SAFE (5 page)

I
wasn’t sure if we should be separated. What if getting us alone was exactly
what they wanted? It didn’t seem like a good idea. However, I didn’t know what
else to do. What other options did I have? Again, I found myself at the end of the
road. I had no first-aid supplies and no choice but to accept their help.

“Okay.”
A one-word answer was all I managed. She wasn’t aggressive, but I no longer
knew which instincts to trust. So instead, I tried to be logical about the
whole situation. At least as logical as I was able to be in a situation such as
mine. There were two options: fight and lose against the massive amount of
people probably waiting outside in case of an attack, or let them take James
willingly, without causing an upheaval. Let them think I was good, someone who
didn’t want them harmed. Which I didn’t. And I am. I just wanted this nightmare
to be over.

The
two men from either side of the lady walked over. In one swift motion, they
picked James up and slowly carried him outside. As they passed, James’ jabbering
had stopped again and my hands instinctively reached out for him, passing over
his chest, unsure if he was going to make it.

I
grabbed my pack and gun, and then followed the men outside. I passed in front
of the lady and the man, both who stared at me as I went out the door. People
with torches stood near our car and others walked down the trail in the
direction of the dead bodies I had driven passed.

The
people with the torches, near the car, were inspecting it; a couple of people clamored
around inside with the trunk open. I wasn’t sure how they opened anything without
using the fingers, which were still inside my pack. Four people held torches around
the outside of the vehicle, and two legs wiggled out from underneath. The urge
to yell, to tell them to stop hunting around, crossed my mind, but I decided
against any demands and held it together. I bottled my emotions inside a small
box inside my head.

I
turned to my right and the two men carrying James disappeared around the corner.
I forgot to keep walking once the torches caught my eye.

I
took a step forward towards the corner, and a hand gently pulled back on my
shoulder.

“Penny,”
the woman said from behind me. “My name is Camara. Follow me.”

I
hesitated in the direction of the two men and then followed Camara instead. Being
fickle in my situation wouldn’t help me appear competent or strong, as if I
knew what I was doing. I followed with ease, without looking back. Inside,
however, I was a time bomb.

Camara led me in between homes. We passed a few
torches sticking tall out of the ground. The houses all appeared alike in
structure, built with fabric, however, sturdier than mere material in the wind.
The cloth along the exterior barely moved in the breeze. Sweat dried along my
face as it rose to the surface of my skin. My eyes constantly moved in every
direction, fearful someone might jump out, grab me from behind.

Camara’s
feet stopped at the entrance of a house, two torches placed strategically outside
the door. Each held a strand of beads wrapped around the middle with a charm dangling
off the center.

“Follow
me.” Camara glanced over her shoulder in my direction and I followed her
through the curtained entrance. As I walked in, a small woman walked swiftly from
a room. Behind me, there was a corner filled with handmade vases stacked on top
of one another, leading from the floor all the way to the ceiling. I realized
the vases looked familiar; I had seen a few around the Colony here and there.
They must be something the Lowers used for trade. The roof and walls had been lined
with wood, something I didn’t notice in the last house.

The
woman’s cheeks were flushed and the section below her eyes puffy, filled with
tears creeping to make their silent exit. She moved quickly, putting cups and
plates up where they belonged, sweeping her hand along the cabinets, and
clearing off the dust.

I
wasn’t sure why Camara brought me here.

“Hello
Sidnee, this here is Penny. Did Zane fill you in?” Camara softly asked the
woman.

“Yes,
she’ll be staying…in there.” The woman pointed to her left and went back into
the room she had just walked from. Again, I followed Camara into the room. I
was unsure why I hadn’t put a stop to the confusing hospitality; I simply
wanted James to get better so we could leave.

As
we entered, a large dog with snow-white hair and piercing, golden eyes laid at
the foot of a bed. His furry, over-fluffed body didn’t move and his eyes turned
slightly towards the three of us. The wooden bed was small, covered with white
sheets and a folded-up blanket at the head. It was the only large piece of furniture
in the room. The walls were uncluttered, except for one picture hanging in the
center—a sketch of a boy drawn on rustic paper inside a black frame. The dark
edges of the boy’s face were smeared on purpose from an artist’s fingers, his
eyes round and full of life, his hair cut short around his jawbone. Vibrant
colors were nonexistent; there didn’t need to be any. Life jumped from every
detail and tiny crease around his smile to the small birthmark on his neck. No
vines.

“That
is my little boy, Jace,” the woman said, pointing to the picture on the wall.
She barely finished speaking before the puffy sections released their tears,
overflowing her cheeks. The whites of her eyes masked with red, branchy veins,
and the look on her face desperate, reminding me of my mom this morning. She
traced the boy’s wide cheeks with the tips of her fingers, then cleared her
throat and looked over at me.

“This
is where you’ll be sleeping. This room is open…now. If you need anything,
please ask.”

With
that, Camara and Sidnee exited the room.

I
walked closer to the picture and studied the drawing more. A low humph came
from the dog. I had never been around a pet before. This was new territory for
me. I read about them, pets, but we weren’t allowed to have any inside the
Colony.

I
sauntered closer and lowered my hand, but a low growl escaped from the side of
his lips and I pulled my hand back immediately.

“Well,
let’s just hope you don’t kill me in my sleep. Okay?” I said. His pointy ears
stuck up in reply.

I
put my backpack beside me on the bed and blew out the only candle lit in the
room. Then I closed my eyes, my brain completely dead from the night’s events.

For
hours, I laid there with my arms folded; my feet had little room to move with
the dog sturdy in his spot. I didn’t move either. I was hopeful that if I could
stay in one position long enough, I’d eventually fall asleep.

Another
hour passed, the thought of my parents heavy, and I wondered if they were okay.
Surely they were alive. Maybe taken to the Academy?

Or
maybe they were still at home, speculating if I lived. If only I could get a
message to them, let them know I was alive. By now, they would’ve heard about us
stealing the car and James killing that guy, cutting off his fingers, and
shooting the other one.

We
wouldn’t last long here in the Lowers, but I didn’t know where else to go. With
no way around the perimeter, except for the Academy, what were the options? The
Academy was the only place where the perimeter opened up—through the port into
the ocean. The rest was secure—no way out, no way in. It was built to keep us
safe years ago when the land was settled. And it wasn’t an easy task back then.
There were a multitude of deaths and many people fighting for the upper hand. People
have always been anything but peaceful. Finally, when the perimeter was built, the
population divided itself into two sections, the Lowers
and the Colony.

Everything
has been safe ever since.

I
tried compartmentalizing my thoughts, knowing there was nothing I could do
right now. The only thing I could conclude, James and I had to figure a way
back to President Falcon. Explain our situation. Plead for innocence. And then
I’d be able to worry about my parents.
Yes, that’s what we would do.

Just
then, the image of my sister took precedent over all the other thoughts. I
couldn’t leave her behind, for whatever reason, wherever she was, I had to find
her. I couldn’t go back. My father wouldn’t have risked his own life if he
didn’t think it was necessary.

The next morning I woke up tired, feet warm from the
dog. She hadn’t moved all night. I sat up, gradually bringing my right hand
towards her back.

Again,
a low growled vibrated.

Humph.

“Well
then,” I said. “I thought dogs were supposed to be man’s best friend?”

I
tried to slide my fingers through my hair, feeling the nest on top of my head.
When I grabbed a change of clothes from home, unfortunately, I didn’t pack a
brush. So I sat and separated the strands best I could manually and grabbed my backpack.

When
I walked into the main living area, there was nobody there. I paced outside and
around a few houses until I came to a small clearing. Tons of people were
sitting on benches placed in a huge circle. In the center of the circle laid
eight bodies, each wrapped in black fabric, their faces the only exposed part.
The bodies laid beside one another on top of an organized flat of wood. Beads, vases,
and other trinkets dangled around them on the same sticks I’d seen earlier protruding
from the ground.

I
could only assume they were the bodies I saw driving here last night. The
difference—their vines had been removed.

I
walked closer to the group. Most people sat on the benches, a few were standing.
All of them ate oatmeal with steam floating and hovering above the bowls.
Everyone was quiet, the air wet with humidity, filling every inch of space
around the small village.

Finally,
I saw Sidnee. She was eating alone on the ground next to the bodies.

I
stood beside her.

“Hello,
Penny.” Her position was still, unmoving, hands grasped tightly around the bowl
of oatmeal. I was unsure if I should talk back. This was a personal moment for
her.

“It’s
okay, really,” she said breaking her gaze and looking up at me.

“I’m
sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say. “Were they close friends of yours?”
And
why are you mourning the people you killed
? I didn’t speak that last
thought aloud.

Sidnee
patted the ground next to her and asked me to sit.

I
did.

Her
legs propped underneath her as she sat on her knees and I copied her position.
A little trick I learned from my dad; if you imitate the one you’re talking
with, they’ll genuinely connect with you easier.

“The
one right over there,” she said, pointing to the third body, a man. His hair
shaved off, stubble barely noticeable beneath the surface. In fact, all the
bodies were bald. However, the man’s rough jawline and broad build left no question
to whether he was a male or female.

“That’s
my husband,” she said.

I
was no more than a foot away from her. Her eyes never left the body as she
talked, hands still clutching the bowl of oatmeal, cheeks absent from any
tears.

The
sunlight was hazy, but I realized Sidnee did have vines. However, they were lighter
in color and covered up by some sort of paint the same color of her fair skin. Not
only were her vines masked, she also wore a long-sleeve, handmade shirt.

I
looked around; everyone’s clothes covered the majority of their skin.

I
leaned in a little closer to the bodies nearest to me.

The
first body’s face had the same paint as Sidnee, just darker. His vines barely
showed through, and if I hadn’t had the dawn’s light and the mind to examine their
skin, I wouldn’t have noticed they had vines at all. I was careful not to touch
them, not wanting to offend anyone watching. But it did make a little more sense
now, because I knew I’d seen a few Lowers in the Colony, and they
always
had vines.
They must wipe the paint off before coming that direction?

I
ran my fingers along Sidnee’s face but quickly brought my hand back, feeling
bad about my uncontrolled impulse. I didn’t ordinarily go around touching
people.

“It’s
okay,” she said.

I
couldn’t stop staring at her and at everyone else around.

“But
why?” I asked.

“Why
don’t we show our vines?” she replied.

“Well
yes, why wouldn’t you want to? It’s a…I don’t understand. The vines show your
strength, show where you stand in regards to everyone else. How well you can
handle yourself. The gifts you’re born with.”

“That’s
something you’ll have to find out for yourself,” she responded.

I
exhaled, sinking further down onto my legs, not seeing how her answer helped me
any.

I
felt a heavy presence walk up behind me and instantly I ducked my head.

“Hey
Penny,” a man’s voice bellowed from above.

I
swung my head around. James’ happy face, vines and all, smiled back at me.

I
stood up and gave him the biggest hug, his bare chest and woundless stomach
open to the elements—shirtless. I examined the area where the gunshot was; it
appeared completely healed. He was warm and I sunk my full weight into his arms.
Now that he was better, I had many questions. Where did they take him? Who was
the healer they spoke of?

“I
woke up this morning… They gave me something to help me sleep while the regenerating
process took place after the removal of the bullet.” He arched his back and
twisted his arms side to side, stretching his muscles. “Good as new,” he grinned.

I
wasn’t sure where to begin first. What was the reasoning for all this in the
first place? Why did you attack those guards? Was it necessary? Were my parents
okay? What does he know that I don’t? The questions flooded my mind and I
couldn’t focus on which to ask first.

“Why?”
I blurted out quietly. “Why did all of this happen?”

“First
Penny, let’s get something to eat and then we’ll talk,” he replied.

Thinking
about it, my stomach was empty and I knew he needed to eat after all the
regenerating. “Okay.”

We
walked over to the table. A large silver pot filled with oatmeal steamed and I grabbed
a small bowl off the side. We both slopped a few scoops in before walking over
to the outer edge of the circle, beyond the benches and the Lowers.

James
began whispering, “Look Penny, I don’t trust these people. I never have. We
need to get out of here.”

“Where
else are we supposed to go? I can’t go back home. And… I have to find my
sister,” I said.

James’
head popped up with confusion by my sudden mention of Madeline. I never told
him about that part of my life, never knowing there was much to tell.

He
shook his head. “No, I know we can’t go home. That’s not what I’m saying. We
have to find a way over the perimeter.”

I
started laughing, but he wasn’t joking.

“That’s
suicide, James. We both know there’s no way over it. You’ll be fried before
your body hits the ground on the other side.”

“How
do you know?” he asked.

I
thought about his question for a brief moment. “Well, I don’t. But we’ve both
been told exactly what the perimeter is and to stay away from it for a reason.”
I scooped a bite of warm oatmeal into my mouth and sloshed it around.

“Exactly.
How will we know until we get there? It’s our only option,” he whispered.