After the Fear (Young Adult Dystopian)

by Rivers, Rosanne

  I can’t help but wonder if Coral’s as scared as I am that this is the beginning of our twists.

  ‘That red-head seriously has it in for you,’ makeup girl says as she fiddles with my IV.

  ‘You a medic, too?’ I ask, hoping she can detect my sarcasm.

  ‘We’re trained in pretty much everything. Apart from killing, of course.’

  ‘Of course,’ I repeat. ‘I don’t suppose you could train her as staff? Make her work as a server instead of a Demonstrator?’ I ask pointlessly, indicating to the sleeping child.

  Makeup girl smiles.

  ‘She’s clever enough. She’ll survive for a while. Anyway, Shepherd Fines visited, wants to see you in his office when you’re better.’ She sounds as though she’s trying not to giggle. ‘Go on. Tell me.’ She crouches down to my level and whispers, ‘What’s going on with you two?’

  ‘I can trust you, right?’ I ask, lowering my voice and shuffling over.

  She nods enthusiastically.

  ‘We’re planning on taking over the world. We’re going to get rid of all the city borders and rule the earth as King and Queen like in the old days.’

  I’m pleased to say it takes her a while to catch on that I’m joking. As I watch her storm off, I laugh harder than I have in a long while. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, pull the IV from my arm with a wince and try to stand.

  ‘Where are t’ others?’

  It’s a voice so tiny I think I’ve imagined it. I peer around suspiciously. Now is not the best time to have voices in my head. But my gaze settles on the little girl from the tryouts. She’s still lying down but has opened her grey eyes. She peers over the side of her bed at me.

  ‘What others?’ I ask, lowering my voice to meet hers.

  ‘Ones what were chosen from my city.’ Her forehead wrinkles just above her eyebrows. I swallow. Teaching kids the facts of Demonstrations was not on my to-do list today.

  ‘I’m sorry, but they’re gone. Who is it you’re looking for?’ Why did I ask that? I can’t help her.

  ‘All of them,’ she replies. ‘Ones chosen this month. What happens to t’others?’

  I wish she would stop asking that. I scramble for a delicate way of telling her they must have died in the tryouts.

  ‘Do you remember the big fight we had? That’s where everyone chosen from your city this month would have been. You’re very lucky; you survived.’ I speak slowly as if she were hard of hearing. Her eyes narrow; more lines appear between her brows.

  ‘But what about t’others? The ones what weren’t in’t tryouts?’

  ‘Oh, the older ones? They must have been chosen to work here.’

  ‘I haven’t seen them!’ Her voice goes high-pitched, worried. ‘I’ve been lookin’.’

  I’m pretty sure my frown now matches hers. I get up, pad around to her bed.

  ‘Hey, it’s all right.’ I try and sound soothing. ‘I’ve got to go somewhere, but I’ll come and see you later, okay?’

  She nods.

  ‘Now, don’t repeat what you just asked me to anyone else. That’s really important.’

  Another nod. She pulls the covers up to her chin. ‘What’s your name? I like rememberin’ people.’ Her voice is muffled through the sheet. I smile.

  ‘Sola. And I like to remember people, too—maybe I should have yours?’

  ‘Tabby.’

  I grin and follow a medic out of the ward without scanning out. As I head across the playground to Shepherd Fines’ office, Tabby’s words dance in my mind. While I lived in Juliet, around three people were chosen each month. If that’s the case everywhere, then there should be an average of seventy-five people in each of the tryouts. From the ones I’ve seen and participated in, there’s been between thirty or fifty. So that means that every month, at least twenty new workers should be arriving at the camp. I haven’t seen one new server since I’ve been here.

  I take the stairs two by two before banging on the watchtower door. It slides open.

  ‘Sir, I need to—’

  ‘Sola! My dearest, I’ve been so looking forwards to seeing you.’

  Shepherd Fines opens his arms wide before sliding one behind my back and guiding me through the door. His coffee breath follows his eyes over my face.

  ‘Hardly a scratch on you.’ He looks amazed. ‘I knew you were going to become the best, and you’re so nearly there. However, we don’t have much time alone, I’m afraid.’

  Did I imagine it, or did Shepherd Fines just squeeze my waist? I watch with wary eyes as he walks to the other side of his desk. He throws glances my way, his mouth turned up into a proud smile, his eyes wide with excitement. Each look makes my skin tingle with awkwardness. It’s as though I’ve transformed into a butterfly in front of his eyes or something. When he sits, I gladly take a seat on the sofa.

  Seconds later, there’s a slow, deliberate knock on the door. Shepherd Fines opens it from his remote control system.

  ‘You wanted to see me, Sir?’

  I would recognise that sickly sweet voice anywhere. I straighten up, anger already burning hot in my belly. Coral beams even wider when she sees me.

  ‘Hey, Sola. How’s Alixis doing?’ Her expression is full of pretend kindness but her eyes are laughing at me. Shepherd Fines prevents me from replying.

  ‘Come now, don’t hover in the doorway, take a seat! I have some great news for you both,’ he rotates his wrist in a flippant way towards the sofa. Coral lowers herself gracefully into the antique-looking carver chair by the door.

  ‘As you might know, Miss Winters here has overtaken you, Sola, in her number of Demonstrations.’ Although Shepherd Fines is talking to me, he nods to Coral, evoking another smile. ‘She kills well, but the spectators can get bored easily when a Demonstrator shows no emotion. So we’ve had to speed her tour up. Strike while the iron is hot, so to speak.’

  I resist the urge to snicker, but it’s hard.

  ‘In any case, her final Demonstration is coming up.’ He continues to talk as though Coral weren’t present. ‘By a stroke of genius, Miss Winters here has dramatised a rivalry between you pair widely on Debtbook. In fact, the whole country is talking about it. So, what better way to boost ticket sales and followers than to have you fight side by side?’

  ‘What?’ Coral practically jumps out of her seat. Shepherd Fines raises his eyebrows and leans back slightly, daring her to question him. There’s a shuffle as Coral settles back into her chair.

  ‘I just mean. Well, Sir, this is embarrassing but—’ She ducks her head, changing tack.

  I sigh exaggeratedly at her attempt to be shy.

  ‘I don’t want to fight alongside Sola,’ Coral says. ‘She’s too good. She’ll get all the credit in my final fight.’

  ‘Nonsense, my dear! I’ve seen you in combat and you’re giving Sola a run for her money!’ He chuckles. ‘Nothing will be more spectacular than the best two female fighters with a live Debt putting their differences aside for the sake of the Shepherds. Also, it benefits both of you. Miss Winters, you’ll have far greater chance of winning your final fight and returning home, and Sola, it will count as one of your Demonstrations.’ He smiles, claps his hands together, and clicks his teeth at Coral.

  ‘Right then, now that’s settled and you can run along. I’ll meet you at the gate in three days. I wouldn’t miss this for the world!’

  Coral looks deflated as she leaves the office. Sharing her glory with me must be the worst outcome she could imagine for her final fight. The door slides shut behind her and the air lightens, if only for a moment. Shepherd Fines is next to me before I can even stand, an eager arm wrapped around my shoulder.

  ‘So, what would you like to drink?’ He looks suspiciously happy. There are so many things I need to ask him about: what Tabby said about the others; where the brothers went; why William is in Greece. If we were truly friends, I would be able to come out and demand answers. But I have to face facts that we’re not. Although we get along, I’ve known for ages
that he sees me romantically. And I’ve manipulated that, in my own way. I’ve given him some control over me in exchange for protection and comfort.

  That fight on Christmas day has made me realise that I need to start taking control of my own situation.

  It might mean giving up answers, but it’s time for our fake romance to end.

  ‘I’ll have tea,’ I say and watch carefully as he pours the Gekruide tea. No pills in it this time, at least not that I see. When he brings them over, I point to the glass he holds closest to him.

  ‘I’d prefer that one.’

  His gaze flickers down, heat showing on his cheeks. I guess it’s the first time I’ve made it obvious that I know about the drugging attempt. It’s also the first time I’ve ever seen him blush.

  ‘Of course,’ he mumbles and holds his glass out. ‘I apologise for what happened . . . before. You just looked tired . . .’ He trails off, his voice small.

  I wave it off. In truth, I never thought he was trying to hurt me.

  ‘Do you forgive me?’ he asks. I nod as I take the glass.

  ‘Yeah, I do. But we need to talk.’

  ‘Great stuff, darling. I want to talk to you, too.’ He reclines in the middle of the sofa, evidently pleased I’ve accepted his apology. Something tells me he won’t be happy for long.

  ‘Look, I—I can’t help but notice that you’re . . . interested in me in more than a friendly manner. Or that of a Shepherd and his subject, perhaps,’ I say, drawing breath while I stare at the red sofa throw, the plush carpet, the sleeping lamps hanging behind his head—anywhere except his eyes.

  ‘Unfortunately I’m unable to return your affections,’ I say.

  There. I’ve said it.

  I wait.

  ‘I understand,’ he says.

  My relief must be obvious. My shoulders sag and I breathe out slowly. Shepherd Fines makes his clicking noise.

  ‘It’s the age gap, isn’t it? I’ve been thinking along similar lines.’ His face is grave. He clasps his hands before his neck, just like I’ve seen Alixis do in prayer. His forefinger extends out to touch his lip. ‘Well, there’s no need to worry,’ he says eventually. ‘I can simply change the law, if you wish. Make it so every relationship must have at least a five year age gap?’

  The room is getting smaller, I’m sure of it. I wriggle my shoulders and shift so that I’m sitting on the edge of the sofa. ‘No, that’s not it. Sir, you’ve formed this attachment way too quickly. I mean, you don’t even know me! Perhaps it’s borne out of my fighting abilities more than anything else? But we could still be friends?’

  I have no idea why I’m speaking like I’ve walked right out of Frankenstein. Diplomacy was never my strongest point.

  Shepherd Fines slaps his hand onto his chest and shakes his head slowly, as if I’ve shot him in the heart. ‘My dearest, I’m so glad you’ve spoken to me about these concerns. There has to be communication if this is to work. I only wish you’d expressed your anxieties sooner! I understand now why you might have been holding back your desire for me.’ He stands and paces in a leisurely, almost comical manner.

  I lean back on the sofa, eyes on the door. My mind is racing for what to say next.

  ‘I admit that from the second I saw you fight I was enticed by this “school-girl protector of the weak”,’ Shepherd Fines says. ‘However, since then we’ve formed this connection. You don’t pander to me. You don’t tell me what I want to hear. I like watching you fight, yes. I like that you’re the best, yes. But I like you the most.’ He jabs a finger in my direction, stops in front of me. His eyes lose his smile suddenly, his lips going tight.

  ‘As for just being friends, well, my dear, that would never happen. With a connection like ours, it’s either all or nothing.’

  I’m not sure if I’m open-mouthed from shock or because I can’t find a reply. All I can think is this is not good. Over and over again. My hands fidget in my lap. I stare at them, trying to form words.

  He sits next to me, his arm pulling me nearer. For a fleeting second, I get the real urge to kill him. I could do it, right now. I know how.

  Yet, this is exactly what I was afraid of—that training would make me remedy everything with violence. I don’t hate Shepherd Fines, I don’t want to hurt him, not really. But I also don’t want his hand on my leg or to detect a threat in the way he said ‘all or nothing’.

  Instead of killing anybody, instead of confronting Shepherd Fines about Tabby’s concerns, I sit, nodding along to whatever he is saying into my ear. My eyes are on the bottom of the door, hoping that if I stare at it enough, it will slide open and set me free.

  THAT NIGHT, I hold back Alixis’ hair as she throws up into the toilet bowl. We’re in the bathroom at the bottom of our pod shaft and, between sickly heaves, Alixis tells me to go back to bed. She says it must have been something she ate. When I tell her it’s probably the baby, she looks away quickly. ‘Maybe it was the yoghurt,’ she replies, before throwing her head over the bowl once more.

  ***

  AFTER FORTY LAPS, I run one extra for each person in my life. I forgot to go and see Tabby last night despite my promise to her, and when I saw her this morning, she asked more questions that I couldn’t answer.

  Sweat tickles my eyelashes. I blow mist from my mouth in time with the pound of my boots against the mud. In and out. Left, right, left, right. The field is tipped with white. Ice crackles up each blade of grass, weighing heavily on any remaining leaves and biting into the tree bark like a disease.

  Lap forty one: for William. Not in my life but far, far away, all because I saved him in the tryouts.

  Lap forty-two: for Tabby. A cautious child who’s seen far more of life than she should have. Who in my dream last night whispered to me, ‘Where are the others?’

  Lap forty-three: I run this one fast. It’s for Dao. Blinded and murdered after twenty-four Demonstrations.

  Forty-four: my legs start to burn. For Alixis and her baby. For my best friend who has given up on everything. For her child who I already love but blame for taking Alixis away from me.

  Forty-five: the pain in my calves is welcome through this one. For Shepherd Fines. Who has written on my Debtbook that we are in a relationship. Whose secrets I need to discover.

  Forty-six: red hot anger sears up my legs and through my arms. This. One. Is. For. Coral.

  Seven: Dylan. My mind is going to mush. My vision is blurring, lungs are bursting. Legs are going to cripple. Dylan. Who thinks I’m selfish. Who tries to control me just like Fines. Who I hate.

  Who I love.

  Eight: I can see them at the end of the lap. For a dad who might not be my dad. For a mum I never knew. Not really.

  My legs go from underneath me. I fall to the ground, the ice stabbing me the moment I touch the floor. I don’t know when I started crying, but salty tears mingle in with sweat. I grab my numb legs up to my chest and curl into a ball on the field.

  I need to get up before the cold claims me completely.

  ***

  ‘SOLA!’

  My body freezes as I limp my way towards the Wetpod.

  I’ve trained by myself once again. My fight alongside Coral is tomorrow. And for some reason, Dylan is calling my name for the first time in over seven weeks. He jogs up by the side of me.

  ‘I’m headed this way, too,’ he says by way of an explanation. My feet hit the ground faster, my gaze unwavering from ahead.

  ‘Big fight tomorrow. I saw your practice drills.’

  If this is his way of making conversation, he can forget it. Maybe he thinks I’ll die tomorrow and wants to ease his conscience by making up beforehand.

  ‘Fine. You don’t want to talk’ he says. ‘I only wanted to say you need to keep your arms in; you’re exposing your sides too often.’ He sounds annoyed now, as if he’s tried oh-so hard. I reach the entrance to the Wetpod, but I don’t want us to be trapped in there together, so I stalk past it and across the next field.

  ‘Thanks for the h
eads up. Will you go now?’ I snap once I realise he’s following me.

  ‘I’m trying to help!’

  ‘You can help by leaving me alone.’ A fallen twig snaps underfoot as I stomp ahead.

  ‘You hate me, I get it. Maybe you’ve finally caught on that this is all my fault.’ He speaks as if he’s being sarcastic, as if he would be annoyed if I really did think that. Yet, I’m not sure. My mind is fried, and I can’t deal with stupid Demonstrators who want to mess with my head.

  ‘Just don’t let it get you killed,’ he adds.

  And that’s it. Something inside me explodes.

  ‘Who do you think you are?’ I ask, spinning around. ‘Going round, telling people how to feel? How to act? How to stay alive? I’m sick of it, and I’m sick of you!’ I step forwards. His face flashes surprise, then resilience. He stays where he is. ‘So I’ll fight with my arms waving in the air,’ I continue. ‘I’ll fight without a gun. I’ll fight without Shepherd Fines’ help and I’ll fight without you even if it does get me killed!’

  Silence. We’re inches apart. I embrace the heat which flushes my face, my chest, my tummy. He nods.

  ‘Throwing another lifeline away. How unlike you,’ he says quietly and turns away. I hate him for not shouting at me. I hate him for being calm and disappointed and only caring about me out of guilt when I love every inch of him. After he walks a few paces, I catch up to him and grab his shoulder, spinning him round.

  ‘Fight me,’ I say.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You think I can’t handle myself. So fight me. Don’t hold back. Whoever gives up first loses.’

  ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’ He says it as though it’s an answer. He’s already turning away.

  ‘I know you’re not. Come on; if I win, you don’t get to tell me what to do ever again. And if you win . . .’ I scratch around for something which he might want.

  ‘If I win, you wear a gun tomorrow,’ he says slowly, angling himself to face me once again.

  Mum flashes in my mind. I don’t think I could pull that trigger . . . then again, I won’t lose this.