. She’d be mortified if she could see this. Pan walks silently by my side, her expression oddly neutral. Considering how much of a bleeding heart she is, I don’t doubt this is hurting her. But she’s the second in command. Now, it’s up to her to guide us. Even though I’m physically leading, we both know she’s in charge.
As we push out the rubble in the doorway, the Atrium opens up to us.
It’s awful. Worse than I’d have thought. The ground is coated with layers of shattered glass that crunch under our feet as we step inside. Those same vile bloodstains litter the area, marking out corpse-like shapes on the tile. Oddly there are no bodies, Guard or otherwise – Maynard’s men must have cleared it up. It makes me slightly sick to think about Nate’s body and what they might have done with it – but at least it’s a sure sign they’ve moved out.
I step up to the bridge, casting a cursory glance over the rest of the Atrium’s platforms. The crop patch is destroyed, months of work burnt to a crisp. Any furniture, any shelters – they’re all shattered, broken into splinters and strewn around the open space. My eyes are drawn to the garden below the bridge. The bushes are scorched there, too, and still smoking a little. A twinge of pain flickers through me when I see Mom and Dad’s statue. It’s been broken, too, as though by explosives. The once-mesm
erising shapes are now just shards of ugly concrete sticking up from the ground. Jay’s last vestige of normality, the last trace of his parents… gone just like that.
I stand motionless at the railing until the others eventually wander away. I feel no desire to chase them down or drag everyone together – even if I did, I’m not sure what I’d do.
I take a slow walk around the now-familiar areas of the Atrium. The kitchens. The open space where people spar. My precious crop patch. Ruined. Even Pan’s room has been ransacked; the beds overturned, seemingly for no reason other than to inconvenience whoever might be left. Pan’s precious fairy lights are broken on the floor, causing a weird churning in my gut. To destroy something so incredibly harmless, how much hatred must have been behind the Guards’ orders?
Finally, I wander into Jay’s office. It’s surprisingly unharmed despite the carnage elsewhere, making me think that they may have missed this room. Perhaps they noticed us running out and assumed there would be nobody left, and that ransacking this particular room would be pointless. Either way, I don’t question it as I sink into Jay’s chair. It’s red and leather and soft to the touch, and there’s a comforting smoky scent to it. I glide one hand over the cherry wood desk, marvelling at how out of place it is in the dark, metallic tunnels. It serves as a momentary distraction from the grief building in my chest – but then I pull open the drawer.
Inside is a photo frame. In it is the same photo that Nate showed me after I first arrived here. Mom and Dad embrace in frame, kindly smiles dominating their faces. They’re younger than I seem to remember; perhaps I’ve aged them in my mind. But it suddenly strikes me just how similar Jay is to Dad. They have the same nose, the same jaw.
I take a moment to focus on Mom. Nate had insisted I resembled her, that the similarities were uncanny – but at the time I hadn’t seen it. Now? There’s something there; the upward arch of our eyebrows, the thin lips. Details so tiny I’d likely never have noticed them if not for Jay. I’m starting to understand now.
I tenderly touch the glass with the tip of one finger, feelings welling in my chest. It’s strange. I cried that day when I saw the clip of them, but since then I’ve not given them much thought. I suppose things have been a bit chaotic – not that that’s a good excuse. I gaze into their eyes and wonder how they’d feel about me now. Jay insisted they’d be proud, but how could they? I just let their only son walk to his death.