Outside the Box - Chapter 6

6

“Wake up,” Someone shakes me awake and I groan, smacking their hand away. “C’mon, Jake, I want to show you something.” 

I sit up, nearly slamming my head. The dorm rooms are filled with bunk beds, and the only one left was a bottom one. Ezra is above me, still snoring away. That means Miguel must be the one who woke me, all the other kids are scared of me now. 

Miguel and Aspen took care of getting as much information from the Ninjas as possible before getting rid of them. I don’t know if they killed them or not, Erza took me back inside and Gretchen plopped down at Aspen’s computer, doing who knows what. Ezra told the other kids about my … differences and some of them thought they were cool. 

Others thought I was a natural murderer. 

“Jake, you need to get up or so help me I will make you wake up myself.” Miguel whispers next to me, shaking me harder. 

“I’m getting up, geez.” I mumble, pushing Miguel away and climbing out of bed with a yawn. The kids have given me new clothing, shorts and t-shirts nicked from various towns. “Where are we going?” 

“Out.” Miguel smirks in the darkness, grabbing my arm. I yanks me to my feet and drags me to the larger room before heading up the stairs and outside. 

“Is it safe out there?” I ask as we reach the jungle foliage. Thick trees cast creepy shadows in the moonlight, each one stretching towards me with branches like claws. “I thought there were predators.” 

Miguel shrugs. “There are, but they’ll leave us alone.” He pulls a tiny object out of his pocket, it’s about the size of a grape. “This is a rock that Caspian brought with him from his clan. They had issues with predators as well, so they invented these rocks that give of a particular smell that wards off anything that might try to eat us.” 

He tucks the rock away and resumes his way through the forest. I try to stay calm, but every noise sends me jumping. 

“Such a scaredy-cat.” Miguel laughs after I nearly fall over scrambling away from a shaking bush. “There’s nothing out here.” 

“Can you not hear the noises?” I ask incredulously. Miguel shakes his head. I peer into the bushes, but nothing is there except plants and a tiny lizard. That must be what was making the leaves move. 

“Good hearing too, eh, Superboy?” Miguel winks at me. “Good thing I brought you with me then.” 

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going.” I point out. 

“You’ll find out when we get there.” Miguel says vaguely, once again continuing through the dense plants. I feel bare, weaponless. Miguel doesn’t show any sign of being scared, but in truth I see faces everywhere I turn. Faces of those I left in the Box. 

Miguel keeps walking, and his foot steps bother me. They’re so loud compared to mine, like he’s not even trying to keep quite. But I slink behind him anyways. 

Finally, we’ve reached the end of the forest. There’s a large tower - or a pole, more like it. 

The wooden pole juts from the ground like a stake, ladder rungs climbing the side and shaped like staples. At the top is a tiny deck, surrounding by fencing to make someone feel safe when they actually aren’t. “Are we going up there?” 

“Of course. Don’t tell me you’re scared of heights, Superboy. With your powers, maybe you can fly too.” Miguel laughs but I don’t. After jumping from the building I hoped that never again would I be forced to climb somewhere so high. But here I am, at the base of a lookout tower. 

“Don’t tell me you’re going to push me off to see.” I attempt a smile back, but Miguel sees right through me. 

“You’re scared of heights, aren’t you, amigo.” Miguel is serious now, something I haven’t really seen from him before. “Oh, right. The whole escaping the Box thing. I won’t make you go up if you don’t want to…” 

Before he can finish my hands are on the ladder, my muscles tense and palms slick with sweat. 

Miguel is right. I am different than the others, not just physically, but in my past too. I grew up in a land that didn’t really exist. I faced my fears and I jumped off the building to my death. 

My hands clench the rungs of the ladder as I pull myself up. My feet leave the ground, and I can feel the knot of nerves in my stomach. But I continue upwards. Ignoring the ground growing further and further away from me. Miguel follows me, not far behind. Climbing the ladder is easier than I made it out to be, but I guess that’s me ignoring my fear. 

Finally, I pull myself onto the platform. My hands are shaking slightly, but I feel calmer now than I did before. Miguel appears a moment later, and I am surprised at how stable the platform is. It doesn’t sway in the wind like I expected. 

“C’mere.” Miguel beckons me to the side of the platform and I make my way over. 

He points to a shape in the distance, not super far but not close either. It’s a square building in the middle of nowhere. “That is the Box.” He points to four points around the Box. “And those are the clans.” 

I don’t even know where to start looking. The Box is dead in the center of the ring formed by the four clans. There are clans on either side of us, a forest stretching around the outside of the clans in a nearly perfect circle. I can see other towers like ours placed equally around the ring. 

Four cities sit north, east, south, and west of the Box. North is a tall city made of what looks to be stones, but I think it’s metal of some sort. Miguel explains that the northern clan is the Physical Clan - or the laborers. They’re strong, and they value physical appearances over mental stability. 

East is the furthest away. That city has tall buildings as well, but almost the entire city is tall. Miguel tells me that clan is the Social Clan - or the famous folks. They value social hierarchy above all and mainly work with entertainment and live leisurely lives. 

To the south is a shorter city, fields spreading across most of it with houses in small village clusters. Miguel claims that the south is the Emotional Clan - the ones who work best with harmony. They value emotional stability and everyone there is almost always happy. Most work as farmers because it’s honest work and it’s important, but they also have therapists there too, among other careers. 

To our left, and to the west, is a city that is a mix of short and tall. There are some skyscrapers and some simple houses. Miguel informs me this is the Mental Clan - or the thinkers. They value intelligence and logic, and they’re generally trusted with the remaining money. Miguel tells me that those are the people most likely to be chosen for the Box. 

But except for the Box and the Clans, there is only sand as far as the eye can see. Dunes of golden grains. I can see an occasional tree or pond, but it seems like we’re in a vast desert. 

“What’s out there?” I ask Miguel after a long while of silence. He follows my gaze, outwards and away from the Box. 

“I’ve never been out there myself,” Miguel explains. “But my father ventured out there once, during a rain season. If you went out there now you’d burn to death before you reached anything. But all he could find was a large stone wall, and they managed to climb it. They said that on the other side of the wall was water, nearly to the stop. He called the wall a dam and said that it was going to overflow.” 

“So the entire world could flood?” I turn to him, watching as Miguel leans against the railing. “We could all die?” 

Miguel shrugs. “Believe it or not, I don’t think this is the entire world. Sure, we could all die if the dam overflows or breaks. But I think there are others out there somewhere. People that don’t worry about the Box every waking moment.” 

I’m silent for a minute as I contemplate what Miguel says, but I decide eventually that I’ll worry about it later. 

“So,” I begin. “There’s a tracker in me…” 

“There is no tracker in you.” Miguel shakes his head. “I interrogated the Ninjas. They said patrols are now occurring on a regular basis because you escaped. They didn’t tag anyone in the Box before, but now the tracking process will begin. They won’t be bothering us anymore.” 

“What did you do with them?” 

“They’re in a better place now.” 

“You killed them.” It isn’t a question, it’s a fact. 

Miguel faces me, his tan skin shining with sweat in the moon. He seems uncomfortable, and for a moment I believe he’s going to throw me off. “This world isn’t about moral compasses, Jake. If you want someone to pity you, head south and you’ll find happiness. This world is about survival. You kill or be killed. Hunt or be hunted. The Box has it easy. We have it hard. That’s just the way it is.” 

“Aspen said that you all suffered, I wasn’t the only one. Her and Ezra lost their parents.” I say quietly. 

“Do you know how the Hidden came to be Hidden?” 

“Aspen mentioned it,” I shrug. Miguel is edging closer to me now, his stance threatening. I wish I had a weapon, even though I wouldn’t use it on Miguel. Not after all he’s done for me. 

“Each year, the Box welcomes eighty new children to its city. Twenty children from each clan are ripped from their homes, their names drawn at random. There are raids - Ninjas go in, grab the kids, and leave. No one can escape the Selection, no one has and no one ever will. The children are escorted to the Box in big, black trucks. And then they’re never seen again.” Miguel takes a step back, he’s gazing at the Box now. “The Clans can’t know we have the children, or they’d start a revolution. We weren’t ready then, and we aren’t ready now. We have you as proof of Boxland, but we don’t have anything else we need.” 

“You didn’t tell me how you suffered,” I point out. 

“It’s a story for another time,” Miguel stiffens as a truck drives by through the sand. A patrol. 

“And Gretchen?” 

“She got taken hostage by the Box for a week. We don’t know how she escaped, she refuses to tell us. She came back, sticky with blood and in tears. Gretchen hasn’t been the same since.” Miguel says, voice stone cold. “We should get back before the others find our empty beds.” 

“Why did you bring me here?” I ask him before he can begin the descent down the ladder. 

Miguel looks straight at me, dark eyes meeting mine. “I wanted you to see the Clans. I wanted you to know that you’re our only hope.” 

“I’m your hope for what?” 

“You’re our hope for a better future.” 

Miguel doesn’t tell anyone about our trip during breakfast. Gretchen and Aspen are whispering at the far end of the table, and Ezra is chatting loudly beside me. 

When we finish, Miguel bangs his fork against his cup, making a metallic pang like a bell. Everyone becomes silent and he stands. I can tell that Miguel is the real leader here, everyone respects him. 

Liliya shushes some of the little kids and Miguel thanks her with his eyes. 

“Listen up, we have some changes to the schedule.” Miguel explains, which sends up a flurry of discussions, which Liliya shushes again. “A select group will be visiting the four Clans over the next week or so. Aspen, Gretchen, and I have already decided the participants, so there will be no persuading us to let you join. Gretchen, Aspen, Jake, Liliya, Caspian, Warner, Quinn, and I will be leaving at noon to head south first. The rest of you will stay here and continue your normal duties.” 

I hear the collective groans from those who won’t be heading out. Miguel shrugs and beckons those of us who will be leaving over to the other side of the room. 

I’ve seen Liliya and Caspian before, but I haven’t really noticed Warner or Quinn.  

Liliya is tiny and pale. 

Caspian has dark hair and dark skin. 

Warner is tall and skinny like a willow tree. 

Quinn is strong and burly, and her hair is uncharacteristically light colored. 

Miguel looks at all of this before beginning in a low voice. “Each of us has a purpose for being here and going on these trips. Liliya is from the Emotional Clan. Caspian is from the Mental Clan. Quinn is from the Physical Clan. And Warner is from the Social Clan. Gretchen and I are fighters, we can be your guards. Aspen has arranged our meetings in each city and she’s the only one who can drive well. And Jake is the one who we’ll be showing to the clan members.” 

“Showing?” I interrupt. “Why are you showing me to the Clans?” 

No one answers my question, instead Gretchen asks one of her own. “Liliya, since we’re going south first, we need disguises. What do do the Feelers wear?” 

Lilya thinks for a moment. “It’s been a while since I’ve been there, but most times we wore casual stuff. Comfort is important, and unless you’re working you normally wear whatever you want. Soft fabrics, mostly. We also need the markings to blend in.” 

“Here, just draw it,” Gretchen hands Liliya a pad of paper and a pen. 

“You have supplies to just draw whenever?” Again, my question is ignored. Finally, Liliya shows her pad to Miguel and Gretchen, who open a trunk in the corner of the room. 

They go to work, throwing articles of clothing to us. After everyone changes, Aspen paints a tiny, black heart on everyone’s right wrist. She has to cover up the symbols on Quinn, Warner, and Caspin, but she copies the mark on Liliya. 

I’m given a hoodie and yoga pants, and everyone else wears similar outfits. Liliya explains that they only work in mornings and evenings, it’s too warm at midday to work in the fields. Aspen leads us to her jeep and we all squeeze in. The jeep has three rows, so Aspen drives with Miguel in the front. Gretchen, Liliya, and I are set in the middle, everyone else in the back. 

Aspen speeds out of the jungle, driving way too fast in my opinion. 

The jeep is filled with people, and Miguel turns on the radio only to have everyone else scream at him. Apparently, they don’t like his taste in music. 

It takes half an hour to reach the southern clan. Liliya climbs out of the jeep first and inhales deeply. I guess it’s been a while since she was last here, at her home. Part of me wonders if we’ll see her family. 

“Hoods up,” Miguel calls as he shoves something that looks kind of like a weapon into his pocket. “There are patrols now, you never know if some will be checking out the village.” 

“Our people wouldn’t like that,” Liliya pulls up her hood. “Everything is about balance of emotions, and having patrols would set off some of our less stable residents. We value peace because peace helps keep emotions steady.” 

I pull my hood over my head. No one will recognize me, and I’m still confused about what exactly we’re doing here. Aspen hands Liliya a piece of paper. “This is the address. Have you seen it before?” 

Liliya nods. “I’ve been there myself, actually. The first raid I can remember, that’s where I was. Most of the children were there…” She falls silent, caught up in memories. 

Liliya finally starts to walk at a brisk pace and we follow her through the village. 

Although I try to act like I belong, but it’s hard to avert my gaze. I thought that the village would be more rural, since they do more farming according to Miguel. 

Instead, it’s kind of like my city in a way. The houses are made of sleek metal, and the farms aren’t actually outside. It’s very warm, so I suppose that the crops could dry up. Instead, on the far end of the village is several greenhouses, all very large - each about as big as ten of the houses. The paths are dirt and sand, not asphalt like in the city. 

There are a few signposts scattered around. One advertises group therapy, for people who are feeling unwanted emotions. Another claims they have a serum that can enhance your awareness of others feelings - a discount is offered for doctors. On the far side of the road is a sign that provides an address to a store that sells mood bracelets for tourists, but underneath a closed sign is posted. 

The people are a whole different story. All of them are wearing clothing similar to ours, and most have tan skin and freckled faces. Working in the sun must do a number on them. 

Children are playing in the shadows behind the houses, their toys dispersed through the dying crabgrass. Most of them wear shawls to cover their tiny heads, their hands dirty and their pants torn. Liliya keeps her head down, maybe trying to avoid her past - or maybe to make sure no one recognizes her. Everyone seems happy and oblivious, though. 

“Is everyone welcome here?” Quinn whispers to her. “In the north, anyone who shows signs of weakness or ugliness are tossed out.” 

Liliya continues walking, even faster now. “We normally end up with those folks, believe it or not. They are our most productive farmers, determined to be good enough to stay. But we don’t welcome everyone. Sociopaths aren’t allowed, and no one who disrespects their feelings. You have to live by the ways.” 

“Isn’t it considered unkind to kick people out?” I ask her, a bit confused. That’s the story of my life now, I guess. 

“We don’t strive to be kind,” Liliya sighs, exasperated. “We strive to understand our emotions and learn to control our feelings. If someone doesn’t follow our culture, we have the right to send them away. Hatred is just as much of a feeling as happiness.” 

I’m silent then, mostly because of the movement going on ahead of us. Liliya looks up, surprised. 

A man and woman are fighting over a woven basket filled with fruits and vegetables. The woman is snarling, the man pulling as hard as he can. The basket splits and the produce tumbles to the ground, forming a cloud in the sand. 

“Now, you’ve done it!” The woman shouts angrily. “My entire month’s produce, gone.” 

“I don’t have any produce to begin with!” The man yells back. “I haven’t eaten in four days, just one piece would’ve been enough.” 

“I have plenty of mouths to feed without you,” The woman snarls. “I have a family of my own, thank you very much. And what do you have? Your flea covered mutt? Your own dreadful clothes? No thanks.” 

And then the woman turns and walks away, leaving the produce on the ground. 

The man sighs, mournfully picking up a piece of fruit. A dog is sitting beside him - neither of them look like they have been fed much lately. 

“Can’t he just wash off the produce?” I ask Liliya. 

She shakes her head. “The past decade or so we’ve had an infestation of certain bugs. They live in the sand and eat the produce. Any human who consumes them gets terribly ill and sometimes dies. The greenhouses have special measures against them, but they were failing back when I lived here, so I wonder what they’re at now.” 

The man drops the piece of fruit back on the ground. Gretchen strides over to him, pulling a sack from nowhere. “Eat.” 

She comes back to us, leaving the man in silence. “What was in the sack?” Miguel asks her. 

“A few coins back from my … trip,” Gretchen is silent for a moment, her green eyes on the ground. “And a few berries, nuts, and a strip of meat from our kitchen. We can always get more, especially at this time of season.” 

I watch as the man hands the meat to the dog and strips a branch of berries. He waves at us happily, and I feel a sense of dread wash over me. 

“I thought the Clans were self-sufficient,” I whisper to Miguel. 

“There’s always poverty, wherever you go. The food is failing, and the people are getting restless. That’s why were here.” Miguel turns away and we hurry after Liliya before I can ask for an elaboration. 

It takes ten more minutes to arrive at wherever we’re going. Liliya stops in the middle of a road that leads to nowhere in particular place. “We’re here.” 

I don’t even ask where because I know there will be no answer. 

Liliya bends down and brushes away the sand. Underneath is a bronze square, a boat carved into the metal. 

“Quinn? A little help here,” Quinn is at Liliya’s side. The tiny girl shows Quinn a handle to grip and the larger girl pulls as hard as she can. The bronze trapdoor opens and reveals a ladder leading into darkness. 

“We go down,” Aspen tells us. I don’t know how she knows this - perhaps because she was the one who arranged the meeting in the first place. 

Aspen is the first down the ladder. I follow her into the darkness. 

The ladder leads to a circular room, unlit. The only light comes from the open door. 

The others make their way down the ladder as well until we’re all cramped in the circular room. Liliya is the last down and shuts the trapdoor, plunging us into darkness. 

The second her feet touch the ground, a torch appears at the end of a corridor I didn’t notice before. A figure is holding the torch, approaching us slowly and cautiously. The figure finally gets close enough for me to see. 

It’s the man who Gretchen just gave food! The dog is beside him, and it barks once, wagging its tail. “Down, Baxter,” The man orders when the dog jumps on Gretchen. The girl stumbles backwards, into Miguel, who trips over Aspen. Gretchen rights herself, blushing in the torch light. 

“This way, my dears. I suppose you must be the ‘special guests’?” 

Aspen nods. “I’m Aspen, sir. May we come in?” 

“The guests are waiting,” the man smiles, showing us down the corridor. Gretchen takes a step behind Miguel, tugging her hood further over her head, clearly embarrassed. 

The man leads us down the corridor that seems to be a dead end, but he reaches to the left and grabs a pitch black curtain, pulling it aside. “Your audience awaits you.” He smiles once and steps into the room hidden by the black curtain. 

Aspen follows, and then Gretchen and the Hidden. Miguel waves his hand. “Come, Jake. This is what they’ve been waiting for.” 

I nod once and step into the room behind the curtain.