The Outcast Ones (7 page)

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

His lips become as narrow as his eyes, he tenses his shoulders and appears to become even stronger than he was before. He stands like a threatening shadow in the doorway. He wouldn’t believe me for a moment, that much is clear. But it’s true. It’s not my fault they have holes in their walls.

He turns his gaze to F701. “Come with me,” he commands her in an icy tone.

The girl freezes stiff and stares up at him, horrified, without budging.

“Come on, or do you need a special invitation?” He takes another step into our cell.

“Why?” I force out. I step between him and F701, blocking his view of her.

I see in his eyes how he must hate me. He is disgusted that he has to speak with me.

“I always thought they teach you in the safety zone to follow orders, without asking questions,” he says contemptuously. I doubt that he’s ever been in the safety zone, or he wouldn’t despise it so much. The longer I am parted from it, the more I miss all the many rules that leave nothing open.

“But we’re not in the safety zone,” I answer dryly, too quietly to appear brave, but he hears me anyway.

His hand flies up. It’s curled in a fist, but then he stops. He waves his hand about between us like a threat while we lock gazes. Did he really want to hit me? Another reason to abhor this place. All violence is forbidden in the safety zone. We see it as uncivilised, a sign of weakness in people who think that words won’t help them.

“All right, then let’s just start with you,” he concedes, and grabs my arm roughly.

I glance back once at F701 before he drags me out of the cell and the door falls into the lock behind us.

The room we enter is filled with light. Just like the cell, it’s made of uneven red stone, but it’s much bigger. It almost reminds me of the Atrium, because this place also appears to be some kind of centre. From here, various corridors lead away, and there are other doors beside our cell door. Are there prisoners behind all of them?

I don’t even have time to count the doors before the man shoves me into the next cell. It’s much darker than the previous rooms. A solar lamp stands on a wobbly wooden table, throwing a flickering light into the narrow room. There are two chairs at the table; in one of them is the man with the beautiful eyes. Relief floods through me when I see him. He won’t do anything to me, I can feel it. He’s friendly, unlike his colleague here, who shuts the door behind us and stands threateningly in front of it. He crosses his arms on his chest, making him look even wider than he is.

“Sit down,” says Green Eyes, pointing at the chair opposite him. “Please.”

I know that word. Still it sounds odd to my ears. In the safety zone, we rarely use it, because everyone only fulfils their own tasks and therefore no one needs to thank anyone else. We know our rules and don’t ask for favours. In spite of all this I do as he says and settle on the groaning chair.

“Are you thirsty? Would you like another drink?”

“She’s supposed to give us answers, not fill her stomach,” comes the angry voice from the door.”

“But it’s hard to speak with a dry throat,” says the other, unimpressed, and pours a clay cup of water for me. I hesitate, then take a sip and feel it running, cool, down my throat. I look at my dirty fingers and the thick layer of muck under my fingernails. It would be so nice to get into a steam shower right now.

“You don’t need to be afraid. No one will hurt you here,” he continues, just as friendly, but the image of the other man’s raised fist slams into my inner vision.
Oh, really?

“What’s your name?”

“My designation is D518.” Name is just an old word for designation.

“Where do you work, D518?”

“In nutrition distribution.”

Everything goes quiet in the cell. It almost seems as if both of them are holding their breath.

“Do you know D523?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know where she is?”

I decide to be honest. “In the night when you kidnapped us, D523 and I were working. Shortly before the guards came to get us for a special task, D523 had to go to the toilet. Because she wasn’t there, D375 ordered me to go with the guards instead of her.”

“No!” The man at the door curses. His fist hits the metal and it startles me.

“It’s a silly misunderstanding, that’s all. She’s fine.” Green Eyes tries to calm him.

“Fine? She’s still stuck there. She should be here, not THIS one!” He points at me accusingly and his eyes shine with dampness just like F701’s.

“We’ll get her out later.”

“When later? Do I have to wait ten more years? The Legion will investigate. Heads will roll.”

“The wrong heads. We planned it all right.”

Instead of answering, the other now stomps towards me and grabs my shoulders. He shakes me so that my head flies back and forth.

“Talk, why don’t you? Do you really think it’s okay to lock people up against their will? Dammit, she was just a kid.”

Panicked, I gasp for air. Then he finally lets me go, and leaves the cell without another word. The other man sighs heavily, then closes the door and turns to me.

“Please excuse him, he’s just worried.”

The Legion commanders also worry about small children if they don’t develop as they should or if they break the rules, but they don’t get violent. Somehow I know it’s just not the same. D523 must mean a lot more to this man than we do to the Legion commanders, and that’s why he’s so angry. I can even understand it in some ways, because D523 is really something special. Different from everyone else in the safety zone.

“I liked her,” I say quietly.

Green Eyes tilts his head and inspects me curiously. “More than the others?”

I nod.

His mood turns pensive. “Aren’t you all the same? How can you like someone more than the others?”

“She’s not like the others.”

“How so?”

“She behaves differently, she talks differently, she laughs. No one laughs in the safety zone. She’s so lively.”

“And you like that?”

“Yes!” I cry out, firmly convinced, then recognise that I may have said too much. It sounds like I’m criticising the Legion commanders, but I only wanted to say D523 matters to me.

“Are there other people in the safety zone that you like better than others?”

C515 comes quickly to mind, but I’m keeping that for myself so I only shake my head.

“Would you prefer to laugh more often in the safety zone? Don’t you think it’s...mean that they forbid it?”

This time I won’t fall for it. I won’t complain about my home in front of these criminals.

“It’s too late for that. I won’t see the safety zone again.”

Irritated, he furrows his brow. “How do you know that?”

“If you don’t kill me, the radiation will.”

A smile sneaks across his lips. “But we’re alive.”

“How long have you all lived outside the safety zone?”

“Me—15 years. Others much longer. Finn has never lived anywhere else.”

“Finn?”

“The guy with the temper.”

“He doesn’t have a designation?”

“No, nobody here has that. I think it’s time I introduced myself.” He stretches a hand towards me. “I’m Paul.”

What am I supposed to do with his hand? Why is he holding it out to me?

He reaches over the table and grips my hand. His fingers lay warm on my skin before he gives a light shake.

“That’s how we greet one another,” he explains, and grins—just like I saw D523 do.

“Have the Legion commanders never told you that there’s no more radiation outside? The Third World War was so long ago that there’s hardly anything left of it.”

I stare at him in disbelief. Unsure if I should believe him. Why would they lie to us?

“They never told you about us either, right?”

“Yes they did. You’re the outcasts.”

“That’s how it started, many years ago, but now we’re much more than that. We’re rebels.”

There it is again, that terrible, dangerous word. I don’t want anything to do with it.

“Why are you doing this? The Legion only wants to protect us. They keep humanity safe. We’d be dead without them.”

“That might have been true, once. Now they’re only locking you up to keep control. They don’t let you live—or laugh. You said that yourself. Do you think that’s fair?”

“It’s necessary. We’re the last humans.”

“We were never the last and we’ll never be the last. The world is full of people. There are so many safety zones and Legions that we can’t even count them all. If you like, we could call ourselves a safety zone here.”

I shake my head, horrified. “How can you dare to say that? You have nothing at all in common with the Legion. You kidnapped us and you’re keeping us prisoner. There’s no safety here!”

My voice is louder and sharper than it’s ever been before. I feel a wild tremor in my stomach area and observe the hair on my arms is standing up. I’d really like to hit the table, but I don’t. “Finn” would behave like that—not me.

“How do you think the Legion treats its enemies? They kill them without hesitation. They only made the mistake once of sending them into the desert with no food or water. They won’t do that again. Anyone not for them, they shoot in cold blood.”

Adamant, I shake my head again and refuse to believe him. “You’re a liar!”

He blows out a breath and falls back into the chair. Then he shakes his head, disappointed. “I understand that you don’t believe me. You’ve never known anything else but the safety zone. If it was me, I’d probably feel the same. But think about what I’ve said. I’m sure you must have doubted the Legion at times. Not all of their decisions are right.”

He stands up and leads me out of the cell, back to F701. But when he opens the door, she’s not there.

“Where is she?” I cry out, alarmed.

“She’s being questioned, just like you, that’s all.”

“Will she come back after that?”

“Who knows...maybe she’s a bit more trusting than you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You have the choice. To live as a human—or keep playing robots and labourers for the Legion.”

Another lie. They won’t just let us go, if we decide against them. I’m their prisoner until I agree with them or I die. I don’t have any other choice.

Paul notices my hesitation and reads it wrongly. “Are you afraid to be alone?”

“No.” I press my lips together bravely. Now that he’s said it, I realise he might be right. When the door clicks closed, I flinch once and wrap my arms around myself. It’s warm in the cell, warmer than anywhere in the safety zone, whether day or night, but I’m still freezing. Maybe these are the first effects of the radiation, if it even exists any more.

I don’t know what to believe any more. Who’s lying, and who’s telling the truth? Since I was a small child I’ve been used to the Legion telling me what’s right and wrong. It’s not necessary to think about things yourself—it’s even counterproductive. Too many different opinions could lead to conflicts and war. What should I do when everything I’ve always resisted is the only way to survive here? I know one thing for sure: I’m not ready to die.

Weak, I lean against the rough stone and realise how heavy my legs are, and my eyes, and my whole body. I feel so, so tired. Thinking is torture. Maybe I should just rest for a moment, just a little break. My eyes fall closed and I am carried into a restless sleep.

Lifeless ash-pale bodies are stacked in piles. All the life is gone from them, leaving grotesquely disfigured shells behind. They are naked and cold, lying on the sandy red earth. Their light blue eyes are wide with horror, reflecting their fear of death. There’s a hole in each forehead and the last few drops of dark red blood are seeping out. They’ve been shot. All together, sparing none.

I want to scream, but my mouth remains silent. I can’t even feel it. Am I dead, too? I lift my gaze and see the white suits of the Legion commanders. They’re holding guns, aiming at me. A shot pings close by my head, another hits the ground by my feet and makes the red dust twirl upwards. I can’t move. The Legion commanders approach—I can look into their eyes. It’s a lie. Their eyes aren’t like mine, but full of light and shadow. They’re so angry. The Legion commander looks right into my face as he presses the gun against my head. It’s Finn.

I scream as I wake, and scramble around. What happened? Did he shoot me? In a panic I prod at my stomach, but the blood and the wound are gone. Only the red sand remains, making me cough.

The door is jerked open and I flee to the back corner of the cell. It’s him again—except he forgot the gun.

“What are you screaming for? You got a problem?” he growls at me.

“You want to kill me. I saw you!” I try to see past him into the little hallway. Maybe he’s too cowardly to do it himself.

Suddenly his eyes go wide and the angry wrinkles between them disappear. He looks surprised and almost...nice. Golden rays of sunshine catch in the soft waves of his hair, and his eyes don’t look like a storm at sea any more, but rather like a gentle splashing stream. But the expression lasts only a moment.

“Don’t talk rubbish! You just had a bad dream.” He doesn’t sound quite so mean any more.

Before I can answer, he closes the door and I’m alone again. A dream? What’s that?

Maybe I’m going crazy. Hallucinations are a sign of radioactive contamination. Why are the outcasts not affected? Do they have an antidote? If they have one, then the Legion must have one too. They could give it to me if I manage to find my way back to them. They would help me—the safety of the last humans is still the most important thing. Paul must be lying. The Legion doesn’t shoot anyone. That story would suit Finn much better.

My gaze wanders across the cell and stops at the sloped opening in the ceiling. It’s not a big hole, maybe 30 centimetres wide. I look down at myself and see how loose the suit already is over my stomach. Since we’ve been here, I’ve lost weight. I miss the personalised nutrition units. I could just about fit through there, quite unlike the broad Paul or even Finn. The thought of him stuck up there in the hole is a funny one and I start to giggle. For a moment I enjoy the joyous bubbling in my stomach. It dances up to my throat and flows out of my mouth. It reminds me of D523.