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A dystopian tale about a girl -The Searcher and a boy -The Sentinel whose lives are thrust together by fate in order to complete a quest.
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1
A Serial story including chapters one through Ten
Updated on 2 February 2012
Latest Chapter
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
2
Chapter 1
The Searcher
The city had been abandoned for years. Neither side sent men
within the outer limits for fear of the horror that dwelt
beneath the concrete and steel shells that once housed
millions. I cannot say what drew me into the emptiness even now.
I suppose reflection is jaded with emotion and therefore a
fruitless effort.
My body ached from the beating it took the day before. I can
generally hold my own in a fight but this man was out of the
ordinary. My only solace is that toward the end, I managed to
cut him with my knife. It wasn't deep. A mere scrape across his
ribs -but it bled like a sonofabitch. Just enough to distract him
as I punted his crotch up into his stomach. You'd think a man
would learn to protect his jacobs by now. Clearly his over-
confidence saw to his undoing.
He shouldn't have messed with me anyway. Who picks a fight with
a woman on the edge of the outer limits? He was just asking for
an ass kicking and I was happy to oblige. Did I kill him? Did I
kill him as he lay there like a baby in the street cupping his
manhood while tears and snot and blood ran together on the
side of his face. I didn't. I couldn't.
3
I had more important business to attend to. Plus, he had
earned my respect. If I hadn't pulled out my knife it would have
ended differently. He was nothing to look at. Average height,
average build -even a bit on the small side. My god was he fast
though. He had my respect as I walked away. I walked on,
beckoned by something more powerful than survival.
One thing was for sure, I was headed where no man would
follow. No woman either. Even now, as I said, I'm not sure why I
listened to that voice that called to me but I did. I climbed over
the concrete barriers stacked ten-high marking the beginning of
the outer limits. I climbed over the fifteen foot fence topped
with razor wire mounted at the peak of the barrier pyramid that
encircled the city.
The sun was setting to my right then left as I threw my legs over
the razor-wire topping and began the climb down. Blazing
orange light threw long shadows when interrupted by what
remained of the buildings, long abandoned. No rubble from the
destruction littered the streets making the scene even
stranger. We all knew why that was -the thought of it sent a
chill through my body.
As my feet touched the pavement, the sounds from outside the
wall immediately silenced. The hum of the generators, the buzz
of the trucks patrolling the districts. Even the wind silenced
when I dropped off the second tier of the old traffic barriers.
The sound of my boots hitting the ground echoed
4
between the buildings towering above me. I froze. Waited.
Looking. Scanning the streets from left to right then the
buildings now windowless and open for any sign of movement.
Nothing.
Every molecule in my body wanted to turn around and retreat
over that wall yet something more powerful pulled me onward
toward the center of the city. Toward the heart of the
madness.
I had never traveled inside the wall. I don't know anyone who
has. Why then, was I being called? Why now? My body began to
move. It was all I could do to slow my pace, quiet my footfalls
and stay in the shadows as I continued on. It was my body...but
I was not in control -and that frightened me even more than
what lies ahead.
5
2
The Sentinel
Why on my watch? I thought as I hurried along the
passageways through the rubble, trails I had traversed
since I could walk, trails and paths designed to look as if
monsters travelled them nightly; this was how we kept both
sides out: fear.
Why me? No one was going to believe me, no outsider had
ever scaled the barricades, no outsider would want to, we
leaked too many stories of the horrors within the city,
some real, many imagined, all designed with our safety in
mind.
I quickened my pace, any female with wits as this one, might
see through the disguises we used. Then again, it was
almost dark, and perhaps, wits or not, those horrors that
were real, would take care of the problem for me. Maybe I
didn’t have to report the breach.
But I had to, it was law. All breaches of the perimeter must
be reported at once; a breach was the only reason a
sentinel could leave his post. These words had been
repeated so many times during his life, from his fifth year
when he was assigned third level sentinel duty, then again
at 11 when he earned (two years early) second level
sentinel duty, and again, every other morning, for the past
7 years, as he suited up and headed out to the real
6
perimeter, with the razor wire, the concrete, and the smell
of death.
Why me? Early now, I am going to be challenged by the
second level, and if none of the cameras or sensors picked
up the intruder, I was going to have to fight my way in. Sun
at my back, sun at my back, sun at my back; let the other
guy get blinded.
“Hey, Grant, why so early,” came the call from somewhere
to my right.
“A breach,” I hastily called back, veering slightly left to
try to skirt his position.
“Nothing showed,” was the answer, closer now, and I
wasn’t yet in position.
“She came right over after kicking some big guy in the
jewels,” I called, slowing, turning toward where I thought
the other sentinel was lurking.
There was a snicker to my left, and the same voice to my
right, much closer than expected, possibly inside the
burned out shell of one of the thousands of cars that
still lined the streets of the city, repeated, “nothing
showed.”
I caught movement out of the corner of my left eye, turned
my head in that direction, and understood an instant too
late my mistake. The snicker was a recording, and the
movement was only a shadow of the man who landed the
debilitating blow to my head. Thankfully he didn’t kill me, a
7
breach of protocol to be sure, but one I will be repaying
for years, if not decades (if we live that long).
I came to in the office of the second sentinel commander, a
seasoned soul of 32 years, not the oldest man inside, but
one of the top ten we all guessed. 25 was considered a
long life inside, we all knew that the outsiders lived much
longer, but they didn’t come back when they died.
8
3
The Searcher
My mind knows something happened between walking away
from the outer limit barrier and squatting in the corner of
a shadowed room taking a leak yet, regardless of how hard
I try, the memories will not return. I finish, look around
for something to wipe with, find nothing and decide it isn't
worth worrying about at the moment -especially since I've
no idea where I am.
As I buckle my belt, I'm relieved to find my knife still
hanging from its leather sheath. The sun is rising, I can
tell by the blue light that filters through the paneless
window. I cautiously approach the window and gaze down
onto the street below. Judging from the size of the person
walking along the sidewalk I must be near the top of one of
the tallest downtown buildings.
Person? Downtown? My body tenses as I press myself
against the wall and out of view. When I slowly peek
around the paintless wooden trim that shows no signs of
ever holding glass between it and the fire-scorched
exterior, She (no chance a man would wander downtown)
hasn't changed her direction or pace. She didn't see me. I
9
watch, curious as she continues along the sidewalk until
reaching an intersection. She looks both ways then
hurriedly crosses the street and hops back onto the
sidewalk where she resumes her more casual pace.
I'm tempted to shout down to her but her behavior causes
me to remain silent. I've never seen anyone move in this
fashion -worry free. I've only heard stories of a time when
we didn't have to constantly be looking over our shoulders
and gripping our knives. She continues another block then
turns east. The clouds are thick this morning yet even at
this height, I can tell she is wearing black leather.
Whoever she is, she is well connected. Her jacket hovers
just above the ground as she walks, blowing slightly in the
breeze until she is obstructed by the single wall standing
where once an entire building rose from the ground.
I turn and cautiously make my way into the hall searching
for a sign of a stairwell or ladder sticking up from the
hole infested floor. While I don't remember how I came to
be up here, there must be a way down. As I move closer
toward the center of the building, the natural light from
the perimeter dims and I almost step through a crack wide
enough to send me down to the next floor if I'm lucky, to
the bottom if I'm not.
10
I move slower as my anxiety increases. I can feel my heart
beating against my chest. I can't remember the last time I
was this worked up. I need to relax. I pause and take a few
deep breaths. That's when I hear it -faint at first but
growing louder with each second that passes. A ding. A
bell. Ding, ding, ding.
My knife is in my hand and I'm crouched on the floor as I
slowly move toward the sound. Ding, ding. Forget my
chest, I can hear my heart beating in my head. I can feel
the sweat rolling down my neck and drenching my shirt
between my breasts. I continue toward the sound,
crouched, knife ready, taking long, low steps as I hug the
wall.
I see something along the wall. At least, I think I do. In
the darkness it's hard to distinguish shapes. I take
another long, low step forward. I see something for sure.
There is a light source ahead. Ding, ding, ding. I run my
free hand over my head pushing the sweat away from my
eyes -grateful I had my head shaved just before I left.
I notice my hand shaking as I draw nearer to the shape -to
the light source. My hand never shakes. I can see there is a
hole in the wall ahead. The shape appears to be a part of
11
the wall that has fallen into the hallway. I relax a little.
Still, something doesn't feel right. Ding, ding, ding.
A few more steps and the yellow light is bright enough to
make out the ragged outline of the hole in the wall. Two
more steps and I'm there. I step up on to the fallen chunk
of wall to look into the hole, which is slightly higher than
my eye level. The wall chunk gives beneath my weight. Not
in the way a brittle wall would give -it was soft, mushy,
gross. Something crunches then I feel moisture in my
boots. The light from the hole casts just enough to see
what it is that I'm standing on -in. If I hadn't been so
transfixed on the damn hole, I would have seen it sooner
and not stepped onto it. A body. Rotting, stinking -but
everything stinks these days. I'm sure I don't smell much
better than the corpse on the floor beneath my boots.
Ding, ding, ding. My heart is racing now, my breathing more
rapid than if I were running full tilt. I try to step back but
find my boot is lodged in the...the body somehow. Grasping
the lower edge of the hole, I lift myself slightly and
manage to pull my boots free. As I lower myself to the
ground something happens -I slip in the wetness. I slip and
fall onto this person I've just trodden on.
Splat. We are face to face. My face is actually touching
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hers. It is clearly a woman -that much I can tell as I lift my
head away in horror. A girl actually. I shriek and roll off
her simultaneously releasing what was left in my bladder
(good thing I didn't bother taking the time to wipe) expecting
to hit the hard floor of the hall. Instead, I feel the air
whooshing past my body as I fall into darkness. Ding,
ding, ding grows faint as does the yellow light above. I
scream for the first time in my adult life as I anticipate the
impact.
13
4
The Sentinel
I awoke from the blow to my head rather quickly, but
opened my eyes very slowly as soon as I realized where I
was. I wanted to listen in on any conversations, knowledge
is power they say, and considering I found my hands and
legs bound, I could use a little power, if it was to be had.
“Keep an eye on ‘im,” I heard Davis say. She was the boss of
all interior teams, the leader of the rovers; black leather
clad killers.
“He’s out,” Manny replied, “and besides, I tied him when
that durn fool of yours dropped him here.”
Manny was the second level Commander, older than Davis,
but lower in rank, and lower in power. Inside the women
ruled, we men followed orders, and if we didn’t, well,
there were the rovers to think about, weren’t there?
“Liza is not a fool,” Davis snapped, “she was following
orders not to kill him. He’s the one, the Sentinel, with a
capital ‘S’.”
I almost mimicked exactly what Manny did, which was inhale
so quickly that it made a whistling sound as the air passed
through his mostly toothless mouth, but I didn’t, I
managed to stay still, calm, unconscious looking.
“Bullcrap,” Manny said, pushing his chair back, the wooden
feet sliding easily along the relatively new vinyl floor.
This fact stuck with me, I must ask Manny where he found
the materials, my room needed a new floor and all the
good stuff had been destroyed so long ago.
14
“All signs point to it,” Davis explained, pacing now, her
perfectly shined black leather high heeled boots passing in
front of my slitted eyes with each lap. They had trussed me
in one of the corners of Manny’s office, so I was lucky in a
way, I was able to see Davis spin around, the movement
fanning her long coat, exposing just a hint of red leggings
above the boot tops, just below her left knee. Another
fact that would stick with me…for a long time.
“Records show this is his fourth return, he excels in all
his duties, he has the mark…”
Manny interrupted her, “many men have the mark, it doesn’t
prove a thing.”
“And none of them live past their 15th year,” Davis replied,
“also part of the prophecy.”
“Some do,” Manny said, hesitantly, almost whispering the
words.
“Yes, Manny, we know,”
“You know?”
“We’ve watched you too,” she told him, “even if your care-
for tried to hide the mark.”
Manny’s hand slipped unconsciously to the spot on his
neck where his care-for (he preferred mother but the word
really had no meaning anymore) had cut out the mark of
the Sentinel, a reddish brown figure that resembled
crossed swords, if you squinted and really wanted it to
look that way.
15
“You, too, are part of the prophecy,” Davis continued, “you
will now begin to train the Sentinel in the ways of magic, as
your care-for did for you.”
Again Manny was shocked at her knowledge, he thought no
one knew the things his mother had taught him.
“And you, Grant, you would do well to learn quickly,”
Davis had stopped directly in front of me, “because this
one, the one who breached; she’s also spoken of in the
prophecy, and while she may be scared now, she will gain
confidence with each kill, with each rover she takes down.
You must lean the magic, it is the only way to stop her, to
keep her from learning our secrets.” I closed my eyes tight, knowing my ruse had failed somehow,
and listened as Davis left the office. Manny shuffled over
to where I lay and began to untie the cords that bound my
hands and feet.
16
5
The Searcher
I'm dead. No other possible explanation exists to explain
what I'm seeing. In fact, I'm not sure I can explain what I'm
seeing. I'm in a room. It's large as we consider rooms but
inside the dwellings of old it would be considered medium-
sized. I'm seated. In what I'm not sure because at the
moment, I cannot move my body -otherwise my senses seem
to be working rather well. The temperature is comfortable.
I can't remember being comfortable in years. I smell
something -whatever it is, smells intoxicating. My body
feels clean despite not being able to feel it. The perpetual
layer of grime that exists on all dwellers of Earth seems
to have been washed away.
In front of me is the largest pane of glass I've ever seen.
Two women standing side-by-side with their arms
outstretched couldn't reach both left frame and right.
Large wooden planks (Wood! can you imagine?) covered the
floor from my position to the window. Only one other
thing stood between where I was sitting and the large
window. A small table (also wood) and two chairs. The
tabletop was empty.
Through the window (this is the best part) is an expanse of
17
green rolling fields that tapered down to a rocky shore.
Beyond, blue water. Blue! I'd never seen such a brilliant
shade of blue. Looking out into the green and blue expanse
must have touched something in the recesses of my
memories because I find my eyes filling with tears. I can't
explain it. I haven't cried since I was a little girl. They roll
down my cheeks. I try to wipe them away only to remember I
am unable to move at all.
Shore birds rise and fall on the air currents above the
water. Some type of grazing animals munch on the green in
a large bunch. They're all a dirty white color. Rather than
coarse hair matted tight to their bodies, they seem to defy
gravity with what could only be the softest of coats.
A loud creaking noise followed quickly by a sound I cannot
identify takes my attention from the distance. I see
movement out of the corner of my eye. I want to wipe away
my tears -embarrassed that another person will see them.
Then again, I'm dead so what's it really matter?
"Beautiful, isn't it?" a woman's voice says.
"Yes," I reply, letting go of my desire to begin interrogating
and allowing myself to relax just this once.
"Are you able to move yet?" she asks, walking into my field
of vision.
18
She is old -much older than anyone I've ever seen.
Guessing from the wrinkles around her eyes I'd say she's
probably twice my age. She has long, dark hair -almost as
dark as her skin, and soft features. She doesn't live like
the rest of us. She smiles, looking deep into my eyes. I feel
her right then, in my head. She's trying to calm me down
but the sensation of someone inside my mind is unnerving.
She must have sensed this because she immediately backs
out. When you're dead, I guess anything is possible.
"You need not fear," she said. I detect an accent -nothing
I've ever heard before.
"Where am I?" I ask. The sound of my own voice is startling.
The gruff, grainy, bark-like timbre is gone, replaced by a
smooth, almost musical quality.
She smiles but says nothing. I see her reach for something
just out range of my peripheral vision. The world goes
black.
19
6
The Sentinel
I was massaging my wrists where the ropes had been, waiting
on the offered measure of Dragon Nectar, when the dog
trotted through the door.
Manny and I greeted the dog by name and I reached down to
scratch him between his ears when he sauntered over to
sniff my pant leg, almost losing my hand in the process.
Wow, for a mild mannered looking Springer Spaniel, Buddy
sure was testy.
“Watch it, Grant,” the dog snapped, “you’d do well to
remember your place around here.”
“Umm, Buddy…” Manny started.
“Save it, Manny,” the dog said as he turned three times on
the carpet in front of Manny’s desk, “I’ve heard all about
the prophecy, and I aint buying it.”
“But,” was all many was able to get out before Buddy
snarled at him.
“Fine, Buddy,”, Manny said, “but Davis is gonna be pissed if
you don’t at least act like you believe in this stuff.”
“After the couple of days I just had, I don’t really care,”
The dog said, resting his snout on his paws, then lifting his
head to say, “Some races out there you just can’t reach.”
The dog returned his head to his paws and shut his eyes,
signaling the conversation was over, at least his part of it.
I knew, though, he would be listening to everything Manny
20
and I said, ready to correct us at any moment. I have
always wondered why that scientist gave dogs the ability to
speak to humans. Sure, it was only through their minds, but
during the conversation it sure seemed like the dog was
speaking out loud, heck, different dogs had different
voices, or was that in my head too?
“My head hurts Manny, pour another measure of that
Nectar, will ya?”
“Awww, Grant,” Manny whined, “I don’t have much left.”
“Hey, I’m the Sentinel and you are my Mage, we should be
able to get all the Nectar we want, back in circle one.”
“Like she’s gonna let us go clear back to Circle one,”
Manny said.
“If you told her you needed supplies or something, yanno,
like eye of newt or toe of dog…”
The dog chuffed.
“Sorry Buddy, I meant toe of frog,” I continued to brow-
beat Manny until he agreed to at least ask Davis if we
could start my training in Circle one, back with the young
ones, as far away from the one who breached as possible,
and as close to the Nectar as possible.
“How do you think she got over the wall?” Manny asked, as
he was collecting the stuff he was going to need for a trip
to circle one.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, one minute she was kicking ass
on her side, the next she was climbing, I didn’t wait around
once it was obvious she was gonna make it.”
21
“I don’t blame you,” Manny said, while trying to choose
between his dirty grey shirt and his dirty brown shirt,
opting to take them both in the hopes he could find time to
wash them.
“She’s the Searcher,” Buddy said from his place on the
floor, “If you want to buy into that prophecy crap.”
22
7
The Searcher
I opened my eyes fully expecting to wake in my bunk having
never left for downtown. Having never fallen through
that hole. Having never stepped on the body of that dead
girl -the trauma of that experience would be too much to
cope with.
A green blur -bright green, green that doesn't exist in the
districts or downtown or anywhere that I've ever heard,
filled my field of vision. I blinked and the green came into
the focus. Green fields. Expansive, rolling, a rock jutting
out here and there until the green met with the blue waters
beyond.
Not a dream. Any of it. The girl. My God, the girl. I
stepped on her. I stepped in her. She was so young. I've
seen my fair share of death in my time. I've never dealt any,
contrary to what others believe. I've always been one step
removed from the death -a spectator. Never intimate with
it. I have an aversion to it. Most people will say that but
when someone close to them is dying, they don't walk away.
They don't hide. I do. In this world my fear is irrational at
best and inexcusable at worst. Death is everywhere.
Somehow, I manage to avoid it. She, whoever she is, will
haunt me for the rest of my days.
23
I was in a comfortable wooden chair with a cushioned seat.
I turned my head. I could move. I was close to the large
viewing window -right up against it almost. I looked down at
my legs, which were bare. Also, surprisingly, they were
clean and free of the fine blonde hair that typically
covered them. I wiggled my toes. They were neatly trimmed
and...pink. Bright pink, of all colors. I'd never seen
painted toes before and found myself chuckling at the
sight of them.
"Something funny, dear?" a woman's voice said.
I turned, it was the same woman from before. Beautiful
dark hair -almost down to her hips. Dark skin -not the
darkest I've seen still much darker than mine -much more
beautiful. Dark skin is a desirable feature in the districts.
This woman, despite her impossibly old age, would be very
desirable. She was holding something -a cup of steaming
liquid. She sipped on it gingerly as she moved closer. Her
movement was so smooth, so effortless, I wondered if she
had feet beneath her floor-length dress.
"My toes," I replied. "They're painted. I've never seen
painted toes before."
"I suppose then you haven't noticed your fingers," she
replied in her unique yet whimsical accent.
24
I lifted my hand in front of my face. Sure enough, the
nails were neatly trimmed and painted a matching shade of
pink. I laughed again. The woman smiled and closed her
eyes as if the sound of my laughter was a most magical
song. I finally noticed my clothes. I was wearing shorts
and a matching top made from the softest fabric I'd ever
felt. Both were white with thin stripes of pink that exactly
matched my nail color. My arms were bruiseless, hairless
and dirtless just like my legs.
"You were quite a mess when they brought you in here,
Searcher, but I had plenty of time to get you fixed up," the
woman said.
"How much time?" I asked. "How long have I been here?"
A concerned expression crossed the woman's face. It left
as quickly as it came. She set her steaming drink on the
wooden table and extended both hands toward me. I
looked at them, then looked at her. She smiled.
"Take my hands, child and I will help you up and show you
what you want to know."
I haven't excepted help from another person -not even a
woman, in longer than I can remember. I wasn't about to let
things change simply because I was dead. As I reached
25
down for the armrests on my chair, I could feel her inside
my head again. It wasn't painful or invasive but it was clear
she was trying to change my mind. I suddenly knew this
would be the first time I'd stood since I'd gotten here. I
would most likely be unstable and there was a good
chance, I would fall head-first through the glass viewing
window, which, despite being dead, didn't sound like a good
idea.
Reluctantly, I took her hands. They were warm and smooth
-so smooth. The wooden floor was warm as well. As I
shifted my weight over my feet, my knees began to object
and sway in strange directions. I'd never had trouble
holding up my own body weight. This was crazy. The woman
slid her arm beneath mine and wrapped it around my back. I
could sense her strength even with the gentleness of her
touch. Her touch felt...well good. Amazing, actually. It's
been so long since I'd been in the embrace of another
woman. My apprehension drained from my body.
I took a few steps (it was obvious she was supporting a
considerable amount of my weight as I did so) then she
turned me toward the back wall of the room. Standing in
front of us was a woman who must have been the twin of
the woman helping me stand. She was helping a girl stand
as well. The girl was strange looking. We both wore the
same outfit; both had painted toes and fingers and even
26
had the same skin tone yet there was something different
about this girl. Her face. She was very unlike the girls of
the district. Her hair was longer than any district girl -it
came down to just above her shoulders. It was not quite
blonde and not quite brown -like the color of the leather
we dried out in the summer sun during the hot months. Her
eyes were big and bright. Her lips were full-too full and
her teeth were white -too white.
As I studied this girl, she studied me -almost mimicking my
behavior. At first I didn't mind her looking at me but
eventually, I could tell she was mocking me -trying to do
exactly as I did. I leaned in, she leaned in. I put my free
hand on my hip, she put her free hand on her hip. I put my
hand on my head, she... Then it struck me. I could feel the
hair on my head. It was long. Longer than its ever been.
It felt so smooth and soft. I ran my fingers through it,
she ran her fingers through it. That girl was me.
27
8
The Sentinel
As we wound our way through the maze that was the second
circle I marveled at the changes only a few years had
wrought. The burned out husks of automobiles, so
prevalent in the third circle, my circle, had been carefully
placed to provide many defensive positions. Though the
autos looked much like those in the third circle, and much
like the ones that were said to have carried people along
these streets, these were heavily reinforced. It would take
many direct hits from the weapons found in the Districts to
either punch through or move one of them.
Manny was leading the way, this was his circle, he knew the
best routes and all of the passwords; and I would have
been killed on sight had I not been with Manny, just like
both Manny and I would be killed in the first circle had we
not cajoled Davis into providing us with a legitimate pass.
Third levels, like me, never go back, and second levels,
well, normal second levels, only were allowed one trip
back every year, if they lived that long and if they didn’t
move out to the third level. Manny was an exception. He
was the only person to have ever completed his time at
third level, an accomplishment that was rewarded with a
choice of stations and the ability to request permission to
travel between levels. This, of course, did not mean that
28
permission would be granted, but Manny so rarely asked,
he was usually given the pass. Adding me to the request
made it more difficult for Davis to sell to her superiors,
but when she explained that the tools needed to teach the
Searcher were in the first circle, and the only one who
could retrieve them was Manny, and that Manny wasn’t
going without his new bestest friend Grant (being the
Searcher and all), her superiors relented.
“Hold up, Manny,” I called, he had increased his pace down
the middle of a wide avenue flanked by beautifully crafted
homes; I had been admiring the marble and stone facades
and had slowed.
Manny stopped in the middle of the street, clearly
exasperated with my pace and shouted for me to hurry up.
“But these places are incredible,” I called back, “Can’t we
do a little exploring? I never saw this street when I worked
the second circle.”
“There’s a reason for that, Grant,” Manny called, now
beginning to look around warily, “See and autos here? And
sentinels?”
It only took a second for me to catch on to what he was
saying. This was a bewitched street, a fake, a creation of
the hags and warlocks. There were probably rooms in those
buildings with great big picture windows that showed lush
green pastures, bright yellow sunlight, or the sparkling
blue of an ocean. More illusions, none of it real. I
quickened my pace.
29
Catching up to Manny I asked if many had been lost.
“Only six or seven,” he said as he turned and began to
walk again, “and those are the ones who we know about,
because they came back.”
We walked in silence for a while, each of us pondering the
meaning of that statement. Coming back from captivity with
the witches, with the warlocks, was not desired, not at all.
It was better if they never came back, their disappearances
blamed on one of the many other horrors that roamed the
streets at night, horrors from below and above, that we
could never really exterminate, nor did we want to, they
kept both sides from the Districts at bay; it was worth the
cost of a few lives per week.
“Are they still…” I started to ask.
“Only one left now,” Manny said, “he lives alone down
where the river splits the second and third circle, no one
goes near, but they say he sings at night.”
“Sings?” I asked.
“Yes,” Manny replied, “And they say he’s pretty good.”
“You’ve never gone to listen?” I asked.
Manny was quiet for a long time, long enough to walk the
last block before the 30 foot high concrete wall blocked
further movement in an easterly direction. We turned left
and headed north.
“He was my bunk-mate,” Manny said at last.
I rued asking the question, but didn’t have time to
apologize for dredging up old memories, we had arrived at
30
the steel door that marked one of only three ground level
access points to the first circle.
31
9
The Searcher
“That’s me,” I whispered.
“Well of course it is, darling who were you expecting?” the
woman asked with an expression that told me she was
legitimately concerned with my response.
“What is that?” I asked, pointing to the rectangular
doorway reflecting our images. “Is that magic?”
“No, dear. It’s called a mirror. It is glass brought to such
a shine that we can see whatever it reflects as if it is a
whole new world identical to our own.”
“Can I touch it?” I asked, apprehensively.
“Of course you can, dear, “ she said with the kindest smile
I’d ever seen.
She helped me forward, her arm around my waist, mine
around hers. My other was extended and shaking slightly.
I wasn’t sure if it was from excitement, nervousness or
simply fatigue from being immobile for so long –long
enough to grow more hair than I’ve had since I was a child.
We stopped when we were within reaching distance. I
hesitated. I could see the wooden frame in which the
shined glass sat –that gave me slight comfort, which was
32
something I needed because I truly believed I would reach
out my hand and my twin on the other side would grasp my
wrist and pull me into her world. I realized it was a silly
thought but there was something different about the
reflection. Something darker. I couldn’t quite place it but
I knew it was there.
I looked up at the kind woman who was holding me upright.
She showed no signs of strain or fatigue as she supported
most of my weight. That smile –that comforting smile was
there as she looked into my eyes. Somehow, I could feel
her pushing comfort into my mind. It was a strange feeling.
It felt invasive despite the comfort she was trying to pass
along. I broke eye contact and looked at her reflection in
the mirror. For an instant, her eyes looked different in
her reflection. They were bright –too bright. It was as if
they provided their own light. She blinked and it was gone.
“Go ahead dear, it’s okay”
I extended my hand once again and slowly reached for the
fingertips of my reflection. I could see the concern on her
face as she did the same but we both tried to ignore it as
they inched closer. Then, I felt the cool surface of the
glass. Immediately, I relaxed. I let my hand lay completely
on the mirror. My reflection did the same. Her face smiled
at the silliness of our concern from earlier. I glanced at
the woman by my side –by her side. She was looking on with
33
intense interest. It was strange, yet I quickly disregarded
it as I studied the girl –my reflection close up.
I was beautiful. My skin was flawless. The scars on my
cheeks I’d had since I was five were gone. My amber eyes
sparkled as if flecks of gold mixed with the brown
highlights. My hair was similarly perfect. Not a piece out of
place. I smiled. My teeth –her teeth, our teeth were white
and straight. I’d never seen teeth so white and nobody in
the district had straight teeth (most of them were lucky if
they had half their teeth left by the time they turned
twelve). I was one of the few who could boast having a
full set of teeth at my age although they were stained
yellow and brown from years of eating district slop.
“How long has it been?” I asked. “Weeks?”
“Months, my dear. Nearly six.”
“How is that possible?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“Things are different here,” she said, “it would be best if
we sit and I start from the beginning.”
I nodded and we started to turn away from the mirror when
I realized my hand was stuck to the glass.
“Something wrong?” she asked, looking back at my hand.
I pulled again but my hand would not move. This is when
34
things got really strange. The smooth glass around my
hand began to ripple like a still pond that’s been disturbed
by the toss of a stone. I pulled harder but my hand would
not move. I began to panic. To my horror, I realized my
hand was actually sinking into the mirror. For an instant, I
thought I saw my reflection wink at me and chills went
down my spine. The harder I pulled, the further my hand
sunk into the mirror. I could feel the warm skin of the girl
on the other side as she gripped my hand.
“Help me,” I said, looking at the woman who was staring
with a transfixed expression. She snapped out of her
ponderous paralysis and stepped forward putting her body
between my own and the glass –blocking my reflection.
“Look at me,” she said.
I couldn’t take my eyes away from my arm, which was now
wrist-deep in the mirror. I could feel the girl on the other
side gripping my hand even tighter.
“Look at me,” she repeated slowly.
I looked up at her beautiful face. Our eyes connected and
I could feel her invasive calm surging into my mind.
“You must remain calm. The more you panic, the further
35
into the mirror you will fall.”
“I can feel her,” I said, tears beginning to roll down my
cheeks. She is pulling me.”
“I know, dear. You must ignore her, ignore your arm,
ignore everything and focus on me. You must or you will
fall through and you will be lost.”
I opened my mind (don’t ask me how) and allowed her calm
to flood in. My breathing slowed and the tears stopped.
“Very good,” she said. “Now, I’m going to get you out.
What you’re about to see may disturb you but it’s the only
way. You just need to remain calm.”
I nodded, overwhelmed by a fatigue that seemed to come
along with indifference. The woman stepped aside revealing
my reflection. Her expression wrought with concentration
as she tried to pull me further into the mirror. The woman
beside her –the woman beside me, moved out of sync with
her reflection. The moment she did this, the background
inside the mirror darkened so only the girl desperately
pulling my hand and the woman could be seen.
The girl looked over at the woman –enraged.
“No,” she said. “We need her. You cannot do this,” she
36
shouted.
The woman took no notice at the shouts as she moved
toward the girl. Toward my reflection. What happened
next, happened so fast. The woman removed something from
beneath her robes. I never got a good look at it but can
only assume it was a dirk of some sort. She moved with
such speed I only saw the result of her action. My
reflection immediately dropped my hand and I was able to
pull my arm free from the mirror. I looked at her. Her
neck was bright red. She’d been cut across the throat.
The blood seeped down over her chest and onto the floor.
Somehow, she remained standing as it drained from her
body. She stood there and looked right at me. Right into
my eyes. I heard her speak, not out loud but in my head.
“You must save us,” she said.
She then fell to the ground. Her body convulsed once
and was then motionless.
“No,” I shouted, running to the mirror and stooping so I
was even with her on the ground. I put my hand on the
floor for fear of falling and realized a pool of warm
blood had formed on this side of the mirror.
37
10
The Sentinel
As we stood at the door I remembered one of my history
lessons; only those who are slotted to be sentinels are
taught anything by the Elder Rovers, those who come back
into the first circle, those who live long enough. Reading,
writing, figures, and the history of the city; some history
of the districts too, what is known. The first circle had
become a walled city within the city long before the end, to
protect the rulers and the money men. Life outside the wall
was difficult but not as difficult as life in the districts,
but life inside the wall was described as nothing short of
amazing.
My teacher told stories of enough fresh fruit to be not
only eaten but baked into pies, or cooked down for
spreads. Spreads that were applied liberally to fresh
bread, every day, maybe even mixed with butter. real butter,
from an animal called a cow. We learned that cows were
bigger than the goats we used for milk and butter and
cheese, and that the meat of some cows was heavenly
when cooked over an open fire. My care-for had added to
the lessons with stories of her own, stories of how those
in her family had lived outside the wall and had eaten the
scraps dumped every day down where the river ran out
38
of the first circle, on the far south side of the city. She
told of venturing out into the districts looking for
stray animals of any kind, even dogs, to supplement the
slop provided in the city. Everyone was entitled to one meal
per day, any more had to be scrounged, stolen, or
bartered for; money was outlawed, outside of the first
circle.
The other two doors were used for trade, this one, the one
we were about to enter, was where those who performed
the menial tasks inside the first circle were checked in and
out every day. There had grown up a tent city around this
door, my care-for explained, where people vying for jobs
inside the wall would stay, lining up every morning in the
hopes that one of the regular workers wouldn't show up. It
didn't happen often, my rover/teacher explained, but when it
did, the replacement worker was always the fist in
line, it was a very orderly situation she shad said, because
if it wasn't, the next ten people in line were killed, on the
spot.
Then the end came, the bombs, the death, the destruction.
Some of the horrors stayed, many left, and we in the city
stayed in the city and those in the districts stayed in the
districts. The first circle was for the very young and the
very old, the second circle was for the breeding pairs, and
the third circle was for the adventurous, although, based
39
on what Manny had told me about the enchanted street,
the second circle was becoming dangerous
as well.
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