Rite of Rejection (Acceptance Book 1) Page 16

  I want to, but I don’t see what good it will do now. “No, I won’t tell her. Let’s just get out of here.”

  ***

  “Where have you guys been?” Elizabeth is pacing the floor when we walk back into the bunkhouse. “Never mind. Grab a bag and come on. We have to get this stuff out to the fence while there’s enough daylight to see what we’re doing. And I still want to go over the plan before dinner.”

  Daniel hands me a pack, his hands covered with sandy dirt. Guilt washes over me that we were outside, risking punishment, while everyone else was here getting ready for tonight.

  The walk to the fence takes forever. Daniel and Eric carry Molly between them on a chair rigged from a warped plank of wood, slowing down their pace. It doesn’t help that Elizabeth keeps zigzagging through tiny alleys and backtracking to make sure we aren’t being followed. “We can’t be too careful. Everything needs to go off without a hitch tonight.”

  Out at the edge of the PIT, we gather up piles of garbage and scatter them randomly to disguise our half-buried bags of loot.

  “So here’s how it will go down.” We all make a small circle around Elizabeth while she uses a stick to draw a rough map in the dirt. “Daniel and Eric will carry Molly over here, to the side of this building.” She taps a place on the dirt map. “Becca, you’ll be there with her and I’ll be on the other side of the path behind this building.” She digs the tip of the stick into the dirt to indicate her spot.

  “Daniel and Eric will go back to the warehouse and drag the raft out to the broken spot in the fence. It’ll probably be too dark to see much of anything, so as soon as you guys have the raft in position, whistle to let us know you’re ready.” Daniel and Eric nod along with her explanation.

  Elizabeth turns her attention to me and Molly. “I’ll need to help with the fence. Becca, do you think you can carry Molly on your back from your hiding spot to the raft?” I nod and Elizabeth nods back. A silent agreement to take care of Molly. “When you hear the signal, get here as fast as you can. Molly will get on and the rest of us will push the raft past the fence and down to the shore. It’ll take all of us to get it through.”

  Elizabeth drops the stick and uses her shoe to wipe away the crudely drawn map. “After that it’s pretty clear. We push the raft to the water and paddle until we’re out of sight. The current will take care of the rest until we’re home free.”

  It sounds so simple when she explains it, but we all know the dozens of things that could go wrong at any point in the plan. We’ve done everything we can. Now we have to count on having better luck than any of us was given on the Acceptance stage.

  “Any questions?” I have tons, but none that Elizabeth can answer. A moment of silence passes through the group as the enormity of what we’re going to do tonight hits us. “Alright then, let’s go eat.”

  The dining hall is packed, but the normal background noise of conversations, banging bowls and arguments is quieter than usual. A quick glance around the room explains why. Several guards in their bright red uniforms are stationed up and down the walls around the room.

  I turn to run, but Daniel grabs my elbow and steers me to the food line. He leans down and hisses in my ear. “Don’t panic. They aren’t here for us.”

  And he’s right; the guards don’t react to our entrance at all. We grab our food and head to one of the few empty tables.

  “Why are they here?” Their presence may not have anything to do with our plans, but it’s quite a coincidence. After months of absence, here they are on the night we’re escaping.

  “Keep your voices down.” Elizabeth shoots all of us a threatening look over the edge of her bowl of broth. “They’re probably just bringing in a new load of Unders.”

  It doesn’t look like there are any more kids running around than usual, but with tonight’s crowd, it’s hard to tell.

  “E’s right,” Eric says, though he doesn’t give my hand a comforting squeeze like he usually does. “You should eat. It’s going to be a long night.”

  The broth tonight isn’t bad and the bread looks only slightly stale instead of hard as rock. It’s like the kitchen staff wants to send us off in style. We all slip our slices to Molly who tucks them inside of the only bag not hidden out by the fence. Dinner is quiet. What else is there to say?

  Our walk back from dinner is just as quiet, and the silence continues in the bunkhouse. All our supplies are already in place so we don’t have anything to distract us from the slow passage of time. I try to get a little rest, but can’t relax enough to fall asleep. My brain keeps running through all the things that can go wrong.

  Everyone lies down except Elizabeth. She stands, staring out the single window, watching the moon rise in the darkening sky. After what feels like hours of staring at the ceiling, Elizabeth calls out to the room. “It’s time.”

  Seventeen

  Everyone sits up without a moment’s hesitation or a swipe of sleepy eyes. I’m not the only one who couldn’t sleep.

  “We all know what to do. No more talking until we’re out of here.” Elizabeth turns to the boys. “Are you ready?”

  They nod, but no one moves. We all know the consequences if we’re caught. This could be the last moment we all have together. As if we all have the same thought, we huddle up in the dark, our arms wrapped around the person next to us, our heads tilted into the middle until our foreheads touch.

  My chest burns and next to me, balancing on one leg, Molly sniffs back a tear. This is my family.

  Elizabeth pulls back and everyone separates. Now is the time for action. I take one last look into the shadows of our bunkhouse before following the others out the door into the dark night air.

  Per instructions, we stick to the smaller alleys between the buildings and off the wider paths that provide a direct route to our destination. With so much garbage in our way and only a sliver of moonlight, we move at a snail’s pace. Despite the slow movement, my heart is beating uncontrollably, forcing my breaths to come out in ragged huffs. Besides my sporadic breathing, the only sound is the shuffling of our feet on the dusty alleys.

  Only a few blocks from the fence an unexpected noise pierces the stillness of our journey. From our left a deep voice booms out an off-pitch rendition of the Anthem of the Territories. Without a word, Daniel and Eric change direction and carry Molly over to hide in the shadow of a pile of garbage. Elizabeth grabs my hand and ducks inside a doorless bunkhouse. I hold my breath, the fear of the moment giving me the strength to keep the burning air locked inside my chest. Counting in my head, I reach sixty-eight and Elizabeth taps me on the shoulder and heads back out into the alley. The shadow of an older man, bent slightly at the waist and heading in the opposite direction, fades with his mock patriotism into the night. I let my breath out in one loud puff.

  We travel the last few blocks and hustle to our spots. We’re making more noise than we should, but none of us want another run-in. I can’t get out of here fast enough.

  Eric and Daniel help Molly off her modified seat. Eric pulls me close in the darkness, his strong arms squeezing me tighter than ever before.

  “Be safe.” His words are so quiet I can barely hear them.

  “You, too.”

  He nods and heads back in with Daniel to get the raft.

  Molly helps me adjust the dusty bag of clothes over my shoulder so there’s still enough room on my back to carry her the short distance to the fence. This close to the edge the only sound is the constant rhythm of waves washing up on the beach before the ocean sucks them back in.

  We sit in silence, Molly’s head resting on my shoulder, both of us enjoying the relaxing rush of the waves. Another sound interrupts the night air, almost in time with the water crashing against the shore. I know it instantly as empty oil drums pushing against the dirt. It’s almost time. There’s a soft rattle and I imagine the raft hitting the fence.

  Molly tenses behind me, her slim arms wrapping around my shoulders. I lift up into a squatting position. I d
on’t want to waste a second of time getting to the raft.

  An eternity passes while a thousand thoughts of disaster spin through my head. With each crash of waves I expect the whistle and when it doesn’t come I picture a hundred red uniforms dragging Eric and Daniel off to Quarantine or worse.

  A sharp, high whistle pierces my darkest imaginings. I stand on instinct and lift Molly with a strength I never would have believed possible just a few months ago. Pounding footsteps are barely audible under the steady beat of my heart going off like a drumbeat in my ears.

  A shout in the dark draws my eyes but I can only see shadows moving ahead of me. Too many shadows.

  “Run, run now!” Elizabeth’s panicked voice shouts into the almost complete darkness. She’s telling us to run away, not toward the raft.

  “No!” Molly’s voice is a painful screech in my ear. Before I can stop her she’s sliding off my back and half running, half hopping toward the spot Elizabeth’s voice came from. I chase after her, desperate to get us both as far away as possible, but she’s moving with a speed that ignores her broken leg. I catch up with her in time to see two guards struggling to pull Elizabeth’s arms behind her back.

  Molly doesn’t hesitate before throwing herself toward the wrestling match. “Get off of her.” Moonlight glints off a thick black baton and her shout is cut short by a crunching noise. The baton rises up again and flecks of liquid fling into the air, backlit by an almost-full moon. Molly’s legs twitch in the sandy dirt, then go still. Sour bile rises up the back of my throat.

  Tight arms wrap around me from behind and for a single space of time I think Eric has found me in the dark and I’m safe. But I’m not. Rough hands jerk my arms behind my back and I don’t resist. It’s pointless to fight back. All those weeks of planning and preparation are ruined in less than a minute. My knees give out and I crash to the sandy soil, still warm from a day in the sun. Something scratchy falls over my head, but before it all goes black I catch a glimpse of Eric trapped between two guards. The look of horror on his face is identical to the way my parents looked the last time I saw them. Once again, my world is ending.

  Eighteen

  I have no idea what day it is. Day is an assumption on my part, too. Without a window it could be the middle of the night. Either way, it doesn’t matter. None of it does. I always wondered what Quarantine is like. Now I know.

  After what felt like one hundred days I stopped counting. When I first got here I tried to track the days by the time between meals, but time doesn’t hold any meaning anymore. I can’t tell if my meals are hours apart or days.

  I only eat the cold broth because if I don’t, they make me. After the third bowl of untouched soup three guards held me down while a fourth poured the cold, greasy water down my throat. It splashed all over and soaked into the front of my dress, leaving an itchy film on my chest. I still smell like grease.

  Of course, that could just be my natural smell by now. I can’t remember the last time they sent in a washbasin. Not that it does much good. It doesn’t come with any soap or a wash rag, so the best I can do is splash the dirty water on the few exposed parts of my skin.

  I spend all my countless hours sleeping. I don’t have the energy to do much else. Even with the broth, I’m constantly hungry. My dress that fit perfectly when I got here hangs on me like a sack.

  The guards shuffling down the hallway outside my door refuse to talk to me. If the others are here, I can’t hear them and they never answer my own screams. Everything is gone. Eric, Daniel, Elizabeth, Molly. The thick, wet crunch of a baton hitting bone forces thoughts of Molly away. I can only hope we can’t hear each other. Thinking about the alternative hurts too much. I know none of us got past the fence.

  The events of that night are fuzzy, like I’m watching a play from the top balcony without any binoculars. I don’t know who was where or who did what, but there was way too much red for any of us to have gotten away. All our dreams of leaving were swept away like loose sand on the beach. We risked everything to get out of here, and it was all for nothing.

  They knew we were coming. It’s the only explanation for why that many guards were out at the edge of the PIT in the middle of the night. Even if someone had seen one of us out there, we would have been long gone before they were able to track down a guard and get back out there. I’ve never seen more than five or six guards together and that was the night I got here. There were at least three times that many out at the fence.

  It’s fitting, really, that I should end up in a cell with nothing but a wafer-thin mattress. The others tried to convince me that I’m not a criminal, but they were wrong. I broke into locked rooms, stole things I had no right to, plotted against the Cardinal and tried to break out. I’m a thief and a liar. I’m not to be trusted. They should lock me up in here forever so I can’t hurt anyone else.

  Nineteen

  Leaving me here would be a mercy, but apparently the Cardinal doesn’t believe in it. At least, not for me. This morning, a guard came in and sprayed me down with the same disinfectant from the dining hall. He also brought a bucket of water. I waited for him to leave, but I’m not to be trusted, even with cleaning myself. He stood silently while I used the thin rag to wipe the layers of dirt and grease off my arms and legs.

  The water was brown with my filth, but I kept dipping the rag in and wiping what I could from my neck, face, feet. I wanted to strip off my dress and wash my back. A small contingency of insects live in my mattress and my back is a favorite snacking spot. But I couldn’t bear the thought of stripping down in front of the guard. After all this time I can still hear my mother’s voice warning me to maintain decorum.

  It seems like a laughable idea given the fact that I was giving myself a sponge bath in a guarded jail cell. I guess I have to hold on to the few things I have left in this world.

  After my bath, the same barber from the night I arrived in the PIT came in to cut my hair. It had grown down past my ears in the time I’ve been in Quarantine. Now the short curls are flat against my head again.

  I’ve just changed into a new dress that yet another guard brought a few minutes ago. At least he didn’t wait to make sure I changed. The clean clothes are a blessing to my chafed skin. I can almost pretend I’m me again, except I’m not sure I can remember who that is anymore.

  This dress has long, itchy, wool sleeves and a high collar. We’ve been here longer than I thought.

  Footsteps click outside and pause right in front of my door. As always, the steady staccato beep of the card reader gives me a few seconds of warning that the door is about to open. I’m ready when the windowless metal slides open, but nothing prepared me for this.

  Eric is there, a calm, non-expression on his face. I can’t think. I’m in his arms in a second. My tears dried up ages ago, so I’m left with empty, wracking sobs that drive my shoulders into his red-clad chest. I bury myself into him and breathe in the scent of aftershave and coffee.

  A gut reaction pulls me back. Eric shouldn’t smell like coffee. He should smell like sweat and grease. But he doesn’t. Eric smells good and his hair is combed to the side where it’s growing back.

  “I don’t… Eric, what’s going on?”

  “Your Quarantine sentence is up. You’re being sent back into the PIT.” His voice is slow and emotionless, like he’s explaining something very basic to a child. He reaches out for my elbow, but I jerk it back out of his touch.

  “Why are you wearing a uniform? Where are the others?” The door of my cell slides shut behind me and I flatten against it, the zipper of my clean dress stabbing into my backbone.

  A hulking guard steps out from around the corner. “Is there a problem with the prisoner?”

  “No, I’m just escorting her out.” Eric waves the guard off and we both watch as he heads back to wherever he came from. “Becca, please don’t make this harder than it has to be. If you fight me they might make you stay in Quarantine.”

  I laugh, an emotionless puff of air that makes
my chest heave with the effort. “Do you really think I care? They could leave me here forever.”

  “You don’t mean that,” Eric says, reaching for me again. “Let’s go.”

  “Don’t touch me. No, you…you never touch me again.” My head is dizzy. I haven’t stood for this long in ages. The events of that night so long ago play in a loop in my head. There’s only one explanation that makes sense now. “It was you. You told them we were leaving.”

  Eric lays his hands on my shoulders, as if his touch can calm me.

  “No,” I scream at him dashing a few feet down the sterile hallway and using up all my remaining energy. My voice comes out in squeaks. “You sold us out to the Cardinal. It was you. You did this.”

  Eric reaches out to pick me up from where I’ve collapsed on the cold, tile floor, but I refuse to cooperate. He lifts me onto his shoulders and my fists beat limply against his back. “Why? Why did you do it? How? Your family?”

  He doesn’t answer me and I don’t have any more strength to fight him. His arms are tight on my waist but not rough. We walk down several hallways, until a soft beep signals an opening door.

  Eric sets me down and I’m instantly blinded by the bright rays of daylight.

  “Go back to the PIT, Becca. Go live your life and forget about me. Forget about outside.”

  The door slides shut and I’m alone.

  It was summer when I last saw the sun, but there is nothing left of that warmth. The dirt beneath my thin shoes is frozen and a biting wind stings my bare legs.

  My eyes adjust to the light and familiar surroundings come into focus. The cold glass-and-metal structure of the Admin building is straight ahead, about a hundred yards away. To the right of it is the dining hall. I have no idea if a meal is being served, but at least I can find some warmth there.