Controllers (Book 1)

by Lynnie Purcell

  "Enough," a voice interrupts the violence.

  I look up and see the man in the gold jacket. He's come down from his perch. He still looks casual, but the device he had been holding is nowhere in sight. He has freed his hands. Benny checks his kick and steps away from me instantly. He stands taller, and his body language shifts to regimented and tough.

  "Killing them during the assessment is not a good idea," the man adds. "The council has forbidden it. Do it again and you'll answer to me."

  "I'm just having a bit of fun," Benny says.

  I look up at him in surprise. His snarl is gone and his expression is pleasant. He's afraid of the man. Fear isn't a good enough way to describe the emotion. He's terrified. How awful must the man be to scare Benny?

  "Have fun on your own time," he says.

  "I'm sorry, Ace," Benny replies sheepishly.

  Ace doesn't reply. He looks at Benny. Unlike me, he meets his eyes. There is no fear. Ace is the alpha in the situation. A muscle twitches in his jaw. I sit up with a low groan. Blood is on my lips, and I'm certain one of my ribs is cracked. I'm having trouble taking deep breaths. Benny finally understands that his presence is no longer needed. He walks away from Ace, his steps quick and faltering. He's eager to get away from Ace and avoid the trouble he sees in his face.

  "Do you need a medic?" Ace asks me. There is no compassion in his voice. It's a clinical question. It reminds me of Leslie.

  I carefully hide my wince. He's not impressed by weakness. I'm suddenly more afraid of him than I am of Benny. He's not sadistic like Benny. He doesn't burn hot and fast. He burns cold and slow. He calculates, he sees, he tears enemies down from the bottom up and moves when they least expect an attack. He won't have to touch me to kill me, and I won't feel his wrath right away. He is not a brute and a bully. He has far too much finesse and intelligence for that.

  I touch my lip absently, my eyes finding his before I remember not to look at him. I shake my head curtly and he holds his hand out for me to take. I push off the ground without touching him and stare at the floor defiantly. It's better than staring at him defiantly and getting into trouble.

  "Suit yourself," he says. "Through that door and down the steps is a hall. Walk to the end of it and you'll see a large room with no door on your left. Food is inside."

  Can he hear my stomach growling? Can he see how hungry I am in a glance?

  I nod at him to let him know I understand and he turns away stiffly. I finally look up at him as he walks away. He pulls a small metal cylinder the size of a pen out of his pocket. He taps it and it unfolds into the device I saw him making notes on earlier. He stops walking to watch Maria fight. She has a cut lip and a black eye. She will lose. She has more tenacity than skill.

  I stare at Ace's back for a minute. My hands are shaking. I push them against my sides and turn away. As I do, Honey and Willem catch my eye. They have taken Ace's place on the platform. Willem is looking down at a device similar to Ace's, but Honey is looking at me again. She's smiling. She's happy I've been hurt. I turn away before I show my anger at her amusement and walk to the door.

  A spiral staircase is on the other side of the door. I walk down it slowly, my body hurting with every step, and walk into a surprisingly warm hall at the bottom. The color of the wall is a soft blue that reminds me of the sky just after dawn. I'm surprised by the vividness. I reach out to touch the wall, to be sure I am not imagining things. It feels soft, like velvet.

  I glance to my right and see a round video camera pointed at me. I have a feeling someone is looking at me. I do not like the feeling. I lower my hand and walk down the hall, my curiosity disappearing from my face. My hand returns to my ribs as I move. Even the smallest of movements makes them throb painfully. I don't know what they have planned for me next, but I hope it is nothing physical. I won't be able to do anything for the next few days without wanting to die.

  I pass several closed doors along the long hall. I don't check to see if any of them are unlocked. I don't want to know if they're a potential escape route. The cameras are watching me. This is another test, albeit a subtler one. I know better than to fail.

  The hall seems to go on forever, the sky-blue walls stretching out in front of me endlessly. It makes me long for the sky. Finally, I come to an open door on the left.

  Wooden tables sit in regimented rows inside the open space. There is a table of black glass along the back wall. Though there are a lot of people in the room, the table is almost completely covered by food. My eyes move to the food first. It matters more than the other details. I step down the two stairs separating me from the room and keep my eyes lowered as I walk to the table. People look at me, assessing, probing. Some of them pity me. The guards look at me hatefully.

  I catch glimpses of colorful armbands as I walk. There's pink, green, blue, orange, yellow, and red. Green and red are the most common colors. At the row of tables farthest from the food, there's a patch of grey people with no colors. They're the ones who have already gone through the tests. Not very many of them are eating. They huddle together, looking around in fright, whispering about what they have been through and otherwise giving the appearance of terrified mice. I notice ten guards spaced throughout the room. They chat with their counterparts in seeming indifference to us, but the indifference is a lie. They're very alert and very willing to use their electric sticks. Everyone in the room knows not to test them.

  I pull a plate off the end of the table and look at the food. It takes me a minute to move around my shock. It's the most food I've ever seen in one place. There are fruits, vegetables, slices of meat, cheese, bread and some dishes that look as if they have been cooked, flavored and seasoned.

  At least they don't plan on starving us.

  My stomach urges me to stop being stupid, hurry up and put all of the things I can name on my plate. I decide to listen to it. It knows what I need far better than I do.

  I sit at the end of the table, away from the others. I don't want to be around their trembling, and I definitely don't want to hear their terrified whispers. I have my own fear to deal with it. I eat without looking up at them.

  My stomach sighs pleasantly as the food hits it. It's not just the most food I've had in days. It's the most food I've had at one time in my life. It tastes far better than the food packs, though I think the camp's vegetables have more flavor and our meat is fresher. Tears well up in my eyes at the thought. The truth floods over me in a wave.

  Camp. It's totally gone. It's a thing of past tense. Camp was. Camp had. It's nothing more than a memory. And the people are dead. My friends and family are gone. I want to mourn Leslie and Devlin. I even want to mourn for Angela, though I blame her for trusting Gib and letting him escape. One mistake doesn't make her a monster. I miss them all.

  Not here. Not now. I can't let them see. I have to look soft, but I don't have to let them take everything. They have control over what I do, but I have control over what I say and think. I can deceive them and keep what's real inside.

  I wipe away the single tear that has escaped and take another bite of food.

  "I didn't think they would have so many new people so soon. Didn't they just bring in a new batch a couple weeks ago?" I hear a girl say at the table behind me.

  "I dunno," a different girl replies. "Do you think they came from the lower city?"

  "Some of them, probably," the first girl says.

  "I wonder if any of them know my family..." the second girl muses.

  "Our families don't matter here," the first girl says sharply. "You might as well get used to the fact that you'll never see them again."

  "Hi," a voice overrides their conversation. It's coming from my left. I look up and see Maria. Her eyes are both black now and her lips are swollen. She keeps her left elbow close to her chest and holds her food with her right hand.

  "You didn't die," I say.

  "I noticed that," she replies.

  I grin at her.

  "Can I sit with you?" she adds.r />
  She glances at the other end of the table. She does not want to sit with them either and feel their fear. She shares my feelings.

  "Yeah," I agree.

  "Thanks," she adds softly.

  She sits down next to me and starts eating. She doesn't eat with nearly as much gusto. She pushes and pulls the food around on her plate before bringing it to her mouth. She's thinking hard about everything that has happened. Neither of us talk about it. There's no point in talking about what's coming next either. We'll find out soon enough.

  The tables continue to fill up. There are less of us than there were in the room. Some of the people didn't make it. I wonder if it was the test in the glass room or Benny that made them fail. I carefully push the thought out of my mind. It won't help me to worry about the people who didn't make it. My concern is survival. And Max.

  Maria finally speaks again. "Twenty-three, huh?" she asks, pointing at my armband. "It's funny that they didn't give us numbers in order. You would think they would. But it's all just random. Maybe they give us the armbands of the people who have already graduated or something."

  She can read. She has been taught. I turn to stare at her in surprise. I wonder where she learned.

  "What?" she asks.

  "You can read," I say.

  "Oh. I come from a city to the north of here. School was mandatory until the age of twelve," she says. "We heard D.C. was a better place to live. We were wrong, of course. We couldn't even get over the wall. No one goes in. That's their motto...or it would be if they had a motto."

  "Unless you live here," I say.

  "Or have a merchant's pass," she adds.

  "Merchants can come and go from the city whenever they want?" I ask.

  She nods. "But they're carefully screened. I remember one guy tried to sneak in his granddaughter. He was killed for breaking the law and his granddaughter was taken."

  "I guess he got his wish, though," I say morbidly.

  "He probably didn't know she would end up here," Maria says, gesturing at the walls.

  "How long have you lived in the lower city?" I ask.

  "For three years now," Maria replies.

  "Why are you here now? How did they grab you? Do you know why they've brought us? Why don't they just kill us?" I ask, the questions tumbling from my lips.

  "The guards come through the lower city every couple of months," Maria says. "We try to hide, but they're good at tracking us down. They take anyone they like, though people try to fight back sometimes. The lower city is pretty wild. One of the guards saw me in the street and grabbed me. I tried to fight him, but I'm not much of a fighter. I woke up on a lift. The others they had taken were crying for their parents. I couldn't cry. I just couldn't."

  I know exactly how she feels.

  "And I don't know why they want us other than some nonsense about becoming a citizen," Maria says. "But I guess we'll find out." She eyes me seriously for a minute. "Are you from the lower city?"

  "No," I reply.

  I don't know how she feels about anything save for her dislike of the people who abducted her. I don't know if I can talk about camp. There are too many new things about the uncharted territory I'm walking in. I don't want to trust the wrong person or say the wrong thing. I don't know if she will associate camp with me being a rebel and hate me for it.

  "Where you from, then?" she asks.

  I hesitate. She notices.

  "You don't have to tell me," she says quietly.

  "I lived in the woods," I say. "The RFA found my camp."

  Her eyes widen. "The explosions in the woods!" She gasps. "I saw the lifts leave and saw the explosions, but I didn't think...We just thought it was the rebels getting into another fight..."

  She trails away and cuts her eyes at me cautiously. She thinks I'm a rebel. It's clear in her eyes.

  "I'm not a rebel," I say firmly. "I trust them as much as I trust the government."

  "If they attacked your camp three days ago, why are you just arriving now?" she asks.

  My mouth drops open. Three days. It feels like a lifetime.

  "New dregs!" Benny's voice rises above the talking. "Get up! Now!"

  We have learned to fear him. We stand quickly as the guards around the room straighten noticeably. Five more guards are behind Benny. They're the same guards from before. The dead-eyed woman is at Benny's right shoulder. The others who have already been sorted into their colors are quiet as they watch us move to the door. They are remembering their first day. They're pitying us.

  Somehow, I'm the first person to the door. I try to let the others move around me, but they're all too scared. Benny catches my eye and smirks. My rib twinges painfully. It knows the person who cracked it is in front of me.

  Benny waits until we are gathered in front of him, then he turns away, trusting we will follow. I follow him automatically, the guard closest to me looking disappointed that I move so quickly. He really wants to use his shock stick. The dead-eyed woman steps out of the way to let us pass. She follows the group when the last person with a grey armband is out of the cafeteria. We don't move as fast as the guards want us to. Our injuries slow us down. Shocks and squeals of pain surround the hall. No one shocks me, though. I don't know why.

  Benny takes us to the end of the sky-blue hall, down a short set of metal stairs, and into a different long hall. The color on the walls changes to green. It looks like grass. I wish it was. We go down another set of stairs and see pink walls, then yellow walls, then orange walls. The last set of stairs brings us to red walls the color of blood. It's the same color of the jacket Benny and the other guards wear. The floor and ceiling are white. This level is the last one. There's nowhere else to go.

  Benny stops in front of a large door and puts his hand in the exact middle. A blue line traces his hand and I realize it's a fingerprint scanner. Finally, technology I recognize. The door slides into the wall, revealing a large room. The room has a stone floor, black walls, a tall ceiling and absolutely no furniture.

  "You'll stay here until Willem sorts your results and finds your color," Benny announces to the group.

  I wonder how long the sorting will take. From the look of glee on Benny's face, I think it'll be awhile. There are thirty-five of us. It could take days. And it does not seem like they plan on bringing us bedrolls or food. I don't want to sit in the room for that long wondering if I'll make the cut.

  Benny grabs my shoulder and forces me inside the room when I hesitate. He does the same to Maria. We move out of the way as the rest of the group follows us inside. Benny stands at the door for a second as he breathes in our terror and uncertainty. He smirks at us, his expression razor-sharp, and then he steps back. The door closes with a hiss, and I hear a lock engage.

  Maria looks around for a minute. "Well, this is homey," she says dryly.

  "About as comfortable as a cracked skull," I reply.

  She smiles. Her grin is crooked and fleeting, but it's better than nothing. The others crowd around the door hopefully, but I know that Benny is not coming back. He'll return when he feels like it, not before. He'll leave us to the room for as long as he feels like leaving us. I wonder if the meal is the last one I will see for days. Will they let us out tomorrow or next week?

  I walk to the opposite side of the room and sit in the corner. I put my head against the wall and touch my chest again. At least I won't have to fight anyone. Maria hesitates, perhaps uncertain of me after my admission of living in the woods. She still thinks me a rebel. She's paranoid about getting involved in the ongoing fight, about choosing the wrong friend. I don't blame her. The government has control. It's better to be safe than sorry.

  After a minute, her expression hardens and she joins me in my corner. She puts her head against the wall as well and looks up at the white ceiling.

  "I wonder what the colors mean," she says.

  "They said it's rank," I say.

  "Rank for what?" she questions. She shakes her head skeptically. "Sounds to me like they'
re dividing us up based on ability...grooming us for certain jobs or something."

  I agree with her. They plan on taking our natural abilities and making them work for the government. They're arrogant to think they can simply teach us new tricks and expect us to forget we have been abducted and forced into the training.

  The thought makes me pause. I consider the truth for a long minute. Maybe they're not so arrogant. They probably kill off the people who refuse to conform. They rule the people who stay with fear and intimidation.

  I remember the smiling people with armbands in the city. I shiver at the idea that they are forced to smile all day. They have to look like they enjoy their lives of captivity. The alternative is death.

  "In my city, people had career paths," Maria tells me. "You would be put into a school after taking a test and then get a job based off your training. You could choose not to go, of course, but the tests were never wrong. Maybe it's something like that. All those questions we had to answer..."

  I nod in agreement. "It makes sense."

  "Course, there was a shortage of jobs," Maria adds. "Riots because people were hungry and the rebels were always stirring up trouble...I can't tell you how many times the central market near the police headquarters was bombed. It was chaos. It's why we left."

  "Did they not have a wall?" I ask.

  "The government was going to help them build one last I heard," Maria says. "Provided they accept the government's help in running the city, of course."

  "Of course," I say.

  "What do you think will happen to us if our results are inconclusive?" Maria asks. "Do you think they'll chuck us out of the city, or...?"

  I roll my head against the wall to look at her. She gulps heavily when she sees my expression and looks back up at the ceiling. We both know what will happen if something is wrong with our tests. I have the distinct impression they don't want outsiders to know about their training process. They don't want word to get out.

  It's pass or fail, and failure is not an option.

  Chapter 11