Edge of Mercy (Young Adult Dystopian)(Volume 1) (The Mercy Series) (6 page)

The table erupted with laughter and more good-natured ribbing.

Zeke stood with a toothy grin on his face. “That’s okay. I’ve got an appointment of my own. A room of thrones waits for me, and none of you are invited, no matter how much you beg.”

More laughter followed, but I rose too, gathering my empty tray. My evening was only getting started. I still needed to drop off the guards’ plates and Quillen’s too and spend some time playing with my sister. Not to mention, I also still had laundry duty tonight. It would be another late night before I crawled into my space on the floor, but I had a responsibility to the community, and I didn’t want anyone to say I wasn’t taking care of my responsibilities.

It wasn’t long before I had two plates in hand with Zeke holding three by my side and Thomas on the other, Star giggling in his arms. She tentatively put her finger to his lips, and he pretended to bite at them, causing her to laugh merrily. Zeke and I laughed at the exchange but stopped when insanity incarnate rolled into the cafeteria.

Victor, the only Chosen to ever return from The Dead Forest, staggered into the dining hall, raised the metal cup in his hands, and yelped loudly. He couldn’t be more than seventeen or eighteen-years-old and barely taller than me, but a small crowd close by the entrance inched away as if even being within a few feet of him posed a serious threat.

“Lookie here! It’s a celebration!” He wobbled unsteadily to the center of the room and glared at the silent audience. His dark eyes shone wildly and glinted with an edge of danger. Everyone stared in his direction, and a feeling of unease pervaded the air in the room. He was unpredictable on a good day, but this clearly wasn’t a good day.

He reared back the hand holding the cup and hurtled it and its contents across the room until it hit the stone-like wall at the back of the dining area. The cup pinged and bounced into a table of some of the older men of the community. They stood with heated scowls.

“Why the hell wasn’t I invited? That’s what I want to know? Am I not good enough to eat with the upstanding members of the community?”

No one answered, but I could feel charged emotion pricking my skin. Everyone was as tolerant as they could be with Victor. He never worked the fields. He slept in the most protected area, deep in the lower levels of the main fortified building. He wasn’t assigned evening chores even. The anomaly of his situation, being the only person ever to survive a night in the Dead Forest and live to tell about it, came with a high level of reverence. Even if he came back way out of his mind, way off his meds, as we used to say, or however you described someone who’d gone completely insane, no one begrudged him a life of leisure. True, not a single person went out of his way to spend time with Victor. Tiptoeing around him seemed to be the best way to deal.

He reached over to the table on his right and pulled a piece of meat off the nearest tray, stuffed it into his mouth, and spoke around the food as he chewed, “Well? Am I completely invisible here? Someone who should be a hero to you. You’re just going to ignore me?”

We all speculated why the Council never decided to give him back to the forest, but none of us could come up with a satisfying reason. The Council made these kinds of decisions occasionally. If someone came down with an illness we couldn’t treat but might infect others, they were sent into the forest. If someone stole food, water, or another essential too many times, they were given a small pack and pushed through the gates. Why didn’t the Council just do the usual and send him into the hands of the Draghoul?

“Fine! Don’t answer me then. Pretend I’m not here. Maybe one of these nights I’ll open the fortified doors myself, and you all can experience what I went through. You have no idea what it was like out there, what I had to do to survive. They’re vicious. The monsters’s screams pierce your ears and the sick sound of them devouring the victims, the blood everywhere…I just want to erase it from my brain...to scrub it…”

For a moment, his voice trailed off, his face screwed up in terror, and his eyes glazed as if the images in his mind were happening right in front of us all. He raised his hands to his hair and yanked fistfuls from the long tufts as he moaned forcefully. He was clearly no longer in the dining area, but back in the forest, at least in his own mind.

It was the distraction the older men needed. They circled him and closed in, each grabbing his arms and legs. He let out a high-pitched scream and fought hard as if the Draghoul had a hold of him instead. With the singular motivation of protecting the rest of us, they dragged him toward the exit and, I could only assume, to the locked and padded room he stayed in during these moments of intense cuckoo for cocoa puffs-land.

As his screams faded, the air filled with voices again, even some uneasy laughter, and I turned to say something to Zeke and Thomas, but only Zeke stood beside me. Sometime during the craziness, Thomas had taken Star out of the room, and I hadn’t even noticed. Grateful he’d thought to keep her safe, I felt like the worst sister for not thinking of it myself. After all I’d experienced in this crazy, messed-up world, I kept putting those I loved in danger. It should have sunk through my thick skull when my mother died because of my stupidity. Would I ever learn?

Chapter 4

Thunder and lightning dominated the sky the next couple of days and nights, and the air grew colder, keeping all the members of the community inside. Though the Draghoul seemed less likely to move during rainy weather, the thick cloud cover meant a darker sky. Some speculated the water washed away the scent of humans, but without sunlight, the Draghoul might stir during the day. We never took the chance. Besides, the crops could use the rain and there’d be plenty of work waiting for us when we trekked back to the fields.

Most of the time, I hung with Star, my goal to give Quillen a break, but he stayed with us and used his knack with my sister to calm her during the thick of the storms. He sang to her and expressed genuine care, not like a parent necessarily, but like he believed she was exceptional, special. Being the only female, as far as anyone knew anyway, of course she stood out, but Quillen spoke of her almost as if something inside her made her unique, beyond comparison with others. Other than her eyes, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Not that I’d interacted with a baby since my cousins years ago, but she seemed typical. Sure, people noticed her eyes—one very pale blue, almost clear and the other deep, dark brown—and none of my immediate or extended family had possessed similar eyes, but I absorbed an introduction to genetics before officials closed the schools, so I knew her eyes could be some sort of mutation or from an ancestor way back. Yet, maybe there was more to it than I realized. Maybe Quillen understood something about her eyes not immediately obvious. After all, he did spend the most time with her. Perhaps he witnessed more evidence of her exceptionality.

The extra days inside also gave me a chance to let Dr. Graham take a look at Star to make sure she was healthy. He checked her over thoroughly and decided her right ear was infected. He handed me some pills and instructed me to crush them up and mix them with her milk. I couldn’t believe he was actually giving away medicine. So little remained, it was rare when a community member received any. Again, I got the feeling others knew something about Star I didn’t. But after a day or two, she felt better and returned to her usual playfulness. I was just thankful it wasn’t contagious. The Council might have sent her to the forest.

After three days of wind and rain, the meat-morale waned, and whispers of unrest wormed through the men.
Maybe we’d stayed here too long. The Draghoul propagated in number and grew more aggressive. How would we ever survive another long winter?

The evening of the third day, Jonas addressed the crowd in the dining hall. “Fellow community members, I have heard your concerns.”

More than likely from that little rat Peter.

“Perhaps a history lesson will clear the air. See, in the early days, when we first came to this institution,” he waved his hands around before continuing, “we numbered in the hundreds. Some of you are old enough to remember that time.”

He shook his head and paced back and forth, his gaze on the floor. The entire group listened attentively. Not a person stirred. Apparently, I was one of many interested in the community’s history.

“The Draghoul encroached on us quickly. We developed the shockwall to protect ourselves. We boarded up the windows. We dug the tunnels. Everything we could do to ensure the safety of our people, we did. Yet, the monsters still attacked and we lost people. As I’ve heard some of you recently suggest, we made the decision to leave as a group. We’d fight our way to Mercy if we needed to. After all, we had the numbers.”

He paused and raised his gaze dramatically. “So many lost. Look around you at our pitiful population now. Because someone suggested taking the elderly, the sick, the weak, and everyone in between out among those hideous creatures, people from this community were infected and died. Devastating and on the conscious of every man who survived.”

His voice hardened, each word emphasized. “I will not go through that again.”

Some shifted in their seats, obviously feeling the guilt he was pouring on them.

“We agreed that we’d make the best of it here. Inside the walls of this community. And we have. If you disagree, rather than complaining amongst yourselves like little children, come before the Council and discuss it with us. If you have a solution we’ve never considered, we’d like to hear it. But just so you know, if you come to us with some idiocy about taking the whole community out to find some mythical safe place for us all, I might just toss you over the wall myself.”

Once he exited the cafeteria, silence filled the air for a good amount of time. Authority in my life wasn’t new. Parents, teachers, other family members had all ordered me around. I even remember a leader of the whole country, and I knew authorities gained respect in one of two ways. Followers either respected a leader out of mutual esteem or, as was the case with Jonas Bannon, out of utter fear. I didn’t know how he had a hold on these people, but they’d decided some time ago not to oppose him. It would take a drastic action to change the balance of power out of Jonas’s favor. I didn’t know what that was, but man, I hoped someone figured it out.

When the clouds parted and the sky cleared, part of me wished for a return of the rain. I’d enjoyed the leisurely days with Quillen and Star, even if I still had to slug through laundry in the evenings. I wouldn’t mind that schedule every day, but it wasn’t an option. If you didn’t earn your keep in the community, you didn’t stay in the community, so I rose early, ate the offered grainy mush, which tasted better the past few mornings because it was prepared with the broth cooked off from the inedible remains of the geese. Though the men devoured the meat in one meal, the cooks would treat us to remnants mixed with the ordinary offerings for a while.

With Zeke by my side, I made my way to the fields. I hadn’t seen Thomas all morning, really not for the past couple days. If anyone knew Thomas’s whereabouts, Zeke did.

“Have you seen Thomas?”

“He’s training. We won’t really see him for a couple months.”

I waited for relief to wash over me, but instead, it felt like a piece of our little puzzle was missing. Maybe I hadn’t gotten along with him all the time, but I didn’t like the feeling of things changing beyond repair. In my experience, change brought more problems not solutions. I didn’t like losing what I knew and trusted as a safe reality. A new thought occurred to me. Would I eventually lose Zeke too?

“Are you thinking you’ll train?”

He shrugged. “You know me. I try not to think too much beyond moment-to-moment.”

I smiled slightly. Zeke’s impulsivity surfaced the first moment I met him. He’d pulled my mother and me through the gate without a thought to the fact that we might be infected, in some way bait for an ambush, or any number of dangerous scenarios the Council had berated him for when we stood in front of them. Yet, somehow, he’d convinced them to keep us. Since then, I’d felt a small indebtedness to him. Maybe that’s why I never called him on his usual crap, how he’d take out a whole league of Draghoul if given the chance. Easy to proclaim your greatness inside the protected walls. He didn’t really understand what it meant to be among the monsters, and since I had first-hand experience, I honestly hoped he never got the opportunity to learn. They were nothing to mess with, and I comprehended that all too well.

It was time for a change in subject, but one that held curiosity for me. “Hey, how come you never mentioned you’ve fought Draghoul before?”

He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “I worked nightwatch at the beginning of the year and a couple made it over the shockwall. It was kill or be killed.  Fortunately, I still had my father’s pocketknife. I don’t have it any longer, but if you stab a particular spot in the brain, the creatures re-die instantly.”

I cringed at the images his words brought to mind. “Why were you on nightwatch?”

“As a consequence.”

“For what?”

“Just drop it.”

Surprise washed over me. There wasn’t a subject about which Zeke didn’t have something to say. “Drop it? Why?”

He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “It was my consequence for bringing your mother and you through the gates.”

I stood still, others around me protesting at the sudden stop. Zeke turned back and faced me. He reached out a hand and raised my chin until my mouth no longer gaped wide.

“You almost died, for me?”

He looked away. For the first time, he was uncomfortable with a topic. “It wasn’t that dramatic. And bringing you into the community was the smartest thing I ever did, dude. You’re awesome to hang out with.”

I laughed, more like a humorless snort. He nearly gave his life for mine, and I never knew. My legs felt like veggie mush and my feet like concrete blocks. He grabbed my arm and pulled me along toward the fields. It was one thing that he nearly died for me, but the fact he’d never bragged about it baffled me. It was unlike the Zeke I thought I knew.