After the Fear (Young Adult Dystopian)

by Rivers, Rosanne

  I always imagined a sunrise to be slower than that, like a quiet creak. Instead it’s a sudden rush—urgent and painful and beautiful.

  I don’t breathe or speak or cry or move. My pain disappears. Like an addict from the times before the Shepherds, now I’ve breathed the fresh morning air I want more. I need the warmth on my skin—in between my toes and inside my ears.

  The sun throws its early light onto the sea, and a patch of un-burnt land reaches into the water. We’re flying so low over the greenery I see patchworks of old fields. The hedges have grown so wild they’re like fabric hems where the thread has jumbled and snagged. Morning shadows stretch awake, and I sense the world turning, changing.

  All too soon, I recognise the grey terrain which signifies we are nearing a city. The spinner slows as we reach the border. It’s way smaller than Juliet and I can’t see a Stadium. This must be it then. Camp.

  As we descend, a sinking claustrophobia chokes me. I imagine the border of the camp growing over my head, encapsulating me and stealing my air. I stare out of the gap to try to ease my breath. Right ahead are three identical, tall constructions which look like metal plants growing from the ground. They each have one large shaft in the middle, and jutting from those are dozens of strange, translucent pods. We swerve through them. There are a few more buildings, but most of the camp is oval-shaped fields, with grooves in the grass reminding me of the how the rail circulates around Juliet. We land just after passing an open-topped building—giant and extending into the sky like a stretched egg. Inside, some of the floors are filled with either smoke or steam, and others are murky. I swear the roof is made of water.

  Three Herd officers wait for us on the landing pad. I’m yanked from the spinner with the care given to a bag of old clothes and it’s all I can do not to collapse straight onto the tarmac. I rip the softening pads from my ears. My stumbles feel unnaturally slow, and the camp is weirdly quiet. Managing a few steps, I peer through the prongs of a metal gate which separates the landing pad from one of the wide fields I saw before. Those strange buildings sit farther in the distance.

  ‘Sola.’ A slow voice whispers in my ear. It’s too close, and a shudder tells me that it is Mr Winters’ hot breath on my neck. I turn, stepping backwards so that my back’s up against the cold bars of the gate.

  Mr Winters smirks down at me.

  ‘I’m sorry you were chosen. My daughter was ever so fond of you. Do you forgive me?’

  I don’t know what game he’s playing, so I shrug, not taking my eyes from his.

  ‘Good, because I noticed your sword out on the Stadium today. I wasn’t aware tryouts had such elaborate weapons.’ He smiles again, his glare intentionally moving to Dylan, who hangs back, pretending not to watch us.

  Eventually Mr Winters turns to where Alixis stands, darting her head around as if she expects something to fall out of the sky and land on her at any moment. Mr Winters curls a finger and she cautiously walks over, followed by the two other tryout survivors from the back of the spinner.

  ‘Alixis Spires. You are from city Alpha, I believe. I’m sorry we have not been able to get more acquainted. And I’ve been informed you two are brothers.’ He doesn’t give either of the men time to respond. ‘I’m Senior Liaison for Juliet. Please cast your eye over city Zulu—the “training camp” to you.’

  Mr Winters indicates past the fence to where I’ve just been looking. Alixis inhales a long, broken breath next to me.

  ‘How long will we be here?’ The taller brother asks, staring Mr Winters in the face.

  ‘Until you finish your tour and have paid back your Debt. Your trainer will explain this tomorrow. I’m merely the deliverer.’ Mr Winters seems unfazed by the man’s confrontational manner.

  ‘But how will long will that be?’ Alixis asks, although the brother had opened his mouth to reply. The urgency in her voice is undeniable. She claps a hand over her mouth, and for a second, I wonder whether she’s going to be sick. I wouldn’t blame her; Mr Winters’ attempts to be humble are revolting. He whirls his hand through the air in a vague way.

  ‘Weeks . . . months. It depends on how good you are. Of course, we can’t wait forever, so if you’re taking too long, you’ll start fighting anyway. Those Demonstrations aren’t very entertaining, however.’ He states the last part like it’s an afterthought. ‘Now, I have business to attend to. Your Demonstrator will take you to the Medic’s Cabin for examination. Please, don’t try anything. There might not be the amount of Herd officers here as you’re used to, but there are no second chances.’

  To me, the Medic’s Cabin sounds like paradise. I swear I’m about to pass out from my injuries. Mr Winters waves his palm over a small scanner in the fence and a gate farther down clicks open. Before I know what I’m doing I’m shouting after him.

  ‘What happens after the tour?’

  He pauses, then looks back over his bony shoulder.

  ‘You return to your father, of course. Just don’t die in the meantime.’

  His lips curl downwards, and I wonder if that’s his way of laughing. Then he’s through the gate and striding down a path around the perimeter of the field. The Herd officer who pulled me out of the spinner guards him.

  ‘Come on, you four.’ Dylan speaks softly from behind us, before leading the way through the same gate as Mr Winters, but down a different path.

  Alixis and I limp side by side, heads down. The brothers fall behind us, and I hear them communicating quietly to each other. I wonder if it would be better or worse to go through this with someone you love.

  Around us, the camp gently awakens. Identically dressed men and women shuffle out from the bottom of the shafts. Some head straight to the fields, others towards a flat, one-storey building in the other direction. We head over a large, tarmac area where a woman begins dancing around, whizzing two plastic swords above her head, then jabbing the air like part of some ritual drill. Two Herd officers stand close, looking bored; I can practically sense the dust on their gun belts.

  I don’t want to see anymore. I don’t want to be here. All of a sudden the crushing reality of what is happening hits me, absorbing my energy and leaving me a shell full of nothing. I need Dad. I miss Mum. I want to be six again and playing in the bath while she sits on the counter and hums. I want her to laugh at my hair when she tries to pull it into a braid. I want to sneak past the kitchen just to see my parents kissing, wondering what it would be like to love someone as much as they love each other.

  Dylan approaches a one-storey cabin, and through the windows, beds stretch out in strict lines. Everything is stark white and blinding, except the blades which sit upon short wheeled tables.

  I vaguely hear Dylan tell us that when we wake up, we’ll be fixed. Doesn’t he understand that’s not possible anymore?

  When I wake up, I won’t be fixed.

  I’ll be a Demonstrator.

  DYLAN LEADS US through wide double doors. Five beeps echo through the white corridor as we scan in to the Medic’s Cabin, one by one. I count four sealed doors before we turn a corner, which is when Alixis starts hyperventilating. She stops walking, staring ahead with wide eyes.

  ‘Hey,’ she calls to Dylan. ‘What’s going to happen? In there? What are they going to do to us?’

  ‘They’ll just check you over, that’s all. Mend any injuries, make sure you’re okay after the fight.’ Dylan speaks slowly, quietly, before offering Alixis a sad smile and continuing to lead us.

  Alixis doesn’t move, just chews her thumbnail, her eyes darting to each of the closed doors. When the brothers pass her, the taller one touches Alixis’ shoulder gently. For some reason, the gesture brings me comfort. It says we’re all in this together. I follow the brothers down the corridor, and soon enough, Alixis’ footsteps tap slowly behind me.

  The medics ignore us while we pile into the long, rectangular room. There are four beds on wheels laid out next to each other, each with a number on the headstand and surrounded by various instruments. In between be
ds one and two, and also beds three and four, is a plastic test-tube holder. I swallow when I see around a dozen empty vials sitting in each holder. I don’t even want to know what liquid will fill them.

  Dylan goes over to one of the medics, has a brief chat in low tones, then leaves, avoiding my eyes as he scans out. Well, thanks for that, Dylan. No comforting words? No ‘Don’t worry, I’ve been through this all before and it’s nothing to worry about’? My breathing quickens until I’m aware that, between Alixis and I, we probably sound like we’re giving birth or something. At least it gets the medic’s attention. She guides us unceremoniously over to the beds. I’m lumbered with the one farthest away from the door, next to the taller brother. As soon as we’ve all lain down the medic pulls her sanitary mask down to her chin and addresses us.

  ‘We have to take the blood sample before you’re affected by any drugs so Patrick here will do that now.’ She sounds bored, as if she’s said these words a hundred times before. ‘Then you’ll be sedated. Depending on the extent of your injuries you’ll be in here for a few days or you’ll be transported to your pod while you’re asleep. Any questions? Great. Let’s get on with it.’ She turns away before anyone can speak.

  Patrick is an older-looking medic with fairly kind eyes and a gentle manner. Yet that doesn’t stop my rising dread when I see him sit between beds one and two and stick the needle into the arm of the shorter brother. The vial attached to the needle turns red. My arm goes a bit funny, as though it’s already happening to me. I wish it was because at least it would be over. Patrick removes the vial, places a bandage over the brother’s elbow and gives his upper arm a quick jab with a separate needle.

  Then it’s Alixis’ turn. Patrick carefully slots the blood into the holder I saw earlier before turning on his chair so that he’s facing her. Behind Patrick, the brother slumps asleep. I squirm as Patrick cleans Alixis’ skin for the needle.

  ‘Don’t you like blood?’ the taller brother asks me.

  I start at the question. I had been looking straight past his bed and didn’t even realise he was facing me. He offers a grin and cocks his head towards Patrick.

  ‘Blood’s fine. It’s what causes it that I don’t like,’ I reply.

  ‘Needles. Got you. It will be fine.’

  ‘So you and your brother aren’t scared at all then?’ I ask. It sounds more accusatory than I meant it to. To my surprise, the man chuckles.

  ‘Actually, we’re terrified. We were saying earlier that we’re quite glad you girls are here because we’ve had to act tough. It makes it easier, get me?’

  I find myself smiling too, not a proper smile but it’s better than nothing. ‘I wouldn’t bother. I think we can all handle ourselves.’

  ‘Except when it comes to needles.’

  ‘Right,’ I say.

  ‘Got you. Well, see you on the other side.’ He takes a deep breath in as Patrick walks around Alixis’ bed and over to us. I’m just about to answer when a movement catches my eye. Alixis is leaning up in bed, reaching over the test-tube holder by her side. She moves her hand quickly and I see a flash of red before she flops back onto her bed, just in time for her arms to sag and her lids to flutter.

  No one else seems to have noticed anything; most of the medics have their backs to us, fiddling with the machinery lining the room, letting Patrick work his magic before beginning. The brother next to me has his eyes closed already, taking deep breaths as Patrick works to find a vein.

  It was probably nothing. Maybe she wanted to check the amount or something . . . That’s so obviously not the case that it almost makes me laugh. But not quite. Because soon, a shadow dims my vision. The brother I had just been talking to is now unconscious, and Patrick stands over me.

  I hold out my arm, take a long breath, and wait for the dark.

  SUDDENLY, it’s the middle of the night, and my throat is screaming for a drink. Straight away, I know I’m not in the Medic’s Cabin. That antiseptic smell has all but disappeared, replaced by a dusty scent, like when Dad put down a new rug in the flat. I’m staring at a low ceiling which is as foggy as my thoughts, and for a brief moment I think I’m floating under the layer of pollution back in Juliet. Then I see the trigger camera hanging from above the door and I realise I’m just lying on the top bunk in one of those translucent pods I saw earlier.

  The only light comes from the red dot of the door scanner, but it’s enough to show a small room—scarcely long enough to fit the built-in bunk, which curves to the shape of the oval, and wide enough for the bedside table. Someone has even thought to lay an open Book of Red Ink on the surface, yet hasn’t bothered to leave us with any water.

  Clutching the edge of the bunk, I kneel and swing my head over the side. Alixis sleeps soundly beneath me, her bright hair spreading around her pillow as if she were underwater. Each one of her breaths makes me thirstier, like the sound of air whistling through hay. At the sight of her, I remember that moment in the Medic’s Cabin right before I went under. I’m not sure what she was doing with those vials, but it didn’t seem right. Then again, no one’s asking me to trust her.

  I clamber down the ladder, now really wishing we did have a new rug because standing on see-through glass is kind of freaky. However, I can barely make out another pod underneath us, let alone the inside of it, which makes me feel slightly less on-show. At least I’m clean and my fingers stretch out as good as new. I’m also kitted out in a white T-shirt and some pyjama bottoms which don’t quite touch my feet. I wonder where my school uniform has gone—incinerated probably, seeing as I’ll never need it again. There’s a fresh scar on my hip where it was smashed into the ground, and I touch my face tentatively, wondering how much of it is purple.

  I search the bedside cabinet and find two digipads and some clothes. No water. I bang the door shut too loudly, then glance to Alixis to check I haven’t woken her. Another deep breath tells me she’s fine.

  After one step I’m at the side of the pod, leaning my palms against the smooth surface. The camp lies about sixty feet below: dark and lifeless. Frozen still like the abandoned countryside I saw on the way here. Even the Herd officers sit snoozing on the steps to a low gym-like building.

  Actually, the layout reminds me of my old school: the cabins, gyms, and tall pod shafts. The buildings are separated from the vast fields with an area of tarmac which looks like a playground. Of course, no one plays here. They train so that they might survive their next fight and get to see their families again.

  I sigh, blowing a wiry piece of hair from my face; if someone gets to go home when they finish their tour, why has no one ever returned to city Juliet in my seventeen years?

  I curse in the darkness. I’m so thirsty. My old school might not have had such beautiful fields with a lining of willow trees at the far end, but at least it had a water dispenser.

  As I’m about give in, closing my eyes and leaning my forehead on the surface, a light flickers outside. It radiates from a small hut built on thin legs suspended above the tarmac. The way its glow skims over the camp reminds me of watchtowers in old films.

  They’ll have water.

  Without a second thought, I pad over to the scanner and run my palm over it. The door slides open to reveal a tiny, dark shaft, illuminated only by the scanner light. I glimpse at Alixis—still sleeping—and step in.

  Then I’m falling. The ground moves beneath me and I’m zooming down. My insides lurch upwards as I try to grab the sides—but they’re moving with me. Trying to ground myself in this stupid thing is about as much use as the privacy setting on Debtbook. Eventually the floor jolts to a stop, and the door glides open.

  I’m crouching on the floor, my chest heaving as I stand before the expanse of tarmac. Thankfully, the Herd officers are asleep because otherwise they’d think I was insane. After I’ve stepped from the shaft, the door whirs quietly as it slides back into place.

  The ‘playground’ is kind of eerie. It smells almost familiar, like an allotment or vegetables growing in a
humid greenhouse. The light from the watchtower shines across the tarmac in streaks. Even though it’s silent, the quiet seems to rage in my mind like the buzz of white noise. Now the need for a drink has passed from my throat to my stomach. Each time my head thumps it’s shouting ‘water, water, water!’

  Here goes. I dart around the yellow glow, my bare feet tapping on the ground as I stick to the shadows, one eye on the sleeping Herd officers. When I reach the steps to the watchtower, I grasp the cool handrail and take a moment to recover my breath. I wish my heart would stop pounding so hard in my chest.

  The steps don’t even creak as I climb. The silence tells me I’m being sneaky, and right now I’m not sure this is such a good idea. Maybe my thirst can wait. I’ll go back to the pod and try to sleep.

  ‘This is absurd!’

  That voice. Clipped anger has replaced the usual slow, pronounced tones of Mr Winters. My body goes cold, as though all my blood has run for its life. I don’t dare move, fearing one moan from the stairs will be enough to alert him that I’m here.

  ‘Nonsense Albert! We have to look into all of these matters. There’s no need to worry yourself over a small investigation.’ This cheery voice I don’t recognise. It’s male, and I’m so scared I need to giggle at Mr Winters’ first name. I’m not even sure if Coral knew it was Albert. I ease myself up the last few steps, holding my breath while inching closer to the door.

  ‘What happens then?’

  Is it possible, Mr Winters sounds almost—frightened?

  ‘It will all get brushed under the carpet, of course. You’ve been loyal to us for over twenty years; my father had great ties with your family. You can trust us to look after you.’

  ‘I can assure you I was only thinking of securing the Shepherds’ power, I—’

  ‘Great stuff, great stuff, and I know all that, I do. Trouble is, you can’t go around cherry-picking people without some consequences. You know the system for choosing people for the Debt. There’s a quota we must abide by and city Juliet is all over the place. It’s all very boring, I know, but it has to be done. More tea?’