by Platt, Sean
Nothing made sense. So many things must have happened since he was framed and cast out from his City. How was it possible that Ana and Liam, a man he thought of as a son, had wound up in The Games together?
Jonah chose to ignore the “lovers” remark almost entirely, save for the nagging buzz rattling at the back of his head. Everyone knew Liam was a ladies’ man, and of course Jonah saw Ana being attracted to someone like that, especially since he’d been absent for large patches of her life — first working too many long hours for City Watch, then for The Underground — but it seemed more like a manufactured way of selling the players than like the truth.
“You said she was put in the barn; what do you mean?”
“They fell ’sleep in a cave, and woke in a barn. The TV man said they’d start ta’ mornin’ with a brand new mini-game, but they weren’t awake.”
Sweat beaded Jonah’s brow. Nothing about a new mini-game was good. Mini-games usually meant death for at least one player, and often pitted players against each other. Liam clearly held an advantage over two girls, and Jonah knew the Network crafted games for only two reasons: to manipulate results and viewer reaction.
“Will you let me know what happens?” Jonah asked, trying to keep his voice from cracking.
“Yes,” Calla nodded. And then almost immediately, she followed with, “What’s it like in Ta’ City?”
Jonah again tried to place her accent, wondering where it was from and why he’d never heard anything like it. Was this what a life spent in The Barrens sounded like? While that seemed like an obvious answer, no, it didn’t make sense. Her father, Egan, spoke like anyone else from City 6. And surely their community had to be filled with countless others who had once lived behind The Walls. Why would the girl’s speech be corrupted if she wasn’t living in isolation?
Jonah smiled, not wanting to scare her, deciding to start his story soft, playing up the better stuff and gauging her reaction, tailoring his description to what he thought she wanted to hear.
“It’s fun,” he said. “At least most of the time. The City is centered around clusters of entertainment, with giant arcades, bars, libraries, theaters, and even live music. Of course, The Games are everywhere — on TVs in our homes, in public meeting places, and even in the break rooms in some jobs. There are smaller cafes and restaurants, with two types of food: rationed and wonderful. The wonderful tastes like heaven but costs far too many credits — those are funds issued by The State.”
“I know what credits are,” she said. “What is the food like?”
Calla looked like she was about to drool thinking of the food, making Jonah wonder if the mush and water she pushed through his mouth was any worse than what she ate herself.
“It’s OK,” he shrugged, “depending on your ration level. For the higher flats, I hear it’s wonderful, and the few times my tongue got a taste, I’d have to agree.”
Jonah smiled for Calla’s benefit, but also at the memory. She stared, wide-eyed and waiting for more. “There’s little variety in the food, and the cafes are mostly the same. The Social is The City’s biggest gathering spot, a bar with food, drinks — both alcohol and sugar water, card games, and monitors broadcasting The Games. There’s several of these bars, with at least one every few blocks. It’s where most adults and some of the older kids meet up and spend time together.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Calla said. Jonah noticed that she was taking her time, speaking her words slowly, as if trying to mimic a more proper English. “Daddy says it’s awful behind The Wall. There’s lots of crime, poor people, and disease. An’ you always hafta’ work hard, at jobs you don’t choose.”
“Well,” Jonah didn’t want to disagree with whatever Egan had said. “It can be hard. But I’m guessing you have to work hard here, too, right?”
The girl nodded.
Jonah continued, “But yes, there’s lots of bad stuff, too. And bad people. Though the Watchers try to keep peace and order…well, the good ones, anyway. Your father’s right that it’s probably best to be outside The Wall, as long as you can keep clear of the zombies. You’re lucky you have this place.” Jonah nodded, gesturing around him. “You have a safe place. You’re protected from the zombies. And you have a community of good people to look after you.”
“People?” Calla repeated.
“Yeah, in your village here, or whatever you’re calling it.”
“There’s not many people here,” Calla shook her head. “Only us.”
Jonah shook his head. “What do you mean, only us?”
“Me, the two boys from when we saved you, Father, an’ Verosh.”
“Verosh?”
“She’s my mom now. She’s from far away. She saved my father after he won The Games.”
That might explain the accent, but something still felt wrong.
“What about the others?”
“What others?” Calla shook her head. “We’re here alone. Dad doesn’t trust the others in the villages or The City. He says we hafta live here.” After a second of silence, Jonah thought she had finished, but then Calla added, “It’s lonely most of the time.”
“You mean there’s no council? No — ”
Calla’s eyes fell to the floor, then drifted to the wall. “Oh. Uh…” she stammered. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Wait,” Jonah said. “I won’t say anything to get you in trouble. I swear.”
She turned, looking Jonah over from eyebrow to toe, obviously unsure whether she trusted him.
“I’ll tell you whatever you wanna know about The City. Anything at all.”
“Anything?”
“Yes,” Jonah nodded. “Anything. But please don’t leave. You’re the only one here who treats me like a person.”
She looked back at the ground, as if kindness were insulting, or an open invite to guilt.
Calla stared at the man responsible for her mother’s death. “OK,” she said, squinting, “but I don’t wannna know about The City. I want to know ’bout somethin’ else.”
“What?” Jonah said, stupidly afraid she would ask him about the birds and the bees, or some other crap he’d not even discussed with Ana.
“I want to know about my real mom, and why Dad says you killed her.”
He’d rather discuss the birds and bees.
Calla asked, “What was she like?”
“I didn’t really know her,” Jonah said. “But from the pictures I’ve seen, and when I saw her in court, she was beautiful. She had long brown hair, like yours. Big blue eyes, and a gentle voice; soft spoken, like you. You look a lot like her, actually.”
Calla’s lips split into the first smile Jonah had seen on her since first coming down into the tunnel. Tears seemed to threaten his eyes.
“What else?” Calla said, almost demanding.
“She loved your father very much.”
“How do you know?”
Jonah wished he hadn’t stepped into that particular batch of quicksand. “She begged for the judge to show mercy on your father, to keep him from jail, like many wives begging for their husbands. But hers wasn’t the mindless whine of someone who didn’t care. The way she spoke of your father,” Jonah held the little girl’s stare, “with tears in her eyes and honesty in her voice — she truly loved him. It was in every note as she pled with the judge, swearing he was a sweet, dedicated husband and father; a good man incapable of the crimes assigned to his otherwise good name.”
“Then why did they put him in jail?” she said, swallowing her tears. “Why did you lie?”
He continued to hold her eyes. “What did your father tell you?”
“Not much, but I listened outside in the hall when you two were talking a few times. I heard some things. I want to know more.” Her eyes were a fire on Jonah. “Why did you lie?”
“At the time, my bosses told me your father was a bad man. Dangerous, they said. They asked me to say something untrue, but I didn’t know it was false when I agreed. It’s difficult to explain,
” he cleared his throat, trying not to feel like a monster, “but the short answer is, I did as told. And I’ve regretted the lie every day since.”
“So, what happened to my mom?” Calla asked, tears flooding down both cheeks as she wiped her nose with a dirty kerchief pulled from her pants pocket.
“You don’t know?”
“Only that she died; Dad never said why or how.”
“Maybe you should ask him again. I don’t think it’s my place to say.”
“Please, mister,” Calla begged. “Nobody tells me anything, and I deserve to know. She was my mother.”
Jonah’s words were trapped in his throat. Everything had changed. Five minutes ago, he had pictured the tunnels packed with people, but now he knew that was a lie. Just like his trial. With no council or fair judgement, Egan would likely kill him without a thought.
If Egan was about to kill Jonah, survival depended on getting out of the room and on the run immediately. Calla was his only chance. He had to persuade her to free him.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
Calla nodded, still crying.
“Tell you what,” Jonah said, feeling like shit for manipulating a little girl whose mother he’d already taken, even if indirectly. Yet, he had to swallow his self-loathing — his daughter’s life depended on it. “If you cut these ropes and let me go, I’ll tell you whatever you want.”
Calla stared at Jonah for six seconds. On the seventh she shook her head and took a few steps back.
“Please,” Jonah said. “I would never ask you for something like this or use your mother as bait, but I love my daughter as much as your mother loved you. I’m so sorry about what happened to your mom. If I could take back anything in the world, that would be it, but I can’t. I can save Ana, though, or at least try. Unfortunately, I don’t think your father plans to let me leave.” Jonah peered into her eyes, causing Calla to flinch and fall another step back. “Do you?”
“No,” her tears fell faster. “He’s going to kill you.”
“I don’t blame him, and you shouldn’t either. He’s upset about what happened to his life, to you, your mom, and your brother. He blames me, and I understand why. I agree, I should pay for my crimes, and I promise to return after I save Ana, if I don’t get killed outside while trying to find her. Your father can put me on trial, or hell, he can shoot me while I kneel and wait for the bullet.”
Jonah lowered his voice and met the girl’s eyes. “I deserve it and won’t fight my punishment. You have my vow. But I must get out of here, or otherwise my daughter will die. You understand, right?”
Calla nodded.
“Tell me something about my mother,” the girl said, making no promise.
Jonah took the girl on faith and told her a story about her mother.
“After your father was cast outside The Wall, your mother fell completely apart. Eventually, she was forced to live in the Dark Quarters. Do you know what that means?”
Calla nodded, and Jonah continued.
“The Dark Quarters is a miserable place, and the people who live there are often forced into doing horrible things.”
“Is that what happened to my mom?”
“Yes,” Jonah nodded. “She was taken advantage of by some awful people. Eventually, someone killed her.” Jonah let his voice crack for effect, feeling like shit for his manipulation, but knowing Ana’s chances were dimming by the minute. “They never found her killer.”
“Did you see her?” Calla said, her voice surprisingly strong. “When she was dead?”
“Yes. I was called in, the second Watchman on the scene.”
“Why didn’t you find her killer?”
Jonah stared at the girl, not wanting to bullshit her, but not cruel enough to tell her the truth — that her mother’s life didn’t matter enough to warrant investigation. Like anyone else living in the Quarters, she was a tick in a box in a column whose numbers meant nothing.
“There wasn’t any evidence to narrow the suspects,” he said. “Too much crime in the Dark Quarters to keep track.” That much was true. Calla’s mother could have been murdered by any one of the thousands of dirtbags living in the Quarters.
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “It’s not much, and if I could go back in time and change things, I would.” He held Calla’s eyes and sent every molecule of truth from his lenses to hers. “I never would have helped put your daddy in jail.”
“Where was I?”
“Huh?” Jonah asked.
“When my mom died. Where was I?”
“You were crying in a crib in the corner,” Jonah said, remembering the memory he’d tried not to replay.
“Did I see what happened?”
“I don’t know. You were just a baby. And after that, The City took you to the orphanage. And that’s the last I saw of you. I figured you were still there until I saw you here.”
Calla kept staring, as though studying Jonah, perhaps unsure what she should say. He wondered if she was going to ask why he’d never checked up on her in the orphanage. He didn’t know what he’d say to that question. Yet another guilty log to add to the fire. He tried not to shift, even as uncomfortable as he was in his seat. Finally, she said something Jonah didn’t see coming.
“What does icy cream taste like?”
Jonah laughed out loud; he couldn’t help it. Of the many things he expected, that wouldn’t have made the longest list. His laugh died to a smile, and he said, “It’s called ice cream, and it’s wonderful.” He licked his lips, tasting the memory. “Ice cream is like sweet, creamy, frozen milk, but soft, not hard. Like snow, if it tasted good, and was creamy and thick. And as the cream fills your mouth, it turns your teeth as cold as your cheeks. There are a ton of flavors, at least in the arcade, but in regular cafes it usually comes in mint or chocolate chip. The chips melt on your tongue, and the mint is like spicy if spicy was cold. Regular rations are always vanilla. But even that is good.”
“How do you eat it?”
Jonah laughed again. “Like anything else, I suppose. You can’t eat it fast. When you set the spoon in your mouth, the cream melts on your tongue, all over your tastebuds, almost like it’s kissing them. The world looks different when you have ice cream in your mouth.”
Something inside Calla softened enough to draw a smile on her face for the second time. It quickly turned into a laugh. She pulled the knife from its sheath, then went to Jonah. Because he was still tied to a chair, he flinched, thinking for a second’s thin slice that the girl might have changed her mind and was on her way to slit his throat like he deserved. Then he saw her big blue eyes and all the missing hate. He wondered if it was possible to outgrow anger.
Could she forgive him?
And if so, could her father forgive him as well?
Most importantly, would he ever be able to forgive himself?
Calla cut the ropes from Jonah’s wrists, and his restraints fell to the floor. As he stood up, his body felt on fire with a million tiny needles. He stretched his muscles, preparing for whatever lay beyond the door.
He said, “Thank you, Calla. I promise you won’t regret it. Now, can you tell me the best way to get out of here?”
“Everyone is eating lunch right now,” she said. “Well, except for me. I’ve been gone too long, and I need to get back.” She pointed at the door. “As long as you stay on the tunnel path, you should be fine. Take your first left, then head down the stairs. When you reach the bottom, you’ll see the old tracks. Take those until you find the branch. Go right, then walk until you reach the ladder. Take that above ground.”
“Are you going to be OK?” Jonah said. “What will you tell your father?”
“Don’t worry about me.” Calla shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”
Calla then said, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Treating me like a grownup and telling me the truth.”
Jonah wiped his other eye. “You’re welcome,” he said. “And thank YOU.�
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Calla turned without another word and ran out the door and down the hall. He waited for her footsteps to fall silent, then opened the door and turned left as instructed.
The hallway was dark and narrow, lit by sporadic blinking light tubes not unlike those in the room he was being held in. The tunnel was cold, eerily silent, and felt like an ever-present weight surrounding him on all sides, waiting to come crashing down.
As he followed the directions Calla had given, he listened intently for any sound that his escape had been detected. As he moved farther from his cell, he allowed himself to move faster, ignoring the sound of his footsteps echoing back at him.
He reached the ladder Calla had mentioned and noticed a small pile of debris to his left — broken crates, old books, old empty tin food cans, and a metal pipe that was thin and light enough to wield but long and strong enough to swing at an enemy.
It wasn’t a gun, but it was better than nothing.
He grabbed the pipe and put the end of it in his boot temporarily as he climbed the ladder, lifted the hatch, and then crawled into the impossibly bright light of a new day.
I’m here, Ana! I’m coming!
The hatch opened into a snowy clearing surrounded by woods on all sides. There was no other sign of the train station, its entrance, or underground tunnels within sight. But if he could find his way to the station while avoiding being seen, he could then locate where the underground tracks came up aboveground. Then he could follow those back to where The Games were being held.
First, however, he had to get out of sight.
He ran toward a tree-lined ridge in the distance, figuring once he was out of sight, he could double back and find the tracks. He’d made it maybe 40 yards when a gunshot cracked like thunder on the dry, cold air.
Jonah turned and saw Egan behind him, running in angry pursuit.
CHAPTER 28 — Adam Lovecraft
Adam sat before Keller, terrified.
“Why so worried?” the Chief of City Watch said, sitting on the other side of the massive schoolmaster’s desk. “You’re not here because you’re in trouble, son. You’re here because you need my help.” He smiled again, but Adam had trouble meeting his eyes.