“There’s plenty of space out in the Wasteland,” I remark, trying to suggest its better there than in the cities.
“That land, my dear, is contaminated from the many wars fought on this soil over the last century and a half. Those who decide to live out in the Wasteland are doomed to have short lives. The cities could only clean up so much of Sirain to make it inhabitable.”
Knowing the Wasteland as I do, I have sincere doubts about what the Superior is telling me. Perhaps it’s a story that was passed down from generations to keep those in the cities and Boroughs from leaving.
I turn my attention away from Superior Hersher and watch as one little curly-blond-haired girl tries to pull herself up into a standing position using a small chair. The nurse is monitoring her progress very carefully. She is the smallest in her group, yet appears to be far more advanced than her peers. After several minutes of effort, she accomplishes her goal. The nurse takes down some notes on an electronic pad and moves onto another group of children.
“What happens after they’re coded?”
“The children are moved down to their respective rooms below the main level. Every day they are brought up to this floor and conditioned in the rooms designated for their occupation. When they reach the age of seven, they’re transferred to the Developmental Quad, where they’re trained until the age of thirteen. From there, they are moved to their permanent dwellings where they’ll live and work for the remainder of their life.”
“And you don’t think there is anything wrong with this?”
“Really, Miss,” Eryn begins, huffing away, “what kind of society do you want to have? How else will we survive if we don’t have order?”
Superior Hersher places her hand gingerly onto Eryn’s shoulder, calming the woman. She thanks Eryn for her time and we leave the room. Before we exit the building, the Superior places her hand on my arm, turning me to face her.
“I know it’s hard and it doesn’t seem fair, but Trea, you must remember everyone has a purpose. Whether it’s a destination we accept or not, we all have a purpose…even you. You need to determine what that purpose is.”
We return to the Intake Facility in silence. I go back to my room and watch the snow begin to fall again, harder with every passing hour. Quin brings me dinner after he’s done with his turn at patrol. I finish my plate, but still feel weighted down with what the Superior said.
My original purpose was to protect the cities. From what I’ve seen, the cities don’t need protecting as much as their people do. I need to decide where my loyalties lie.
Quin lies next to me, falling asleep the moment his head hits the pillow. I, however, am feeling fitful and decide to take a walk, closing my bedroom door quietly as I leave.
Gage, Keller, and Hera are trying different frequencies in the communications room in an effort to reach someone in Acheron. I stand silently in the back of the room, listening as they tirelessly attempt to contact someone.
“Regulator Tower 1, do you read? This is Hatchery Nine, please advise,” Keller calls, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Regulator Tower 2, is anyone there?”
“Still can’t reach anyone?”
Gage turns around on his stool to look at me
“What’re you doing out of your room? I thought you’d permanently retreated into your cave.”
“I’m tired of being useless. I need something to do.”
“Go outside and see Rabaan, he could use some help with the patrol for tonight with all the snow that’s falling.”
I leave and head to the main floor. As I approach the entrance, Lehen comes in covered in snow, looking frozen to the bone.
“Hey stranger, I thought I was never going to see you again.”
“I’m jumping out of my skin from boredom. Gage told me Rabaan needs help with the patrol tonight.”
“Yes, he does. Let me go find you some protective gear.”
He disappears for a few moments, returning with a thick fur-lined white coat, matching pants, gloves, and boots. I cinch the hood around my head and pull on the gloves. The outfit makes me feel bulky and awkward, and Lehen says he feels the same way. We step outside into the snow.
Rabaan is surprised to see me, but hands me a Levin gun and a Beta rifle, and tells me to proceed north through the trees. He hands me a communications earpiece, which I place in my ear, and I head off down a small slope through ankle-deep snow, into the forest.
I walk with the Beta rifle pointing forward as the Levin gun bangs against my thigh. I reach the edge of the cliff to the north and look over. It drops straight down a good mile before hitting a plateau. There isn’t much to see in the dark, just pure white snow falling noiselessly to the ground.
My feet begin to get cold standing, so I walk along the rim going east. Off to my right in the distance I can see the lights from the housing unit. I continue my journey, passing the Predestination Center and the Developmental Quad, where I reach the edge of the cliff and double back. This is my routine for about an hour, then I retreat inside to get warm. The biometrics for the front entrance has been deactivated in order to allow those on patrol access in and out of the facility.
Once I’m inside, I remove my jacket, gloves, and boots, then place the Beta rifle up against the far wall. I pace back and forth in the foyer as there isn’t any place to sit down.
Ten minutes later, an ear-piercing alarm shatters the silence.
The lights above my head change from a soft white to a harsh red and begin to flash. After several seconds, the alarm decreases in volume, as a message is broadcast.
“Captain Braxton,” Hera announces, “please report to the security and communications room.” The message
