I hope that Mr Winters is better than his daughter at picking up on nuances, because the other man’s friendly tone couldn’t be more unsettling if he were shouting.
‘Very well. I look forwards to when this is all sorted out.’
He almost gets away with it, but Mr Winters’ last word goes up like he’s asking a question.
‘Great stuff. Goodnight, Albert.’
Crap. I pause, searching for somewhere to hide. It’s too late to run down the stairs, but there’s nowhere else. The scanner beeps.
I crouch in the corner of the platform just before the door slides open.
Please, shadows cloak me. . . .
Light escapes out the door and Mr Winters emerges. By some miracle, he’s concentrating on his digipad, and within seconds he’s half way down the stairs and the door has slid shut once more, trapping the light back in with it.
I exhale so slowly it’s like I’m not doing it at all, blowing the air over my bottom lip so that it’s noiseless. When I bring my hands to cover my nose and mouth, I realise I’m shaking. Mr Winters hits the last step and rounds the stairs so that he’s nearly underneath me. I follow him with my stare, every muscle in my body screaming as I hold them still.
He stops and takes one last look towards the watchtower.
His eyes meet mine. They widen a fraction. Then, his courteous smile is back—the one which makes my insides crawl. He gives me a slow nod, which seems to say this isn’t the last of me, before disappearing from the watchtower’s light and into the shadows.
THAT NERVOUS FEAR must have taken up permanent residence in my bones. I stand on the playground the next morning, chewing my thumbnail relentlessly.
‘I don’t feel very well,’ Alixis mutters beside me. She woke me this morning completely unaware of my midnight adventure. She also discovered our digipads in the bedside cabinet, but this time our Debtbook had been updated with instructions to be dressed and outside by seven. The clothes I found turned out to be our uniforms. They’re practically identical to our sleeping clothes: white T shirts and sweatpants that don’t exactly keep out the cold. I wrap my arms around my shoulders and do a few jogs on the spot to warm up.
‘Try not to think about anything,’ I reply. By anything, I mean everything. The tryouts, the tour, the fact that we’re both killers. . . . ‘That’s what I’m trying to do.’
‘I just wish we could speak to our families through the digipads,’ she tells me for the fourth time this morning. Our pads have been altered so that we can’t comment on anyone else’s Debtbook profiles. We can only update our own statuses. Unlike before, where only my contacts from Juliet could write on my profile, now anyone ‘following’ me can comment. I already have pages of praise from the tryouts. I sigh.
‘Yeah, I know. Anyway, you had a good look at everyone who died, didn’t you? That’s probably why you feel sick,’ I say without looking over. Okay, I’m being mean, but I can’t try and be friendly with someone who has no regard for what she—what we both—did. Alixis’ brow furrows for a moment. She shakes her head.
‘I was saying prayers for the deceased,’ she mumbles.
Oh.
She doesn’t need to say anymore. We both know why she was being discreet. The Book of Red Ink replaced the Bible long ago. My family were never religious, but I know some people still pass the teachings of their faith down in secret. Dad said that when the Shepherds first came to power, they even tried to ban words like ‘god’ or ‘lord’, but they had been adopted so readily into language that the Shepherds had to give up. I bite my lip.
‘Sorry. Um, Mr Winters said you were from city Alpha. What’s it like there?’ I ask, trying to ease the tension as we wait to be greeted by whoever wanted us out here. Of course I’ve heard what people are like in Alpha—totally elitist and close to paying back their Debt—but I don’t have anything else to ask her about. I take another grateful sip from one of the many water bottles Alixis found underneath her bed, along with two first aid packs and some extra blankets. If only I’d thought to look there last night.
Alixis smiles, looking to a place only she can see. ‘It’s home. I’ve been away for so long, I’m worried I’ll forget what it’s like, but I’ll always know that it is home.’
Something doesn’t add up.
‘So long? It’s only been two days.’
‘Maybe for you. I was held with the rest of them in that dingy cell for a week. The tryouts are at the end of the month so if you’re chosen before that, well, they have to keep you somewhere, drugged up and unwashed. A few of the others had been in for longer.’
‘I’m sorry. That’s awful.’
‘It was. Although, it made me really want to survive.’ She gives me a sly smile. ‘Thanks for saving me from that arrow by the way.’
I shrug in what I hope is a think nothing of it way. I can’t work her out. She looks older than me, but acts younger and seems more than a little wary. Then again, neither of us is exactly showcasing our personalities right now. It’s been a rough few days. I’m still surprised Mr Winters didn’t sneak into our pod in the night and inject me with poison after he realised I had overheard his conversation. ‘Cherry-picking’—that’s what the other man accused him of. Did he mean the way Mr Winters picked me?
‘Our new Demonstrators!’ A cheery voice greets us from across the tarmac. It’s as if I summoned him from my thoughts or something because I instantly recognise the mystery voice from last night. He looks around Alixis’ age, maybe twenty-two, and strides towards us in a pale blue shirt and black jeans. He brings the smell of coffee, and it mixes in with the earthy scent of the camp.
‘So it’s true then. Two ladies! Apparently, you lovelies caused quite a stir at the tryouts.’ He stops a metre in front of us. ‘I usually don’t greet the newbies, but I had to meet you for myself. Half of Juliet is already following you on Debtbook! I don’t blame them, a pair of absolute beauties, both of you.’
He meets my gaze confidently, and it’s hard to believe that this is the man who struck fear into Mr Winters—possibly the creepiest guy on the planet.
‘You have to be the infamous Sola. Very clever tactics saving that young boy’s life.’ He winks at me before grabbing my hand in a firm shake. ‘And I won’t ask where you got that sword from, but you owe me one, okay?’ He elongates the okay, like he’s giving a drum roll. I just stare.
‘Which makes you Alixis? I’ve heard all about that pin in the eye. Great stuff. Great stuff. Well, I’m sure you have lots of questions but save them for your trainer. I merely wanted to welcome you to the camp.’ He nods the whole time while he speaks; his brown hair so gelled it doesn’t even waver. I get the impression he wants us to respond.
‘Thanks. Um, who are you?’ This comes out slightly more offensive than I mean it to, and his smile falters.
‘Shepherd Fines, of course.’
Alixis jolts her head up.
He’s a Shepherd. A real, honest-to-life Shepherd. The government is only made up of seven and the only way to become one is to be born into it. We’re taught about them in class but we never see their faces. They are spoken about so reverently I had begun to think of them as some superior force, hovering above each city, listening to the trigger cameras and organising the Debt.
I certainly didn’t expect this lively, almost good-looking guy.
‘Oh. Wow.’ The words come out before I even know what I’m saying. It seems to make up for not knowing who he was because his grin swings back.
‘Indeed. I’m in charge of the Demonstrations so spend most of my time here in Zulu. Well, if you need me, my office is up there.’ He points to the watchtower. My stomach clenches in protest of last night’s memory. Shepherd Fines continues, ‘I hope you settle in well. Your trainer should be waiting for you in the first field. Train hard and your tour will be over before you know it. Great to meet you ladies.’ He clicks his teeth at us twice, as if he were calling over a horse, then turns back the way he came.
I make a face at Alixis and can tell she’s thinking exactly the same as me: what the hell was that about?
The other Demonstrators eye us curiously as we make our way to the field. A figure I recognise is running laps. Dylan.
Right then it’s like I’ve passed through some invisible wall and into a land which makes my palms sweaty, causes my heart to hammer painfully and evaporates any kind of moisture from my mouth. The memory of our kiss illuminates in my mind as if I’ve walked into a room, switched the light on, and there we are, lying on the trampoline, our lips touching.
It was so much easier to see him with the tryouts distracting me. Why didn’t I make my hair look nice this morning? My eye doesn’t hurt anymore, but I haven’t actually looked in a mirror since we arrived here, and for all I know a nasty black circle could be making me look like an old pirate.
Why do I even care? It’s not like I really know him . . . but I do know how his lips taste and how his laugh is low and soft and how everything about him reminds me of calm, cool music.
‘Hey!’ Alixis calls, waving her arm in the air to get his attention. He looks up, nods, and jogs over.
‘Morning, you two.’ He speaks to Alixis, ignoring me. His matching uniform is marked with sweat.
‘Are you our trainer then?’ Alixis asks, looking round. Dylan nods a confirmation. He keeps his eyes down, scratching his back as if he’s trying to hide behind his elbow.
He’s embarrassed to see me. I urge the heat which is flushing my face not to show.
‘You training those brothers, too?’ Alixis asks, and I swear there’s an edge of hope in her tone.
‘No. I haven’t seen them since the Medic’s Cabin. Right, let’s start.’ Dylan points to the grooves in the ground which mark lanes.
‘The first, and most important, part of training is getting your fitness levels up, which means running laps. Keep up.’ With that, he sets off again. Alixis looks to me once before sprinting after him in the next lane.
Complete with an unhealthy amount of self-consciousness, I run to catch them up and slide into the lane next to Alixis.
‘We’—Alixis huffs in between breaths—’were promised answers.’
‘Ask away.’ How is Dylan’s voice still so perfect when he’s been jogging all this time?
‘What’s this tour everyone keeps talking about?’ Alixis asks.
‘The tour is how you pay back your Debt. You fight one Demonstration in each city around the country and end with a final fight in your home Stadium. Tickets to this fight are always expensive—so the Shepherds give the audience a twist. The worse the twist the less likely you’ll survive.’ He glances over to check we understand.
‘However, the more followers you get on Debtbook as the tour progresses, the more likely you’ll be given a fair last fight because the public won’t want to see you killed. Legs up, come on! If you survive your home fight, then you go back to your families,’ Dylan says as though it’s oh-so-simple.
‘Okay.’ Alixis is more than a little out of breath. ‘But everyone outside of Alpha will hate me. Is there protection for that?’
There’s a pause.
‘You might be surprised,’ Dylan says, ‘but yes, Herd officers accompany you everywhere, and when you’re in the Stadium you’ve only the contestants to worry about.’
‘And there’s twenty-six cities right? That’s twenty-six fights,’ Alixis says.
‘Twenty-five fights. There’s no Stadium in Zulu,’ Dylan corrects.
Alixis continues to ask the questions I’m desperate to know the answers to. ‘So this is the only training camp then? And who decides when we’re ready to start?’
‘The one and only camp, aye. As for who decides, well that would be your trainer.’ This, Dylan says with a grin, and his eyes even flicker to me as he speaks. I look straight ahead, hoping he’ll think my cheeks are red from the running.
‘So, how come you aren’t still touring? Why are—you putting—it off—training us?’ Alixis pants.
Dylan loses his grin and looks out into the distance, his answer nearly getting lost behind us.
‘I’ve finished my tour. I’ve paid back my Debt.’
To that, neither Alixis nor I have a reply, so we keep running. Around and around in futile circles, wearing ourselves out, getting nowhere.
***
AT LEAST ALIXIS throws up first. I’m not sure how many laps we’ve done, but my T-shirt is soaked with sweat and I keep wiping more away from my eyes. Well, if I was worried about how I looked earlier I can now rest assured knowing I resemble a frizzy-haired lobster having some kind of heart attack. My mouth, throat and lungs all burn from gasping.
‘Getting tired yet?’ Dylan startles me by calling across the space which Alixis’ absence has left. I risk a glimpse over.
‘Are you?’ I ask. Our heavy breaths lap over each other’s, providing a steady rhythm to our steps.
The side of his open mouth curls just a fraction and he shakes his head.
‘Me neither,’ I say. Nothing could be further from the truth, but there’s a bud of defiance growing within me. Straight away, he picks up the pace. My legs scream in protest, and I push them harder to match him. That smug look on his face tells me he’s in his element.
‘You like running then?’ I ask casually, as if this is so easy. As if my whole body isn’t begging for me to stop.
‘It’s grand.’
That lilt in his voice reaches over the space and grips my heart; it’s so—perfect.
‘Actually, it’s my favourite part of being a Demonstrator,’ he says. That’s when I see it. A flash before he speeds ahead. His blue eyes narrow in a tiny smile and, in that second, I know he’s thinking about our kiss.
Those words are an exact echo of what he said at Coral’s party. The joke I quoted back to him.
He’s surging forwards. I can’t match him and he knows it. My legs tumble to a stop and laughter rolls from me.
He remembers.
Best of all, he wants me to remember. My energy floods back and I want to whoop and punch the air and twirl about. Then I remember where I am, that my life is basically over, that Dad is on his own in city Juliet, and that I’m a murderer. Instead, I finish the lap, jog over to where Alixis lies and help her up.
‘You feeling okay?’ I ask.
‘Yep,’ she says, brushing the grass from her clothes before giving me a strange look. ‘Are you?’
A giggle escapes. I blame the high from exercise for behaving like a little girl.
‘Yeah. Turns out, I really like running.’
***
‘PERSISTENCE AND RESISTENCE!’ Dylan repeats over and over again as we kill ourselves at fitness drills. ‘Those two things will save your life!’
My high has quickly evaporated and every inch of my body aches. It’s as though there’s a great big hand gripping every muscle, squeezing them until I can’t move. I cradle my stomach, which is as tight as a drawstring bag.
‘We get a gun, don’t we?’ Alixis asks as I ram down hits on her punching gloves. ‘So it’s not like we can really die.’
‘Aye you can die all right. You only get one bullet throughout your whole tour. Most try to keep it for their last Demonstration, and they’re right to. If you need to use your gun before that, you might as well give up there and then. So: persistence and resistance. Persist through the fight, resist the pain.’
If it’s possible, my body tenses further at the mention of a gun. I never thought I would be in a position to carry the same weapon which murdered Mum. If I picked it up, would I be like him? The man who shot Mum? It was random, her murder. Just a crazy guy who overpowered a Herd officer and killed the first person he saw.
I’m not trying to be noble, pretending there’s a difference in killing people with a sword, or a dagger or a hair pin, to a gun, but I’m just not sure I could do it. Shoot someone and see their expression. Wonder whether it was the same expression which Mum had when she died.
I keep my
mouth shut, because I’m basically incapable of saying anything around Dylan. Yet thoughts of the gun linger in my mind. I know one day soon I’ll have to decide what’s more important: Mum’s memory or my own survival.
When the sun begins to set, Dylan leads us over the field, towards the semi-translucent building I saw on the way into the camp. It’s the only place set apart from the playground.
‘Spend at least an hour in here. It will ease the cramps in your muscles,’ Dylan instructs. He fishes two keys out of his pocket and inspects them in the diminishing light. ‘Here’re your locker keys. In there you’ll find your, um, swimwear and anything else you’ll need for the Wetpod. And don’t worry, there aren’t any trigger cameras.’
He passes the keys over.
‘Dinner’s in the refectory from seven till nine. That’s the long, flat building right next to the Medic’s Cabin.’ He points over the field, to where the lights are beginning to flicker on in the pods. ‘See you both tomorrow.’
As he turns to go, Alixis calls to him.
‘What’s happening tomorrow?’ She’s still out of breath and her voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. Dylan pauses.
‘The same again. I’ll meet you at seven for morning laps. Get breakfast at six if you want it.’ Right then it’s hard to believe he’s even got a playful side. Alixis lets out a dramatic sigh.
‘You’ll get used to it. If you don’t, you’ll die on tour and that’s just the way it is,’ Dylan says. His ‘th’s sound like hard ‘t’s, making the sentence seem less angry somehow and more manner of fact. With that, he’s off. I watch as he walks a few paces then breaks into a jog, cutting a diagonal across the field.
After spending all day with him, I suddenly miss his familiar scent. It’s fresh, like bedding which has been left to dry outside. A hollow emptiness creeps through me. It’s as though I’m on a sinking ship watching the rescue boat float farther away. But that’s ridiculous. Dylan’s not my beacon of hope; completing my tour and getting back to Dad alive is. I clench the key in my hand and head inside the Wetpod.
After the Fear (Young Adult Dystopian) Page 6