After the Fear (Young Adult Dystopian) (31 page)

Far away, people cheer. Every sense except my smell has dimmed. Metal, iron and rot. It’s revolting. I wrap an arm around my belly. It’s hot, but I’m so, so cold. I squeeze, try to stop the blood. I need to keep some for me. Medics are coming this way . . . so is something else.

A person. Rushing towards me. A sword high above her head. Coral.

A medic grabs to stop her and she cuts him down.

I back away on treacherous feet. Then I run. RUN!

Under the gateway where the prisoners were. Down through dark tunnels. Hands meeting stone and metal—I bounce off the walls and force myself onwards. I skid past workers who yell that I can’t be here, but I keep on going, hoping they will slow Coral down. I’m leaving a trail of red in my wake. It reminds me of an old fairy tale. I fall. My knees cracking against a hard, cold floor. I force myself up, running down steps, forcing doors open, setting off alarms. Trying not to remember that Coral has a gun.

Only when I’m deep into the bowels of the Stadium do I slow down. No footsteps behind me. No screams for my death. I stumble towards a door. Something is jamming it. My palm finds the scanner but it beeps red. With the last of my strength I curl my fingers around the side, wrench it open and force it shut behind me. Coral can’t get to me here.

I slither down the back of the door with a low screech as my blood lets me slide. I land in a heap on the floor. I’m pretty sure I’m dying.

For some reason, that’s funny. I think I’m giggling. Tears wet my face. My body shudders violently. My eyes adjust to the dark. I squint and blink to make sure I’m not seeing things.

Just inches away from my leg, someone’s outstretched hand is curled into a ball like a baby’s is when it’s born. They’re dead.

I need to get up. They’re everywhere, covering every inch of the ground in this low-roofed basement. No—wait. They aren’t dead. Their chests heave. They’re alive and for some reason, that’s worse. Blacked-out windows built into the walls blur in my vision.

Maybe I’m hallucinating. Death must be catching up with me.

Or the tryouts. They might be here for the tryouts.

Yet something’s not right. My brain is slow, useless. I force myself to think through the fog. On each of their brown uniforms there’s a piece of paper pinned to their chests. I crawl to the nearest person. A man. He’s old. Maybe seventy.

The ink on the paper wobbles before my eyes.

December Sales—Juliet—East Bound

Flight booked: 2nd Jan 2100

I don’t know what that means! Despair catches up with me in overwhelming waves. How can I help? I can’t help. I’m dying.

My eyes struggle to stay open despite the cold adrenaline pulsing through me. I grapple at the door now. Need to get out of here. Need to breathe. Need to tell someone—

‘Hey, Kim! Quick! One’s awake!’

A voice from somewhere
—
behind the windows? It’s muffled. I open my mouth, but there’s no sound. My bloody fingers scrape at the door. Someone’s walking towards me. Must be another entrance somewhere. Using all my strength, I haul myself upon the door one more time. It doesn’t budge. I slide down.

‘She’s wounded. Wait a minute . . .’

The voice dims. I blink as the blackout edges in.

I list the things I know for certain.

-I’m dead.

VOICES. Smothered. Then shouting. One of them is familiar. I want to say their name but I can’t move. The dark turns to grey. I breathe in and awake a deep burning down my throat.

Needles. No more needles,
please
.

Red light blazes behind my eyes. I’m being dragged
—
no, carried.

‘What did she see?’

Angry, worried voices.

I blink. Shepherd Fines’ face hovers above me. He’s joined by medics with sanitary masks. They stare with big, goggling eyes.

‘She’s waking . . .’

Another long needle comes towards me. I think of Mr Winters, clench my eyes tight. Then there’s nothing but the black cold.

***

A DRY, FIRM HAND strokes my forehead. With each touch, I wake a little more. A hard pillow supports my head, while a smooth cotton sheet winds around my legs and over my arms. Something beeps. The stench of antiseptic and bittersweet medicine surges up my nose.

Before I’ve even opened my eyes, I check my body. Bare skin meets my hand. I’m totally starkers, but at least my stomach’s not oozing blood. I touch the usual array of bumps along my skin that signal my collection of scars, but I stop when I reach a thick gash just right of my belly button; there’s the fuzz of hundreds of tiny stitches. The pain has disappeared along with every other sense in my body. I don’t want to think what’s in the IV drip that lives in the crook of my elbow.

‘Sweetheart, you’re awake,’ a smooth, soft voice says. For some reason, it puts me on edge. I open my eyes gradually. Shepherd Fines sits next to me, stroking my forehead.

‘What happened?’ I croak. My mouth’s as dry as a fur rug.

‘How . . . how much do you remember?’ Shepherd Fines asks, his voice notching higher. When I look at him, I mean,
really
look at him, it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him worried. A small part of my drowsy mind tells me to shut up. Whispers that I shouldn’t say the truth. But my mouth seems to talk without my permission.

‘Bodies,’ I say. ‘Sleeping people with signs on their front. They were being sold . . .’ I trail off.

‘I was afraid you were going to say that.’ He sighs, looking at me as if I were in a coffin, not a bed.

‘Don’t worry. The Liaisons wanted to kill you. Announce that you died of the wound, but I wouldn’t let them. I’d never let them.’ He clicks his tongue. ‘I can’t stop them telling the other Shepherds, though.’ Another long, whistling sigh.

‘What’s going to happen to those people?’ I ask, although deep inside my throbbing mind I think I already know.

Shepherd Fines peers around although we’re in a private room. He takes hold of my hand through the thin sheet. I’m way too conscious of the fact I’m naked.

‘The Debt, Sola. It’s huge.’ He gives a little chuckle. ‘We owe nearly every country out there billions. You Demonstrators earn a tiny bit in ticket sales, but that mostly goes into keeping the specific cities happy. It doesn’t touch the real deficit.’

My head hurts. What’s this got to do with—

‘Every month, we choose people to help us pay the Debt. The young and reasonably healthy of those who are chosen go into the tryouts. That was your journey. Others, however, are sacrificed to help us get this country back to what it once was. Great Britain.’ He says the words with reference, pride.

‘No, they’re not. They come and work here at the camp,’ I say, although I already know that’s not true. I’m like a kid trying to cover their ears when they’re told their pet has died.

‘I’m surprised you haven’t already worked out that’s not the case. Many Demonstrators question that lie rather quickly. That’s why they don’t survive their final fight.’

I recoil at his answer. But my desperation to understand gets the better of me.

‘How?’ I whisper. ‘How do the others help the country?’

‘Through sales, of course. Each person is worth thousands of pounds. Some countries will pay five, maybe six figures for the right medical experiment subject. Others want servants.’ He looks at me through the corner of his eyes. His eyebrows slant.

‘Of course, my dear, people would object if they knew. My father used to say everyone wants to be a hero. They don’t understand the practicalities of our situation.’ He speaks as though this is happening to some lowly beings disconnected from us.

I shake my head. All I see is William’s young face, the word ‘Greece’ next to his name on Shepherd Fines’ digipad.

‘How can you be okay with this?’ I ask, my voice small and breathy. ‘Selling people?’

‘Now now, my darling. You’re tired and recovering and have a serious amount of drugs in your system. It might take a while to get used to, but please don’t make a fuss. I’m hoping to persuade the others that you don’t remember the holding room.’

‘But why us? Don’t the other countries care?’ I’m not sure how much sense I’m making. Shepherd Fines looks down. Something registers in his features. It resembles regret.

‘The citizens of these places don’t know, of course. The leaders . . . well, how they see it is that we got ourselves into this mess, and they’re helping us by purchasing our people and reducing our Debt. They wouldn’t want to risk a revolt by using their own subjects.

‘I know you all think you’re reporting to us Shepherds, but we’re reporting to people, too. We just owe
so
much money.’

I suck my breath back in huge, aching gulps. My skin burns hot. I suddenly want to scream, to rage against Shepherd Fines and scratch and him and hit him and—

‘Why have you done this to me?’ I shout, but it sounds like a sob.

‘What?’

‘If I’m not paying back the Debt—’ I gasp, needing more air. ‘If I’m not helping anyone, why have you made me kill people? Why have I killed so many people?’ I ask the last question to myself.

Looking perplexed, Shepherd Fines takes a moment to answer.

‘Now, now. It’s obvious. Why do you think they are called Demonstrations? It’s to
demonstrate
our power. Do you not realise what an uprising we would have if cities knew we were selling people at random? Whenever someone works it out, they go into the Stadium. And every other person watching knows how easily they can be eradicated.

‘You’re doing so much
good
, Sola. You keep the crowd entertained, their minds elsewhere while reminding them they can’t change a thing.’

At my expression, he hastily adds, ‘Look, I don’t like what we’re doing, but an uprising would only increase our Debt. Then we’d have to pursue more extreme measures to keep everyone contained.

‘You and I, we’re all doing this for the greater good. Once we’re out of Debt, we will stop selling people. Eventually, as the cities are gradually built up, the Demonstrations will stop, and this nation will emerge as one of the best.’

I look away. Tears are pooling in my eyes, and I don’t want him to see. I hate him. But I won’t die now for knowing too much.

I pull my sheet up to my chin just like Tabby did days ago.

‘Coral?’ I ask.

Shepherd Fines grimaces one of those ‘what-can-you-do’ faces.

‘She requested to stay at the camp as a Demonstrator. Of course with her ticket-selling ability, we had to grant her wish. The family of the medic she killed will be compensated, naturally. And you have round the clock protection while you’re in here. Not that my best Demonstrator can’t look after herself.’ He winks. ‘Anyway, I’m glad you’re feeling better,’ he says, although I never mentioned how I felt. ‘I should go and blow all this under the carpet.’

Clicking his tongue, he stands and leans over my bed. He quickly lands a kiss on my cheek before stroking my forehead once more and heading to the door. Before he reaches it, I call him back. I have one last question.

‘Sir, those brothers . . . are they sold?’

He nods slowly.

‘Yes, my dear. One had anomalies in his test results. In a situation such as that, we had to sacrifice both of them, so the other wouldn’t cause a fuss. I hope you understand.’

With a final smile, he turns his back to me. The light flickers off when he leaves.

For a horrid second, I wonder if he’s lying about protecting me the way he lied about protecting Mr Winters. But the fear dissolves as soon as it comes. Although I never meant to, I know I make Shepherd Fines feel good about himself. He won’t do anything to hurt his ‘best Demonstrator.’

Gulping down air, I clutch my sheet before throwing it over my head and curling up in a ball. It settles back on me like a cool caress.

TWO DAYS AFTER THE NEW YEAR, I’m dismissed, and I can’t get out of the Medic’s Cabin quick enough. Straight away, I run over to the field where Dylan trains the Demonstrators I fought on Christmas day. He didn’t visit me, and although I know why, it doesn’t stop me missing him.

At the sight of his floppy hair and kind face, my worries subside slightly. I give a little wave.