I gulped, finding it hard to look at any of them.
“You dread the winter,” he continued. “You fear it. Will it claim your little sister? Your father? You? You spend your whole life growing up with this fear. And then here comes these two kids from the lands held by the council—lands where no one has to work or worry about food. And these two people look at you with disdain. We can see it in the way you cringe when your eyes take in our homes. All we see are two spoiled—”
“Right,” Henry said, cutting him off. “’Cause we’ve had it easy. Do you even know what our lives were like before the compounds? People were strapping bombs onto their damn children rather than watching them starve. We were struggling, too.” For someone who had claimed he didn’t care what these people thought of him, he sure had become defensive all of a sudden.
“Before you went into the compounds,” Lockwood challenged. “That’s what you don’t get. You all chose to go there, to let the council control you. That’s one thing the people here will never be able to understand. Our grandparents ran after the bombs fell. This is the only life we’ve ever known—we’ve been raised on the idea of freedom and never letting anyone take it from us. No matter what it costs to preserve it. You all let it slip away because they offered you beds and food. We’d rather die then give it up for even a second.”
“We didn’t choose it. Our parents did. We were children!” Henry yelled, his face turning red. The others in the dining hall had fallen silent.
“Maybe you didn’t, but it was the life you were brought up in. You’ve been under the council’s thumb so long, we wonder if you even can think for yourself. We all know why you escaped,” he said, turning his attention on me. “We can’t help but wonder if, had you been like all the other girls, you would have stayed?”
“Of course we wouldn’t have,” Henry retorted.
I peeked at the people in the dining hall. All eyes were on us. As I scanned the crowd, something inside of me dropped. There was a woman staring directly at me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she looked like someone I knew. The wheat-blond hair. Louisa. She looked like an older version of my sister. No. That wasn’t it.
My mother. She looked like my mother.
My chest tightened.
I needed sleep. I was losing it.
“Is that what you think, then?” I asked indignantly, forcing my attention back to the arguing boys. “Then how come you’re sitting with us now?”
“Because maybe I think it’s better to know as much as I can about the things I fear most in the world than to live in ignorance under their power. Or maybe because you have spunk, and that’s a respectable quality out here. Or, damn, maybe I’m just plain curious. Just because I understand where they’re coming from doesn’t mean I have to act like them. But for better or worse, they’re my people. You’re asking for a bit of understanding from them, but maybe you need to give a little to get a little.”
I turned to look at the people whom Lockwood had so passionately defended. There was no trace of understanding to be found in their eyes. Instead, I saw something else—a toughness brought on by a life of hardships. Lockwood was right. I knew nothing of their life, and they knew nothing of mine. If they had given me something in that moment, even if just one of them had given me an ounce of hope that they could try and see past where I’d come from, I would have stayed quiet. I would have let it go.
Instead, I hastily stood up and turned so I was facing them directly. “You don’t know a damn thing about our lives. You think we gave up? That we had it easy? When I was a kid, I watched as men I had been told were created to protect me, to save me, came and beat my father. Destroyed him. They took him from me, and I never saw him again. My mother killed herself because she couldn’t stand living one more day in this world you believe we chose. You think I don’t know what it’s like to lose a sibling?”
I stopped and looked back toward the woman who resembled my mother, but she was gone.
My voice choked. I swallowed down the emotion, unwilling to let them see me cry. “I watched my sister die. Slowly. I was forced to bury body after body. I had to leave the only family I had because the chosen ones were going to kill me. They were going to end my life simply because I was born different. So don’t pretend you’re the only ones who have had it hard.”
Lockwood opened his mouth to talk, but I cut him off. “You’re so damn curious, Lockwood, so shut up and let me finish. What happened to me is nothing compared to what they did to Henry. Henry’s family wanted that freedom you people are so damn insistent is a belief that only you can own. He and his family tried to run. The council had the chosen ones go after them, trap them in the woods. They made him watch as they attacked and murdered his sisters and mother. Then they made him go back to the compound. And when he got older, when he tried to fight for his freedom, they arrested his girlfriend and made the whole damn compound watch as they cut off her head.”
The whole room had grown silent. A few of the teenagers refused to meet my eye. Henry slowly stood and moved so he was standing next to me. I reached for his hand. “You can give us all the nasty looks you want, but we’re not going anywhere. This is our home now. Deal with it.” I pulled on Henry’s hand.
We walked out of the dining room together.
Chapter 11
Today had been different. Actually, that was a bit of an understatement.
It was slowly inching toward sunrise, and all I could do now was wish in vain that I had left the party hours earlier than I had, or somehow learned how to turn back time so I never attended the event at all. I was never so glad to be in my dingy room lying in my lumpy bed. The whole night, all I wanted was for Henry to pull his cot next to mine so we could go back to the world of the other Tess—a world of May Day dances and dashing strangers. We hadn’t gotten very far into the novel, but already, despite her ridiculous family, I was jealous of her life.
Earlier in the night, the community had held a party—or at least, that’s what they called it. No frivolity. No pomp or circumstance. In some ways it was very different than the last party I had attended at Templeton, and in other ways, it was alarmingly similar. I had somehow dulled the pain of losing James by throwing myself into my work and exploring my new life in the community, but the dance had brought it all painfully back. I couldn’t help but remember the night I served at the party of the chosen ones.
I certainly wasn’t in any mood to dance and frolic.
During my time at Templeton, it had become clear that the council spent hour after hour driving home the importance of secrecy—everything dark was kept on the inside. I remembered the way George and the others boys snuck a pinch or touch from the girls who walked by carrying trays of drinks and food. The echoes of giggles from girls who were never taught to know it was wrong had slithered from under closed doors, and the sound still rang in my ears. I had known what was going on behind those doors, but there was always an air of confidentiality about it.
George.
I couldn’t fight the shudder that ran through my body whenever I thought of him. He had trained alongside James at Templeton, but he was nothing like him. George flaunted his power and took whatever he wanted without bothering to ask if he could. He had singled me out because he sensed that my relationship with James was dangerous. He used his knowledge to taunt James and harass me, threatening to expose our relationship to the council, but he, himself, had been admonished for brazenly carrying out affairs with the Templeton girls. I was glad I would never see him again, because I was quite sure he would always feel like he had a score to settle with James and me.
The party thrown by the Isolationists was quite different than the one I attended at Templeton.
I had to practically beg Henry to wander down to the party. I was so desperate to show them all how I would embrace my new home that I didn’t even think twice of going. I still hadn’t had a bath, but no one around me had, either. I didn’t bother to look at my reflection in the mirror
before leaving because I already knew what I would see.
Gone were the long satin dresses, the champagne, the classical music of Templeton. The long tables from the dining room had been set up outside behind the main building of the community. Lit lanterns covered these tables, glowing orbs that attracted every bug within a mile. I was surprised that, despite the chill of early spring, these bugs still swarmed around us.
A strange sort of music filled the air, but it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, either. It reminded me of the song my mother had always sung when I was younger. My father told me it was called “The Snow It Melts the Soonest.” I recognized the use of fiddles and bagpipes, but the tempo of this music was much more frenzied, passionate. A mass of community members, both young and old, had assembled in a circle, moving faster and faster to the music, a collection of limbs melting into one another. They touched their partners without any thought to the dirt that covered their skin. They touched each other because they wanted to, and they didn’t care who saw it.
Secrecy.
These naturals, the Isolationists, had never heard of the term. There were no closed doors here.
Henry and I stood on the outskirts of the dance without saying a word.
“You two could go out there, you know.” I looked over to find Lockwood. I rolled my eyes and turned my back on him. “Oh, don’t be like that, Tess. You can’t still be mad at me. I was trying to explain why things are the way they are. Just like I’m not mad at you for explaining to me why you are the way you are.”
“You don’t have any reason to be mad at her. She was defending herself,” Henry said.
“I was defending myself,” replied Lockwood.
I sighed. “Fine. Let’s just drop it.”
“Oh, don’t do that thing girls do where they say they’re fine but are really planning on holding it against the guy till the war reaches the borders,” Lockwood teased, knocking his shoulder into mine.
“And you have a lot of experience with girls, do you?” Henry asked, his familiar sarcastic tone creeping back into his voice. He was right—despite Lockwood’s public proclamation that he was a member of this community, I never saw him interact with the others. He actually came across as a real loner.
“Unlike the rest of my compatriots, I don’t go around looking to hook up for merely the sake of hooking up. I’ve read too many novels to be satisfied with simply that. Now, why don’t I go get us a drink,” Lockwood said.
“I can’t stand him,” Henry said through clenched teeth as we watched him disappear into the crowd.
“He’s not all that bad,” I admitted. “At least he talks to us.”
“Was our conversation so boring that we needed him to add to it?” Henry asked.
“You try talking to cows all day,” I joked.
Henry laughed. “Still not convinced talking to that kid would be an upgrade.”
When Lockwood returned, he held a jar of clear liquid in his hand. “And we’re supposed to share that?” Henry asked, pointing to the glass, which was only a quarter of the way full.
“Trust me, this is all you’ll need. We don’t believe in waste around here, but this is the one luxury we make room for. They call it shine. It’s been passed down from generation to generation—the last remaining legacy of this once-united land,” he explained. “Now, which of you wants to go first?”
I looked uneasily from the jar to Henry. I was pretty sure that whatever was in there wasn’t water. I remembered how the champagne George had forced down my throat at the Templeton party had bubbled and burned. But there was no forcing here. I reached out my hand for the jar. “I’ll go.”
“You sure?” Lockwood asked, raising his eyebrow, a slight grin appearing on his face.
I rolled my eyes again. “Just give it to me.”
Lockwood moved the jar closer but held it just slightly out of my reach. “A sip or two. That’s all. And drink slowly,” he warned, suddenly serious.
I snatched the jar from him and took a shaky breath. I put it to my lips and slowly tipped it back. It was nothing like champagne. In fact, it wasn’t like anything I’d ever tasted before. It was as if someone had used magic to liquefy fire itself. Potent. Toxic. It took all of my effort to force it down my throat; otherwise, I was sure I would spit it up on both Henry and Lockwood.
As it made its way down, my whole body lit up as if I had been stuck inside an oven with the door locked behind me. I doubled over, coughing into my fists, my eyes watering. Henry bent down so his eyes were level with mine. “Tess? Tess! Breathe!” he said, panicked.
I nodded, trying in vain to stop the coughs and catch my breath.
Henry stepped in front of Lockwood, his face scowled in anger. “What the hell did you just give her?”
I grabbed for Henry’s arm to stop him. “I’m fine. Really, I am,” I assured him, suddenly finding it much easier to talk. And I was fine. In fact, I felt pretty good. A pleasant buzzing sensation had taken over my body. The heat that threatened to burn me through had turned into a soothing kind of warmth. A sluggish smile spread across my face. “In fact, I feel pretty damn good.”
Lockwood let out a loud laugh that somehow made its way over the boisterous noise of the music and party revelers. “I knew I’d like you.”
The three of us took turns passing the substance back and forth as we sat on a bench and watched the others dance. I vaguely wondered why Lockwood didn’t join them, but he seemed content to be sitting and observing with us. As the night progressed, the crowd began to thin out, and more and more people partnered up and disappeared into the darkness of the night.
“I don’t know about y’all, but I need to walk around for a bit and let the cold air clear my head before I go to bed,” Lockwood said, standing and stretching his arms up into the starry night.
I nodded and pulled myself to my feet. It was a much more difficult task than Lockwood had let on—my legs were wobbly and my head felt light. I grabbed Lockwood’s arm for support.
“Easy there.” He laughed softly.
Henry, not as stable as Lockwood but much more so than me, grabbed my other arm. We moved across the square and walked along the border, mostly in silence. Every once in a while Lockwood would point out some structure and tell us a mundane story about its construction. His speech sounded more like distorted music than actual words. The cool air of the night felt good against my skin, which had suddenly turned clammy.
And then I saw her. At least I think I did. She was moving toward the crowd, and I recognized her by the way she walked. Never stable. Her shoulders always hunched. My mother. It was her.
I closed my eyes.
“Can we sit down for a minute?” I asked.
Lockwood nodded and led me to a wooden outpost that connected one set of barbed wire to another. He grabbed onto my waist and lifted me to sit between two posts that crossed to form an empty V shape. I tilted my head to the side and leaned it against one of the posts. I could still faintly hear the music from the party, but our current song was mostly made up of the sounds of the creatures that swarmed around us and those that lay right outside our gates.
Henry plopped himself down on the ground by my feet and began to pick at the grass. A violent shade of red had begun to run across his neck and face. Lockwood didn’t seem nearly as affected by the drink.
“So…this party…what’s the reasoning behind it?” Henry asked, leaning his back against my legs.
Lockwood shrugged. “No real reason. The leaders sometimes hold one to allow the residents to blow off some steam. Living such a hard life means you need a night where you live with reckless abandonment. Pleasure and pain—that’s what life is made of.”
“You sound like you took that straight out of a novel.” I giggled.
“And how is that going? The reading of good old Tess of the D’Urbervilles?” Lockwood asked, choosing to ignore my jab.
Henry sat up straighter. “It’s going just fine. It’s not like we have hours to read it. How�
�d you know about that, anyway?” he asked, turning an accusatory stare toward me.
“It fell out of my pocket at work. He’d heard of it. Said it would change my outlook on being a glorified milkmaid.” I shrugged. I didn’t understand why Henry suddenly seemed so upset.
“Please don’t tell me you two are going to have a lover’s spat,” Lockwood joked, clearly enjoying the tension between us. I wondered if there was anything that Lockwood couldn’t make a joke out of.
“Hardly,” Henry muttered.
“I’m tired. I want to go to the room,” I said, nudging Henry so he would move and I could get up.
“I’ll walk you guys back. Don’t want you two getting lost. The whole community would hunt me down…there would be a lynching. It’d get real messy.”
“Somehow, I don’t think they’d be so upset,” I replied.
Most of the walk back I was silent. Henry was brooding and Lockwood was humming some unfamiliar song to himself.
I was thinking of James.
“Dancing?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Chosen ones dance?”
James shrugged. “Why not? Might as well enjoy ourselves now, right?” he answered, a note of bitterness creeping in.
Just thinking about his hands on my body caused my heart to quicken. I wished James were walking me back to my room. I lost myself in the memory of the dance, glad I was still able to sink into its tantalizing embrace.
I felt myself swaying along with the current of the music, and I suddenly found James close to me. Usually, this would have been frightening, but in that moment the music was calling us both.
Naturals (Lost Souls) Page 9