by P. S. Lurie
We knew how to swim but the temperature shocked us and our clothes weighed us down. I forced my eyes open although the salt stung and watched as Theia kicked her feet and rose to the surface. Before I followed I looked at our drowned world. It was dark but the sun was bright enough for decent visibility. The view was of a street, not dissimilar from ours, but soaked through, preserved and uninhabitable. It terrified me to think that this would be our future.
Henry?
I was mesmerised but my chest was burning from lack of oxygen so I kicked hard towards the waterline. But the surface didn’t come. Instead I hit my head against the upturned boat and all I remember after that was the sensation of passing out as I began to sink.
Henry?
The memory fades. Each time it returns to me I yearn for it to have a different ending. One where we escape. One where we are far from here. One where no one has to die. But it’s always the same ending. No matter how hard I try to change the past I can’t. I should forget about it and focus on the present but I fear I can’t change that either.
Selene
I stare at a reflection of myself, the person in the identical uniform and helmet looking back at me, with the exception that a narrow light shines bright from under the left shoulder blade.
‘What are you doing here?’ the voice asks me. One more young man if I’m not mistaken.
I swallow and take a deep breath. If only men have been recruited then my cover will be blown as soon as I speak. The only way to survive this is to bluff so, with as much confidence as I can muster, I reply. ‘Patrolling.’
It’s enough to stop the current line of questioning but he grows curious at this revelation. ‘You’re a girl.’
‘So?’
‘I thought they only took on men?’
‘You thought wrong.’ I remove my helmet and allow my hair to fall freely.
The guard touches his shoulder, twists a dial between his fingers and the light no longer dazzles. I’ll have to remember that if I survive this encounter. He also takes off his helmet but gasping for fresh air is not an option in here. He seems to be a bit older than me, with some stubble around his mouth. I’ve never seen him before. ‘I thought I was the only one assigned to the market.’
‘I was asked to check in with you. See if you needed assistance.’
He’s as clueless as me. ‘You killed anyone yet?’
‘No. It’s quiet.’ I want to stop there but I add some impromptu details for effect. ‘Families don’t seem to need much help.’
‘I killed six.’ He smirks, proud of his achievement.
My stomach churns that he is not like the policeman outside my house who wanted to be left alone but instead sides with the cruel policeman that killed Charlie. Nothing will satisfy this person more than making me his seventh, especially since I am duping him. Out of nowhere he holds up his finger to his lips.
I hear it too. The footsteps from before. I wasn’t mistaken, so there was more than one set. We are not the only ones here. If I hadn’t realised it before, I now know that the market was an error.
‘We’re all friends here,’ he says. He switches off his light completely, lowers his glasses and pulls out his gun. He fires a deafening shot, even though he knows exactly where his target is. The guard brightens his light once more and marches with purpose towards a stall. He gestures to something but from this angle I can’t make it out. Deferential to his command, three people emerge. A man, a woman and a child.
Theia
Ronan finally opens up to my persistent questioning.
‘I saw grandma and grandpa on the bed but they weren’t moving. And mummy was on the grass.’
I’m not prepared for the death talk. ‘Everyone dies Ro. I’m sorry it had to be tonight.’ If I had more time I’d break it to him gently but this will have to do. I estimate how old I was when I first accepted the finality of death. Probably a little older than Ronan but it wasn’t at the hospital but instead at the coast, on my birthday three years ago, that I could truly fathom it. ‘They’re not waking up. Not even to say goodbye. But you can still say it if you want to.’
‘Can they hear me?’ he asks.
‘They can’t reply.’ I bend at his sombre expression. ‘But yes, they can hear you.’
‘I want to say goodbye to mummy and give her a kiss.’
‘Sure thing.’ I have no desire to see my mother but I can’t refuse Ronan this. He will never forgive me, not even long after he is Rehoused and he thinks back to this night.
The witching hours rage on and my soul feels absent. The darkness and cold and emptiness of people dying around me make me wonder how this will all end. I hope for their sake the Upperlanders will be happy with the conclusion of tonight but no one else will. I walk with Ronan down the stairs, past my father and Leda, who both look at me, one with intrigue and the other with concern. I throw my father a smile to say it’s under control, which satisfies Leda too. I don’t know if what I’m doing is appropriate but I have little guidance on matters like these.
My mother has not been moved, apart from her newly-drawn eyes, which makes me think of Jason next door and that I have no idea what happens to a body shortly after it dies and what state he will be in now. The gloom masks the blood-stained grass so that she looks little more than a sleeping caricature, waiting for her prince to give her the kiss of life. Even still, I prevent Ronan from kneeling on the grass. I don’t want him to be shocked when he is back inside with the realisation that his clothes are stained with blood. I hold his hand as we approach.
‘What shall I say?’
‘What do you want to say?’
‘I love you. I miss you.’
‘That sounds perfect.’ I squeeze his hand.
He repeats his words, then adds, ‘Goodbye mummy,’ but I’m not sure the extent of what his farewell mean actually sinks in. Despite my intention to keep him off the grass, he bends down, leans his head on her chest and kisses her face.
I’m proud of him. He’s braver than I gave him credit for. He’s holding it together really well, whether he computes her state or not. ‘Want to stay here a bit longer? Remember, you can’t see mummy again.’
‘Have you said goodbye?’ Ronan asks me.
‘Yes,’ I lie. I’m not sure what I’d say. I’m too angry with her. I’m angry that she died before helping me work out what I should do. I’m angry that it was my fault the helicopter spotted her. And I’m angry that just before she died her loyalty swayed away from her family towards a man she worked with. I’m not angry that she fell in love with him; I’m sure it’s more complicated than just lust. But I’m angry she lied. I’m angry she ended her life because she couldn’t be with him and gave up on us in the process.
She’ll be remembered as dying for me, her foolish child, when really she died knowing she couldn’t be with the man she loved. She didn’t care about any of us at the end. Have I said my goodbye? I don’t need to.
Ronan is ready to leave and I take him back to my room. He settles under the blanket but doesn’t drift to sleep as easily as before. ‘Theia?’
‘Yes Ro?’
‘Can I see mummy in my dreams?’
‘Sometimes. Not all the time. Only when you really need to.’
Ronan falls asleep with a weak smile on his face. Satisfied he won’t jolt awake anytime soon, although I can’t guarantee a nightmare won’t disturb him, I leave him in peace and go to the bathroom. It’s been a long night and my bladder is full to burst. I hear a sound from the cabinet. Unmistakeable. I’ve heard it plenty of times tonight. Static.
Curiosity takes hold and I retrieve the device from the cabinet.
I turn up the volume but am greeted with only white noise. ‘Hello?’ I ask into the abyss. I wait, hoping more than anything that I was correct and Dr Jefferson is dead.
I almost give up but then a voice speaks back to me, bringing with it my worst fears.
Selene
I’m not good with ages but the girl doesn�
�t look old enough to be in school yet, definitely not six years old, which is the only age tonight that matters.
‘How old are you?’ the policeman asks her directly, as if reading my mind.
She doesn’t answer but also doesn’t look away from him. He raises his gun.
‘Four,’ the mother stutters.
‘Ah,’ he says with an ambience of menace. ‘Too young for tomorrow.’
The family don’t look the homeless type so I figure they tried to hide because their daughter isn’t eligible for Rehousing. With escape their best form of protection, they had to try their luck. I guess luck was against them. I want to throw them a sympathetic smile but what use would it serve? They must despise me as much as the actual policeman. It’s not like I can excuse them and wish them luck on their plight.
‘You’ve defied orders,’ the policeman says. Neither parent attempts to counter him. He turns to me. ‘Six to zero. Here’s your chance to catch up by three.’ He gestures that they are my kills if I want them. I’m not sure his offer comes with the option of turning it down as he now holds his gun towards me. Maybe he’s suspicious that I am not who I say I am, or that I am a weak recruit and came here to hide from the carnage. I have no doubt he’ll shoot me if I don’t act quickly. I can’t even pretend I don’t have a gun because it’s clearly tucked into its holster.
There’s no point regretting my decision to come to the market as I have to concentrate on my current peril. I can’t kill three innocent people just so I can live longer. In terms of numbers that is lopsided. However, the policeman will only kill them after finishing me off, ridding the world of ten people in one night and counting.
‘Shouldn’t have recruited women,’ he mutters to himself impatiently.
The family focus on me through petrified eyes and resign themselves to death. I raise my gun towards the father. He says the most honourable thing he can, having accepted he cannot evade death. ‘Kill my daughter first. I don’t want her to see this. Then my wife. Me last. Please.’
The woman doesn’t argue with this and the policeman laughs. What he considers pathetic I see as unbelievably selfless. Under the watch of the policeman, I train my gun on the child. My arm shakes as I move my finger to the trigger.
Before I arrived at the market I believed being the person with the uniform was the better position but now that I am expected to kill it’s impossible to hold it as true. The position of authority is a curse in disguise.
‘Come on,’ the policeman says. ‘We haven’t got all day.’ He means it literally and laughs at his unwelcome humour.
All I have to do is shoot. But I can’t. I lower the gun. Whatever happens to me as a consequence is better than the alternative.
‘Too bad,’ the policeman says. He swings his gun towards the family and pulls the trigger. The bullet hits the young girl straight in the stomach and she falls.
I wail and turn my gun on the policeman. Or shoot first. I don’t know because it all happens too fast. Either way, the bullet connects with him. Maybe he thought I didn’t have it in me to kill anyone and he’d take care of me after but, by the time he has realised what I am doing and swings towards me, I have gunned him down. However, I save valuable milliseconds by not bothering to lift the gun up to his trunk as I turn, meaning he is hit in the foot. The pain causes him to stumble before he can attack me and he falls. His hand is still on the gun so I put another bullet into his now inoperable arm and his grip slackens.
The parents don’t worry about their own safety and are already on the floor cradling their dead daughter. If I acted sooner perhaps I could have saved all three and a hint of anger directed towards myself boils up. I imagine Henry’s disappointment. Why didn’t you save her? I imagine my mother criticising me. Theia would have known what to do.
But my head is too clouded to take this argument with myself further. In the last few moments a child died and I shot another person. But the man is not dead yet, even if he deserves to be.
The policeman sniggers from the floor. I fumble with my uniform and find where the light switch is. I flick it on and hover over him. I spit my word out. ‘What?’
‘Kill me.’
I stare at him in disbelief. ‘I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.’
‘Do it. You think my first kill was easy?’
‘Shut up.’
‘Believe me. The second was a breeze. You have the thirst now.’
I hate this man more than anyone I have ever despised in my life. My mother in the moments she lashed out. The policeman outside their houses hours earlier. Even Henry when he gushed over Theia. I hate this man because he’s right.
I have spent my life avoiding violence. He even used the word I feared. Thirst. Just like the time I punched the wall. And now that I know how it feels to make someone bleed there’s no denying that it felt good.
‘Six to one,’ the man says. I try not to listen but the need to avenge the girl overrules any inhibition and I shoot him in the head. Then it dawns on me: I just took my first kill.
I stare at his limp body and the relief that he can no longer taunt me is gratifying. But he has the last laugh because he mocks me from beyond his death. His words will continue to haunt me. This brief encounter has changed my core and I will never be able to shake off what he has unleashed. I am a killer.
The couple watches me in complete distress, hopefully aware that I have saved them but at the same time knowing I didn’t save their daughter. ‘Kill me,’ says the woman.
I fight back the urge. ‘No.’ I can end their misery but that will mean the policeman wins. Six to three. I point at their daughter’s murderer. ‘His gun is there. Do what you want.’
I put my helmet on and turn the light nozzle on my uniform up until it exposes the route out of the market. They can hate me for what I did and they can shoot me in the back should they wish. Right now, I deserve it. I may not be their daughter’s killer but I didn’t save her. I walk away.
I go slowly, allowing the parents to decide what to do with me. I do not even feel anxious. I don’t feel anything.
From within the silence a gunshot startles me and makes me jump but I continue to walk without looking back. A second blast but, by this time, I know that the parents weren’t aiming at me and they won’t be aiming at anyone else.
Theia
‘Penny?’
I don’t answer.
‘Are you there?’
Dr Jefferson’s voice is enough to make me crumble to the floor. My anger towards my mother was unfair. His next sentence provides the evidence I need at just how wrong I was.
‘I’m the last person alive.’
My mother hadn’t chosen him over me. She died not because she had lost him but because I was in trouble. Dr Jefferson was still fighting for her but she turned away from him. She died for me and I despised her as she lived her final moments.
My mother died for me, loving me more than I realised, and thinking I didn’t love her.
‘Penny, I made it. We can be together.’
2 A.M. – 3 A.M.
Selene
I killed a man. Maybe I was foolish to think I could leave Henry’s house with a gun and survive more than a handful of hours without having to kill or be killed, but I hadn’t prepared myself for when it would finally happen. And now I can’t change the fact that I killed a man.
I walk without purpose, aimless as to what I should do next. All I can think as I walk is that I killed a man. Everything has changed.
I am not violent I tell myself. I am not violent.
But I killed a man.
Theia
I switch off the device and drop my head to my knees. The desperation in Dr Jefferson’s voice asking for my mother plays over in my mind. How he and I treat this night can’t be more extreme. He has killed in order to protect the person he loved whereas I tried to protect the people I love but they are dying anyway. There is one similarity between us. My mother died with us both believing she hadn’t fou
ght hard enough.
It sickens me to think that I was incorrect. She gave up her life, and her love, to save me. I don’t know if her choice extends to my father but she will never be loved again by either man. I want to tell her how sorry I am for doubting her. In her final moment, she lived true to her character: she fought the panic and hurried out into the garden. I froze, nothing like her, the opposite of brave. Cowardly and worthless.
There is only one way to repent, to make it up to my mother, and make her proud. I can’t give up or her death would be in vain. Instead I have to protect Ronan and Leda. I don’t know how but all that matters is that I don’t stop searching for a way out.
I owe Dr Jefferson an explanation. If I was him I would want to know. Maybe there’s a part of me that wants him to share my pain and that I can break his heart in the process. He has murdered too many people tonight and some humility would not go unwarranted. The walkie-talkie has been overworked and doesn’t turn on. The battery is dead but there is a handle on the side that I wind. It powers the machine and the static filters through. ‘Dr Jefferson?’
He responds at once. ‘Who is this?’
‘Theia.’
‘Where’s your mother?’ He doesn’t pretend that I need shrouding from the truth and I won’t do him a disservice by skirting around the issue either.
My throat is dry and the words don’t come out immediately. ‘She’s dead.’ I turn off the device and let it fall out of my hand.
‘She’s dead,’ I repeat over. When I can’t face saying these words any longer they swim around in my thoughts.
Henry
It’s time to start packing up some of my belongings, to start the sequence of events that make survival over my parents real in my mind. Apart from necessary clothes, the thickest I have considering I am going to a higher altitude, there is little I care enough about to take with me that is either valuable or meaningful. The more I think about my parents’ plan for me to take books the more outlandish it seems. There is nothing we have that the Upperlands won’t have in more supply.