Token (Token Chronicles) (3 page)

15 ½ years later

Token: Kincaid

Deep blue eyes stare back at me, as I solemnly look at myself in the faint reflection of the water trough. I can barely recognize the man gazing back at me. My young boyish features have begun to fade replaced by the strong jaw line and bronzed tough skin of a man. Stubble has already begun to grow on my face. The years and countless hours spent drudging in hard labor have made us all look much older than our actual ages. I am sure this drives our value up as well. No one will want a Token who looks too young and weak. I cup water in both of my hands and splash it across my face. Nayze is growing impatient waiting behind me. I cup one more handful of water and drop my hands on my head letting the water cool the top of my scalp and my golden blonde tousled hair. I flick some water at him as I walk away from the trough. He looks annoyed, but jokingly swears he will get me back.

“Get back to work, we have two hours and still haven’t met our quota yet,” one of the Grodarian guards grunts. We just call them Grods.

The Grod looks at us in disgust. He begins to stride back towards camp and stops to talk to one of the Holds to put in charge while he goes back to his air-conditioned quarters. I don’t think the Grods from Knav ever quite get accustomed to the climate here. They rotate here in cycles, and we hear the weather in Hub City is extremely wintry year round, which sounds miserably uncomfortable. But I guess they have preference for the cold instead of the simmering heat here on Island 3 of the 10, correction…9, Hawk Islands. I sometimes forget Island 10 was completely destroyed.

The Hold placed in command is one of the few good ones. His name is Zeke, and if I remember correctly, he came from Island 8 a few years ago.

He walks over and encourages us with a supportive tone. “Come on gentleman, let’s push through these last couple of hours and get it done. We’ve got to get our portion of the harvest over to the cooks for the Retreat Feast tonight.”

It is difficult not to stare at the scar that runs from his right temple down to the corner of his eye and continues to widen and grow deeper down his cheek. Unfortunately, the scar makes him look grotesque and is most likely the reason he became a Hold. He is a kind man unlike some of the other Holds who have become bitter over the years. They were left behind on their Islands while every other person they have ever known was sold to become a Token. This may happen for several reasons. As with Zeke, any outward blemishes drive our price down. It is quite important to the buyers our physical appearances remain completely intact, and we possess some sort of appeal. We need a reason to make the other Elitists jealous our bidder is the one who gets the privilege to own us. We become eligible for auction at the ages of 16-18. There is one auction every three months per year. If we are not sold through the first 12 auctions we go through, we become Holds. They are to work on the Islands the rest of their lives managing the various labor and training stations for the rest of us coming through. Although they are moved up into management positions, they are constantly reminded how no one wanted them when they were eligible to become Tokens. Some do not take their permanent assignments with dignity and take their discontent out on the Island trainees.

I jump down off the raised dirt path into the fields. There are rows of pineapples growing out of the rich dark soil as far as the eyes can see. Yency and I begin to work twisting pineapples out of the ground tossing them to Nayze and Benja. They deposit them into the collection bins. We used to have to wear gloves and shirts whenever we were assigned to pineapple harvesting, but our hands and skin have gotten so tough and calloused over the years that the sharp leaves and skins of the pineapples could not even leave a scratch now. We four have been living together for almost eleven years now in the same assigned shack. Once we turn five years old and are deemed capable of walking, talking, and physically capable of working, we are moved from Island 2, the island for infants and toddlers. Although I don’t remember much of my life from Island 2, I know we all owe thanks to the female Holds who were stationed there. Trainees used to be assigned 5-digit numbers as identifiers rather than given names. But they decided to begin naming all of us, to give us a true identity rather than a random string of digits. This is how I came to be called Kincaid. It is how we all have our names. After we leave Island 2, we are transferred to the Island where we will live and train until we are sold as Tokens or phase into Holds.

 We continue to rotate jobs every half hour keeping our bodies fresh and rested, and we meet our mark right before sundown. Zeke graciously dismisses us and reminds us we must be at the Feast tonight.

We have a couple of hours before we have to be there so as they begin to trek back home, I yell back, “I will meet you guys at the Feast.”

“Tell Hadley we said hey,” they say in unison as they all walk away chuckling.

It is no secret to anyone on the Island as to whom they can find me with after every day of work or training. I am with Hadley. I have been every day now for the past two years. I know I am going to be late again so I begin to sprint in the opposite direction of the camp. I can easily run at my top speed the whole fifteen-minute trip to the lagoon without getting winded. The harsh weekly training and work we go through ensure we are all in top-notch shape. I discovered the lagoon when I was nine rummaging around every nook and cranny of our private isle. I found a stream that transformed into a cascading waterfall with about a seventy-foot drop off. The first time I saw it, I did not even hesitate for a second. I just leaped off the ledge into the clean and crisp blue water. I let my adrenaline take control.

I began to make near daily trips to the lagoon after a hot day’s work to cool off and relax. It was peaceful. The place seemed to have a soothing effect on me. Most importantly, it was mine. Something I could call my own. There were not many things on this Island I could lay claim to. After I had been several times, while swimming, I noticed a yellowish-red fish underwater with a purple fin and blue spotted tail swimming underneath an outcrop of the rocky reef. The fish never re-emerged from the reef, and I decided to pursue the fish. As I crossed under the reef following the same path, I found I could surface for air on the other side. When I emerged, I could not believe my eyes.

Flowing from the top of the cavernous stony wall was water from the stream above, creating my own personal light-streaming waterfall. There were crevices in the roof allowing light to filter in striking the walls and waters of the cave in a stirring manner. I looked around my surroundings and noticed the water I was treading seemed to be emitting an iridescent blue glow. I climbed out of the water onto a jutted out section of the limestone, and a bench seemed to be almost perfectly carved out of the wall. The temperature seemed to be close to twenty degrees cooler in here than outside in the scorching heat. This became my refuge from the Island. My real home. It was a sight so exquisite I never told anyone about where it was. Not even my closest friends. There was only one person whose aesthetic beauty could match that sight, that memory. Hadley.

I was eleven when I first saw her. She had just gotten off of the Helo, one of the Grodarian hover transports. The aircraft captivated every inhabitant of our Island. We knew the Helos existed because we could just barely hear them fly over every once in a while, but they always kept their invisible camouflage shields up. Since all of us had been brought to the Islands as infants and grouped together at the same age, there was never any need for aircraft to land or transport other people here. Even the few Grods and Holds who had to rotate in came via ship transports from the processing island, Island 1. Island 1 is where we are processed when we first reach the Island and where we go after we are auctioned before we are sent to our proud new owners. Of course, that is after the whole Island celebrates with the Retreat Feast before departure.

But I could not even describe one single detail about what the hovercraft looked like. I still wouldn’t know a hovercraft from a palm tree. I was only fixated on her. I could not take my eyes off of her. I had known all the other girls on the Island since we were kids, and they were all like sisters to me. But I was positive, then and there, no other woman in the world could match her beauty. I got lightheaded for a moment. I think the girl actually made me forget to breathe. She never allows me to forget she was the girl who
took my breath away
.

She was brought to our Island with a group of about ten other kids all around our age. We later learned the Grodarian Federation used to segregate the Islands from one another. We were grouped by age and how long we had been there. We had never met anyone who had not lived on the Islands their entire life other than the Grods. They used to take all the children who were old enough to remember life back in Knav and group them all together on one Island. They did not want to taint the training they had spent on us already by allowing in outside influences and distractions. Apparently, the decision turned out to be disastrous. The new children of Island 10 did not adapt well to their new lives of hard labor and physical training. They organized themselves and revolted against the Grods and Holds on the Island. I even heard they were successful and had taken control. They must have thought they had finally achieved the freedoms they so desperately wanted. But retaliation was inevitable. Their moment of triumph didn’t last long. A bomb was dropped by one of the Helos flying above, completely annihilating any evidence of the prior existing landmass or its population. I was out in the fields the day it happened. I had never seen such a color paint the orange horizon. The bright white flash blinded my eyes for several minutes.

The Grodarian government intervened and instructed the Ambassadors of the Islands to begin assimilating new acquisitions into our lifestyles hoping we would influence them and not vice versa. For the most part, the method has been successful. None of the ten new trainees they brought us became troublemakers. Of course, there were always ways to silence the troublemakers, other than complete obliteration of course, if they ever did cause problems. Whenever anyone arrives at Island 1, we are implanted with a chip placed intricately around our spinal cords marked by the tattoo of intersecting diamonds to symbolize our permanent bondage. If we were to be brave and try to remove one of the chips, it would likely end in our death or our paralysis. The chips are tracking devices, but they also serve another distinct purpose. The Grods and Holds all contain devices that can send a jolt to any one of us or all at the same time, if they so desired. They have done it before when someone misbehaved, jolted us all. Needless to say, the rest of the Island makes sure that person will not be a problem again. Jolts managed to paralyze our bodies only to where we can’t move or scream, but we can still feel every agonizing moment. I was jolted quite a bit when I was younger because I didn’t understand things. We all were. A particularly malicious Grod once jolted me when I was seven because I wanted to take an unscheduled water break. I learned quickly how to behave and tried to become invisible. Just do what they say, no complaints. Just shut up and color.

No one has ever tried to escape from Island 3 as far as I know. But every now and then, the Grods string someone up in the District who had tried from another Island. The body is always blue and bloated and quite a sickening spectacle. They normally leave the body there for days to make sure they get their point across. They did not spend all this time raising us to become highly profitable Tokens for us to try and escape right at the end. Regardless, it doesn’t even make sense to me. We all know there is no other land miles from here that isn’t just another one of the Islands. There is no swimming to freedom. This is precisely why they have never bothered to fence or confine us in any way. The Island is our prison.

I have no desire to escape. The Grodarian Federation took me in as a baby and raised me when my own parents chose not to. They gave me up for a little bit of money. Their own flesh and blood. The Grods tell us how horrendous it is back in Knav. They vividly describe to us how many people suffer from starvation, how many people live in the streets, and how families are torn apart. My life here on the Island has given me a family of hundreds of brothers and sisters to love. We work extremely hard, but we at least have been provided the means to feed and make ourselves strong. Our shelter is not much, but it is in fact that, a shelter. A haven from the rain and wind. Grodar has invested a significant amount of time and resources in me, and I plan to reward them by being the best Token I can be. I owe them my life, and I will repay my debt.

Not everyone feels this way, however. It is different for Hadley, though. She lived in Knav until she was ten with her parents. All I know is her parents died. I never asked how because I can tell she isn’t able to talk about it. From time to time, I am able to get her to talk about them to me, though. She gets to relive her fond memories, and sadly, through her, I vicariously get a glance in on these moments and imagine myself having my own mother and father. I always shrug the thoughts off quickly. What horrible people they must have been.

Hadley speaks of her mother more often than anyone. She describes her as a strong, independent, and powerful woman. I can tell by the way her eyes light up when speaking of her how much the woman meant to her, how much she loved her. I guess I am lucky I never had to know such a pain. To lose someone I love so dearly. I have no idea how I would react, or if I would even be able to recover.

I am slowing down as I near the edge of the forest near the spring. I stop to climb up a mango tree and snag a couple of the ripe fruits. They are Hadley’s favorite. I toss them in my pack as I pick up a quick jog again. I splash through the water without stopping heading downstream. As I approach the falls, I don’t slow down. My favorite part. I run as fast as I can and jump with as much power as my lower body and momentum can produce. In seconds, I am surrounded by the familiar blue water and aquatic life all around me. I regain my awareness and speedily swim underneath the reef and resurface on the other side.