The Feral Sentence - Part One (7 page)

She tossed the bow into the sand.

“
We need each other to survive. If you turn on your own, you’re
turning on all of us. Anyone who kills or attempts to kill another
fellow convict will be banished to the outside.”

I suddenly felt a nudge, followed by, “What’d I
miss?”

It was Rocket. She was standing beside me with her hands on
her waist and her eyebrows drawn close together, trying to make
sense of what she’d just heard.

“
Marlin,” I said, glancing sideways at her. “Trim banished
her.”

“
Shit,” Rocket said, her piercing green eyes fixed on Trim.
“She must’ve done something pretty bad to be sentenced to
death.”

CHAPTER
6

The Village was quiet and gloomy. The sky had turned a
translucent gray, and a cool breeze ruffled the tree leaves
overhead. The name Marlin was brought up again and again throughout
the Village, mostly in a sympathetic tone, but also in a fearful
one. I watched as people visited the medic’s cabin, entering
solemnly and exiting just the same.

I could sense everyone was on edge—terrified that the next
attack might be the one to kill them. We were weak and vulnerable,
but I’d overheard Trim say that Eagle had injured the attacking
archers before being shot, so maybe time was on our
side.

I wondered if Marlin stood a better chance than us in the
Village. I couldn’t get her face out of my mind. Within days, she’d
probably be dead.

And although I didn’t agree with banishing a woman to the
outside world—away from civilization and closer to the Northers and
wild animals—I understood why Trim had done it. She was a leader
among wild women: felons. These women were dangerous, and they
possessed the capability to kill one another if order was not
established. They needed to fear Murk—to fear the head of their
hierarchy system. I’d come to realize that Trim was Murk’s right
hand and she enforced Murk’s beliefs and laws.

I was brought to my tent by Rocket after Trim’s speech and
told to rest as much as possible. She explained to me that supper
was served when the sun descended to the level of the trees or when
I heard a brief drumming sound, which was the method used for
announcing mealtime on cloudy days.

“
We’re lucky,” she said. “Battle Women and Hunters don’t have a
portion limit.”

I could only assume this was to allow adequate caloric intake
to promote strength and endurance for the purpose of battle and
hunting.

“
Hey, Rocket?” I asked as she was leaving through the tent’s
front curtain.

“
Yeah?”

“
What’s the difference between a Battle Woman and a Hunter?
Which one am I?”

She
smiled.

“
A Battle Woman is a soldier, and a Hunter is just that, a
hunter—someone who gets food for the Village. Don’t worry about
your title—just do what Trim tells you. I’ve always been a Hunter
alongside Trim. But things are getting pretty bad now…” she sighed.
“So I get to do both.”

“
So you’ll fight?” I asked.

“
To the death.”

She
stared into nothingness, and I could tell part of her was
afraid.

“
Let me put it this way,” she added, “all Hunters are Battle
Women, but not all Battle Women are Hunters.”

“
So, what am I?”

“
A Hunter.”

“
Why’s that?” I asked.

“
Because you’re being trained as an Archer. Most women are
being trained as Battle Women, which doesn’t make them useful
during a hunt.”

I nodded. I didn’t want her to leave. I didn’t want to be
alone.

“
Hey, Brone,” she said, before sliding out of the tent, “if you
decide to build yourself a bed, just remember to always have the
Village or the Working Grounds in sight. Any further, and you’re no
longer on our territory. I’ll see you at mealtime.”

And I was left alone in the dark, the skin of my feet
illuminated by a ray of light coming from the hole in the roof of
the tent that had been punctured and burned during the
attack.

Although I wanted to construct a comfortable sleeping area for
myself, I was unable to muster the strength. I slowly leaned to my
side, until finally, I lay flat in the damp soil beneath me. I
closed my eyes, wanting nothing more than a few minutes of rest
after such an oppressively long day. My muscles ached, and my back
felt as though I’d spent all day building an ancient pyramid among
thousands of slaves.

I breathed in the scent of earth, the freshness of the island
beneath me. I could hear women talking and moving about around my
tent and throughout the Village, but their voices became faded and
indistinct.

* *
*

“Lydia
Brone, I hereby sentence you to three years on Kormace Island,” the
judge said. He smacked his gavel hard and made a gesture at the
guards.

“
Korma—what?” I tried, but the guards moved in
quickly.

They
looked more like military staff than correctional officers due to
their padded black uniforms, their oversized bulletproof vests, and
their shaved heads.

“
But I didn’t…it was an acc—”

I heard my lawyer shout out the term
manslaughter
in an attempt to argue
with the judge, but it accomplished nothing. Two guards moved in on
me, and the most menacing-looking of them snatched me up underneath
my arms. I didn’t stand a chance. How was this even happening? I’d
heard of the government’s implementation of new criminal
punishment, but I’d never actually given it much thought because I
never imagined I’d be convicted as a felon. Me? Lydia Brone?
Sentenced to three years on a remote island for murder?

* *
*

For a
moment, I thought I’d fallen asleep on my mother’s living room
sofa. Everything was dark, and I wondered if perhaps my mother had
forgotten to lower the air conditioner as she often did on the
nights of hot summer days.

But the
smell of earthworms and sea water suddenly brought forth the
reality that I was nowhere near home—nowhere near my mother. I
hadn’t spent much time thinking about her, having been too
distracted by my need to survive among wild women and my unwavering
belief that my circumstance was nothing more than a
dream.

As I
remembered the many nights spent by my mother’s side, watching
reality TV and ordering takeout, I began to feel grief. I felt as
though I’d lost her forever—the only person who meant anything in
my life. Sure, I had some acquaintances, but none of them would
have ever taken the time of day to visit me had I been incarcerated
behind bars. My mother had attended every court date and meeting
with my lawyer.

I
remembered the sound of her sobbing at the sight of her only child
being dragged away by heavily armed militants after my sentence.
She’d sat in the back, tugging at her white pearl necklace as she
always did when she was anxious. Not only had I abandoned her, but
I’d taken Gary from her, who I knew would be mourned regardless of
his abusive tendencies.

What had
I done?

I
shivered and wrapped my arms around myself. I could hear faint
sounds in the distance—waves crashing against the shore and animals
lurking nearby, but overall, the entire Village was silent. My
stomach growled, and I feared I might wake someone up. Although I
was tempted to peek out through the curtain of my tent, I was still
too exhausted.

So I
closed my eyes and allowed my mind to venture into the depths of my
imagination—to a place where I’d never been convicted of murder and
where I was free to do as I pleased. I woke up with drool on my
face and a stiff body. I wasn’t sure whether my aches were the
consequence of an uncomfortable sleeping area or of the stressful
events I’d endured the day prior.

I jumped
when my tent curtains flew open and Ellie popped inside, seemingly
frantic.

“
Where’ve you been?” she asked.

I wiped
the gooeyness off my face. I must have looked like a complete
dirtbag—literally.

“
Here,” I said, matter-of-factly.

“
What’d you mean, here? I didn’t see you anywhere last night.
Didn’t you hear the supper drums? The breakfast drums?”

I shook
my head.

“
Well you’d better get up,” she urged. “Eat something, because
after breakfast, everyone gets to work.”

“
Work?”

She
cocked an eyebrow at me.

“
You didn’t think your sentence would be a getaway, did
you?”

“
No, not at—” I tried.

“
Just get up. I’ll lend you some pearls.”

“
Pearls?”

But she
was gone. I looked around my new home, not quite certain what to
make of it. It was basically a house made of leather walls and dirt
flooring, without any furniture or decorations. At least I had some
sunlight, I thought, gazing up at the tear in the tent. The arrow
was lying on the ground, its sharp point dug into the
dirt.

Welcome to
paradise
, I thought.

I
sighed.

I threw
my greasy hair up into a messy bun, suddenly realizing how valuable
my hair elastic had become. I’d only had the one tied around my
wrist. What would I do if it broke? If it was stolen? Perhaps I’d
do as most women did and cut off all my hair.

Another
thought crept into my mind. How would I wash my hair? My body? I
smelled of sour sweat and rotting water. I slid my tongue across
the front of my teeth. My toothbrush, I thought dreamily. God, I
missed my life.

I
stepped out into the Village, completely devastated by my inability
to maintain proper hygiene. Ellie was standing there, waiting for
me, with both arms crossed over her chest. Her dark hair was
braided to one side, and at the end of the braid was a thin rope
tying it all together. That works too, I thought.

“
Here,” she said, handing me four small pearls.

I could
tell these were natural and not the type you’d find attached to an
expensive necklace. They were all mismatched—one was small and
metallic blue in color, two were purple and unevenly shaped, and
the other three were a gold-like color, all perfectly round, but
different sizes.

“
What’re these for?” I asked.

She
smirked as if she’d just handed me a Christmas gift.

“
Consider these Kormace currency.”

“
Sorry?”

Her
eyebrows fell flat.

“
Moola, Benjamins, cheddar.”

“
I get it,” I said, “but what do I need this for?”

She
sighed, then turned toward the Village and glared through the
morning sun.

“
We have a pretty good thing going on,” she said. “You work and
you get paid, just like in the real world. You can use your pearls
for just about anything—rope, clothing, hygiene products,
food.”

“
Hygiene products?”

Ellie
laughed.

“
That would be tent number four,” she said, pointing several
tents down.

I
noticed there were five of them, lined up evenly in front of the
Village wall. There were planks of wood jabbed into the earth, with
numbers carved into them.

“
One is food, two is clothing, three is tools, four is health
and hygiene, and five is miscellaneous.”

I knew I
wouldn’t remember this, but I’d be able to walk by to peek inside
later.

“
Everyone here does something,” she said. “What’s the point if
you can’t contribute to the community? You’ll meet Joland in tent
number four. She’s what you call our pharmacist. She can make
anything and everything with natural ingredients.”

“
Like soap?” I asked.

“
Like soap,” she said, amused.

I
stepped forward, prepared to purchase any type of soap available.
I’d lather myself in squid guts if it guaranteed my
cleanliness.

“
You might want to eat first,” Ellie said.

I
glanced back.

“
Meals are free, but once it’s over, it’s over, so you have to
be punctual. Breakfast is at sunrise, and supper’s at
sunset.”

“
What’s about lunch?”

She
scoffed. “This isn’t the Marriott hotel.”

I
shifted my attention to the center of the Village, where women were
gathered by the dozens, some sitting, others standing while
enjoying what appeared to be meat and eggs.

“
By the way,” she added, “you’ll get over it.”

“
Get over what?”

“
That need to be clean all the time.”

I
smiled. I’d always been a priss when it came to
cleanliness—borderline OCD, even. If my fruit wasn’t washed with
soap, I wouldn’t eat it. But I was starving, and at that point, I
was prepared to eat an apple covered in a layer of filthy wax. I
would have to be less picky when it came to food.

I
approached the many women who were gathered around a small fire
that danced in a shallow pit. There were large spotted eggshells
piled beside it and cookware that appeared to have been constructed
from bone.