The Lost Kids: A Young Adult Dystopian Romance

by J. L. Smith

  “The great equalizer,” Susie added. “Like death.”

  “So, they’ll just let us in?” Stef asked, directing her question at Rayder, who was washing his face. She continued in this vein, but I lost focus.

  Instead, I watched Rayder, temporarily mesmerized as the water fell from his skin, little droplets clinging to his eyelashes. Being in his constant company meant that his good looks were having less of a paralyzing effect on me, but there were still moments when I felt as if I could not breathe. I heard a throat clear quietly beside me and turned to see Susie grinning at me. My face heated in response and I quickly looked away, catching Saffron’s gaze as I did. Perhaps there was nothing between them, but there was no doubt in my mind that Saffron had long ago marked Rayder as somehow belonging to her.

  “They buy organs,” Rayder was saying, as I redirected my attention towards the conversation once more. “Just like everyone else. And they’re willing to pay good money. Apparently, not too many runners make it that far north.”

  “Right,” Susie nodded, “so, after a week-long journey, we just knock on some big door and they let us in?”

  “That’s the plan,” responded Rayder, flashing a self-deprecating grin.

  “Good plan!” Susie laughed, twisting her blonde hair into a bun on top of her head.

  “Yeah,” Rayder admitted dryly, “Aren’t they always?”

  “Oh, you bet,” Susie replied, raising her eyebrows ironically.

  The week-long journey was dull. We tried to entertain ourselves as we went, playing silly games, singing off-key and even resorting to counting the cacti, an effort which Neal eventually banned, instead offering an equation to work out the math of the vegetation distribution. As could be expected, Saffron did not participate in our antics and neither did Rayder, who seemed to be locked in his own head. In contrast, I was almost as chatty as Susie, likely irritating our companions on more than one occasion. It was everything I could do not to think about what lay in the flat bed of our truck – a chest full of organs, a whole host of lives lost, their histories erased forever.

  It was the final morning of our journey, when Rayder was behind the wheel and the others were sleeping, that I found myself in a particularly contemplative mood. I asked, almost too softly for Rayder to hear, “Ever think you’d be doing this?”

  “What part of this?” he replied, looking at me in the rear-view mirror.

  “The organ part,” I said, inclining my head towards the back of our truck, where Stef and Kieran sat exposed to the elements.

  “No,” he said, “but then I’ve surprised myself before.” His expression was inscrutable and I was not planning on responding, when he added, “But, this has got to be an all-time low.”

  “Yeah,” I said, sighing, “that, it is.”

  I was having a hard time reconciling my feelings on the matter, barely able to recognize who I even was anymore. How was this me? How was I part of a scheme to sell human organs? I looked down at myself, the black boots which ended midway up my shins, the black torn denim jeans, the black painted fingernails. I had changed, in more ways than just the clothes I wore.

  “What doesn’t kill you, right?” Rayder said, raising his eyebrows, as if mocking himself.

  “We’ll still have to see about that,” I replied.

  “It’s not going to be the underground city, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said.

  “How do you know?”

  “You’ll see,” he replied mysteriously.

  Confused, I responded, my forehead creased in question, “You said you hadn’t been there.”

  “I haven’t. But I’ve heard enough about it.”

  We arrived at the underground city, aptly called Paradise Falls, around mid-afternoon that day. With water rather scarce at our stops along the way, we were a sweaty, smelly bunch, with unwashed clothes and hair.

  Susie took one look at the entrance to the city and promptly burst out laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  Just as she had predicted, there was a great door, and that was about it. For now, at least. It presented a stark contrast to the desert surrounding it – the flat pebbly landscape, the sparse vegetation, the tiny yellow and pink flowers dotted amongst the thorns. Instead of sad and neglected, the architectural style to which we were accustomed, the door stood tall and proud, shining in all its white and gold glory.

  “Is that real gold?” Kieran asked, sneering, as he jumped out of our pickup truck.

  “More than likely,” Neal concluded, adjusting his glasses as if to get a better look.

  Folding her arms suspiciously, Stef asked, “What is that thing?”

  “It’s an elevator,” Neal answered, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  “A what?” Susie said skeptically. “And are those cameras at the top?”

  “To answer your first question,” Neal continued, “an elevator is a contraption that moves one up and down. Instead of taking the stairs, we stand still and it moves.”

  “Awesome,” Kieran replied, nodding his approval.

  “As to the second question,” Neal added, “yeah, those are cameras.”

  “So, do we wave and hope for the best?” I said, only half joking.

  “We ring the bell,” Saffron said, evidently understanding just how the elevator worked. “And hope like hell the doors open.”

  Rayder pressed what Neal referred to as a doorbell, while I examined the intricacies of the door itself. It was beautiful, I had to admit. Despite my pounding heart, as we waited anxiously for something to happen, I could not help but be transfixed by the door itself. Ornate and alive with detail, it seemed to tell a story of times past – great battles, stunning victories and violent defeats.

  “Is this the Last War?” I asked, tracing the gold of the door with my fingertips.

  “Probably,” Neal answered. “Although historically, it’s likely a little one-sided in favor of those below.”

  “Neal!” Stef whispered urgently. “They’re probably listening to us.”

  “State your business,” a female voice interrupted, coming from a speaker above the door. I could not decide whether she sounded hostile.

  “We’re selling organs,” Rayder responded bluntly, looking directly up into a camera overhead. “We have everything you’d be looking for.”

  There was a lengthy, agonizing pause, then, “One moment, please.”

  Just like that, the doors started to open, “And, boom, that’s how it’s done,” said Susie, grinning widely.

  We stepped inside the elevator and I found myself looking briefly back at the sands of the desert, wondering how this new underground world would compare. The doors closed soundly behind us, the bright lights within the great elevator garish and jarring. We waited a few minutes, none of us speaking and then, with a brief jolt, we started to move, the downward sensation exciting, even if it caused my stomach to churn a little. Within the minute, we came to an abrupt stop, all of us seeming to hold our breath for the moment it took the doors to open. We were met by sheer whiteness – a large room with shiny white walls, a row of people dressed from head to toe in white plastic protective gear, their faces covered by transparent plastic masks, their hands in gloves and their feet in oversized boots. Even their guns, aimed at us, were white.

  “Before we proceed,” a blonde-haired man standing in the middle of the row said briskly, his tone of voice almost robotic, “we need to check you for weapons.” We had expected it and their search of us turned up nothing dangerous. “Now that that’s done,” the man said hastily once we had been searched, “show us the organs.”

  Rayder and Kieran had hauled them along with us. Rayder eyed the man briefly, before opening the chest of organs.

  “Eat your heart out,” Rayder said, gesturing towards the chest, while gazing directly at the man, not budging an inch.

  The man hesitated, as if sizing Rayder up, and then stepped towar
ds us. I got the distinct impression that he did not want to get too close, as if our very presence could somehow contaminate him. He seemed almost offended by us, as he peered into the chest, his movements awkward as he sifted amongst the organs as quickly as possible. All the while, he kept looking up at Rayder, as if expecting an attack at any instant. Rayder simply folded his arms, watching the young man with an expression close to amusement on his face.

  “Right,” the man said, stepping back hurriedly, as if attempting to avoid some sort of plague, “all in order. If you’ll follow us, we can proceed with the cleansing.”

  “The cleansing?” Rayder asked, his tone betraying irritation. “Before I get intimate with anyone, I like to know their name, maybe a bit about them.”

  Susie stifled a nervous laugh and I grinned, taking in the man’s slightly shocked expression.

  “That’s not how it works,” he said stiffly, his lips pursed in distaste.

  “If that’s not how it works,” Rayder countered, “would you mind telling us how it does happen to work?”

  The man bristled, folding his arms as he began to explain, anger lacing his tone, “We cleanse you, take you to the hospital for the exchange and then you leave.”

  “Why don’t we just leave the organs here?’ Rayder asked.

  “They need to be tested,” the man answered. “We find it’s less complicated if the seller comes with us.”

  “You mean, if they’re diseased, you can exterminate us nice and quietly down there too,” Rayder said, a hint of something satirical in his voice.

  The man did not respond, but Rayder had clearly struck a nerve, for he glared at us all thoroughly before escorting us from the room. I followed the others, my arm held in place by an older woman with a grip of steel. Where she thought I would run, I could not be sure. I was directed into the next room, where there stood at least a dozen large white pods against the wall, where the so-called cleansing apparently took place.

  “Clothes off once you’re in the pod,” the blonde man instructed. “And then simply follow the prompts.”

  Saffron gave him a dubious look, “What, we just head on in there, no questions asked?”

  “Correct,” he responded curtly.

  Sighing loudly, she muttered, “And you think we’re the savages.”

  I walked towards my assigned pod and pulled the door open, stepping into the strange, confined space. It smelled clinical, so much so that the odor almost burned my nostrils. I undressed somewhat warily and waited.

  “Insert your belongings into the designated chute,” a female voice said through a speaker overhead, while a waist-height white funnel lit up in blue.

  I did as I was told, parting with my belongings tentatively and hoping I would see them again. I had become rather attached to my new look.

  “Stand with your feet on the designated markers,” the woman said and I placed by feet into the grooves lit up in blue on the floor.

  “Cleansing will begin in ten, nine, eight…” the voice continued, counting down, while I closed my eyes in expectation for the feel of soft water.

  Instead, I was met with a harsh rush of current, streams of water shooting at me from every conceivable angle. I screwed my eyes shut tighter, as my face was pummeled with scalding hot water. The assault was constant and I opened my mouth in shock at the temperature, only to get a mouth full of soapy water. Spitting it out, I rubbed my face with my hands, but it was not long before something else was scrubbing me, dozens of coarse sponges. I felt as if my skin were being chafed away, bit by bit. It was more than an invasion, as tiny sponges intruded in every crevice, like indecent hands, they pried and probed. Just when I was getting used to the feeling, I felt a prick on my shoulder, but when I tried to open my eyes, I got another splash of water in the face. I was sure they had taken my blood. It only lasted a few minutes in all, the smell of detergent strong, after which I was blow-dried, the sponges replaced by gusts of hot air.

  “Cleansing complete,” the woman, whom I now detested, declared over the speaker. “Your clothes may be found in the alternate chute.”

  I finally opened my eyes and, looking down, unsurprisingly found my skin red and blotchy from the treatment. Opening the lit-up chute, I reached for my new outfit – pale blue overalls, complete with blue underwear and sneakers – and put them on hastily. I assumed I had passed their not-so-surreptitious health inspection with my blood results and, while marveling at the speed with which it had been conducted, I also found myself wondering what happened to those who failed.

  They did not give me long to change into my new outfit, before the doors were opened and I was greeted by the older woman who was my escort. I stepped out, looking around for my friends, who emerged from their own pods, an array of expressions on their faces. It was almost comical. Saffron looked enraged, Neal curious and contemplative, while Susie looked slightly amused and Rayder largely unsurprised.

  “Now that the niceties are done,” Rayder said ironically, his face splotchy from the heat of the pod, “how about we get down to business?”

  “Agreed,” Susie chimed in and I could detect a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “That was a simply splendid welcome, by the by.”

  “If you’ll follow me,” the blonde man said without comment, “we can make our way to the hospital.”

  Saffron muttered a string of swear words as we were directed towards another set of silver elevator doors, apparently not remotely concerned that everyone could hear her. I almost laughed, thinking of her expression within the pod. But, once the elevator doors opened, her tirade came to a halt, as all of us stared speechlessly at the sight to behold.

  The elevator was made of glass, the floor to ceiling windows allowing a clear view of Paradise Falls. And it was exactly that – paradise. Everywhere you looked, there was green. Huge, leafy trees stared back at us from down below, covered in flowers of every variety, from bright orange, to soft pink, to stark white. Lush vines crept up the buildings, tastefully interspersed amongst the great, heaving branches, many of them ripe with fruit the likes of which I had never seen before. The buildings themselves looked nothing like the ones above ground. They were new, or at least well looked after, in styles of architecture I had never imagined. Some of them were painted white, with pale wooden shutters over the windows and quaint wraparound porches, while others were more ornate, showcasing tall spires, mythological creatures and dark, mossy brickwork. There was something like a palace near the center, in gray and gold, beside which stood a great clock and a giant tower. It was a mishmash of styles, I imagined, bits and pieces from the old world that humanity was not ready to forget.

  “Big Ben. The Eiffel Tower,” Neal whispered, pointing in astonishment.

  “What?” Susie said softly, clearly in awe.

  “Is it historically accurate?” Neal asked the blonde man, without answering Susie’s question.

  “According to our records, yes,” he responded, pride unmistakeable in his tone.

  “What is all this?” Stef asked, pressing her hands against the glass, before her escort quickly removed them with a shake of her head.

  “What we’ve lost,” Neal responded, seemingly deep in thought. “The architectural best of history.”

  “Almost lost,” the blonde man corrected, gazing in appreciation at his underground haven.

  “Too bad you don’t allow a few more of us in here,” Kieran muttered loudly.

  Saffron snorted, “It’s pretty and all,” she said, waving her hand, “but I’ll still take the real world, thank you very much.”

  She looked at Rayder, as if seeking his affirmation. He did not seem to notice. “And the waterfall in the middle?” he said. “What’s the deal with that?”

  “It symbolises what we have down here,” the man answered without hesitation. “Paradise Falls,” he continued, presumably in case any of us had forgotten the name of their hideout.

  “Right,” Rayder drawled, “that and a ma
ssive waste of scarce resources.”

  My lips quirked in amusement and I muttered, “Still, I wouldn’t turn down my first swim.”

  Rayder glanced at me briefly, then added, “But, hey,” he looked at our blonde friend again and raised his eyebrows, “it looks great.”

  The man scowled at Rayder and silence stretched throughout the elevator as we descended into the city. I had to agree with Rayder – in the real world, people would kill for that quantity of water. But, still, there was something magical about it all. There was a certain air of strange serenity in the greens of the leaves and the way the late afternoon light caught the red and gray bricks of the finely crafted buildings. It was otherworldly, I had to remind myself, utterly fabricated and without a hint of truth. Yet, perhaps I would have given up the hard truths of our world for this soft, false one, if only they would have bothered to ask me.

  “How do you choose who lives here?” I asked spontaneously.

  The response to my question was a withering look from the blonde nameless man, “We don’t choose. You’re either born here or you’re not.”

  I felt my cheeks redden in irritation at his condescending tone, “Right,” I replied in annoyance, “just asking for a friend.”

  Susie and, to my surprise, Rayder sniggered at this and I felt a certain degree of triumph. It was short-lived, as we dipped into a tunnel, our surroundings going black as we entered the city below. My heart beat in anticipation, as I wondered where we would land.

  It was like the red curtain being pulled aside to reveal the extravagance of the stage, as the silver elevator doors opened. The waterfall was before us, rumbling proudly, the consistent crash of its waters spilling over rocks and settling somewhere deep within me.

  “This way, if you will,” our escort said briskly, ushering us quickly from the elevator.

  I barely noticed the others, as I took it all in, the strange ordinariness of everyday life down there. Besides the beauty that was the city, there were normal-looking people rushing about their normal lives, a little girl who could have been a child I recalled from the winter’s fair, a woman who looked a little like Nita, with her eyes made for hating. Some of them looked tired; some of them looked sad – just like everyone up where we came from. It was simply an accident of geography that brought them down below, or us up above.