Intermix Nation (3 page)

This field is Nazirah’s secret hiding place,
accessible through a weak link in the compound’s electrified fence,
discovered during her first week at headquarters. She comes here
when she feels overwhelmed, when her small room is too confining,
or when she just wants to escape reality for a while … or
forever.

She slowly runs her hand over rough blades
of yellow grass. It’s still summer, although it’s warm in Eridies
regardless of the time of year. Nazirah wonders briefly what
seasons feel like, if the flowers in the front yard at home are
overrun with weeds. They were only beginning to bloom when she left
so abruptly in April. Riva would often pluck the flowers from their
small garden and braid them skillfully, weaving vines and blossoms
through Nazirah’s long chestnut locks. Nazirah could never quite
manage it by herself. Riva had an elegance Nazirah does not
possess. And now she isn’t around to teach Nazirah anything,
anymore.

Nazirah picks one of the longest blades and
begins knotting the stem, occupying her hands. She thinks about
Rafu, not far from here. A few days’ walk, maybe. Only an hour’s
drive, if Nazirah had access to a car, which she doesn’t. Barely
anyone in Rafu drives. Only the wealthiest people can afford
automobiles, and the roads are so cracked and dangerous that most
prefer bicycling or walking.

The roads here in Krush are smooth and
paved, because they’re much closer to the capital. The lines of
communication are also better in northern Eridies. Nazirah has to
admit that Krush is a perfect location for the rebels to keep tabs
on Mediah and interact with other territories.

Nazirah has never been to the capital
before, obviously. She has never even been outside Eridies. But she
has heard stories, has seen images in books and on the small
television in her home.

Skytowers so tall they rise above the cloud
line. Lights so powerful they blind your eyes if you look for too
long. Fancy cars and heavy smog everywhere. A complex network of
bullet trains carrying resources from the four territories all day
and night.

Nazirah never rode in a car until the night
her parents died. Nikolaus, with his deep Eridian connections, had
known about their parents’ murder almost as soon as Nazirah had. He
came for her in a car, not an hour after she discovered them.

Nazirah remembers sitting on the porch, face
red and raw from crying. She remembers the neighbors looking at her
through their windows, pitying her, but unwilling to risk their
lives by offering her comfort or shelter. She didn’t know what to
do. She couldn’t go inside, couldn’t watch the paramedics bagging
the bodies. But she couldn’t just leave, either.

There, on her front step, the chorus of
guilt that has plagued Nazirah for months began playing the first
chords of its death march. What if she stayed home that night and
hadn’t snuck out? What if she was there to defend her parents? Why
hadn’t she joined the rebellion sooner? Why hadn’t she kissed her
mother goodbye? When was the last time she told her father she
loved him? Why wasn’t she a better daughter?

So she sat, completely numb, and waited for
absolution.

She is still waiting.

Niko arrived in a black sedan. He said
nothing, just hugged her for the first time in years. Nazirah could
tell he had cried, but when she saw him, his face was dry.

And that was it. He ushered her into the
car, which made her even dizzier and more nauseous, and took her to
Krush … to headquarters. Nazirah made him pull over several times
so she could throw up on the side of the road.

They returned a few days later for the
funeral. Since her parents were interracially married, they were
banned from having a traditional Eridian burial. So Riva and
Kasimir were cremated, and the two surviving Nations spread their
ashes into the ocean behind their home. Following an old Eridian
custom, Nazirah and Nikolaus lit paper lanterns on the beach and
watched them gently float into the night sky.

Nazirah could not gather the strength to
enter their home, so Nikolaus retrieved her clothing and
belongings. They told no one, invited no one, but people still
showed up by the hundreds. Family friends, acquaintances, Cato and
his family, neighbors, and students that Riva taught over the years
all came to say tearful goodbyes. Then the news vans had come from
all over the country, lining the street like caravans. The story
was national news, because the government wanted to use Kasimir and
Riva’s death as a demonstration for the four territories:

This is what happens when you step out of
line.

Two small headstones were erected in the
sand dunes behind the Nation’s home, overlooking the azure sea.
Nazirah yearns to go there again, to run her fingers over the
smooth black stones, to feel closer to the deceased.

At times, Nazirah finds herself unable to
recall the exact pitch of her father’s booming laugh, or the
precise shade of her mother’s honey eyes. She finds herself
forgetting. And of all the things that scare her, this scares her
most.

Nazirah rises slowly, shaking and stretching
the stiffness from her limbs. She takes her time walking back,
uneager to return to headquarters. She came to the field directly
after lunch, skipping both dinner and Territory History. Her
teacher, Ms. Bairs, probably wants to strangle Nazirah by now, but
Nazirah knows Cato will cover for her. He covers for her a lot,
because Nazirah cannot muster any enthusiasm for participating in
recruit training. She does the bare minimum to get by. And,
although her teachers initially let her absences slide, they are
quickly losing patience.

Nazirah enters through the back door of the
main building and walks through the deserted hallways. Exiting the
staircase on the floor that houses the girls’ dormitories, she
briefly checks the time.

7:15pm.

There’s still over an hour to kill before
she meets Niko.

Nazirah pushes open the door to her bedroom
and throws herself onto the bed, shoes still on. She misses her
room at home. It was south facing, and her windows were always open
to let in the salty breeze. Here, her room is tight and cramped. It
has none of the comforts of home, for Niko didn’t think to bring
anything besides her clothes. Her window faces a solid brick
wall.

Only in this room does Nazirah cry.

In solitude, she allows herself to fully
experience her guilt, grief, and loneliness. She felt lost before
her parents died, in the way that an average intermix girl with few
options in life and a huge chip on her shoulder feels lost
sometimes. She would rebel against her parents, not listen to their
advice, and sneak out of the house … just to assert her
independence and power in a world where she truthfully had
none.

Now, she is truly lost.

So lost that living feels more like
dying.

So lost that Nazirah doesn’t remember the
person she once was, much less know how to find her.

#

An hour later, Nazirah drags herself out of
bed. She feels worse than she did before, and considers blowing
Niko off and going right back to sleep. But Nazirah knows he will
come banging on her door, eyes and neck veins bulging, demanding to
know why she didn’t show up.

Nazirah walks sluggishly into the shared
girls’ lavatory on her floor, thankful to see no one she knows. She
quickly brushes her teeth and splashes water on her face, trying to
erase the red from her bloodshot eyes.

She has her mother’s eyes: honeyed irises,
almond-shaped, heavy-lidded with thick lashes. She also shares
Riva’s olive skin and slender build. As a child, Nazirah hated
being compared to her mother. She always thought of Riva as weak,
and longed to be like the strong Kasimir.

Riva was never weak.

Nazirah didn’t realize that until it was too
late.

Now, Nazirah likes to think a part of Riva
lives within her – and that, every time she looks into a mirror,
it’s her mother who stares back.

She can’t quite convince herself. Riva was
always smiling.

Deep in thought, Nazirah braids her hair
nimbly down her back, the strands bleached with copper highlights.
“Cato’s looking for you,” someone behind her says.

Nazirah jumps and whirls around to face
Aneira. “God, Ani, you scared me! You can’t sneak up on people like
that!”

“Sorry.” Aneira shrugs half-heartedly.

Aneira is fifteen, and has not yet grown
into herself. She is tall, but gangly and flat-chested. She has
Lumi’s beautiful blue eyes, but her facial features look out of
proportion, their angles not quite working.

Nazirah feels unusually protective of her.
Aneira seems lost too. Sometimes, Nazirah wants to give Aneira a
huge hug and tell her everything will be all right, even though she
doesn’t believe it herself.

“It’s okay,” Nazirah sighs, the annoyance in
her voice gone. “I just get startled easily. Do you know what he
wants?”

“I think he wants to make sure you’re okay,”
Aneira says. “You weren’t in Territory History tonight, but he
covered for you. Again.”

“Great,” says Nazirah, making a mental note
to visit Cato after speaking with Niko. “Thanks for telling
me.”

“Sure.”

Nazirah should ask Aneira how she is doing.
Aneira is so unlike Lumi or even Yuki, both social creatures by
nature. Aneira is quiet and introverted, and that’s probably why
Nazirah likes her so much. But Nazirah really is late now, so she
exits the bathroom without another word.

Nazirah walks quickly towards Nikolaus’s
office on the other side of the building. She hopes that whatever
this ‘matter of extreme importance’ concerns, Niko will make it
short. It’s late, and it’s Friday, and Nazirah wants to sleep.
Could Niko know about her and Cato sneaking tequilux from the
kitchens last weekend? She doesn’t think it’s likely.

She smiles a bit, remembering. A few of the
younger recruits gathered around a bonfire, drinking and laughing
and dancing. Nazirah was happier that night than she had been in a
long time, if only fleetingly.

Nazirah hopes Niko won’t try to convince her
to sell their cottage again, before the government seizes it.
Intermix are forbidden from owning property. Their cottage was
listed under Riva’s name, because she was technically still an
Eridian. But now it belongs to no one. Niko mentioned selling it a
few months ago. Nazirah was so blindsided by the suggestion, she
went berserk on him. He hasn’t brought it up again.

Nazirah also hopes Cato is wrong, and that
Niko won’t get on her case about missing class. She has a feeling
that might be where this is headed, but it still doesn’t explain
the urgency. Unless the rebels already have her bags packed and out
the door or something, which Nazirah cannot say she would hate.

Arriving at her destination, Nazirah walks
in without bothering to knock.

Most people would never guess Nikolaus and
Nazirah are siblings. Unlike Nazirah, who resembles Riva, Nikolaus
Nation is the spitting image of Kasimir. Nikolaus is tall and built
like a tree, with bulging arms, broad shoulders, and a wide trunk.
His skin is pale, eyes a deep, earthy brown. His hair slightly
curls at the top. Nikolaus is reserved, but not quiet. He is kind,
but not compassionate; he is calculating, but not deceptive. Like
Kasimir, Nikolaus has a laugh that can win over the greatest
enemy.

Nazirah has not heard it in a very long
time.

Nikolaus is currently hunched over his desk,
deep in conversation with a group of strategists, advisors, and
fellow commanders. The other two commanders are a pair of stalwart
Red West twins, Glumindo and Badoomi. Nazirah and Cato
affectionately refer to them privately as Gloom and Doom. Gloom and
Doom are usually holed up in the control tower, in charge of
weapons technology, defense, and surveillance. Nikolaus is
responsible for strategy, offense, and reconnaissance.

Nikolaus looks abnormally stressed. From the
back of the room, Nazirah can see his left eye twitching. It is a
tic he developed as a child whenever he got anxious. Nazirah hasn’t
seen it occur in years. It’s very unsettling.

Niko’s desk overflows with loose papers and
books. Some files spill onto the floor as he rifles through them.
Nazirah quietly sits in the back of the room, listening
curiously.

“I don’t care if he’s on leave,” Nikolaus is
saying. “I need to talk to him. Bring him in.”

Nazirah’s attention drifts around the
makeshift office. A huge, inked map of Renatus, divided by color
into five regions, is pinned to one wall. Thumbtacks are pushed in
at various locations, and certain cities have been circled
emphatically in red. A large projector hangs near the corner,
constantly looping government propaganda speeches, currently on
mute. Stacks of yellowing newspapers from every territory, in every
language, are piled floor to ceiling.

Sergeant Patch – Aldrik – scribbles Niko’s
ramblings vehemently on a ledger. Even from a distance, Nazirah can
see his writing looks illegible. She idly considers having a talk
with Niko about recruiting some new, younger strategists. With his
grizzled beard, ancient face, gnarled fingers, and haggard
appearance, Aldrik appears to already have one foot in the
grave.

As if reading her thoughts, Aldrik spots
Nazirah with his functional eye. He shoots her a dirty look and
leans into Nikolaus, speaking privately.

“Unfortunately, we must finish this tactics
meeting tomorrow,” Nikolaus tells the room, glancing at Nazirah.
“My sister and I have a personal matter to discuss.”

His tone is indecipherable and Nazirah
remains seated. There are a few moments of unorganized mayhem as
half a dozen rebels stand, scrambling to collect their papers and
files from around the room. They clear their throats awkwardly,
peeping at Nazirah. Everyone knows that the Nations are siblings,
but rarely do people see them interact.