The Forsaken (9 page)

“She passed Veidman’s test,” Gadya tells them. I notice shirtless boys lurking nearby with wooden spears. Many of them have dark tans, but their skin tones vary. It looks like a mix of kids and ethnicities from all over the UNA. Again, I seek out the blue-eyed boy, but he’s not among them.
Maybe he’s from a different village, and was just passing through this area.

A lot of the kids hang back. Others shoot me hostile, challenging glares. An Asian boy with long black hair finally breaks away from the pack and strolls over.

“Hey, new fish,” he says. He’s wiry with a gleam in his eyes. Cocky, but at least he looks lively and intelligent, which is different from a lot of the kids back in New Providence. The boy sticks out his hand, and I shake it firmly.

“My name’s Assassin Elite,” he says with a straight face.

I take my hand back quickly. “That’s a pretty messed-up name.”

Gadya rolls her eyes. “A lot of kids make up new names here. Island names. Especially the boys.”

“Yeah, we’re not all born with awesome names like Ga-dee-ya,” he drawls sarcastically. “And we don’t all dye our hair blue with berries.”

“Shut up, or I’ll tell her your real name—so she can make fun of you like everyone else does,” Gadya snaps. Other kids laugh in the background as the boy glowers. To me, Gadya adds, “He’s showing off. Probably means he likes you.”

A few other kids step out and introduce themselves, including a heavyset blonde. “I’m Edie,” she says with a distinctive Canadian lilt. “How long have you been on the wheel, eh?”

“Long enough to know that it sucks.”

“A day? A week?” She sounds suspicious.

“More like hours,” I reply.

I want to ask these kids some questions, but Gadya keeps moving, like she’s enjoying her role as tour guide. She swans past the group with me in tow, saying, “See you at chow time, guys.”

We walk down a narrow trail nearly overrun by brambles. I notice we’re moving farther from the central clearing and the shacks.

Along the way, we meet a few other boys and girls. All of them wear the same guarded look in their eyes. I can tell they’re curious about me, but they’re not about to open up to a complete stranger. I wonder how frequently they get a new arrival here. It can’t be too often, or they wouldn’t be interested in me.

Gadya gestures to some horizontal slats of wood, just off the trail, with circular holes cut into them. “Our toilets. We use dried leaves for paper.”

“And I thought the orphanage was bad,” I mutter.

Gadya laughs. “A lot of kids here are orphans.”

So much for Claudette’s theory
. “Are you an orphan?”

She shakes her head. “I wish. Both my parents are really conservative pro–UNA types. Or at least they were before I got sent here. Who knows if that changed their minds.”

As Gadya and I keep walking, she points out other sections of the village—an area of flattened tree branches where food is being prepared, an enclave of woven hammocks where people rest between trees, and a shallow tributary from which the villagers draw their drinking water.

It’s only near the end of the tour that Gadya pauses. “Now that you’re gonna be living here, I want to show you something else. But I really don’t want to scare you.”

“I’m getting used to feeling scared.”

Gadya glances around, making sure no one’s watching. “We gotta be quick. I’m not supposed to show you this yet.” She points down a narrow, muddy trail that leads even farther away from the main camp. “Follow me.”

Together we walk rapidly down the trail. “Where are we going?” I whisper.

“To see the Ones Who Suffer.”

“Who?”

“
Shhh.
No talking. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

A few minutes later, we turn a bend in the trail. A separate clearing looms fifty feet in front of us, at the end of the path.

But there are no cabins or fire pits here. Only writhing bodies sprawled in hammocks and lying on stained blankets. I hear moans and wracking coughs. A sickly odor reaches me, dancing on a gust of wind. It’s the stench of putrescence. These kids are dying.

I stop moving, instantly terrified. “What’s wrong with them?”

“We don’t know. No one does. It’s not contagious, at least.”

“You sure about that?”

“Not a hundred percent. But the disease acts more like food poisoning than a virus. At least that’s what we think. For some reason, it usually only affects kids who’ve been here for a while.”

I see healthy boys and girls moving among the sick ones, tending to them, wiping sweat from their faces. Getting seriously ill on an island like this would be a death sentence. No doctors, no hospitals, no medicines—unless Veidman can cook up antibiotics in addition to his truth serum.

I feel light-headed. “They all look so sick.”

Gadya flinches. “Don’t use that word.”

“‘Sick’?”

“Yeah. Veidman doesn’t like it. Says it causes panic. That’s why we call them the Ones Who Suffer.” She pauses, reading my face. “The situation creeps me out too, okay? All we have right now are theories. The illness could be something natural, like toxic mushrooms or berries. Or bad meat. But I doubt it. I think the Monk’s drones are deliberately trying to poison us.”

I’m watching the bodies in the hammocks. An emaciated boy about my age whimpers in pain, his eyes swollen shut. Crusts of dried blood speckle the corners of his mouth. I glance away.

“The Suffering is one of the real reasons most people don’t live past eighteen here,” Gadya says. “I bet no one told you that back in the UNA.”

I nod. “What are the symptoms?”

“Fever. Tiredness. Bleeding out of places you shouldn’t bleed from. After that you just fall apart and die, like you’ve got the plague.” Gadya turns away. “Don’t tell anyone I showed you this place. Veidman usually makes me wait a few more days.”

“I can understand why,” I mutter.

We start walking back up the trail in silence, the wailing and coughing sounds receding into the distance. I’m stunned, and I feel terrible for the victims of this disease.

“Can I do anything to avoid ever catching it?” I ask Gadya.

“Watch what you eat. But it’s not like there are too many options on this island. Other than a few kinds of fruits and vegetables, hoofers are pretty much it.”

“Hoofers?”

“A type of wild boar. The whole island is crawling with them.”

“I think one almost attacked me and David, before you found us.”

“Attacked you?” Gadya scoffs. “Doubtful. Hoofers are scared of humans. We hunt ’em for food. They shriek like the devil, but it’s just noise.”

“Good to know.”

“And another important thing about the wheel, before I forget.” She pauses as we reach the edge of the main clearing again. “We’ve got a rule—no hooking up with guys. I mean, kissing’s okay and stuff, but no sex.”

I want to laugh. I’m grimy, sweaty, exhausted, and my dark brown hair is a tangled mess. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to touch me, let alone hook up with me. “That’s not gonna be a problem.”

“Good, ’cause hookups lead to babies, and no one wants that.”

I don’t ask what the penalty is for breaking this rule, but I have no doubt that kids probably sleep with one another all the time. Still, I don’t see any babies anywhere, so maybe not.

“Is there any place to bathe?” I ask, suddenly aware of how much my skin is itching.

“The big river. It runs along one edge of the village. Us girls made some bathing shacks out of plywood so the boys can’t watch us. They always try.”

“So the water’s safe here?”

“As safe as anything else.” She sighs. “The wheel is a harsh place, Alenna. You either learn to adapt or it’ll eat you up and spit out your carcass with a burp.” She sees my glum look and grins. “But at least there’s no more school. Or earpieces. Or thought-pills. Or any of Minster Harka’s re-education crap. We’ve got more freedom here than the kids back home can ever dream of.”

“True. We just can’t do anything with it.”

“Not yet,” she says softly. Before I can ask what she means, she adds, “I’ll take you to the river so you can wash up. I’ll get you some fresh clothes too. Then it’ll be time for our nightly meeting and dinner. We have it round the fire pit before sunset. You’re our first new arrival in three weeks, so everyone will be curious to meet you.” She looks me up and down, like she’s seeing me for the first time. Almost begrudgingly, she says, “You’re pretty. You’re gonna get hit on a lot. Especially when you clean up and fix your hair.”

“Thanks, but no way,” I protest. “Back home I was totally invisible to guys. To everyone, really.”

“So were a lot of us. It’s different on the wheel for some reason.”

Gadya leads me along an overgrown path running parallel to the main camp. We stop at a supply shack, and she rummages through it, taking out a pair of jeans, a plain black tank top, and a pair of boots. I don’t ask who these clothes belonged to, because I’m afraid their previous owner is a corpse.

Then Gadya takes me down to the bank of a large gray river. The water’s moving rapidly. I see the bathing shacks standing near the edge, jutting out of the muddy bank like crooked teeth.

We walk to the edge of the choppy water. “The River Styx,” I murmur, thinking of those Greek myths again. “The river from hell.”

“And you haven’t even felt how cold it is yet.” Gadya walks over to one of the bathing shacks and yanks open the door. A gray towel spotted with mildew hangs on a hook inside. “No shampoo, only homemade soap from hoofer fat,” she says, rummaging around.

I walk over, and she hands me a white lump of soap. It feels disgusting, like congealed snot. “Thanks.”

“I’ll be tending the fire. Come find me when you’re done.”

I nod.

She leaves me there and strides back up the riverbank, disappearing into the trees. I’m very conscious of the fact that I’m all alone now in this strange domain.

It doesn’t seem possible that my life has come to this. I never thought I’d be homesick for the bland amenities of government-controlled life in the UNA. Yet here I am.

I strip down, hanging my old clothes and bra under the towel. I bathe quickly in the icy water, kneeling and splashing to wash grime off my skin and grit from my hair. Then I dry myself and get dressed, slipping back into my panties and itchy bra, and then my new jeans, tank top, and boots. The jeans are baggy, and the tank top has a few holes in it, but at least these clothes are clean and dry. I smooth back my wet hair with my hands. My arms are already covered in mosquito bites.

Although I still feel like I’m living inside a surreal nightmare, I know I’m going to have to shake that feeling pretty fast. I need to make friends, find out what’s really going on here, and figure out if there’s a way to get off the wheel before something bad happens to me, like it already did to David. I wish I could somehow find a way to honor my promise and go back for him. I owe him my life. But there’s no way to reach him right now.

I leave the towel on the hook, tuck my old clothes under my arm, and rapidly head up the riverbank to the village, in search of Gadya and more answers.

THE NIGHT RAID

WHEN I FINALLY REACH
the main clearing, a fire is already roaring in the pit. Yellow flames dance upward into the darkening sky. Occasional gusts of wind blow the flames sideways, scattering orange embers across the dirt and grass.

There’s no sign of Gadya. I feel awkward and vulnerable without her around. Two rugged boys I don’t know yet are feeding the fire with dead branches. They look up as I near.

Then I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around, expecting to see Gadya. Instead it’s Assassin Elite.

“What do you think of this place?” he asks.

“I’m just grateful to be here, let’s put it like that.”

He laughs. “It’s a dump. A total hovel. We all know that.”

I hear a sharp voice to my left: “Alenna!”

To my relief, it’s Gadya, trailed by a freckled girl I haven’t seen before. This girl is short and a little heavy, wearing overalls and a necklace made from seashells. Probably just a bit older than I am. Her auburn hair is in braids, and she’s wearing glasses.

“Is this idiot bothering you?” Gadya calls out to me.

“C’mon, I’m just being friendly!” Assassin Elite—or whatever his real name is—retorts.

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Gadya snaps. “Get lost before I give you a pounding.”

“Sounds hot. Is that an invitation?” But he turns to leave, smirking. “I gotta get back to doing something useful.”

“That’s right, keep walking,” Gadya taunts.

She and the freckled girl reach me as the boy retreats. Unexpectedly, the freckled girl steps forward and hugs me. “You’ve probably met enough new faces already—but I hope there’s room for one more? I’m Rika.”

“Alenna.”

She steps back. “You’re famous around here. The new arrival. But don’t worry. Your fame’s only gonna last until someone else new turns up. Then everyone will forget about you. That’s what happened to me!”

“Good. I don’t want to be famous.”

“We better get moving,” Gadya points out. “It’s almost time for the meeting.”

I’m swept along in Gadya and Rika’s wake as they walk around to the other side of the fire pit. Despite their divergent appearances, I can tell that they’re good friends.