Token (Token Chronicles) (9 page)

Zeke comes walking around the corner about twenty minutes later

“Come on. Let’s go.”

On the way down the hill back to the District, I say, “Zeke, you trust me, right. You know I won’t try to run or anything. You know that I am honorable.”

“I do.”

I respectfully ask, “Would it be okay if I go out in the woods one last time? You know how important Hadley was to me. I have to go back to our spot one more time before tomorrow before I leave.”

He gives me a look of empathy and says, “Of course, but I will wait for you at your shack until you get back. I’ll give you a couple of hours but you have to be back before the District shutdown time. I am trusting you, Kincaid. Be careful.”

We reach my shack, and I quickly peek in to talk to my shack mates, but Zeke informs they are all off getting prepped for tomorrow, as well. Zeke plops down on my bed and says, “Remember, not a second after shutdown time.” He lays his head down as I step out of the shack and take off at a full sprint towards the lagoon.

I don’t think I have ever run this fast before. Perhaps the recovery machine did more than I thought. I get there in my quickest time since I discovered the place and take my last dive from the top of the falls. I reach the other side and pull myself up onto our porch and walk onto the limestone. I take a long look around, and it feels like an eternity since I have been here. Only a week ago, I was completely disgusted and appalled at this place because of the memories they brought back. The pain it brought me by reminding me of her absence from my life. Now I must remember to hold on tightly to all the memories we made together here. This is the only true home I have ever had. I fall back to lie down on the limestone, and somberly realize I am actually going to miss my life here on Island 3. But tomorrow may bring me one step closer to Hadley. To happiness. Tomorrow I will be auctioned as the most highly hyped Token in Hawk Island history.

Chapter 5

The cold blue water rushes in and flows over the top of my bare feet buried in the sand. I could not sleep at all last night thinking about today. I decided to walk down to the beach and take in the sunrise my last day here on the Island. Ironic considering in all the years I have been on this Island, I have never really been fond of the beach. The breathtaking view bares the scarlet sun emerging from the sleepy horizon. The light reflects off the water magnifying the serenity of the ocean during the low tide. Hadley and I never came here much despite the extravagant beauty the scene possesses. We preferred our porch. It was our own little private slice of paradise not able to be barged in on or interrupted by anyone else. All of our lives here are so public in every aspect. From what jobs we are supposed to do every day, the constant supervision, and now after my visit with the Ambassador, I also know they videotape us constantly throughout the days to conduct their private assessments. There was something satisfying about having our porch tucked away hidden from the rest of the world.

The morning siren begins loudly wailing in the distance. I would normally be rising to hurry off to the fields or get in a long day of training, but today will be special. My auction day. All the countless hours spent training and working to shape our bodies so we may bring in a bountiful profit for Grodar. A day I have been working towards for sixteen years, yet, I have no idea what lies ahead of me. During the last quarter’s auction, no one was allowed in the District during the daylight hours. We were all held outside working or training until the auction was over, and the Retreat Feast was set to begin. I suppose I will be at my own Retreat Feast tonight. An abrupt cutting pain hits me full force in the chest. A surge of memories from the last Feast pours through me. Standing out in the street getting my final goodbye from her. Our last kiss. I grab my chest as if it will somehow ease my pain, but I have grown accustomed to the anguish brought on by these sudden attacks.

I push my hands deep into the sand behind me and propel myself upward. I should be heading back towards my shack to meet with my friends. I am sure the Grods will be coming to round us all up very soon. I can’t have them thinking I decided to take my chances swimming out into the depths of the unforgiving ocean waters.

My hike back to our shack takes no time at all as I catch a glimpse of Benja, Nayze, and Yency all waiting outside. As I approach closer, I can barely recognize them. The sun is now higher above the horizon shedding its light down on our District, and all of their faces and bodies are illuminated. This is the first time I have seen them since yesterday. They were already asleep when I got back last night to send Zeke home and thank him. I had left so early this morning they had not yet awakened. I had forgotten they also had to go through the same weird contraption as I did. They all look much more… polished. The same as me. As if we all had not spent our entire lives out in the sun, the fields, earning every blister and scar. But they were all taken away in a few minutes. I suppose I should be thankful for the fresh new body, but I am disappointed to see us all like this now. It is as if they are trying to erase our memories we have made on this Island. All the time we have spent together. They are my brothers, and then I actually begin to realize something for the first time. I have been so concerned with how I am going to make my way back to Hadley, I have completely overlooked the fact this may be the last day we all spend together. There is a good chance we will all be purchased, and when we are, it is unfeasible to believe we may all end up in the same place.

“Where have you been?” Nayze curiously asks.

“Just down by the beach. I couldn’t sleep.”

“We thought you may have gotten yourself into trouble again,” Benja says with a look of relief.

The District is eerily empty. I am not used to seeing it this way in the mornings. I am used to seeing the bustling paths between the shacks. Everyone heading off to their assigned posts for the day. Instead, those of us who will be going to auction today are just standing outside acting evenly as if our lives are not all about to drastically change.

A small group of Grods begins to make their way through directing us all to meet in the center zone where the Retreat Feast was held. As we all begin to gather, I start to notice all the faces of my fellow trainees who will be going through today. Along with my shack mates and myself, I can tell they have thrown in the hardest workers, strongest, and fastest of everyone here on the Island. Although it would be unusual, if we were all to be purchased today, the Island would be taking a huge loss losing all of us at once. A large chunk of our work force that could be gone. I begin to think about the extra workload the others left behind will have to shoulder. After last quarter’s auction, there were eight who were passed on who I don’t seem to notice here either. I am starting to believe Emissary Quinn about having a cream of the crop auction.

One of the Grods who I am unfamiliar with begins calling roll to ensure everyone is present. As he calls out the names, one of the others verifies our presence as he looks at our individual tracking locations. I instinctively scratch the marking on my back. I count along as he calls out names. Nearing the end, 38, 39, 40. There are 40 of us eligible today. Surely, with this many of us, I can’t draw much attention. Hopefully, I will just fade into the background. My hopes are soon dashed as they line us up for the march back to the Ambassador’s mansion. Everyone’s name is called and placed accordingly until I am the last one. I am directed to the back of the line when one of the Grods haughtily mocks, “Of course, we are saving the best for last, Mr. Kincaid.”

I am tempted to sock him directly between his eyes, but I think this may endanger my chances of getting out of here today. I am placing so much hope into Hadley’s buyer bidding for me; I won’t let my emotions jeopardize my chances. I let the snide comment roll off my back.

We begin to slowly march in unison up the hill towards the mansion as one of the Grods sings a song for us to repeat. We sporadically do these now, but they were hammered into our memories as children. We used to have to march and sing anytime we went to our assigned posts as a group. Over the years, they have faded from our daily expectations, but we all seem to remember the process well enough. The Grod loudly croons as we repeat each stanza back to him.

We work all day and train all night

We will never give up without a fight

Whether on land or deep at sea

A loyal Token I’ll always be

Sound off! Island 3!

Sound off! Island 3!

Sound off! Island 3!

We continue to repeat the verses the entire march there. I am now beginning to suspect this is some kind of show we are putting on for the Elitists who must already be watching us via some live feed we are unaware of. Something I would not have even been privy too were it not for my previous visit with the Ambassador.

As we cross the gate entrance of the mansion and near the daunting high arched double doors, I can see everyone’s faces as they take in the sight of the massive structure for the first time. The same face I am sure I displayed only a week ago. Wait until they go inside I think. Then their jaws will surely drop. They are all astounded by the grandeur of the front lobby. Each of them is slowly spinning around staring in amazement at the unusual architecture. I instinctively expect us to go right and take the same corner as we did last time towards the Ambassador’s office, until we are directed to go the opposite direction to a door in the walls I had not noticed my previous trip here.

We continue down the same clean all white hallway until we come to a rounded end room with a seemingly endless amount of doors. I begin to hear a steady patter of footsteps coming down the corridor we just exited. Emerging from the hall is the cherry-headed Emissary Quinn. I guess she has assumed the duties of Ambassador of this Island while they are searching for a replacement for Tarik.

“Welcome!” she calls to us all. The words are echoing throughout the room.

“You should all be very thrilled you have made it to this point. Many of you are about to embark on a new life of glory as Tokens of Grodar. For those of you who move on today, we know you will all make us proud and will represent Island 3 with dignity!” she jubilantly exclaims.

“Now, all of you will now proceed to the final cleaning stations to ensure we have not missed anything from yesterday. We need you looking flawless for this afternoon. Good luck to you all!” she says as she begins to walk back down the corridor from which she came.

I have to imagine Ambassador Tarik’s version of this speech was much shorter and more derogatory. I make sure to remind myself that despite Quinn’s cheerful attitude, she was probably the one who pulled the trigger on Tarik.

The Grods split us up into ten groups of four separating the males and females as evenly as they can. I am with Miles, Russell, and Benoit. I have never been the closest of friends with them. We hardly ever worked on the same shift because their zones are from the other side of the District, but it appears we are about to become closer. When we enter, there are four women whose faces are all painted quite similarly to the woman from the Restoration Room. One of them walks up to me and gives me another playful honk on the nose and shrilly says, “Hey, it’s you again!”

Oh, one of them is the woman from the room. I am so lucky to have her again I say to myself in disdain. They all four direct us to strip off all of our clothes. We all give each other a hesitant glance. Nudity is nothing new or uncomfortable to us. There is a bathing pool behind the shacks in the District we all have to use, but men wash at a different time than the women. This will be the first time a woman has ever seen my naked body. But we obediently follow their instructions and remove our clothes. Obviously, our nakedness does not faze them in the least bit. They all four begin to circle around us like hawks eyeing us up and down. Continuously circling. Inspecting every square inch of our bodies.

The painted lady annoyingly says, “Just yesterday I had you looking perfect, now look at your feet, your hands, and it seems as if the machine missed a few spots on you yesterday, as well.” She pokes me in the spots indicating the results of her scrutiny.

Oh, no, I think. I dread the thought of me having to climb back in that thing again to have my body set on fire. She relieves my reservations when she says, “No, worries, though. I’ll just run you through the shower, and I’ll cover up these spots we missed.”

I have never had a shower before. I guess the closest thing I have had would be relaxing under our private waterfall. Hadley always spoke of showers fondly always describing her longing for just one more. We are so used to just bathing in a big pool of water that the thought seemed ridiculous to me. She said it is like standing in a never-ending warm rain. I hate the rain. Rain always seems to interrupt the best moments in life. But as I am forced into the shower room, I am slowly changing my opinion of rain. The warm water washes over my head and body, and I suddenly feel rejuvenated. Something I have been missing for quite some time. I had almost forgotten about the painted lady’s presence. I really need to ask her name so I can quit calling her that.

She is standing there waiting when she says, “Come on. We do not have all day princess.” She throws me a loofah and slides a bar of soap to me from across the room. “Now wash those feet and clean your hands and hair. Quickly!” she urges.

I do as she says and finish up as she tosses me a towel. I dry off speedily. I can see the others are already done with their showers as well. They are all lying down on tables while they are being worked on. She instructs me to do the same.

She begins styling my hair and arranges it in an organized chaos of blonde hair. She continues working with a brush against my skin. She strokes gently under my eyes and on the spots of my body she previously pointed to. I hope she is not making me look ridiculous. In no time at all, she informs, “You are done.” She nearly smacks the mirror in my face for me to see.