Divided (17 page)

     ‘What is it?’ I ask upon seeing Zach and Kayra’s faces.

     ‘I can’t feel her,’ she replies sadly. ‘I’ve lost contact with Arys. I can’t even feel her at all anymore. This is the first time.’

     ‘What?’ I gasp.

     I try to think of any reason that this could be, each explanation getting more ridiculous than the last, while the thought “She’s dead” constantly comes back, as if attacking me. I collapse onto the pile of sleeping bags and sit uncomfortably.

     ‘How...’ I start.

     I was going to ask how she died, but the words don’t come and I just sit there with my mouth hanging open and my head in my hands.

     ‘She’s not dead,’ Kayra says, sitting next to me. ‘You
know
when someone’s died. You can feel it without the enhanced connection.’

     ‘And you didn’t feel anything... go?’ I ask, slightly hopefully, though in truth, I have no hope anymore.

     ‘She’s alive, we just can’t talk and it’s going to be a lot harder to track her now.’

     Nina puts her hand on my shoulder in a feeble attempt at comfort. I don’t ignore it, but force a smile at the two of them. Zach is stood in the doorway, avoiding eye contact with any of us.

     ‘We’re going to have to go back to camp,’ he says awkwardly. ‘We were talking it through while you were... well... we were talking it through.’

     I look at them all, and they seem serious about it. They can’t be serious?! Her sister could be dead, and Kayra just gives up this easily, instead of finding her. We could be so close right now!

     ‘Why?’ I demand, looking at only Kayra.

     ‘She’s skilled at this; she’s been running all her life. She knows how to hide her tracks and she isn’t going in the direction of the city, that’s for certain.’

     ‘We can’t give up on her though!’ I protest. ‘And if you’re not coming with me, then I’ll find her on my own!’

     ‘Kai! Think clearly!’ Kayra insists. ‘Arys isn’t stupid! She wouldn’t run off unless she had perfectly good reason to!’

     ‘She’s done this before! Right before meeting you, she nearly got herself killed by running off and I had to rescue her!’

     ‘She-’ Kayra starts, but I shut her up.

     ‘She’s irrational. I hurt her and she left, so it’s my responsibility to find her and I’m
not
taking orders from any of you!’ I’m shouting now, and Nina has already resigned to standing with Zach at the entrance.

     ‘That’s not the reason she left,’ Kayra says quietly now.

     ‘Then why?! Because I gave her a pretty damn good reason to!’ I shout back at her.

     ‘She told me she’s doing what Papa told her to do,’ she says calmly.

     The calm tone does nothing to ease the situation, and makes me even angrier.

     ‘Yeah, so Papa told her to go off on her own, risking her life?!’ I ask.

     ‘I don’t know,’ Kayra says resignedly. ‘But you knew Papa, and it’s because of him Arys found me, right?’

     She’s right. Papa always had his reasons for everything, and if he really did send Arys off by herself, then I should trust him.

     ‘Okay,’ I say slowly, breathing deeply. ‘And so we go to the Festival?’

     ‘That’s what she said.’

     ‘Okay,’ I say again, trying to calm myself.

     ‘Before we left last night, she also said she loves you and that she promises that she’s safe.’

     Nothing stops the tears coming, and I break down and cry.

38

Arys

Hours have passed since I last heard or felt Kayra. I’ve been walking for miles, through the night and all morning my feet have been throbbing. I’ve reached what once was a small civilisation. There are parked cars all along the street, and despite the plants weaving their way almost artistically down the street, this could be a street of people living normal lives. All the houses along the street have their doors closed, unopened since being abandoned fifteen years ago. The earthquake didn’t cause too much havoc here; there are small piles of rubble, but nothing too severe. I continue to walk in the heat of the midday sun and begin to question what I’m doing again. How could Papa know where to tell me to go? We move constantly, never staying in the same place for too long. But he was smart, I suppose. Maybe he knew that he was dying. I even think for a moment that he could have planned his own death, but even the thought of that is too horrifying that I don’t even consider it a possibility. With my mind distracted, I accidentally trip over a stool that is lying in the middle of the road amongst other odd pieces of furniture. I land painfully on my knees and pain instantly spreads up my legs, originating from my ankle. Wincing in pain, I turn the stool upright and sit on it, examining my leg. There’s no blood, but my ankle is sprained and already slowly swelling up. Then suddenly, Hunters appear everywhere. The doors of the houses banging open one after the other. I try to grab my knife, but it’s too late, the Hunters have almost reached me already.

     ‘Is it her?!’ one of them asks gleefully.

     My heart stops for a second! I’ve never heard a Hunter speak before. The woman who spoke tilts her head, inspecting me.

     ‘Definitely!’ a much deeper voice replies, and then before I have time to figure out what’s going on, I’m knocked unconscious.

I wake up with my head throbbing. The room I’m sat in is tiny and the walls are a dark grey colour. The room is plain with no windows. In the dim light, I make out that there’s a bed opposite me, only slightly raised from the ground with thin sheets spread neatly on top of it. Next to me is a metallic object that I recognise instantly as a toilet. Papa described them to me when I was younger. There is what I assume to be a sink next to it. I’ve always wanted to know how they work, but my curiosity is already taken up by what’s going on that I have no desire to witness water coming out of seemingly nowhere. The door opens and a woman who looks to be in her thirties, wearing a light grey uniform walks in. Her face is clean, and her black hair is tied up neatly, unlike most people I’ve known. From her looks, it’s like she hasn’t spent fifteen years in the wilderness willingly murdering innocent people. She carries a tray of food to me on the floor and places it next to me.

     ‘Glad to see you’re awake,’ she says, watching me carefully.

     I just stare at her, hoping that she’ll see how much pain her kind have put me through. I refuse to touch the food.

     ‘Why do you do it?’ I implore when she doesn’t react to my glaring. ‘What can you
possibly
hope to gain from killing tribes?’

     She looks taken aback and looks as if she doesn’t know what to say to me. The door opens and another, slightly younger looking man enters the room.

     ‘Don’t mind her,’ he says. ‘We’re the good guys. Eat, you need it!’

     He smiles in what I suppose he thinks is a kind way, but his rough face doesn’t suit it and he quickly stops when he sees my expression.

     ‘You’re the good guys?!’ I laugh harshly at him, and kick the tray of food over the floor. ‘Yeah, I get it now! You burn our land and when we retaliate, we’re the ones who are evil! Tell me, are you all this oblivious to what you do to us, or have I been assigned the stupid ones to “care” for me?!’

     ‘Now my feelings are hurt,’ the woman says sarcastically. ‘Come on, Al.’

     The woman leaves the room, closing the door softly behind her.

     ‘We’ve got a lot of explaining to do,’ says the man named Al, running his hand through his black hair and looking down at the food on the floor. ‘I’ll bring you another tray and I advise that you eat the food this time.’

     He gathers up the food and carries it on the tray out of the room. He returns with another tray of food after a few minutes, and leaves it on the end of the bed. He smiles at me again, before leaving me alone in the room. I wait a few minutes, before getting up slowly. The pain in my ankle has eased off now, and the swelling has already reduced. I put my weight onto my leg slowly. It’s not as bad as I thought it was, so I walk over to the door. There isn’t a handle, or any other way to open it, so I try pushing my weight against it, but nothing happens.

     Several years ago, Papa got furious at one of the Tribe members for capturing a Hunter. I didn’t know the man who did it well, but he left the Tribe at the next Festival to join another after the tension got too thick between him and Papa. Papa was the only other one besides him to see the Hunter, but he said all that it tried to do was kill him, as if it’s the
only
thing it can do. I think about the time when Kai killed the two Hunters while we were foraging together. That seems like a lifetime ago now, compared to the events that have happened since then. The look the Hunter gave me when it was ready to kill me was as if it was being forced to do it, and didn’t want to. I sit down on the bed, and stare at the food that has been left for me.

     The door suddenly slides open with a slight click, and the man I met earlier walks in.

     ‘Hi,’ he says with a small smile. ‘I told you earlier that we have to talk.’

     He steps into the room and the door closes itself behind him.

     ‘Is this the talk where you give me three choices on how I’d like you to kill me?’ I joke.

     He doesn’t laugh or smile, but remains standing in front of me, his eyes looking deep into my own. It makes me uncomfortable, but I stare back at him. He seems to resign and sits next to me.

     ‘First of all, I need to know your name,’ he says, his tone rather demanding.

     I hesitate. I thought he knew my name; they seemed to know who they were taking when they kidnapped me.

     ‘Arys,’ I say shakily. I clear my throat and say it again, more confidently.

     ‘Is that your
real
name? The name you got given to you at birth?’

     My heart skips a beat. How much does he know about both me and Kayra?

     ‘Yes,’ I say bluntly.

     ‘Great!’ he says, clapping his hands together. ‘Our people have brought in wrong girls a good few times, it was greatly embarrassing!’ 

     ‘Wrong girls? You’ve been looking for me?’

     ‘Yes, but I’ll get to that soon. For now you need to know that we’re the good guys and not what you call “Hunters”. Although we were once.’

     ‘What...?’ I ask.

     How can they used to be Hunters? Are they rebels? Rebelling against the Hunters?

     ‘It’s a long story,’ he starts.

     ‘Well thanks to your prison, it looks like I have the time,’ I say harshly.

     He grins quickly, before getting into his story.

     ‘Okay, I’ll start from the beginning,’ he says. ‘Less than a week before the earthquake, my sister, Fran, and I snuck into the Compound. Fran is the woman you saw earlier. You know what the Compound is, don’t you?’

     I nod, and he carries on, as if there was no pause.

     ‘We had managed to get information about the plan to save children, and they were recruiting people in their early twenties. We were only sixteen and eighteen at the time, but we looked older than we were I suppose. Well... that, and the fact that they didn’t pay us much attention. What we didn’t know is what we were needed for; we were just desperately seeking a form of survival, not knowing what we were signing up for. Fran figured that we would be working around the Compound on a voluntary basis, but if it meant survival, we were both willing to do this. We merged in with several thousand men and women in their twenties who had heard of this plan. We were assigned buildings to stay in temporarily, and the colossal walls that surrounded us kept out any information of the outside world, keeping us isolated. It felt like our own community already, and we didn’t question Unity’s reasons. Then on the night before the earthquake, everyone got the order to gather in the street. A solitary single-file queue was slowly walking through the street, and we joined the back of it. The queue, it turned out, led to a large tent that had been set up in the square. I entered before Fran, and I was knocked unconscious with an injection. When I woke up the following morning, my mind wasn’t my own. It was as if someone else was sharing it, someone more powerful than I was. We all had chips surgically installed into our brains. They gave us orders, simple at first: “Eat,” or “Clean up,” but then they got more intense. The earthquake struck, lasting hours of destruction all around us, but the Compound stood, as promised. I had no control over my own thoughts. I could think, but not act upon the thoughts, as if my brain’s allegiance had changed. As much as I tried to fight it, there was nothing I could do anymore; I had been stripped of my free will. The immediate command following the end of the earthquake was to go. We were an army of people, hunting any survivors. We mercilessly killed countless people who believed they were okay; people who thought they had hope. We saw the people die at our hands; we captured many, depriving them of food, before killing them when they were at their weakest. We felt our arms deliver the killing blow to young children, yet no matter how much we fought it, we couldn’t stop. When we got back, our minds were wiped instantly.’

     He closes his eyes, and his face has gone pale. His hands are shaking as he finishes.

     ‘How did you control it?’ I ask tentatively.

     ‘We were de-chipped. Though upon the removal of the chips, the memories of the death we caused came back. Henry, our leader de-chipped us, and helped us through the agonising weeks that followed,’ he replies.

     ‘Henry?!’ I ask, standing up suddenly. ‘My father?’

     He doesn’t reply straight away, and then I realise that it’s a common name. Why would it possibly be him?

     ‘Yes,’ he says quietly. ‘He found us and took away the chips. It was... painful. But he gave us all a second chance, and for that, we are grateful.’

     ‘Is he here? Can I see him?!’ I ask, unable to stop myself.

     He looks at me again, his eyes scolding me.

     ‘I tell you all of that and all you’re concerned about is seeing your father?’

     ‘I’m sorry,’ I say.

     As much as his story hurts me, a familiar presence would be great right now. He stands up to leave, advises me to eat, and walks out of the door. I don’t bother to try opening it again, but take a small bite out of the food on the tray. After my first swallow of the unfamiliar meat on the tray, I instantly feel better.

     After finishing the food, I set the tray on the floor and lay on the bed. It’s more comfortable than the thin blankets that I’m used to and I close my eyes, imagining the horror that Al and Fran went through, and for the first time in my life, sympathising with the enemy.