We’re so close, I can hear her high-pitched wheeze. Without warning, agony darts through my face. My nose cracks under the side of her head as she head-butts me.
I’m choking on blood. It covers my face, inside and out. I wrestle from Coral’s grip and gulp down breath. Maybe now I’ll match Dylan with his twice-broken nose.
A flicker of movement tells me I shouldn’t have given myself a moment to recover.
Coral is going for the sword.
So do I.
She moves so fast I swear I’m watching her dance. She skids on the sand, launches herself on tiptoes, spins around, and grabs something from her belt.
The gun.
Don’t think, don’t look, don’t scream. Just act.
Lean.
Grab the gun away as she brings it from her belt. Just like I did with Dylan—only faster.
Coral’s eyes widen as I wrench her wrist around. I’m still running, so we crash to the sands together. This time my hand clutches something solid. She punches and scrapes, but I loop an arm around her scrawny neck and pull the back of her head up against my chest.
I don’t even know what I’m doing until I look up to the screen.
I sit, legs apart, flanking Coral. She’s frozen with fear, her chest thumping as hard as my own. The black makeup covering my eyes has smudged into the sticky red blood pulsing from my nose. My cheek is barely recognisable; a dark gash runs from the side of my nose to my jaw. And in my hand, barrel hard against Coral’s temple, is the gun.
All I can feel is calm. It’s as though time itself pauses just for me. I see every jaw-slacked face in the crowd staring down at us from above the layer of fire. I see the hatred in my own eyes. The fear that lives in me and everyone in this Stadium. All this time I’ve been embracing it, letting that monster inside fight for me to survive. Just like everyone in Juliet embraces their fear of other cities.
Dylan was right, I can’t change the world.
But I can make my own choices. I can find a balance between who I was and who I am now. I can still be a fighter, a Demonstrator, and not lose me.
With a heavy, slow hand, I pull the gun away.
‘I can’t shoot you,’ I say, but my voice is a wheeze. Coral rolls sideways, quick as a slap. I cast the gun behind me and hear short, high-pitched laughs coming from Coral.
‘You’re still obsessed with me. Why, Sola?’ Her eyes dart to the sword, an equal distance from both of us.
I drag my bleeding body to my feet.
‘Don’t you understand that the more you try and be nice to me, the more I hate you?’ As she talks, she edges towards the sword. She thinks I haven’t noticed. I close the gap between us with stumbling steps.
‘My whole life, you’ve been there. Like a whiny pet. You take things which are mine, then act like an angel. What do I have to do to get you to despise me like I despise you?’
She rushes towards the sword. I barrel into her, and she ricochets from me onto the sands. I don’t turn to watch her scramble up. I’m forcing my body towards the sword. My hand clamps around the cool handle, and I haul it up.
Coral’s speech was wasted. I never said I couldn’t kill her. I only said I couldn’t shoot her.
I turn.
Coral stands opposite. One arm dangles by her side, the other points towards me. In her hand is the gun. All my hope evaporates from my chest.
‘You really need to work on predicting your opponent’s move. Why would I go for a sword when there’s a gun right here?’ she asks. Her face looks almost disappointed.
I drop the sword. I’m a fool.
I’m still expecting something more. Some grandiose event or word to mark the end of my life. But there’s just a sound like a champagne cork popping and a sting in my chest.
I look down. My shirt’s so saturated that the black blood pumps right out of it. I don’t know whether everyone is really this still or if time has stopped.
As I’m staring at my wound, the sting wakes up. It spreads pain through my chest, like a giant claw tearing my body to shreds.
I can’t breathe. My breaths are half screeches, half notes of a song. My knees hit the floor. My body curls itself around the wound, like those old paper fishes that twist in your palm to signify your mood.
The flames lining the arena edge singe my back. I must be lying down, because Coral’s legs walk up to me sideways-on. Behind her, the night sky beckons me towards it, the smoke from the fire making swirling patterns in the air.
I try to get up, scrambling around on the sand just like I did that day on Coral’s trampoline. It’s no use. I’m dying in so many different ways, and Coral hardly has a scratch on her.
‘Sorry, I missed. I’ve never used a gun before.’ She talks to me as if we’re discussing a burnt dinner or something. ‘No matter.’ She crouches down.
Hot tears mingle with blood on my face.
‘I don’t want to die,’ I whisper. My body hiccups with each painful sob. I know she just shot me, but as my vision clouds around the edges I reach my hand out for Coral to hold. I can’t go alone.
My hand is left cold.
‘Please, Sola. This is embarrassing. None of this is fun if you don’t hate me!’ Coral snaps.
I close my eyes against the image of her face.
‘How about this. Listen to me.’ She sounds desperate now, more concerned than she has this whole fight. ‘What about if I tell you I celebrated when your mum died?’
My muscles clench, the agony making me cry out.
‘That’s doing it, isn’t it? Not only did I celebrate, Sola, but I think of it every year and smile to myself. It’s the 20th of May, isn’t it?’
My back slams into the floor. I think I’m convulsing.
She giggles. Her laugh is like a thousand needles injected into my ears. The pain travels through my body, translating into manic shouts in my mind. The fire behind us blazes and ebbs as if it’s responding to my scattered thoughts.
‘I guess this year, I’ll have two dates to celebrate,’ she whispers.
Something’s pulling at me, dragging me down. Coral’s words slither like a snake towards me. I make sense of them, arranging them so I can understand.
Then, it’s clear. Once more, that white calm washes over me. It could be that I’m dead, so I smile and hum the notes of my mum’s favourite melody. They drift from my mouth, encapsulating me. Giving me strength. Lifting me up.
I’m not dead. Yet.
I’m Sola Herrington.
A Person.
A Demonstrator.
Unafraid.
Coral doesn’t even have time to pout as I push my ruined body to its feet and grab her shoulders. She’s still laughing. I sing.
And I twist.
I push her towards the fire.
Her arms flay up like hair underwater. The surprise in her wide eyes turns to realisation, and then to fear as she tries to grab onto something to stop her fall. I step away, pulling my hands far from reach. There’s a second of disbelief on her face when she falls. She didn’t think I could ever do it. That I would ever let go.
Her red hair goes first, burning like a crimson halo.
My knees hit the ground once more. I can’t watch the flames consume Coral. My old best friend, my possible sister, my attempted killer.
Yet I feel it—the moment she dies. The link holding us together for so long breaks, as if I’ve had a rope binding me to her all this time. I lean backwards with the full weight of myself.
The edges of my vision blur and cave in on me. The screen shows my dying face while music blares. I read the dancing words.
Sola Herrington has paid back her Debt.
I’M FREE, flying high above a field full of four-leaf clovers. Stars burn bright in the sky, and I’m so close I could touch one. In a rush, the sun swings down. It heats my face, and I was right—it is like having a bath, but more magnificent. The ocean thunders below, crashing like it does in films. Just like in the spinner, the breeze lifts my hair
from my shoulders.
I wince in my paradise. Something cuts into my chest, collar bone and stomach, making them ache. That isn’t fair. Nothing should hurt here.
The sun dips below the water, its light fading away until there’s nothing above me—no pollution, no stands, no crowd. Just open air with stars and impurities and never-ending opportunity. When the rain comes, I open my mouth to catch it, and water flows through me.
Then there’s pain. It’s not welcome in this place. Suffering weighs me down, dragging me from the sky and into the ocean. I thought I would like it here, but waves crash down on me again and again. Knocking me against jagged rocks, letting the hate in through my old wounds, reviving the animal inside I thought I’d killed. I can’t breathe. I can’t swim. I gasp.
And gasp.
And gasp.
Until air rushes into my body. The field, stars, sea, sky, wind, sun, and rain shine so bright that they become one white hot light.
A bitter antiseptic smell fills my senses. Pins pierce my skin. Eyes loom above.
Eyes I recognise.
Shepherd Fines.
‘She’s awake!’
Am I? I blink. And blinking hurts . . . because everything hurts. The sea has disappeared and left me in a room. A bright, colourless room that I’ve seen before. Not the Medic’s Cabin, but the hospital in Juliet. Someone squeezes my hand.
‘Sola, Sola, if you can hear me say Shepherd Fines.’
‘Shepherd—’
‘Great stuff! Great stuff!’
Machines surround me, chiming in a melody of beeps. Medics stand back, congratulating themselves and Shepherd Fines. What have they got to be so happy about?
Then, I see him. A face I would recognise even through a torrent of pain and fire. A face I never thought I would see again.
He has red, glassy eyes. When he looks at me, his chest pulses as he gasps in relief. He stands well back. I know he wants to come over. I can sense it in the way he leans towards me despite his unmoving feet. If the link between Coral and me was a thick, thorny rope, then what connects me to Dylan is a silk thread.
Coral. The Demonstration. The gunshot.
I jolt upwards, running my hands down my body.
‘Calm down, Sola. You’re okay, you’re okay. I told them to do whatever they could to save you. The shot just missed your heart, although you won’t be using your arm for a while.’ Shepherd Fines speaks. ‘Also, you’ll be left with a few pretty scars.’
I suck air through my teeth as he ushers the medics away. They trail out, chattering excitedly amongst themselves.
Once the door’s shut, terror claims me. I don’t understand why Shepherd Fines is here. Aren’t I free?
‘I won’t go back. I won’t do it again. I’ve finished, I don’t care if there’s another twist. I’m not fighting!’ At first, I don’t even realise the blurry words are coming from me.
‘No, no. No one’s making you do anything again. You’ve finished your tour. You won the fight!’ Shepherd Fines says.
‘Why are you here? Where’s my dad?’
My questions upset him. He looks away.
‘My dear, your father is waiting outside. He’s been at your bedside for days.’
Days? How long have I been lying here?
‘I’m here because . . . because I was wrong. Actually, it’s not exactly wrong to organise an unfair fight for your last game.’ He chuckles and looks at Dylan as if seeking reassurance. He doesn’t find any. ‘However, I think my own personal regard for you affected my judgement. When I thought you were going to die, I kept remembering the times you made me chuckle. And although there was a time I might have desired more, I’ve recently come to the decision that we are probably better as friends.’ He squeezes my palm, looking down at me with a pitying smile. I get the impression he thinks that he’s letting me down gently.
‘Between us boys—’ He grins to Dylan. ‘—that Ebiere is really rather something. I got chatting to her after the Demonstration yesterday. Really chatting. She’s got quite the wit!
‘Anyway, Sola, my dear. I wish to make this mess up to you. I’m a powerful man. I want to give you a gift. I can’t change the laws, so don’t you be getting any ideas!’ He waggles a finger at me. ‘However, I am willing to make one exception. Anything you want. I will even—’ He looks to Dylan and sighs. ‘I will even allow Mr Casey here to move to city Juliet, if you so wish.’
My heart leaps. There’s a foreign sensation in my face—I’m smiling.
But, just as fast, my body sinks down.
When I tell Shepherd Fines what I want, he looks surprised, but nods all the same.
‘Very well.’ He clicks his teeth again. ‘I guess I better leave you two alone for a moment then.’
I don’t have the heart to tell him he’s still holding my hand.
Eventually, he stands. He leans down as if to kiss my forehead, but settles on running his hand over it instead. I give Shepherd Fines a smile as he leaves. When he reaches the door, he looks back.
‘You really don’t think I’m like him? You know, Dr Frankenstein?’
The truth is that I don’t know, but instead I say, ‘Not if you don’t want to be.’
He grins.
‘Hmm, I didn’t think so. I’m more of a Don Corleone, wouldn’t you say?’ He laughs at his reference to The Godfather and walks out of the room, nodding to himself as if to reaffirm his decision.
I stare as long as I can at the back of the closed door once it has slid shut. Now that I’m alone with Dylan, fear and anxiety creep over me. I’ve won an impossible battle, yet I’m nervous about being alone with the man I love.
He steps forwards. I swing my legs out of bed, pain shooting through to my fingers and toes as I perch on the edge. I’m glad to see I’m dressed in pyjamas and not naked.
‘Sola, do you remember me?’ he asks tentatively. It’s enough to make me burst into giggles.
‘I definitely remember that voice,’ I croak out, my nervousness evaporating. I reach for his hand with my good arm and pull him close.
His touch is gentle, apprehensive. As if he’s scared of breaking me. I seek his mouth with mine, and he gives in with a loaded sigh. He kisses me deeply, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. Although it hurts, I don’t let on.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper when we part. My lips brush his mouth as I talk. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t choose you.’
He shakes his head, soothing my worries with a gentle, shh.
‘It’s one of the reasons why I love you,’ he says, tracing my cheek with his thumb. ‘You’re being kind, Sola.’
I don’t know if he realises that his words mirror our first conversation. For some reason, they bring tears to my eyes. But I don’t regret my choice. Knowing Alixis will be allowed to return home with her son goes somewhere to make me feel okay again. In a way, it repairs some of the damage Coral has done to my family and me over the years, like putting flowers over a grave.
Fed up with hospital beds, I try to stand. Dylan helps me gain my balance.
‘Dylan,’ I whisper. ‘How bad does it look?’ I’m not so stupid that I haven’t noticed there are no mirrors in this room. The bumps of healing skin on my body are as thick as folds in a sheet.
Dylan doesn’t reply. Instead, he places his hands on my waist. Keeping eye contact, he pulls my top up slowly, so that it shows my midriff. I take hold of the top, and Dylan kisses every stitch, staple, and scar until he reaches my nose. It isn’t sore, but I can tell from touching it that it’s changed shape. When he runs his lips over my cut cheek, I wince. It’s hard to bring myself to feel the thick line which runs over half of my face. At some point, I’ll look at the damage. The first time, I’m sure I’ll cry, but I’ll get over it. I’m alive; who cares what my face is like?
Finally, it’s time to let go.
‘Dylan,’ I say, ‘you never told me why you stayed on as a Demonstrator.’
Dylan smiles. ‘You’re right, so I didn’t.’
> ‘I think I know,’ I whisper.
‘Oh yeah?’
I think about how Dylan has never mentioned his parents, yet somehow I don’t think they’re dead.
‘Your family didn’t want you back, did they?’
He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear easily.
‘No, they didn’t. The Shepherds encouraged my ma to have another child. By the time I finished my tour, I had a baby brother.’ He shrugs, still smiling—not happily, but like he has made his peace with this long ago. ‘Would you want a ten year old killer around your newborn baby?’ he asks.
‘That’s not really fair.’
Another shrug. ‘Probably not, but it’s life. I got to meet you, didn’t I?’
He’s grinning now, that mischievous sparkle is back in those blue eyes.
‘Aye,’ I say, faking his accent, ‘that you did.’ I’m definitely getting better at that. I take his hands in mine, and duck my head. ‘So . . . are you attending any parties in Juliet in the near future?’
Silence. I dare to look up. Dylan chews on his bottom lip. He’s keeping something from me.
‘Actually, Sola, I promised myself that if you woke up, I would find a way to be with you. If you want that—that is.’
‘Yes! I mean, yeah, I want that. But how?’
Dylan chuckles at my response.
‘Can’t you predict what I’m going to do?’ he asks. I glower at the reference to my failure as a Demonstrator. ‘Okay, okay,’ he puts his hands up, still grinning.
‘I don’t know if it will work, but I’m going to try and make a deal with Fines. I’ve finished my tour so I can threaten to go home. Or, I could offer to continue to demonstrate if I’m allowed to live here. With you. Well, maybe not with you—I mean, I’ll get my own place.’
I shut him up with a kiss—a glorious, arms-wrapped-around-his-neck, never-going-to-let-you-go kiss. It might take time, it might not work, but there’s a chance that we still get to be together. After everything I’ve been through, that chance is enough. Without warning, Dylan pulls away and glances nervously to the door.
‘Oh, I forgot. Your dad is outside. I met him.’
After the Fear (Young Adult Dystopian) Page 26