Grey

by Kayley Barratt

  Die. That word sounds amazing. It sounds like the door to water and safety. I’m already half way there, I’ll be dead soon, I know I will. I can feel it inside of me, I can hear it singing to me.

  No, I think to myself. It’s the dehydration talking. You’re strong enough for this. I fall into a timeless state of mind. Not looking at anything, not thinking of anything, just breathing.

  Suddenly, a cough rumbles from above me. I lift my eyes aimlessly, meeting another blurry shadow.

  “Here,” she says. “Water.”

  She throws me a bottle of clear liquid and it rolls across the soil to my toes. My hands reach out for it, grabbing it slowly and cautiously.

  “Thank you,” I say, I tighten my grip around the lid, almost tasting the cure to death.

  “That bottle is to remain by your side for the duration of the harvesting. If it has been opened, if a single drop is missing, then you will be out here every day under my supervision until I say otherwise.”

  I snap my eyes up, glaring at one of her faces that is ugly and damaging. I slowly drop the bottle, placing it beside my leg as I resist the urge to use what’s left of my strength to throw it at her.

  “Good,” she says. “You’re learning. If those brats down there can do it without water, then it’s rather selfish of you to ask for it. The Lord detests selfishness. Now, get back to work and I expect to see at least another twenty baskets making their way to that truck.”

  I keep my eyes on her faces as she smirks to herself while moving on by, the whip swinging from her fingertips. When she is gone, I weakly roll the bottle back and forth from my leg, wishing that I hadn’t been foolish enough to ask.

  “Told you,” Ruth says. “You’re lucky to take on Joan and still be conscious.”

  “Yeah, lucky,” I whisper, nudging myself closer to the rock to begin digging again. I take a breath before plunging the rock into the ground while the dizziness still makes me feel sick and disoriented.

  “You’ll get used to the way things are done here,” Ruth mutters, meeting my jumpy eyes. “Sooner or later, they all do. If you survive this, kid, you might just wish you hadn’t.”

  Chapter 15

  The sound of a far-away klaxon rumbles through the hot air, causing me to remain still while I try to observe what is happening. The noise must symbolise something big because the entire group has also paused their labour and are staring up, waiting for the noise to drown out.

  “You know what the noise means,” a supervisor shouts from across the field. “Move!”

  Breathless and weak, I copy the actions from the other girls and I slowly rise to my feet, leaving my half-full basket behind as I waddle forwards while stumbling through the air. I know that I must walk, I know that I must continue, but the more I try to move further, the more my legs just give way and I fall towards the ground.

  I manage to keep vertically adrift without falling completely, but it’s taking everything I have to do so. My limbs are frail like doll parts, my breathing pattern is so staggered that I don’t know which way is out or in, I don’t even have a sense of direction—I just keep fumbling my way towards anywhere that is away from this field.

  That way is freedom, and I approach it quicker and quicker while my feet keep turning into bizarre directions as I walk. Soon, I’m out of the field and I’m blending with the crowd of bodies that are dragging themselves in perfect straight lines, as I’m the odd one out, treading everywhere.

  “Get in line,” a voice snarls at me.

  I turn my head to look at Ruth who stares at me from one of the lines. I side-step until I fall into her line and I place myself behind her.

  “W-where are we g-going?” I blurt out.

  “Assembly,” she whispers quickly over her shoulder. “Pastor’s called it early. That isn’t good.”

  I go to reply but the blonde supervisor glances back from the front of the line, rolling her eyes across each face until becoming satisfied that we’re all under her control and glances forwards. The other supervisors are scattered across the path, leading their own lines of members and still swing their whips at the back of their bodies.

  To my left, in a different line, is one of the young girls. She moves as though someone has hacked into her joints, she doesn’t walk, she pulls herself—her eyes remain down, her expression sad as she tries her best to keep up. She’s a pretty girl. She has diamond-blue eyes and raven-coloured hair that has almost completely fallen out of her bun. She carries herself with so much pain that my heart breaks for her. Just like myself, she has probably never known love in her life. She has never known safety or company, she has always felt alone, misunderstood and insignificant. No one has ever helped her, no one has ever stood up for her, no one has ever tried to console her or lift her spirits—no one has ever given her a reason to live.

  But I will.

  I become stronger just by observing this girl. She inspires me to walk, to resist the weakness that drowns me, she lifts me. I shake the desperation to drink and to rest. I suppress it, allowing myself to heal instead.

  I won’t be broken. I’m lucky to still be standing, to still be alive, but I am not broken. The women and children around me might be halfway there, but I’m the only one that can see what they can’t.

  From what I know of cults, their motive is brainwash. Torture, slavery and control are just standard procedures to speed up the process. But brainwash is the endgame, it is their purpose. The members around me are not yet entirely brainwashed, hence why we are group C. Group B will be a step up—less likely to be saved.

  But group A?

  The thought of meeting them terrifies me. They’ve most likely lost themselves completely, forced into believing that the years of suffering that they have endured here is necessary. Then again, Elijah is a leader, and he’s been here his whole life and I was able to snap him out of his trance.

  If I can bring back a leader, someone that was much far gone than any of the members here, then getting through to the groups should be easy. But what if my encounter with Elijah was just something short of a miracle?

  What if the reality is that everyone here is beyond saving and beyond bringing back—what if, I am too?

  What if… none of us can ever be saved?

  Chapter 16

  Before attending assembly, we are all guided towards an outside drinking fountain which is attached to a wall and guarded by a male leader. We wait in our lines, all of us desperate and impatient to get to it—but remain controlled and silent. After minutes of waiting in queue, it’s finally my line’s turn. Because I’m at the back, I’m the very last person to have my turn. Mentally, I’m jumping up and down with joy—physically, I’m still slightly swaying and seeing spots cloud my pupils.

  Ruth walks forwards, she presses the button upon the fountain and drops her head onto the flow of water—I watch her with envy as she gulps down the water as though she’s been deprived of it for much longer than I have.

  Finally, she wipes her mouth and walks back towards me, passing me to get back to the end of the line. All that stands between me and the fountain is a few short steps. I push myself forwards, giddily approaching the fountain with a desperate waddle.

  Pressing that button and hearing the water pour from the tiny pipe is the sweetest sound in the world. I lower my head, bringing my mouth to curve around the edge of the opening, gasping as the water drizzles down my throat—healing the sore, dry patches of my temporary insanity. I don’t want it to ever stop. It’s orgasmic. It’s heavenly. In this moment, it is a life saver. Just a few droplets of water, just a few seconds of something so simple and I’m me again.

  It hasn’t quenched me completely, but is enough to last a while. It is enough for the blinding spots clouding my vision to disintegrate and for the muscles of my legs to harden, giving me a better sense of direction when I finally release my lips from the pipe, and walk back to the line. I’m still weak and I’m still nauseated, but I see the world so much more clearly. I
see everything.

  I straighten my spine behind Ruth, rubbing my fingers gently against my dirty sweatpants that are smothered in soil, grass and insects. I copy what everyone else does and I accede to the instructions of the blonde supervisor to follow her. We begin moving across the wide landscape and I suddenly become aware that no one else is around.

  No leaders, no members, no supervisors… no one.

  “Move it!” a supervisor shouts. “We’re late!”

  The line picks up the pace, our bodies move as one as we begin hurrying towards what looks like an ancient chapel in the near distance. The building is made of rusty stone, with a pile of white steps that lead up to two enormous high pillars that are engraved with swirling patterns that entwine up and down in spirals. The building itself looks thousands of years old and it makes me wonder if the entire academy was built around it.

  Every other building looks fairly new, not brand new—but newer than crusty, rotting stone that shakes gravel onto my head as I walk underneath it. This building must be important, it must hold some kind of particular history, something that the founder of the academy viewed as a centre piece to their artwork. It could hold answers.

  I follow my line into the entrance of the chapel. Inside, it resembles a giant church, except every inch of it is light grey and there are more pillars holding up the sky-high roof than brick. It smells of nothing, literally nothing. There is no fragrance of warmth, no aroma of pleasantry, there is no odour but the strong stench of sweat clinging to my armpits.

  The chapel is layered evenly. Around the level that I am standing on, is the platform of leaders and supervisors that are standing at steel railings with their hands behind their backs, staring downwards. I look downwards to where my line is heading—I begin walking down another set of steps that lead deeper into the depths of the chapel and towards all the uniformed, silent bodies that are organised in categories.

  As I reach the final step, falling behind my line that leads me left, I take notice of every member that is here. The women and men are separated. The men take the right side and us women take the left. And then we are split into our groups. At the front of the platform, I’m assuming, is group A, followed by group B in the middle region and my group at the back.

  That’s the logical sense of organising this.

  Every single head is down, every single body is stiff and rigid. I can’t get a glimpse of any face clearly, but almost every member has uncanny resemblances—partly because they all wear the same colour, have the same shaped hair and proclaim the same soulless aura. I’ve never experienced being with such an enormous amount of people in one room before and yet, I still feel as though I am standing alone.

  As I take note of all the groups that are divided evenly with large spaces between them, one thing becomes clear: group D isn’t here.

  “Children!” a voice suddenly exclaims from the lifted-up stage before us all. Duncan wanders across it, his hands spread out through the air as he looks over us. “I am deeply sorry for interrupting your daily activities, but the assembly had to be brought forward due to unforeseen circumstances. As you know, it is a breach of the rules to engage in what could be perceived to be sexual activity with any other member. It saddens me today to report that these rules have been breached.”

  I observe curiously as group A and group B let out shrills of gasps between them, glancing around in a state of disgust. I was right, they’re definitely gone.

  “Rule breaking will not be tolerated here in Cross Academy!” Duncan continues. “And as a result, I will present to you the two shameful members that will be publicly punished as a consequence of said breaching.”

  He turns to his left and rubs his fingers together, issuing a signal towards someone in the shadows of the stage. A few seconds later, two male leaders emerge, both of them clinging on to the hair of one female and one male. The female is a young girl, hardly a teenager, and the male looks young too, his body is flimsy and weak, he struggles in the grasp of the leader, but he cannot break free.

  The leaders throw them down onto the stage, and their bodies smack into the ground while peeking up in terror to meet the eyes of group A, who are snarling and spitting at them. Hands dive up to try and grab them, to try and pull them into the crowd because of irrational fury that doesn’t make sense to me. The girl treads backwards on her knees, trying to get as far from group A as possible while her eyes hold so much fear that she begins to hyperventilate.

  “It’s time for judgement,” Duncan says. “The Lord will rule!”

  “The Lord will rule!” Group A repeats in unison.

  Duncan unleashes a long, thick piece of metal that he rises above his head for a moment, before swinging it down and plying the girl with unbearable pain. Her screams fill the entire chapel, they echo throughout the walls, bouncing from one to another. He doesn’t seem to stop, he kicks her stomach as she rolls over onto her side, then proceeds to slam his boot into her face.

  I begin to fidget, feeling adrenaline course through my bones as I fight with what to do. I can’t watch this, everyone else can, but I can’t. I can’t stand here and be silent. I can’t stand here and cheer. I can’t hear those loud, agonising screams coming from such a small, petite person and do nothing.

  I begin to pace a little, moving side-to-side while I clench my teeth and ball my hands into hard, thorough fists. I glance up to the top platform of all the male leaders and my eyes find Elijah, he is staring at me, he shakes his head at me as though he knows what I am thinking.

  The cheers from the groups fuel my anger, how they can be happy to see this? How can they praise such a malicious and evil act?

  No, I can’t take it.

  I begin to move towards the stage, even if I have to take the place of that girl, I will—I’ll take every beating for her. I’ll take anything they throw at me, I just can’t listen to her screams any longer. I direct myself from the group and I cross over to the path in between the two sides that separate us, I put myself in the dangerous line of sight of everyone around me.

  My eyes fall on Duncan and I narrow them slowly, before I charge.

  Chapter 17

  I keep my eyes on Duncan, ready for my intervention, when suddenly, a strong hand grips my wrist, yanking me out of my charge and I am pulled back into the silence of group C. I stumble back into the crowd, turning to meet the calm eyes of Ruth.

  “Don’t,” she sneers. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Get off me,” I say, trying to break my wrist free from her grasp.

  “Look around you,” she says. “They’re testing you.”

  I gently turn my head, gazing upwards at the oval of supervisors and leaders. All of them are staring at me, all of them are evaluating me and they’re waiting for my reaction.

  “Every time a new member joins, Pastor brings the assembly forward,” Ruth says quietly. “In every assembly, something like this happens. He wants to divide the pure from the sinned.”

  “What happened to new members that spoke up?” I ask.

  “They were escorted out of here and we never saw them again.”

  I flinch as the girl’s screams, once again, bounce across the room. I turn away, clenching my teeth together as her cries for help push me to the edge.

  “The girl will be fine,” Ruth says. “She’ll be taken to medical. She’ll heal.”

  “And the boy?”

  “Pastor won’t touch him, he likes to make the boys watch. He favours them. They’ll both renounce their sins and then they’ll be free to re-join their groups. If their groups will allow them back.”

  I scowl at the word free. How is that freedom? How is being put back into a group a reward? By the sounds of group A, I suddenly get the feeling that the two of them belong there. And group A doesn’t seem like the forgiving type.

  “What if their group rejects them?”

  “They’ll be downgraded,” she says. “If group B refuse to take them, then they’ll be placed in our group, b
ut only if we take them.”

  Suddenly, the screams of the girl drown out and silence befalls the chapel—causing our conversation to be cut short. I turn around, my eyes flick back up to the stage and they land on the boy who has the face of someone that may as well had been beaten. Watching someone you care about endure such pain must be a greater punishment than the physical pain itself. The girl is still conscious, she’s a fighter, she lays on her hip with her arms tight around her stomach as she cradles herself softly while whimpering.

  Duncan blows some of his fallen hair out of his face that sticks to his forehead by sweat, he stands over the girl’s head, glancing down at her with a twisted smirk.

  “The only way to exile the devil, is to beat the devil!” Duncan shouts, igniting a wrath of praise from group A and B. “The female holds the devil. The sin of seduction. I do not blame this boy for falling for the devil’s trap.” He points his finger at the boy, making the boy turn his face away to gaze into oblivion. “It is not his fault that he was seduced. This slut took his attention from us. But now we have gained it back!”

  I look around as the roars continue, hands are now vertically pumping through the air and not desperately reaching towards the terrified boy. He wants to look towards the girl, I see it in his eyes, he wants to crawl over to her and wrap his slim arms around her. He wants to take the pain away. But he can’t because he knows she would be the one receiving the consequence. I’ve never seen bravery like that. He has to leave her alone in the loneliness to save her—even though that loneliness will last a very long time.

  “Settle down,” Duncan says to his beaming audience. “The devil has been cast out. Her sins will be heard. I will redeem her, I will save her!”

  The girl still holds her stomach, her head remains on the ground, she’s too scared to move. One of the leaders gathers her up in his arms and lifts her from the stage. She’s so tiny in his huge arms, such a breakable little thing. She doesn’t make a sound, she just allows him to carry her away from the boy that is desperate to see her.