Guardians (23 page)

Still, he knew enough to keep such thoughts to himself.

In his new job, Eli had the power to decide what the punishment should be for each case of wrongdoing. So far, all of the people present had committed minor felonies: kissing, having a limp, not praying loudly enough. According to his instructions, Eli sentenced such criminals to a work detail. Although Eli wasn't exactly sure what that involved, he knew that the prisoners would be given food, as well as a place to sleep; and hard work, he reasoned, never hurt anyone. He had yet to condemn anyone to death and hoped he never would.

The new responsibility had bolstered Eli's spirits. Although he had stashed away a few bottles of proof, he had given up drinking after his appointment; he felt newly focused and alert.

Yet by now the room was stifling hot. The continual drone of the guards' voices was like the buzzing of an insect. Glancing out at the yellow sky, Eli eased his neck and hoped they'd break soon for a meal. He took the slip of paper handed to him: 127.

The charges against prisoner 127 were so extreme, however, that they caught his attention.

“She try to kill Saith.”

Despite his own rule, Eli glanced up. So did the prisoner, who turned to the guard in surprise.

“That's not true!”

The guard cuffed the prisoner once, hard, knocking off her hood. But Eli didn't need to see her face. He would have recognized her voice anywhere.

It was Esther.

She glanced up, bareheaded and defiant, and in that split second their eyes met.

Esther recoiled. She must have known it was him, for the blood drained from her already-pale face. Although his head and entire body were heavily cloaked, Eli had never felt so exposed in his life.

A second guard grabbed Esther by the arm. Yanking her hood back up, he forced her to lower her head and avert her gaze. But it was too late. Eli's mind was already whirling with a thousand thoughts and memories.

The early days when he first loved Esther seemed so far away. So did the time after their partners died and he had dared to hope she would finally be his. She had broken his heart more than once, and more than once he had vowed to forget her.

Yet one emotion crushed all of these flickering feelings, making them seem trivial: the guilt Eli felt for having killed Aras.

He knew he had to say something, but his tongue felt dry and thick within his mouth. When he tried to speak, one of the guards leaned forward to hear. Then the boy straightened up and spoke out loud.

“She try to kill Saith.” His voice rang out in accusation. “You know what that mean.”

“I know.” Eli felt sick, yet his senses were keen. Was this how it would end between the two of them, so cold and impersonal? He feared he could not delay much longer.

And at last, he knew what he had to do.

“
I'll
do it,” he said. “Give the prisoner to me.”

As Eli stood, everyone in the room stared at him in open surprise. One of the guards hesitated.

“You need help?”

Eli shook his head. Then, with a brusque gesture not unlike one of Gideon's, he motioned for Esther and the guard's gun.

Eli led his prisoner out past the crowd and down the hall, his hands starting to shake. Then, once he was certain they were alone, he released his grip. Pulling down his hood, he turned to face her.

“Eli,” Esther said, as if her suspicions had been confirmed.

“Listen.” He spoke quickly, his voice soft. “The ones going to the work details are downstairs on six. Make sure you get there without anybody seeing you and go with them when they leave. That's your only chance of getting out of the District alive.”

Esther listened, her head down. “It's a lie,” she said at last. “That I tried to kill Saith.”

Eli shook his head. “Most of what they say is a lie. But if enough people believe it, no one will complain when you're put to death.”

By now, they were standing in front of the elevators, which gaped open. Esther glanced at the carpeting, which was blackened with dried and clotted filth. The entire corridor stank of death. Then she looked up at him in question.

“Go quickly,” said Eli. He felt too guilty to return her gaze.

Esther turned, pulling the hood up over her face.

“Thank you” was all she said.

Eli waited until Esther made it to the corner. He lifted a
hand in farewell; and with a nod, she was gone.

He counted a few extra moments to make certain she had had enough time to make it to the stairs. Then he took aim and fired into the empty shaft of the elevator; the blast echoed and reverberated in its darkness.

When Eli walked back to the room of prisoners, the barrel of the gun was hot in his hand.

He would stand by Gideon's side that evening when the Insurgent leader announced Esther's execution. And Saith herself would praise his wisdom and present him with a reward of forty glass pieces.

U
NDER A MERCILESS SUN, DOZENS OF WORKERS TRUDGED DOWN A BROAD
avenue of Mundreel. The only sound was the clank of chains that scraped and dragged along the asphalt. Everyone was shackled to someone else at the leg, and to make certain no one tried to escape, the entire group—nearly thirty in all—was bound together with a single coarse rope knotted around their necks.

The locked iron links dug into Esther's ankle so tightly, walking was torture, and the rope scratched and chafed the soft skin of her throat. Still she gritted her teeth and said nothing. There were only half as many guards as there were prisoners,
yet they were armed and watchful. Cloaked and anonymous like the others, Esther walked in silence, trying not to draw any attention to herself.

At great risk, Eli had spared her life and for that Esther would always be grateful. As he had instructed, she managed to make it to the stairwell even as the sound of the bullet meant for her rang out and reverberated in her ears. There had been such commotion on the lower floor, she found it easy to slip in among others being assigned to a work detail and, with her face obscured by her robe, to go undetected. Then, like the other slaves, she had had her head shaved and was chained to another person.

Yet ironically, Esther's survival also meant her death.

Even as she was being shackled and bound, Esther knew that word was spreading throughout the District that she had been executed for plotting against Saith. She had heard those around her whisper about it even as they were all herded outdoors together and set on their long march.

No one knew who she was, and Esther intended to keep it that way. She had nothing left—no weapons, no allies, no glass. She owned nothing now except her anonymity. It would be her one tool, she sensed, if she were to ever escape. For she still vowed to herself that she would find out what had happened to her family and friends.

From now on, she would be Hagar.

Esther had found the name weeks ago in one of Joseph's books, a dense collection of stories called
Holy Bible
. Hagar had been the slave of Sarah, wife of Abraham. Seeing Sarah's name
in print had given Esther a jolt of pleasure. So she now chose an identity that would link her to both her daughter and sister, if only in her own mind.

It was her sole comfort.

Ever since they had left the District, the small girl tethered to Esther's left leg walked as if in a daze—she wove back and forth, and was then yanked back to the group by the makeshift collar around her neck. Now she stumbled and fell. The unexpected downward tug of the rope made those closest to her stagger as well. Esther was pulled to her knees, and as the cord tightened around her throat, she frantically dug her fingers under it, trying in vain to loosen it. Several more were yanked down beside her. Choking and on the edge of panic, the entire group was forced to halt.

Within seconds, a guard lashed out at the group with the buckled end of a leather belt. He pushed his way through as best he could, until he saw the cause of the holdup.

“Get up!”

As he rained blows on the still form, Esther took care to look away. This voice was already familiar to her, both piercing and guttural. It belonged to the one who led the slave masters, a boy named Jud.

“I said, get up!”

The girl stirred. Then she tried to push herself up, but she was too weak. No one in the group made a move to help her.

With a foot of rope and some chain connecting them, Esther found herself locking eyes with the girl. She was an Outsider who looked no older than Silas: nine at the most.

“Help me,” she whispered.

Although it hurt to do so, Esther forced herself once more to glance away; she knew that giving any aid might threaten them both. After a moment, the girl managed to get to her feet, and the group continued its forced march.

“That way!”

Jud's harsh voice rang out in the heavy air. He was ordering them toward a large, open-walled structure, set in from the street. Esther recognized it as a parking garage.

“Faster!”

The group tried to move quickly, but it was difficult to proceed as one; people gagged and choked against their shared noose as they shuffled and stumbled toward the building. At the entrance, several of the guards untied them, separating them into pairs. Each couple was handed a length of rubber tubing and a container of some kind; Esther found herself holding an empty soda bottle. Then they were ordered to begin collecting fuel.

In Prin, people had Harvested gasoline from ancient cars and trucks, which they then traded to Levi for food and other goods. Although it was a difficult and exhausting job, his system had seemed humane compared to this. The fuel would be used by Gideon and Saith to run their generator and provide them with the comforts of electricity, yet the slaves would receive nothing in return.

Rubbing her throat, Esther glanced around. She saw at once that almost no one knew what to do. Bewildered, they wandered among the dusty cars and vans, struggling to figure out
where the gas was even kept. The guards, who clearly had no better understanding of how to proceed, walked among them, lashing out. Esther winced at the repeated crack of leather on skin, followed by cries of pain.

Of all the jobs in Prin, Esther had hated Harvesting the most of all. Still, she knew how to do it; it wasn't that difficult once you understood the basics. Tapping her partner on the shoulder, Esther now indicated a hulking car in the corner that stood well off the ground on oversize tires. Experience had taught her that large vehicles often contained the greatest amount of fuel. It took her a moment to locate the unobtrusive metal flap in the side, which she pried open to reveal the familiar notched plastic cap underneath. To her relief, it was unlocked, and with an effort, she was able to unscrew and remove it. Then, as the other girl watched, Esther took the length of rubber and inserted it, feeding it out inch by inch until she felt it hit something deep in the bowels of the machine.

Kneeling on the ground with the empty soda bottle, Esther took the other end of the tubing in her mouth. She began sucking on it, deeply at first and then with caution as she sensed that the fuel was drawing closer. Yanking out the tube at the last possible moment, she stuck the end into the container she'd been given. Gasoline, clear and pungent, gushed out and began to fill it.

Then Esther froze.

Only too late did she realize she was being watched. It hadn't occurred to her that knowing how to perform such a simple chore might draw unwanted attention. Yet that was
clearly what had happened.

“Smart,” a voice said, “ain't you?”

When Esther didn't look up, she felt a rough hand on her shoulder that yanked her around so hard, the gas cap in her hand flew in the air and clattered to the ground. She found herself staring up into the face of the chief slave master.

Jud was probably eighteen but looked even older; his bulk was massive and the bit of his face visible beneath his hood was dense with a black beard. Hulking and vicious, the boy seemed more like a bear than a human. Esther had known many such people in her life—bullies who preyed on the weak, yet who were themselves threatened by the slightest hint of challenge from anyone beneath them.

“Go get that,” the boy said, pointing at the cap.

Esther stooped to retrieve the piece, half dragging the smaller girl with her. When she stood, she sensed the boy was assessing her even more closely. Praying that he hadn't recognized her, she kept her eyes down.

“You a smart little squirrel. Ain't you?”

“No.”

“What that mean?”

“It means I don't know much.”

“More than the others.”

“I've done it before, is all.”

“Yeah? Where?”

“Someplace.”

Although she kept her gaze lowered, Esther knew that the boy was staring at her from behind his hood. Despite the fetid,
humid air, she felt a chill run through her body.

“What your name?”

“Hagar.” The unfamiliar word caught in her throat for a second, but the boy didn't seem to notice. He nodded. Then he turned and barked at the others.

“All you . . . watch Hagar! She teach you!”

Esther's heart sank.

Although no one had paid her the slightest attention before, she now saw everyone in the garage turn to take her in: some with dull obedience, a few with curiosity, but most with open resentment. This was the one thing she had been trying so hard to avoid. She pulled the folds of her hood closer to her face as she chose another car and knelt by its side. She repeated the procedure and felt the gas rise up the tube. But this time, she secretly let the fuel drop back down to wherever it came from. When she took the end out of her mouth and stuck it into a fresh bottle, nothing came out.

Some of those watching murmured, unimpressed. A few even tittered.

To her relief, they turned away even as the bearded guard scowled at her, his fingers tightening around the belt he held. Wincing, Esther now closed her eyes and braced herself for the blow that was coming. Yet nothing happened. When she opened her eyes again, she saw that the boy was studying her, as if trying to decipher something.

“You know what happen to smart little squirrels?” he said at last. “They make trouble for others.”

Without warning, he struck out and lashed the face of the
little girl chained to her side. As she cried out and fell to the ground, the boy stood over her and pointed down at Esther.

“
You
did that,” he said. “See?”

Sickened, Esther nodded.

After that, she did what she was ordered to do. She taught the others which vehicles were the most promising, where to look for the metal flap, and how to feed the tubing until it met the faint resistance of gasoline. She demonstrated how to siphon the deadly fluid without swallowing any by accident. And she stood by and assisted those who needed help.

Within an hour, every empty vessel had been filled.

Throughout, Esther could feel the eyes of the slave master follow her.
The boy was not as stupid as he looked,
she realized with despair. It was as if Jud had somehow read her mind and detected the one thing she had dreaded the most. Thanks to him, everyone was aware of her by now: every slave, every guard.

How could she possibly get away?

The slaves were given only the briefest of breaks.

A guard kept close watch as one of the workers passed around a gallon jug of stale water. Each was allowed no more than a single sip; anyone who took more felt the crack of a cudgel across the shoulders. Afterward, everyone lined up to scoop a handful of cold, congealed porridge from a large pot.

Esther drank what she could, but found she was unable to eat. She still felt guilty for what had happened to her young partner; and after she made certain no one else was looking,
she handed over her share. The little girl gave a short nod of thanks before cramming the paste into her mouth, swallowing ravenously. Esther could not help but notice the red welt that snaked from the child's cheek down the side of her throat.

“I'm sorry,” she said.

“Ain't your fault.”

After that, they exchanged a few words. The little one said that her name was Ava; Esther only just caught herself before saying her real name.

“How old are you?” she asked. A bit of porridge still clinging to the girl's chin reminded Esther of Kai and she had to force herself not to wipe it away.

“Don't know,” Ava said. “Young?”

“That it! Time to go!”

After being rounded up and counted, the slaves were once again tethered together by the neck. Carrying their containers of fuel, they were ordered to continue down the sweltering street. They were soon joined by other workers, who, although shackled in pairs, were not roped together as a group. Instead of fuel, they carried lumber, panes of glass, coiled tubing, and other supplies. No one was allowed to speak to one another, and they proceeded in eerie silence.

They were no more than a dozen blocks from the District when the guards ordered everyone to stop.

Wary, Esther glanced around. They were surrounded on all sides by steel and mirrored glass, standing in a canyon of immense buildings that seemed to pierce the sky. To her confusion, she saw that the slave handlers were ordering them
to approach the tallest structure, one that took up the entire block.

The building rose straight up like a cliff face, a vision of gleaming silver that reflected the cityscape around it. The tower was several times larger than the District; Esther attempted counting how many floors it held and lost track at forty. Most of the stores and businesses of Mundreel showed signs of vandalism, earthquake, and the passage of time—broken windows, cracked edifices, and collapsed walls. Yet this one was perfect, as pristine as the day it had been created.

Esther couldn't help herself; she found herself shrinking in front of its enormity and splendor. And she could sense that the others, even the slave handlers, were intimidated as well. At first, she couldn't see an entrance anywhere. Although three sets of spinning doors were set in the glass façade, they appeared locked. Then she noticed that she and the others were being led around the corner, where someone had smashed the thick glass, forming a gaping hole. Everyone edged in, shuffling their chains and staying close together.

Inside, Esther gasped.

When she and her friends had first arrived in Mundreel, the District was the most opulent place they had ever seen. Yet it was dwarfed by the sheer height and magnificence of the room they found themselves in now.

Coolness emanated from the glimmering walls that rose straight up on both sides and from the floor itself, all made of the same polished white stone. Enormous panels hung at either end of the lobby, covered with strange and colorful pictures
that resembled something a child would draw. Farther back, Esther counted six separate banks of elevators; each held at least a dozen doors that gleamed silver against the white marble. An immense wooden desk faced them, its blond surface gleaming smooth and clear as a pool of water.