Chapter Fifteen — Crimpson Lamb

Aecker:

I tie a piece of cloth over my breathing mask for extra protection when heading into the Cleared Lands. The very air from the Cleared area is deadly. I know exactly where the breach is in The Gate walls; my father purposefully had a secret escape route built there and showed me the location once when I was a boy. To some, it looks like a regular outlet pipe constructed beyond the Dump Lands. Mostly, the Dump Lands are where senior citizens end up and are exterminated, and sometimes they throw away mutant children, those infected by radiation. The pipe is extremely narrow and filled with soot and rotting flesh as the rain washes away the lumps of still smoldering bodies. The guards don’t patrol here often because of the stench and the high fear of contamination.

It will be much easier to navigate the desolated streets of Sodom alone. It tracks less attention, especially when ST officials are on the lookout for a fugitive male and female couple. Sodom was one of the first cities that was destroyed in The Clearing. I can’t even remember what the city’s original name used to be. The Clearing happened one month after The Gate opening. And only three months before The Gate opened to the public, it was announced that families with useful talents and skills could submit a letter of residency. My family and I were transported the day before The Gate opening, because we had three talents STO could benefit from. Dad was retired military, Mom, a teacher and nurse, and Dyllian had just passed his first year as a senior at the Army/Naval Academy.

The rest of the survivors on the east side of the continent were gathered up and forced inside The Gates. Those outside of our region were given a deadline of only five days, or be shut out forever. STO never mentioned anything about maximum capacity, and sure as hell never expected so many survivors would have access to radio channels after The War to even hear the broadcast messages. The day before the deadline, The Gate was already flooded over max capacity and many were denied access. Violent riots broke out and too many people died on all sides. Orphans were collected from outside the walls and received special exemption to enter The Gates. Parents sacrificed themselves purposefully for their kids. Rebel groups from other regions sent in spies to infiltrate and assassinate the heads of STO, and days after the assassination our water was poisoned. The fight to enter The Gates was savage. Some called it a zombie apocalypse, because of how swift the change in humans was. Savage killings and the eating of human flesh were the least of our troubles.

A month after the closing of The Gates, The Clearing began. Anyone coming within a certain distance of the walls was shot on sight. At night, those in hiding would come out and kill the guards. Then bombs fell from the sky and cleared a two mile perimeter around The Gate. With the bombs, a poisonous gas was released within the ruins of the perimeter every two weeks. It then changed to a weekly basis. But by that time, the damage inside the walls of The Gate had taken effect. The toxins released within the water had taken out half the population and once digested, the poison became airborne; an outbreak within the walls. Only one third of the population survived.

STO released a program called ASE, Artificial Skills Empowerment, which was DNA encoding that healed the sick forever. Soldiers were given cloned organs and limbs. It was a noble gesture. However, after the assassination of The Gates’ president, a rebel group took over STO and renamed it ST, after Suzerain Tanner―Cyrus’ father. After the takeover, the ASE program was turned upside down; no more doctors, nurses, or teachers were born from the insemination or coding programs. The birth and rise of Trackers was quickly turned into the perfect tool in the war against those who resisted encoding. Aim: To seek out rebel groups, infiltrate, gather Intel, report back in hopes of irradiating all threats outside The Gate.

As I step onto the debris and look over the Cleared Lands, it feels almost haunted by its brutal history. A certain kind of heavy air hovers above the stench. A broken sign of an old café lies beneath my feet, reminding me of the first few weeks in The Gate with my family. Mamma used to take us for fresh breakfast and sliced meat sandwiches every Saturday morning before her shift. It all seemed so perfect then, a utopia after the destruction brought on by WWIII.

The trek took me two days and one night. The side effects of not eating properly, or having clean, drinkable water has taken its toll on me. Dizziness is accompanied by paranoia and violent hallucinations. It’s not the good kind of hallucinations either. Sometimes objects seem farther away than they actually are, and I find myself bashing into walls. Other times, the earth opens up and I sidestep, tumbling down into the hole, only to discover the mirage was just the shadow of a passing cloud.

The outlet pipe in the Waste Lands is even more disgusting and disturbing than I imagined. Bones, rotting flesh, and chunks of someone’s face litter the inner pipe walls. Rats and small animals scatter and run over my feet as I make my way up and out of the pipe’s mouth. Once I’ve breached the inner wall of The Gate, I make it to the outer city ruins of Sodom. I swear I can smell dead bodies on me, as if the scent of wasted human life is clinging to my clothes, lined itself inside my nostrils. The stench weakens and the air clears inside the walls. The closer I get to the inner cities of The Gate, the fewer filters I have to go through to be able to breathe.

Reaching out, I attempt to climb over a wall but it’s farther away than I thought and I fall over the barricade instead of climbing gracefully over. I cannot be seen in this condition―Regulators might think me drunk. Intoxication is banned inside the walls of The Gate, but my time is more than limited. Every four days sensors are deployed, they scan both the inner populated city streets and the outer barren lands for a populace count. This way, they know what their citizens are up to. Regulating the streets, they keep law breakers at bay.

Before me, I swear I can see the hub of the capital. The heat rises off the dark tar road in waves that distort the buildings with thick ghostly lines. Eventually, my eyes won’t focus on anything anymore. Exhaustion leaves me mind a haze, making it impossible for me to figure out how far in the Sensor Cycle the city is in. Stumbling forward, I can’t even find the sensor checkpoint to view the cycle. I use the row of silver building as my guide, giving away the direction I am headed. Brown outhouse posts, brick houses, and apartment buildings dot the landscape behind me as I venture deeper into the hub of the city. I keep my mind on one thought at a time. Where am I now…

Separating the Hub from the Housing District is the Laboring District, nestled between white governmental buildings that include hospitals, schools and resource outlets. It’s busier the deeper I go, concealing my condition will become more difficult.

I know where they will be keeping my brother and Dr. P.; the center post, known to insurgent groups as Basilisk Towers. It hovers so high above the capital and over parts of Sodom that it is rarely seen. No one has ever laid their eyes on the apex of the tower, which is covered by clouds and smog, and only its long chrome neck stands in clear sight, towering over the center. It gleams intensely at both dusk and dawn. To most outside the walls, it is a daunting beacon of oppressing, power hungry animals. To those inside the walls, especially first generation Orphans, Basilisk Tower is an ideal of life after.

Heat rising from the black asphalt adds to my fever. It confuses me, dampening the functionality of all my much needed senses. It plays tricks on my eyes, and at some point I think the road has melted and I’ve stepped into a tar pit. I pull and pull until my foot comes out shoeless. I stumble, grabbing on to a nearby wall to pull myself out. My feet suddenly give way and I fall. I don’t feel the pain, but I know I’ve hit the ground hard on all fours when I hear the sound echo throughout the alley. Deciding to wait out the hallucinations, I lie there for a while enjoying the shadows of a nearby overhanging gable, allowing the deliria to wear itself out, enjoying the ride as it pulls me along.

White lined curtains touch my skin, leaving a trail of damp and calmness in a wake of refreshing goosebumps. Between the waves of sweet sedation I feel her kisses on my neck, traveling down to my chest, and the coolness turns into scenes of hot and cold adventures. I want to grab her face, press her beautiful Opel lips to mine. To hold her and let her sweet scent guide me back to normalcy. Feeling her hands on my chest, I can’t begin to imagine where I will find her next. The honeyed scent of burning oil pulls my attention—I hear giggles and murmuring somewhere close by. Then a gong resounds, before more giggling assaults my ears, ripping me from my seductive dream. When my eyes open, I’m looking into a sea of pretty faces. The girls are young, dressed in nothing but girly undergarments in a rainbow of soft colors I have only witnessed in pure sunsets. Am I still hallucinating? A hand grabs my inner thigh.

“Oh, my gosh!” I shout, flinging myself off the cushioned floor. Standing right in the mist of scented smoke, I break into a coughing fit. I wave it from my vision, desperate for sober thoughts.

“Where are you going, handsome?” A pretty redhead grabs at my pants.

“A harlots’ nest!”

“He is definitely not from around here.” I hear a girl whisper to the redhead.

I pull myself from prying hands. “I must go. Thank you guys… girls, for your assistance. I fe-feel fi-iinee now.” I can’t even speak when I see the half-naked girl walking toward me from the bathing area.

I turn my face to revert my eyes back to the ground, when I notice the wall of half-naked girls standing under a shower of sweet-smelling water pouring from the roof. I don’t know where to look!

“Don’t forget your shoes!” a girl with a shrieking voice yells as I stumble away, looking for my shoes and shirt.

I turn and follow her elaborately jeweled pointing finger, to where my shoes are neatly stacked against a wall of military boots. They are not standard issued military boots I notice, they hold the shine of fake leather, and steel tips used to conceal weapons inside―Regulators. I need to get out now!

Grabbing a pair of boots, not finding my own, I head toward the door shirtless. It’s then I realize I need my bag. I race into the shadow of an adjoining hallway, the lamps glow in colors of orange and pink. Golden mirrors fill the wall and distort my vision. Everything still feels hazy, but at least I am not hallucinating anymore. I pass one closed door and upon slinking down beneath a poorly concealed window, someone calls out for me.

“Are you sure you want to leave just yet?” her calm voice says.

I try to make a run for it, round a sharp corner into the kitchen, crashing right into a tree of hanging pots and pans.

“Do you want to get found out?” the same calm voice says from behind me.

I spin around. Behind me, with arms folded over a beautiful chest, the stunning brunette has piercing green eyes and plump ruby lips. She smirks at my startled face. At first, I think I know exactly who she is, her build and something about her eyes seems familiar but the rest, like her hair color and pouty lips are different.

“Yes, it is me, Aecker. Now come along before you unsettle my guests.” She grins and holds her hand out to me.

“Skylar?” I am not sure if it is a trick.

We walk down the passage. I stare incredulously at her small bare feet wrapped up in pretty, colorful tattoos of creeping vines and vibrant flowers that wind all the way up her leg. Her nails painted the same bright colors as her make up.

“Sit,” she demands as we enter her office.

Surprisingly, her office looks very much like an actual office with an old locker cabinet marked Uniforms. A screen, listing all employees and their revolving schedules, is propped up in one corner. A huge 4D hologram of the place rotates in another corner on top of a metallic plate, housed on a beautifully ornate, antique wooden table. I feel uncomfortable and blush when it rotates from kitchen to outside gardens where a couple of girls are servicing an older man.

Skylar closes the door behind me. “You have not changed one bit, Aecker Halt.”

I do not miss the mocking tone in her voice.

Walking around the table she says, “Lights,” and the room does as she commands, lighting up in a bright glow.

At first, it hurts my eyes. I squint at the glass of water she slides over to my end of the table. I swig the water and she pours me some other liquid from a dark brown bottle into the same glass. I stare at it.

“It is aloe extract, for your dehydration.”

“Thanks.”

“How on earth did you find yourself back in here?” She grins wickedly. “Not that I thought you couldn’t return. I just never imagined you had reason to come back after you and your family split The Gates.”

“We had to leave, you know this,” I say, gagging at the nasty liquid as it slides down my parched throat, the aftertaste bitter and disgusting, sending shivers over my entire body.

Skylar ducks behind her antique table, opens a hidden drawer on the side, and throws a shirt at me. It’s stark white against the dark wooden table, with golden cuffs and buttons.

“Don’t be so picky, take it. It’s all I have in your slim size.”

“Thank you,” I say again, not sure if it’s a compliment at all.

“I found you near the extraction plant. You were a wreck. My doctors tended to your spider bite.” She motions to my hand resting on the table.

My left hand is wrapped in white gauze, a yellowish ointment staining the cloth.

“Unfortunately, we couldn’t regenerate the muscles on the index finger.”

I move my hand, and then my fingers. They all work, except for my index finger, although it moves slightly. It makes me feel awkward and clumsy as I try and force it to move.

“You’re lucky we were able to save the hand at all.”

“Thank you,” I repeat for the third time.

“Wow… Aecker at a loss for words?” She smirks.

“I’m still a bit groggy, maybe a little shocked to have stumbled upon you and all of this.”

Looking down, Skylar flings her dark curls over her bare shoulder. “Yeah, well, it’s a way of life. I do have some measure of influence now. I trade girls for secrets, and secrets for resources.”

“So you are in the business of trade, then,” I repeat, more for my benefit than hers.

“Exactly.” She smiles awkwardly. “You know why I even risked my place here for you, Aecker?” She moves forward, her hand touching my fingers ever so slightly.

Swiftly, I move away.

“I’ll never forget how you made me feel, how you saved me from those boys back at school.”

“You deserved the best, Skylar, you still do.”

She smiles sadly. Not holding that same opinion of herself. We stare at each other awkwardly thinking of our first kiss, my only kiss besides Opel.

“You are staring.”

“You have changed,” I tell her, sliding my glass toward her for a refill.

As she pours the water, her nails shine in the illuminating light.

“The day I was taken away from school after those boys beat me up, I was placed into the ASE program. My skill insemination…” She lifts her hands and gestures to her gorgeous body. “Seduction.”

I blush at the sight of her enormous bust.

“They said that I was flawed with desire and lust, but that some flaws could be enhanced and used.” She giggles. “Took me a while to get used to the upgraded parts, too.”

“So what’s the reason?”

“For what?” I take a sip of water.

Her eyes study me for a while. “If you are back here, it’s to spy, right?” She raises her shapely eyebrows in hope. “Or, here to revenge your parents’ murders, perhaps?”

“No, sorry to disappoint, I am here to find my brother and a friend, they were captured by ST a few days ago.”

“That’s awful!” She lifts a thin white stick from a silver box, lights one end, and inhales sharply. Her eyes almost roll back in her head as she draws in the blissful smoke.

“I can find out where he is, if you want.” She exhales the gray smoke, her eyes flutter open, pupils dilated, and for a moment her green eyes bleed to black.

“I know who and where already.” I stare at her blankly. “What is that?” I spit out, choking on the fumes.

“It’s called smoking.”

I wave a hand before my face in hopes of dispersing the foul-smelling smoke. “That’s not normal.”

“Yeah, well, I have a serious appointment taking place in about ten minutes. This just helps me to loosen up.”

Spinning with her seat, Skylar says. “I have taken the liberty of drawing up a care package with false identifications. My foragers only found a few things on you. Like these odd-looking archaic binoculars.” She hands them to me from a drawer in her desk. “Your weapons and supplies were stripped from your person before my people could get to you. Your jacket was found close to your body, but it had been torn to shreds by the dogs. Oh, and this.” She hands me the vial containing the bullet from Opel’s shoulder. She leans forward, talking softer. “Your new name is Miles Summers, you work for me. Here is your badge and labor bracelet.”

Skylar slaps the small box down in front of me on the table and takes another hard drag of her poisonous stick.

“It will get you wherever you need to go. But once your badge has been used, they will check for any outstanding requests in our respected field. You might get away with it once, but soon they will realize it’s all false as no new SEA doc has been filed under that name. Besides, Miles Summers is an outpatient I ran into a few weeks ago. His transfer to Eradication is still in progress, so you have about one to two days to use his profile safely.”

“Why are you doing this for me?”

“Although I am grief stricken that I can’t keep you as my own, I owe you for saving my life.”

“If I hadn’t saved your life, mine would not have been spared, either. I thought you understood that.”

She stands, and out of respect, so do I. Killing her stick in a black plate, she starts rubbing scented oils from a tiny glass bottle all over her body. She then turns to hug me. “Goodbye, Ace.” Leaning back she kisses my cheek then bites my bottom lip. “I never got the chance to say goodbye,” she whispers, her soft eyes searching mine.

I clear my throat as the uncomfortable tension mounts. Her arms continue to hang around my neck. As gently as I can, I remove them.

“Well, then, best we get you out of here before―”

There’s a knock at the door. “Madam?”

“I am busy, give me a few seconds.”

“Madam, the director is here for her appointment.”

Skylar swears under her breath, pulls her underwear out from under her dress and chucks them into a drawer.

“Quickly, put your kit on.” She slaps the ID bracelet over my left arm, unties the first two buttons on my shirt, and pockets my key card as the door swings open.

A tall woman with hard eyes and straight black hair, enters. Sharing gazes between Skylar and me, she says, “Who is this handsome fellow?” Stepping closer to me, she trails her fingers up my chest, then leans in for a sniff before licking my chin.

I want to move, protest, slap her even, but Skylar is pale, her eyes wide, begging me to hold it in. I do, for her sake.

“This is Miles, our latest addition. He was just on his way out for his first assignment.” Skylar moves to stand between me and the director, who happens to look familiar as well.

“Although I’d consider him for my brother, I might for the first time give it a bash. He is so pretty, not like the usual brutes you have parading their large, disgusting packages around here.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Skylar nods, pushing me out the door. “The president’s secrets are safe here, madam.”

I know Skylar has just informed me of the woman’s identity, and the secret he keeps from his supposed fiancé—there’s no way I believe the ruse of their marriage after this.

I stare at the tall woman; she’s the president’s sister. It crosses my mind to attack her, just to get to him.

“Thank you. After my brother’s illness and the loss of his fiancée, he will need some cheering up.”

Skylar nods and bows. “As you wish.”

“Don’t wander off too far, handsome,” the woman says, showing a yellow-toothed grin.

Unbelievably, she reaches out and pinches my butt really hard. It’s difficult for me to not become physically ill and show my distaste toward her, but I simply nod, bow and practically throw myself out the door.

It is then that the director’s eyes catch my military boots, but before she can protest, Skylar has her tongue down the woman’s throat and her pink nails caught up in dark bangs. I almost feel bad for her and the countless others who have been forced into positions that compromise their self-worth. I will come back for her.

Making my way down the narrow passage, I button up my girly shirt with golden embellishments, thinking this false profile could work in my favor. I can move through the streets much faster as one of The Gate’s laborers. But something else strikes me in that moment, and although I have no right, it is something I must do.

I hang around in the busy kitchen until the director and her guard disappear up a set of stairs with Skylar. Once the door closes, I make a run for Skylar’s office. Closing the door behind me, I place a chair behind it and rummage through the drawers for the activation key to get into her IP tablet. I am just about to give up and hack the old-fashioned way with risk of being traced, when I see it hanging on a golden chain on one of her silky gowns behind the door.

Snatching it up, I pull the tablet toward me and slide the key over the power sensor. A ten digit password blocks my entry. I’m glaring at the screen, wondering if I still know the Skylar I knew growing up inside the walls of The Gate as a kid. I type in Skylar Pope; it gives me an error. Then I type in Aecker Halt, but it gives me an error again. I have one try left before it alerts the Regulators. I contemplate what it could be until I remember the look in her eyes when she said goodbye, thinking back to when we were kids. Deep down inside, I know Skylar treasures her childhood with me, the imaginary marriage and kids we invented, and I type in Skylar Halt based on these emotions. Back then, we pretended we knew what the word love meant. I think that is why the other boys tried to kill her because of our silly games. I now know that is what caused her transfer into the encoding program.

“Here goes nothing,” I mumble, almost shaking as I key in the letters. The screen fills with shooting stars and fading hearts, a hologram dancing on her ceiling.

“Welcome back, Mrs. Halt,” the animated voice chimes.

I pull a face. “That’s a bit fanatical, don’t you think?” I murmur, having a one-sided conversation with the computer.

I have not worked on an IP tablet quite this modern, as my family and I escaped The Gate a few years ago. But just like everything else, inside a city ruled by tech, the intelligence grows exponentially.

***

The tablet is paper thin and I struggle to figure out where to insert my key card. I move on, pulling up the appointment books from the icon on the screen. There are many files and appointment records for various sections of ST, and one is for the paying citizens. Grabbing the key card from my pocket, I turn the tablet onto its side and insert it into the tiny slot. At first, I can’t get it in―I have to get real close to see the grooves. Trying it, it finally slips in. As it registers, I start downloading the information on names of higher ranking ST Officers using Skylar’s services. I also begin to wonder if her traded secrets are kept on this device.

“Download complete,” the voice chimes.

“Shhh, you idiot, you’ll give away my position,” I whisper, trying to reason with a machine.

I hear voices and slow footsteps coming my way down the hall, but I’m not done yet. I make an appointment thirty minutes from now as Miles Summers, making sure to secure it in a department that has access to Basilisk Tower. Someone fumbles with the door handle and I panic. I have no reason to be in here at all. The roof above me is solid concrete and there are no windows in the compound.

“It’s locked,” I hear a male voice say.

Taking two steps forward, I swing the chair out of the way and unlock the door.

“Can I help you?” I say to the young man.

He’s wearing the same colors as Skylar, with a logo of stars and hearts that shimmer under the oil lamps.

“No, sir. Can I help you, instead?” Although it’s a question, it’s not one needing an answer. His suspicions are aroused.

“You must be the former assistant,” I say, playing it cool. It’s evident this knocks him hard, turning his face pale as he fumbles for words.

“What are you talking about?” he shrieks.

“Oh, I thought she would have told you by now. You need to find Skylar so this can be cleared up. As far as I know, I am now the second in command.”

His nostrils flare, and his hand swings out in an angry gesture. “Well, I never!” He stomps off, muttering something about a witch. “Soldier boys make bad lovers.”

Swinging the tablet around, I log off and remove the key card. I close the door behind me. Skylar is going to be so mad when she puts it all together. I pocket the key card and head out through the kitchen when I hear someone call out my alias. I make it past the scullery and out the back door.

A guard wearing military issued boots puts a hand out and stops me in my tracks. “Why in such a hurry?” he says to me.

“I am late for an appointment.”

“First day?” he queries, staring at me through squinted eyes.

“Yes.” I slap his hand from my chest.

“Look here, boy!” His eyes are intense. He must notice the tan marks from the breathing mask. Soon, he will figure it out, that I am not from The Gate at all.

He has a scar down the left side of his face, leaving it looking somewhat disfigured. I try not to stare.

“Judging from your boots, you have recently been discharged from the militia. Given your uselessness to our society, and your young age, you have a second chance at life in New Sodom. Don’t screw this up for Skylar, or you will have to deal with me.” His index finger pokes me in the chest.

I can feel the heat of anger color my face. “Yes, sir.” I bite my tongue and head out.

“I am watching you!” he shouts after me.

***

The streets are even busier the closer I get to Basilisk Tower. Everywhere I go I’m stared at, whispered about, and even receive a few whistles. At some point, some old lady even throws herself at me, pinning me against the wall of a market stall. How ironic that my disguise draws so much attention. I hear the march of Regulators working their way through cobblestone streets―must be a raid. Suddenly, an immense shot goes off, rumbling through the air and violently lighting up the sky.

“Miles Summers!” a voice booms through a megaphone.

The old lady looks at me, frisks my pockets and snatches the key card.

“Hey!” I scowl. “That’s mine.”

“You’re the one they’re looking for,” the hag says, her face coming closer to mine.

She dangles the evidence she’s found before me. “I won’t tell.” The other hand brushes up my chest, her leg dangerously close to my gonads.

I can actually feel my face drop, as I slowly push her away. “Really, I should be flattered.” Truth is, I am not, but what can I say to this lady without hurting her feelings and causing a scene?

“We can work something out, can’t we?” She bats her eyelashes.

This cannot get any worse.

“Come on,” a voice whispers from behind me.

I turn around to see a young girl with light hair and freckles staring up at me. One of her eyes has been replaced by a piece of black plastic that’s been stitched into her socket. She’s dressed in the same colors as the other market drudges; blue trousers and gray shirt. The key card hanging around her neck has an orange sticker indicating what section of the market she works at.

“Boo!” This from the crazy lady as I make my way past her stall.

“Follow me,” the girl calls out.

We pass the backs of the stalls, some only separated by rotten planks of wood. All kinds of decorations are pinned up on the walls, causing more of an annoyance as the myriad of decorations become hooked on my frilly shirt when I pass by.

Mostly, the individual stalls are erected with thick branches and brown cloth. The entire marketplace is under one huge, steel-plated roof, so every sound is magnified. People are whispering as we make our way through the maze of tables, but it’s more like a roar of whispers as we edge closer to the exit.

The little girl moves a cloth aside and shows me a concealed entrance. “Go.” She shoves me forward.

I slip through the gap in the cloth and into a room that’s dark, dank and musty. The brick floor is covered in dust and all kinds of rubbish. It’s even darker once the cloth is pinned closed behind us. Assaulting my senses is the putrid odor of urine. I breathe into my sleeve, close to spewing up all the nasty aloe water I had before.

“Hurry,” she whispers, pushing me forward once more.

A homeless man passed out on the disgusting floor seems to be the source of the acrid smell. Holding our breath we climb over his comatose body. At the second turn, the tunnel becomes more tapered. I turn sideways to fit my shoulders through. The murmurs are getting louder and I have a good idea our position has been pinpointed. One huge bang thunders through the marketplace, and when the echo fades the screaming starts.

“Miles Summers, give yourself over to the authorities. This is not a warning.”

The young girl takes my hand and pulls me along. “Don’t worry, I’ve done this before.”

The tunnel suddenly ends. Above us, the cloth has many holes, allowing light to poke through the gaps, illuminating the unsettled dust at our feet.

Bending down, she opens a trap door. “Get in.”

“Ten. Nine. Eight.” The countdown to some horrible threat has begun.

“What are they going to do?” I feel uncertain. A fist of unease twists my gut into a knot. I know what they are going to do, but years of not living inside the walls of The Gate, I’m at a loss as to the severity of the consequences should I be captured.

“Don’t worry, getting you out of here is far more important.”

I can’t believe such a young girl―no older than eleven at most―is making decisions for me. Staring into the blackness of the round tunnel, I feel this is a coward’s way out. But she hovers above the hole and takes my hand.

“Skylar sent me. You have to go now, Ace,” she says.

I’m about to disappear down some dingy tunnel in the ground when I get the taste of metal in my mouth, the gooseflesh erupts and I pull back. The instant harsh tang of tech swirls around in my mouth and pushes my tongue down my throat. My teeth feel like steel rocks, numb, heavy and cold. Then a bite rips though the muscles in my face and I feel my jaw clench down hard. I push the girl down the hole, knowing exactly what weaponized tech is about to be unleashed on these people―electricity. It has always been a gift of mine.

“Know this, citizens, this is the doing of a deserter.”

I close the hatch and stand on top of it. The young girl starts banging against the steel lid, cleverly concealed by a layer of thin brick cladding. The weapons zing as they power up, shrill shrieks tear through the marketplace. The drone of a thousand stampeding footsteps rip through the warehouse.

“Spread out!” the leader shouts.

“Two. One.”

The clamor of overturned tables and shattering glass drowns out the voice in my head. My impulse is to give myself up, but my stupid brain tells me to run. My brother’s life depends on my escape. The crackling of a gigantic Taser explodes and the screams become desperate cries of survival. But I won’t let others be harmed for my mistake. I kick against the post that holds the passage erect, it snaps, but it’s too late. The electric bomb has been released. Everything turns silent. A severe wave of electric current takes hold of my body, slicing into my skin. The shock penetrates my bones and my muscles seize as a fire rips through my entire body setting it alight with agony.

“Stop!” I shout.

As the voltage releases me I fall through the cloth, crashing into whatever stall was on the other side. I am staring up at the roof, my body jerking. The taste of blood is like dust, potent and dry. My vision comes and goes as unconsciousness lures me in. My body feels like one solid flaring flame, and the heat increases with each pump of my heart. I can almost feel the singe of my organs, like heavy coals dragging me down into the cracks in the ground. A swirl of men in dark rubber suits swim around me in a thick haze of crimson. Their hands grab and tug me like an old rag, flinging me around. My body is in shock, it won’t move. I am just a defenseless lamb about to be slaughtered.

My last thought is of Opel.