Chapter 4

I stare at the body laying still on the ground. I’m vaguely aware of my feet moving forward and my arm being pulled. I stare down at Shell’s blank face as we pass her, her blue eyes seem darker to me now. There is a clean hole through her skull, just below her hair line. I shot her. I did this.

The gun wasn’t to hurt her, it was just supposed to paralyze her like the Copper’s guns are supposed to do. It’s supposed to make her pause, not make her stop. There is a slow trickle of bright red liquid, almost fake in it’s color, seeping out around her neck and makes a puddle behind her shoulders. I feel sick. 

“Story!” Peter calls to me through the gun shot still ringing in my ears. “Story! Come on.”

I look at him, his red face is furious with urgency. He's holding his stomach and hunched over from the middle. I force my feet to move, but I can't tare my eyes away from Shell's still body. 

When I do, the boy in front of us is already half way down the hall, his gun pointed forward. I take Peter’s hand firmly in mine and let him guide me down the hall way of doors. 

I remember there being an exit in the Question Room. It will lead to the lower levels. The exit doors are strictly for emergencies so every Question room has one in case of an evacuation. None has been known to happen in history. Dystal is built to protect us from those things. I’ve never been in the Emergency stairwell before. As minors we aren’t allowed without an Instructor. This means that it will be empty. Safe. 

Peter must have the same thought. He drags me through the Question Room door and across the short distance that feels like miles to my thick tired limbs. There is a key pad resting to the left of the handle.

I press the white button with the pad of my hand. A red line appears and a female voice instructs, “Scan access key card or press the white button for more options.”

Peter shoves me aside and pulls his Workers keycard from around his neck. He scans the dead Questioners keycard over the red line that just as soon as it appeared, disappears back into the screen before the door slides back into the wall.

I step into the stairwell after Peter.

“Where’d he go?” I ask, suddenly realizing that the boy is no longer with us. 

“Who cares?” Peter yells, grabbing the stair well a few steps below me. “Let’s get out of here.”

“We can’t leave him.” I prop the door open with a chair and run back to the hallway. I lean out the doorway and see him running in my direction. His hair is flying away from his forehead, his arms pump up and down with the opposite leg. Two Coppers follow closely behind him. I grab the loose fabric of his jacket and pull him inside. I close the door and press the red button on the keypad locking it shut. 

“This way!” I yell, as he stumbles after me towards the door Peter is holding open for us. 

As we run past the desk, my eye catches on a cream folder resting on the edge. My whole life inside Dystal, surmounts to this one small folder. A folder I've never seen before. I grab it, quickly fold it in half and stuff it into the back of my pants shoving my shirt down over it. 

Peter and I start down the stairs first, but I don’t hear the boy anymore. I groan and turn around at the top of the next set of stairs. 

The boy looks down at me skeptically and then back up at the door where the Copper’s can’t be far behind. When he looks back at me I can see the anxiety in his hazel eyes. He turns the gun in his hand like he’s forgotten he had it and points it forward. His left hand locks around the handle with his index finger on the trigger. His right hand cups the bottom of the gun for support. His eyes lock on Peter.

Peter waves his arms. “Now what?”

"Where are you two leading me?"

"To the cafeteria, I thought I'd grab a snack!"

"Peter!" I shoot him a dark look before looking back up at the boy. "We're going outside. It's just a couple of floors down." There are the pounding of footsteps from the Questioning Room. "But we have to go now!" 

The three of us just make it out the next door and down the next flight of stairs when the Coppers burst through the door. A pop goes off behind my head before a hand grabs my shoulder and stops me right as a faint glowing line hit the wall and tinges blue with electricity. I look back at the boy behind me and then at the Copper holding his weapon. 

We both duck under the electric wire as two more pop follow after us.

I keep my eyes on the back of Peter’s head, his pale curls bouncing with each step he takes. I put my hand where his was and swing my body around the next corner and down another flight of stairs. The boy yells something behind me but I don’t hear what he says because his words get drowned out by another very loud, and very close pop. I duck my head as another line bounces off the wall right beside my left shoulder just as I duck around another corner.

“We have to get out of here!” The boy yells. He’s right on my heels and keeping pace.

“He’s right!” I grab Peter by the shoulder. “They’ll be Coppers waiting at the end. We need to get outside.”

Peter stops. I can hear the Coppers above us making progress but we still have a good ten flights of stairs on them.

 I don’t think. I just act. I grab Peter's key card and guide it over a scanner for a random door. When the door slides back, Peter and the boy run through. I slam my fist down on the red button to close it and and again to lock it. That will hold them off for a few more minutes.

We run along the hallway. The floor is a white tile that glistens with fresh wax. The doors are all different colors. Some have names on them; The Millers or William’s Home. These are the middle class housing. All clean and pristine for each family that serves and works for their earnings. It smells clean. Everything perfect and sanitary. It makes my nostrils burn and my throat feel thick. 

A young Middle Class couple round the corner where we’re heading. I catch the boy’s arm that’s still holding the gun and I push it back against his side so it’s hidden from view. 

He glances at me but I keep my face forward. He looks old enough to be considered an adult. They won’t suspect us of anything. It’s not in their nature. Dystal is a secure Community, free of threats. They’ll have no reason.

Just as I thought, they walk past us with just a smile and a duck of their heads in acknowledgement. If they knew we were Level 3, we might not have gotten that much. 

“Why haven’t they sounded some kind of alarm?” Peter asks, looking behind us nervously. “It seems like they would make some kind of warning.”

“They don’t want to alarm everyone.” I say, turning the corner with Peter and the Hostile on either side of me. 

“You shot one of them. You killed her. They should have sounded some kind of alarm.” Peter doesn’t say this to be cruel. He has a point. I did attack one of our own. There should be some kind of alarm being called out for my arrest. My name is probably being pushed through the system as we speak.

“Let’s just be thankful that they haven’t yet.” The boy adds as we march down a separate hallway. Just as we reach the outside stairwell door, a loud beeping comes from the the high ceiling. A voice as deep as death sounds through the speakers installed in the walls. “Please proceed to nearest housing with caution. Any unauthorized personnel will be questioned. If contacted by these Citizens,” My face and Peter’s flashed against all four walls. “Please alert the nearest local authority immediately.” 

I glare at Peter, who has his head leaned all the way back, his eyes closed. He let out a deep breath and just says, “I know.”

“You’re an idiot.” I say anyway.

The boy opens the door to the stairwell and lets both of us out. It feels like it was years ago that I was standing on a stairwell just like this when really it was just a few short hours ago. I look up at the sky high brick wall that confines us into the perimeter. You can’t see anything beyond the giant gray wall. It’s been said that there is nothing but water. I’ve heard there are valley’s of hills and nothing else. In school, the older kids used to tease us about there being darkness like in space and if we step out we’ll disappear.   

I look at the back of boy’s tanned neck and wonder what else they’ve lied about.

When we get to the end of the stair case the boy keeps running. He is ahead of Peter and I now and keeps a steady pace behind the Quarter 1 that we’ve just escaped from and is running up towards Quarter 2. We stay close to the wall, hiding in the shadows the moon and the wall creates against the mile wide gap between the wall and the building. It’s a cold night for September with the fall months approaching, there is a chill in the air that’s absent during the day. 

Bright lights flash from buildings glaring through the darkness surrounding us in search for us. The boy seems to know exactly what he is doing. Every time a light sweeps the area, he pauses and waits for it to pass before running forward again.    

By the time we get around the corner to Quarter 2 my hands shake and sweat. My heart beats wildly that I can feel it all the way into my finger tips. My hair has come loose and is hanging around my neck and shoulders making the back of my neck hot. I want to slow down. But I know I can’t. My Quarter, my home, is expelling me. It’s workers, who are supposed to protect and serve, are threatening my existence. An existence that is supposed to be cherished.

We value every being in our society. Even the lower class. Everyone serves a greater purpose to relieve the world of hate, crime, debt, and punishment. Freedom is a gift, but a gift that must be earned.

I repeat the mantra in my head. It brought a surge of blind rage to my thoughts. Lies. All of them. They don’t care for their lower citizens. I serve no greater purpose, they don’t need my cause. I am waste. I am nothing because I have nothing.  

Peter smiles at me ruefully as we walk down the stairs together. It’s always been me leading Peter into the cross fires. It was me who convinced him to steal candy from Lud after I copied Lud’s code into my notebook. It was me who broke into Lud’s dorm and into his safe. Peter wanted to go spend our half hour before school in the Green Houses, studying the boring plants. He wanted to do the right thing. I am always dragging him to do the wrong ones. 

And now he is supporting my weight. My burden. My punishment. He is everything Dystal is supposed to stand for. Strength, kindness, acceptance. It makes me wonder if the man makes the Citizen and not the other way around.

We catch up to the boy who is running along the wall awkwardly. His back and knees are bent low as he scans along the thick bricks, each the size of a grown man and the color of the sky when it’s about to have a heavy rain. Peter and I follow behind him, watching behind us for any signs of Coppers. For all they know we are still inside the Middle Level. 

The ground feels unfamiliar to me. It’s uneven and hard against my bare feet. I curse myself for not grabbing my shoes before I left. The air feels too thick and warm against my skin. We don’t spend much time outside the building. The air in the Quarters is all filtered and re-filtered for our protection. The air isn’t controlled out here. 

We must have run almost three blocks now. The boy doesn’t tire as he scans each square in the protective wall like he is trying to decode it. I am beginning to feel the anxiety building in my chest. This is as far as I’ve ever been. I don’t know how to escape after this. 

The boy continues with his back towards us. He looks up at the black sky and then continues to move his hand around each brick, like he’s counting them. He’s been here before, but that’s not possible. If he’s a Citizen, like us, then he’s never been outside the walls either. So why is he counting the bricks? How does he seem to know exactly where he’s going?

We run for another ten minutes before the boy suddenly stops in front of a six foot wide hole in the ground, just underneath the wall. The sound of rushing water fills the small dark space. 

The boy turns around to face us and crosses his thick arms. “Well, this is where we part. Thank you for your help and good luck.”

“What!” Peter yells, his shirt still open flaps in the warm breeze. “What do you mean this is where we part? We saved you back there, you need us.”

“Trust me,” He looks between the two of us. “You do not want to follow me. It’s better for you to find your own way out.”

Peter waves his arms. “We have no other way out.”

He steps back and wrap his hands around the rings of the ladder. Before he leave, he looks up at me, his thick eyebrows pulled together. “Not my problem.”

His eyes. His young eyes, turned hard and greedy. I was beginning to think that this boy, although he dresses like a Citizen despite the woman’s shoes, he may not be one at all. That he never was. A growing curiosity consumes my rational thought and turns everything else to this stranger. This boy who knows so much about the outside world, who looks at Dystal in fear. He makes no sense to me. I want to see the things he’s seen. I want to know what he knows. I want to live my life without fear and all Dystal has ever taught us is to be afraid. 

But he isn’t. 

He’s braver than anyone I’ve ever known. Braver than I am. That’s saying something. But there must be something he’s afraid of, something that will allow us to stay. 

“They’ll torture us first.” I say, the warm breeze throws my hair into soft curls around my face. “They’ll Read information from our brain by burning into our skin until we have no choice but to think about what we’re trying to keep a secret, until we can’t help but see your face in our mind and the place you lead us to.”

The boy grins up at me. “And I will be long gone by then with no intention of returning to this hell hole ever again.”

“But-“ 

“Forget it, Story.” Peter reaches for my hand. “We’ll find our own way out.”

I pull my hand from Peter’s grasp and walk towards the boy. “Please!” I beg. We’d never survive without him. “We need each other if we’re going to get out of here.”

He narrowed his thick eyebrows. “Sweetheart, I’ve been surviving here a lot longer than you have.”

Surviving here? Where? How?

“But today you got caught.”   

“Yeah,” he scoffed, “And I was about to escaped if not for you running into me.”

“Don’t you think that means something?” I say, brushing my hair back away from my face in frustration. 

“No.” He is finished talking and starts down the ladder again. I run to the edge of the chasm and grab the bars.

“We’re just going to follow you anyway.”

“If you do, I’ll shoot you.” He says from a few feet below me. It’d be an easy shot. 

I take an uneven breath and turn around. I grab a hold of the bars and let my feet find the first ring. Peter stands a few feet away from me. His face is a mask of frustration and distrust. He doesn’t want to follow this boy anymore than he wanted to follow me to get those candy bars. I can see it in his eyes. But he will. He always does. 

I have nothing and everything to live for. If I die today then no one would turn their head about it. No one will stop their lives and mourn. No one will carry the weight of my lose. No one except Peter. 

I have to try.  

“Did you hear what I said?” The boy yells up at me.

I ignore him and start down another ring. The metal is cold against my palms but I keep my grip tight and my body close to the wall the ladder hangs from. “Shoot me if you must. I’m dead either way.”

The gun he has pointed at my back drops a little and hangs from his hand towards the bottom of the steep chasm floor. He narrowed his eyes at me as a wide, almost friendly smile spreads across his face. He has deep smile lines around his mouth and shallow wrinkles that spread around his eyes that make it seem as if he smiles often. He has nice teeth. They are a bit yellow but straight and pushed together like a crowded bricks. He shakes his head once and starts walking down again.

Peter comes down after me, holding his body close to the ladder like I have mine. 

We are about half way down when my hands start to burn and bruise around the pads of my fingers. The balls of my bare feet are chapped and sore with each step I take, but I don’t slow. 

Peter looks around us hesitantly. “What is this place?” He asks.

“I don’t know.” I say. I look down at the rushing water below us. It’s heading towards Dystal. “It looks like some kind of fresh water source.”

“We’re lucky we found this one.” The boy says from below us. “Last time we came in through the opposite stream.”

“The opposite stream?” Peter repeated.

“Yeah,” he holds onto one ring and lets his body swing away from the ladder as he scans how far we have left. We are about half way down now. “Think about it. If fresh water is coming in, what do you think is going out.”

“Oh,” Peter and I say at the same time. I make a face. 

“I literally went through a lot of crap to get in here.” The boy laughs and continued down the ladder. Peter laughs with him, but I really can’t find the humor in walking through excrement infested water to do whatever it is he was trying to do inside our Quarters. 

“What's your name?" I ask, as I step down another bar.

The boy makes an irritated noise from the back of his throat.  “Excuse me if I don’t jump at the chance to be chummy with you just yet.” He replies and lets go of the bars. It takes just a moment before I hear the splash of water and shuffling feet. I look down and see his white smile beaming up at us. 

I reached the end of the bars just as he waves his arms for me to come. 

“Let go.” He says.

 I close my eyes and release the bars. My body falls through the air swiftly and effortlessly. It is over in a seconds, barely enough time for a small scream to echo through the tunnel leading underneath the Dystal wall. The boy catches me around the waist, stopping my feet from hitting the ground at full impact. The balls of my feet bounce and my hands catch on his wide shoulders. From this close, I see how young he actually is. He can’t be older than me. His skin is spotted with acne and his nose is still slightly too big for his face. He seems trusting with excitement and mischief filling his emerald eyes and the laugh line around his mouth curve threateningly close to breaking. 

He lets go of me and straightens his white shirt and tightens the pack he’s been carrying on his shoulder. 

 Peter falls onto his back into the water with a splash. He groans as he slowly rolls onto his hands and knees coughing as he tries to take in a breath. He’s dripping wet as he slowly gets to his feet again. His wet hair falls in his face while the water drips down the length of his nose. I stifled a laugh and walk over to help him. When we straighten up I hear the distinct sound of footsteps splashing through the water. Several pairs emerging through the dark tunnel in haste. 

Peter’s face turns from miserable to confused as he scans the dark hallway. His eyes widen and his thin lips part. The footsteps calm behind me and then nothing but the sound of rushing water fills the walls. 

A bullet clicks into its chamber and a rough voice follows, “Don’t move.”

Author's Note

If you spot any grammar mistakes, please tell me. How is the dialogue between the characters? The action too much, not enough, stupid? Is it stupid? You can tell me if it's stupid.