The Forsaken (15 page)

“Let go!” Markus yells, but David keeps holding on. Long enough that he has time to stare directly at me.

“I think your parents got sent to this island!” he starts yelling. “Thomas and Leah Shawcross, right? Dissidents like them were shipped here after the UNA got formed.” Markus wrenches the stick back and cracks David across his forehead. David yelps and tumbles back, hands pressed to his head.

“Shut up with your nonsense!” Markus yells at him.

“Let him speak,” I plead. But Markus keeps jabbing him.

“All drones do is lie,” Markus says. “They’re liars and thieves and scumbuckets!”

“But how could he know about my parents?” I ask desperately. “I never told him their names.”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” Markus turns back and slams David with the stick again.

“Stop— Don’t—”

Markus isn’t listening.

David is gagging. One of the blows caught him in the throat. I see that his lip is split.

“You really hurt him,” I tell Markus as he steps back, sweaty and breathing hard.

“Good. Us villagers are trying to make the best of things on the wheel. His kind are trying to make the worst.”

“He only fell in with the drones because they caught him when he helped me and Gadya escape. Don’t torture him!”

“Torture?” He sounds incredulous. “Veidman gave him the truth serum and still doesn’t trust him. They’re working on a stronger serum to give him next. And there’ll be a stronger one after that, believe me.”

“Just let me talk to him one more time, okay?”

Markus steps back, rolling his eyes like I’m an idiot. “Be my guest.”

I kneel down. David is still choking, trying to get his breath back. I whisper, “I’ll make sure you get out of here. I don’t think you’re a drone, or a spy, or anything else bad. Just tell me what you heard about my parents.”

The choking sounds resolve into words, forced out between gasps of air. “I think your parents were here—years ago, on Island Alpha. It’s not just for us kids.” He coughs and hacks, spitting out blood. “Grown-ups got sent here once. . . . I heard drones say that your name is carved on rocks. Near where they all break through the barrier into the gray zone—part of an old prison colony.”

His words have become indecipherable to me. Fractured and incoherent. “A prison colony?” I ask.

“He’s messing with your mind,” Markus interrupts, sounding frustrated and exhausted. “Alenna, I need you to head back to the fire pit now.” It sounds like an order. “And get your arm looked at too. Infections happen fast out here.”

I don’t know what he means until I glance down and see that David’s fingernails have torn my skin. Droplets of blood dot my wrist like a red bracelet.

I want to stay and help David, but Markus is firm about my leaving. There’s nothing I can say to make him change his mind.

I decide not to press my luck right now, because I’m new to the village. Instead I just decide to lie.

I look Markus square in the eyes. “Maybe you’re right, after all. Maybe he is just a crazy drone. He’s not making a whole lot of sense.”

Markus seems relieved by my sudden change in attitude. “Exactly. All we gotta do is feed ’em and not think too much. If I still had my UNA earpiece, I’d wear it around the prisoners. I’d rather listen to Minister Harka’s propaganda than these drones.”

I start backing away. “So, I’ll go back to the fire pit, then. Wash my arm. See if Rika needs help with anything.”

“Good call.” Markus is breathing freely again.

But he wouldn’t be if he knew my real plan: to sneak back to the kennels later on, tonight. When Markus hopefully isn’t on duty. I need to ask David more questions—and figure out how to convince the others to let him go free. I can’t decide yet whether I should tell Gadya about the things David said.

Of course, I’m not sure I actually believe that my parents were ever on the wheel. I’ve never heard of Island Alpha housing anyone except kids who failed the GPPT. And there’s no sign of any adults here. But I definitely believe that David learned a lot more about the wheel from the drones than I’ve learned so far from the villagers.

I wonder if Veidman knows that Markus beats the prisoners. If Veidman were considering letting David out, would he really let Markus treat him that way? But then again, if Veidman is drugging the captured drones like David claims, he probably doesn’t care.

I keep all of these thoughts wrapped tightly inside my head as I say good-bye to Markus. With a final glance at David’s cell, I make my way back to the trail.

As I walk down to the main clearing, I barely notice my surroundings. I’m thinking about my mom and dad. I miss them so much, it still hurts like a physical pain in my chest whenever I picture their faces—especially my dad. I was always closer to him than my mom, mostly because my mom spent so many hours away from home at the genetics lab. But David’s words have conjured my parents in my mind again, at least for a moment.

Grown-ups on the island. My name on rocks somewhere, hidden inside the gray zone. Some kind of prison colony . . .

I know I have to learn the secrets of the wheel before it’s too late. Before those secrets rise up and engulf me, and my chance to learn the truth gets ripped away forever.

Deep down I know that David holds a key to surviving and outsmarting this island. We need to share what we know. I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for David, so I’m definitely not going to let him rot in a prison kennel. I vow to return and help him before the night is over.

LIAM

WHEN I REACH THE
fire pit, I don’t see Gadya or Rika. Instead, I see Liam. He sits against a nearby tree, whittling fresh arrow shafts from branches with a pocketknife. I notice that the sling is off his arm already. And for once, he’s alone.

I hesitate for a moment, trying to compose myself after my encounter with David. I remember Gadya’s warning that Liam is off-limits. Even though he’s definitely attractive, I force myself not to think about him in that way. It would be easiest in some ways to completely avoid him. But I have a legitimate reason to talk to him right now, because he’s been inside the gray zone. There’s a good chance he knows something about the rocks that David was talking about.

I smooth down my hair, take a deep breath, and decide to walk over to him.

Liam hears me coming, glances up, and breaks into a smile. His teeth are very white. I wonder what people use for toothpaste on the wheel, because my teeth feel furry. I smile back at him, keeping my lips closed.

“Hey,” Liam says.

For a moment, I’m not sure what to say in response. I should have figured out some kind of opening line. Then I notice a pile of branches on one side of him, a stack of wooden shafts on the other, and a bowl of flint arrowheads nearby. “That’s a lot of arrows,” I say. I don’t mention anything about my parents, or David, or how I saw Liam on the museum screen back in New Providence.

He stops whittling for a moment and flexes his hand. “I hate doing stuff like this. I hate sitting still.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I only feel like myself when I’m moving. But I gotta take it easy sometimes, until my arm heals. It’s almost better. I broke it for the third time two months ago, and then I sprained it again in the tunnel collapse.”

“Ouch.”

He smiles, his eyes warm but guarded. “I’ve been breaking bones since I was a little kid—mostly my own. My dad called me
Pequeño Demonio
. Little Terror.”

I laugh. “Nice. I’ve never broken a bone in my life.”

“Then what do you do for fun?”

I laugh again. “Play guitar. Write songs. That sort of stuff.”

“Cool. Acoustic guitar or electric?”

“Acoustic.”

He nods. I desperately want to tell Liam about everything, but I don’t want to sound crazy and freak him out. Besides, I think I’m still in shock over what David said. “Tell me about your family,” I say, sitting across from him on the grass. Near, but not too close.

“There’s not much to tell. I’ve got five brothers, all still back in the UNA, as far as I know. My mom kept trying for a girl. Never happened.” He pauses. “We moved around a lot because my parents were rebels. My dad’s originally from Nuevo Tijuana, and my mom’s originally from London, but she immigrated to Central UNA when it was still called America. I’m a mutt, I guess—half Latin, half British. My dad died when I was nine. Taken in an anti-government demonstration.”

“Wow. That sucks.” I wonder how many kids on the wheel share the same experience. “My parents got arrested when I was ten. They were rebels too, I guess.”

He pauses. “Both of them?”

I nod.

“Tough.” He shakes his head. “Any siblings?”

“Just me.” I push back a coil of hair. “So, you probably miss your mom and all your brothers.”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t say any more, but he doesn’t need to. He looks down. He has started whittling again, his hands moving automatically.

“Maybe you’ll see them again one day.”

“Not on the wheel, I hope. But yeah, someplace else.”

He holds an arrow shaft up to the sun, nearly finished. It’s smooth and polished like it’s been put on a lathe. He squints at it. “Looks good, right? Wanna help me put the fletching on?” He picks two long black feathers out of the bowl, raises the knife, and slices them perfectly in two. Then he hands the pieces to me. From another bowl he takes a gluey substance and slathers it around the blunt end of the arrow’s shaft. “You put the feathers on like this, see?”

He guides my hand, sticking the feathers onto the wood. The substance is already drying, fusing them in place. “What is this gunk?” I ask.

“Pine sap.” He plucks the arrow out of my hands and holds it up again, rolling it between his hands. “Nice.” He tosses it into a pile with the other arrows, awaiting their flint heads.

“I can help more.” I have the urge to be useful around him. Show him I’m not just some spoiled city girl who arrived here and expects to be taken care of.

“Good. I need all the help I can get.”

We sit there working together. A few minutes slide by in silence. It’s a little awkward at first, but then it grows increasingly comfortable.

There were no boys like Liam at my school. Not many like him in all of the UNA, for that matter. Everyone back home seems dull and complacent in comparison. There’s something special flashing behind Liam’s eyes. He has substance. Charisma. I can see why Gadya would have trouble getting over him.

“How’d it go with Markus and the prisoners?” he finally asks.

I hedge, wishing I could tell him about David, but not wanting to give anything away yet.

“Markus kept beating on David with a stick.”

Liam frowns. “He’s not supposed to do that.” He looks around, like he doesn’t want anyone to hear what he’s going to say next. “Markus has changed a lot from when I first met him. His girlfriend Chloe got taken four months ago. Not by drones, but by feelers. After that he was different.”

“Different how?”

“Before then, he’d give people the benefit of the doubt. What happened to Chloe messed with his head. Now he gets mad really easily, and he takes it out on the prisoners.”

“Veidman lets him?”

“He looks the other way. Maybe even encourages it sometimes.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” I say quickly. I don’t want to seem too interested in the prisoners, given my plan. “So what’s the gray zone like?”

“It’s the worst sector on the wheel. And before it collapsed, the tunnel leading into it was a good place to get ambushed. There’s so many stories I could tell—” He breaks off. “All I’ll say is that you see weird things in the gray zone. Huge stones with etchings on them. Remains of lost towns. And there are old gravestones too. It doesn’t really make any sense.”

I instantly get goose bumps all over, and the hair on the nape of my neck begins prickling. I’m thinking about what David said.
A prison colony
. Inside that treacherous, forbidden zone.
Were my parents really sent to this place, just like me?

Liam keeps talking. “The air’s different too—way colder all year round. So cold you have to wear jackets and gloves in there. No one knows why it’s like that.”

“That’s really weird.” I’m trying to imagine how a person could ever be cold on this sweltering island.

“I think the gray zone is where we first arrive when we get sent here, even if we don’t remember it,” he continues, looking over at me. “Think about it. You just went to sleep in a testing arena, and woke up on the wheel, right? In the middle of nowhere.”

I nod.

“Even if an aircraft brought you to the wheel, what could have deposited you so far inland, right near our sector?”

It takes a second, but then the pieces suddenly snap together. “The feelers!” I blurt out. “They take people, but I bet they also bring us here, don’t they?”

“That’s my theory. I think there’s some kind of landing station inside the gray zone. One that unloads us from the aircrafts and turns us over to the feelers. We have to get to that station, find out how it works, and then report back to the village. If we know what we’re up against, we can figure out how to fight it.”