The Fear Trials Page 4

  “I’m sorry.”

  Trace grabs a knife from the floor. “I never did understand why people say that. They’re sorry, like it’s something they did. You didn’t murder my sister. That bastard did, and when I get my hands on him . . .” She sinks the knife into the mattress.

  I have to change the subject. She’s drowning.

  “Do you spar?” I ask.

  Her blue eyes meet mine. A gap-toothed grin appears on her face. “I was hoping you’d bring that up. I see you training with your brother. He’s good. Moves fast, light on his feet.” We go back out to the deck and she turns to face me, her hands balled into fists. “But you could be better.”

  She lunges at me, so fast I almost don’t react. But I throw my arm up just in time, deflect her punch with my elbow.

  “You don’t like to fight,” Trace says. “There’s no energy in you.” She whirls, throwing her leg up. It comes down on my shoulder and I swallow the pain. “What’s stopping you?”

  “Nothing is stopping me. I’m just not good enough.” I throw a punch, but she sidesteps it with ease. “My brother failed his placement test. He didn’t get a job. What if . . . I can’t bring myself to do what needs to be done in this world?”

  “You mean the killing,” she says. I nod. “Suck it up. It’s the way it is, and there ain’t gonna be a sister for you to protect if she starves to death.”

  I stumble back, avoid another punch. “It won’t happen. My mom’s got rations, too.”

  Trace stops for a breath. “Your momma’s a nut case, you know that? She won’t live much longer, I’m betting.”

  I punch her in the stomach. “You don’t know anything about my mother.”

  “Nice hit.” She takes a few steps backward and laughs. “People talk about your mother. She’s crazier than a bat thrown to daylight. Everyone says she’s twisted as a thorn bush inside that head of hers.”

  I slam into her and throw her to the deck. I punch her once in the nose, but before I get a second hit, she launches me sideways. She scrambles to her feet and we circle each other.

  “You fight like my father,” I tell her.

  “You fight like a pathetic little girl,” she growls, and then she’s tripped me again. I fall backwards, my head slamming into the warped floorboards. She plants her foot on my throat so I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. And there’s that look in her eyes again. I’m about to die. I close my eyes.

  “Look at me.”

  She crunches her foot down on my windpipe, so I can’t breathe. I open my eyes and stare up at her.

  “If you want to live then make me a promise,” she says, tears in her eyes, “that you’ll fight like hell, every day. You’ll learn to kill, and you’ll learn to love it. Because if you don’t, you’ll end up like your brother. You’ll end up like me.”

  She presses my windpipe, so hard I start to see stars. I flail my arms, try to grab her leg and pull it away from my throat, but she’s too strong.

  “If you stay soft, the way you are, then everything and everyone you love will be dead. And it will be your fault.”

  The world is turning black around the edges.

  “Promise me, Meadow.”

  I can’t answer her. I can’t speak because there’s no air. So I drop my arms. I surrender.

  Trace pulls away, and finally, I can breathe.

  “You’re strong enough to beat me,” she says. “You just don’t want to. You don’t have the guts. Get up.”

  We spar until the sun starts to sink in the sky. She shows me how to throw a better punch, how to dodge certain types of kicks. She shows me where to punch a man so his airway gets blocked, and where to kick him so his legs stop working. She shows me where to stab a person, right through the back, so that the blade sinks into the heart.

  “Think of your sister. Think of what you’d do to the person who slit her throat.”

  I finally knock Trace down to the deck.

  She smiles.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  She places her palm on the bloodstained deck and falls apart. She sobs and I sit beside her quietly and wait until her tears run dry. I put my hand on her shoulder to comfort her, the way my mother does for me, but she whirls, punches me in the jaw and scrambles to her feet.

  “Get the hell away from me!” she screams. “Everyone close to me dies!”

  I leave without a word. I dive into the waves and swim home, and by the time I make it onto my boat, I’m crying. My father yells at me, and Koi smirks, but I don’t care.

  I could have died today.

  Trace could have killed me, but she didn’t.

  Instead, she showed me what my life would be like without my family.

  She gave me proof, a reason to be strong.

  Chapter 15

  My father takes me to shore alone in the morning. “We’re going to the city today,” he says, as we hide the dinghy.

  “What are we doing there?” I ask.

  “Getting you familiar with the transportation,” he says. “Today is a fun day.”

  I doubt that. My father’s idea of fun doesn’t ever match up with mine.

  When we enter the jungle, we pass by a young woman who cradles her swollen belly. She asks us for food, and my father waves her away.

  The city looks exactly the same as it did a few days ago. Children laugh and cry, Initiative officers shout orders to the citizens. A body lies in the street, not far from the trees, and the crowd parts to avoid it. Seagulls swoop down from overhead and gnats are everywhere, drawn by the smell of the dead. The train rattles past.

  “Stay close,” my father says.

  We blend into the crowd. We go left, towards the Library. I think I see our old apartment building in the distance, but the crowd moves to the right and I lose sight of it.

  We stop at the tracks. “Your brother proved he could at least hop a train,” says my father.

  “He proved he was human,” I say. “He proved he didn’t want to kill someone else.”

  My father shakes his head. “You’re young, Meadow. You don’t understand yet. But you won’t become like Koi. You’ll survive, like me. You’ll survive because it’s in your blood.”

  There’s a whistle in the distance. People start pushing and shoving, trying to get closer to the tracks. The ground rumbles, and I see the train heading towards us, smoke rising from its metal top.

  “You have to run with it!” My father yells. “Reach your arms out, and when it comes, don’t hesitate.”

  I nod.

  “Start running now!”

  The train sweeps by. I run on the balls of my feet, as fast as I can, the way Koi did. I can feel the wind blow back my curls, feel the vibration in my toes. I reach, get ready to leap . . .

  A body slams me aside, knocking me off course, as a man jumps inside the train car. I fall down and there are feet everywhere, crushing me. I try to stand but I can’t move. I’m trapped. I cry out, but my voice is lost.

  Hands find me and haul me to my feet.

  My father. “You hesitated. I told you not to.”

  “It wasn’t my fault, someone pushed me!”

  “Someone will always push you. You have to fight for your spot. Try it again.”

  We wait for a long time until the train comes back again. This time, I can sense the eagerness. The way everyone seems to lean forward as one. There has to be an easier way to do this. I look at my father.

  “Figure it out on your own,” he says.

  I step back, away from the crowd, so they can push and shove and fight it out. The train sweeps by, the chaos begins. I wait, counting the seconds, until the last car rushes past, and those who didn’t make it, who are still standing, give up.

  I turn and chase it. I run as fast as I can. There’s a ladder on the back. I jump, grab onto the railing, and hold on tight.

  I turn and see my father smile.

  Chapter 16

  When I make it back to my father, he teaches me that anything and everythi
ng can be used as a weapon.

  An old pipe, leaning up against the side of a building. A glass bottle with a jagged, broken edge. He points out every alley in the city center, shows me where they lead, and tells me the fastest routes back to the beach.

  We pass by a girl my age, half-dead in an alley.

  He kneels and whispers something to her.

  “Yes.” It is such a struggle for her to speak, tears in her eyes, blood on her lips.

  My father uses his dagger to finish her off. He stands, wipes the blood from it, and faces me. And I understand. Sometimes killing means showing mercy. I wonder how many people have passed by the dying girl, too afraid to save her from her misery. My father nods at me. “We train so that will never be you.”

  “I understand.” We have choices. We can die, or we can choose to fight so that we may live.

  We move on, and he leads me to the Library. There are scanners embedded in the doors. We press our foreheads to them and head inside. There aren’t as many books as there used to be. My mother loved to come here when I was a child. This is the place where she taught me how to read.

  Initiative soldiers stand around the room, rifles in hand. I keep my head low as we pass by and only relax when my father turns and we disappear down a row of bookcases. He stops in front of a shelf that is half empty, dust covering the sign that says HISTORY.

  “There’s nothing about the history outside the Shallows,” I say, running my hand over the cracked spines. “Don’t we deserve to know?”

  My father plucks a book from the shelf. The History of the Shallows. “It’s because there’s nothing for us outside the Perimeter. At least, that’s what they want us to think.”

  “But why?” I ask.

  He watches me with sadness in his eyes. “Someday you’ll discover that for yourself.”

  He presses the book into my arms. It’s heavy, covered with dust, and I sneeze when I open it and flip through the pages.

  “Take it,” my father whispers.

  I look up. My heart does a strange dance. “But . . . it’s not allowed.”

  “Some rules are meant to be broken. You could teach Peri to read if you had this on the boat.” He smiles and nods. “Take it and run, Meadow. You need to learn how to escape when they are chasing you. Think of it as a game.”

  I am like a child being offered candy. I peer around the corner. There must be at least ten guards inside the library. If I screw this up and get caught, they will punish me. Shoot me, maybe.

  I look back at my father. “It’s best to remain calm,” he says, smiling. “Don’t let the pressure get to you.” He turns away to browse the shelves, as if he doesn’t know me.

  I take a deep breath, press the book to my chest, and walk towards the exit.

  The second I get close to the doors, the alarms go off.

  “Stop right there!” a guard yells, but instead I’m running, shoving my way past the desk and through the doors to the outside. I stumble into the streets.

  I don’t know where to go. Left? Right?

  It’s a part of your test.

  I cross the street, leap over the tracks, and disappear into the crowd. I duck into an alleyway, step behind a Dumpster. Even with the crowd of citizens, I can see the guards pouring down the street, searching for me.

  I keep my head low and run. I pass by the Rations Hall, the Hospital, and the crumbling brick building with an Initiative flyer on the side. At the end of that building is an alley. This one leads to the beach.

  I sprint as fast as I can, shoving my way through the crowd. I’m almost there when a hand closes over my arm.

  “Hand it over, citizen!” I hear the click of a bullet being chambered, and I know I’m done.

  But anything can be used as a weapon. Even a history book.

  “I’m sorry, please don’t shoot,” I say.

  He presses the gun to my skull. “Turn around. Slowly.”

  I almost do it. I almost turn slowly, but at the last second, I do what feels right. I whirl around, swing the book down, and hit the soldier hard. He drops the gun. Then I slam the book against the side of his head. I’m shocked when he falls to the street. I let out a crazed laugh and stumble back.

  “He’s down! Wilson’s down!” a voice shouts, and I see another soldier coming.

  I sprint the rest of the way and race into the trees. I don’t stop until I reach the sand. I’m out of breath by the time I get to the dinghy, but I push it into the waves, throw the book in, and jump.

  When I’m halfway out to sea, hidden from shore by the maze of boats and wrecks, I burst into laughter. It starts to rain, and the book is getting soaked, but I don’t care. It will dry. I’ll teach Peri to read.

  I made it.

  Completely on my own.

  Chapter 17

  I hear someone singing in the rain.

  It’s my mother. I sit in the dinghy and listen, relax into the sound of her voice and the pounding of the rain. She only sings when she’s happy. I close my eyes and smile.

  But then I really listen to the words of the song. And they chill me to my core.

  Someone save me, I’m falling to darkness.

  I met a man in the night who gave me a new start.

  Someone save me, I’m losing my sanity.

  The man’s name was Death and he blackened my heart.

  It’s then that I hear another voice with my mother’s. It’s a girl’s voice, and for a second, I think I might be going insane.

  It’s Trace.

  I knock on the boat, three times.

  The singing stops. My mother’s face appears over the railing. She drops the ladder down, and I make the ascent.

  I see Trace immediately, her fiery hair even brighter in the rain. Peri is sitting beside her under the awning, holding her teddy bear.

  “What . . . what are you doing here?” I ask. No one has ever been on our boat besides my family. It’s my father’s rule.

  My mother waves. “You made it back. With the book, I see. Good girl.” She stands up and puts her hand on my shoulder. “Your friend stopped by, and I invited her to stay. I thought it would be nice. We can celebrate today’s victory.”

  I pull her aside, whisper low. “If Dad knew you let a stranger on this boat, he’d throw you overboard.”

  “She’s not a stranger, darling. I knew Trace’s mother, long ago.” She smiles and touches my cheek. “And your father isn’t here today, is he? It’s all right to have a little bit of fun, now and then.”

  Peri giggles. Trace is teaching her the words to the song. I stiffen. This is wrong, against every rule, to let someone else onto our boat, which is supposed to be safe and private and separate from the outside world.

  But Trace looks happy. So different from the girl who just yesterday could have killed me. She was hurting, then. Mourning. I would have done the same, so I smile and force myself to relax.

  The rain stops, and the sun comes out, sharing stories about our past as it sets. Trace talks about Anna, and she smiles now and then. But the entire time, she watches Peri with a strange sort of hunger in her eyes. As if she thinks Peri is Anna, come back from the dead.

  My mother is different, today, too. It’s like she’s herself again, steady on her feet, a smile on her face. She pulls Peri into her lap and braids her hair, and the four of us lie on the deck and watch the sky.

  At some point my mother goes inside, to work in the engine room with Koi.

  “I thought it was odd that you came over here,” I tell Trace. We’re standing on the bow of the boat, watching the sun melt away. “But I guess I’m glad you did.” Peri giggles behind us. She’s playing with her teddy bear, making it talk. “Peri reminds you of your sister, doesn’t she?”

  Trace nods. Her eyes are sad, the sun reflected in them like little pools of light. “Anna was everything to me.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I say.

  She sighs. “If I could find a way to go back and fix my mistake, she’d still be here.�
�

  “You can’t think that way. Koi thinks that way.”

  She shrugs and starts singing again, those same awful lyrics, that same chilling song. She watches Peri, and there’s an alarm going off in my head. She shouldn’t be here. This is wrong.

  “You should go now,” I say. “My father will be home soon. He won’t be happy to see you here.”

  “I wouldn’t worry,” she says. “I’ll be gone before you know it.” She scoops up a hammer that lies forgotten on the deck, rusted from the rain and salt. She lets it dance across the tops of her hands. I’ve seen my father do that with his dagger.

  “Did you know that there’s over a million people in the Shallows? A million places to hide . . .” There’s that crazy look in her eyes again. “Someone, save me . . . your engine room is pretty far down there, isn’t it?”

  I shrug. “Sure, I guess.”

  “That’s good.” She whirls the hammer again, then stops. Grips it hard in her hand and gives me a cold, deadly smile. “They won’t be able to hear you.”

  I don’t have time to run. She slams the hammer on my skull. I crumple.

  The last thing I hear, before the world fades to black, is Peri’s scream.

  Chapter 18

  One time, when Koi and I were little, my mother brought home a rubber ball.

  We played with it all day, until Koi bounced it a little too hard and it disappeared into the street, sucked away by the crowd.

  “Stay here,” he told me. “I’ll get it.”

  He got lost. My father ran the streets searching for him for hours. The only reason he found my brother is because Koi wanted to be found.

  So now, while I stand at the bow of the boat, sobbing as my father yells at me, all I can think is that Peri will not be found. Because Trace stole her, and there is a difference between being lost and being taken.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. Over and over. Over and over.