Eve of Man Page 21

  “Everything is fine. This is only a precaution,” Mother Tabia says calmly.

  “A precaution from what?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Then what was said on the phone?” I’m letting her know that I’m not going to leave the matter until I’m told more.

  “Someone has threatened our security,” she reveals, pressing the palms of her hands together, as though in prayer.

  All the Mothers start talking at once, asking more questions or muttering their concerns to themselves.

  “Now, now,” Mother Tabia calls over them. “We’re safe here, so let’s not panic until we know more. For now let’s just sit tight. We won’t be in here long, I’m sure.”

  “I’ll pop the kettle on,” Mother Kimberley says decisively, scuttling off into the kitchen area while the other Mothers congregate in groups to continue speculating—some just standing in the middle of the room, others getting comfortable on the red sofas lining the walls. As awful as it is, I take some comfort from the fact that I’m not the only one being kept in the dark.

  “You should have a lie-down,” says Mother Kadi, her hand gripping my elbow as she leads me toward a lower bunk bed.

  “I don’t want to,” I moan.

  “Well, you will,” she says, handing me my Rubik’s Cube, which she must’ve picked up from my room. I place it on the bed next to me. I’m glad she brought it, but I’m not about to tell her that. “And you’re going to eat something too.”

  The firmness in her voice stops me from answering back.

  I crouch on the bunk as asked and almost feel relieved as my tired body melts into the mattress. I am beaten, both mentally and physically. I’m exhausted.

  Satisfied that I’ve listened to her, Mother Kadi pats my shoulder before turning away. I watch her exchange a few words with each of the others, eventually reaching the mini kitchen area, where she rummages through the cupboards and starts pulling out tins, each one hitting the countertop with a loud clank that makes my head throb.

  I rub my temples, wondering how my life could’ve flipped so dramatically in the last forty-eight hours.

  While Mother Kadi dollops food onto a plate, Mother Tabia approaches and stands beside her. As they have their backs to me, I can’t make out what’s being said, but their hushed tones make it all the more intriguing. The conversation goes back and forth, Mother Kadi nodding in agreement. Apparently satisfied, Mother Tabia busies herself with sorting through the books while Mother Kadi snatches up some cutlery and the plate, then heads over to me.

  I shuffle backward, making space so that she can perch on the side of my bed. She puts the plate beside me and offers me the knife and fork. Even though I’m not hungry, I sit up and put a spoonful of cold baked beans into my mouth and chew. My tummy growls. I shovel in spoonful after spoonful until I clear the plate. I instantly feel heavy and sick.

  “Thank you,” Mother Kadi whispers, her hand resting on my wrist before she picks up the Rubik’s Cube by my pillow and plays with it—treating it like a ball.

  As I look at her I remember Vivian’s threat to evict her and the others. But if the outside world is as pleasant as they’ve made me think it is, then what would be the issue? To live out there, to have that little stream to sit beside would be a blessing. That’s why I’m here, surely: to ensure that future generations get to enjoy that beauty.

  Vivian spoke of the world outside in much the same way that she told me of the guards all those years ago: that I had to hide myself and avoid eye contact with them so that I didn’t get spoiled.

  And Mother Nina admitted that women stopped going to bars. I don’t think she would’ve lied to me about such a thing. In a time of no hope, I can almost understand things changing to protect the last generations of women. But that was before I was born. Before I gave them the opportunity to ensure that our race survived.

  If the public really is looking to me for hope, surely they wouldn’t hurt me. And if that is so, why do I need Vivian to dictate things? Surely there’s a way for all of this to happen naturally.

  I’m sure that, just as Vivian said, the world outside contains cruel and barbaric people, but others may be full of compassion. Living up here in confinement means I have no way of knowing.

  “Feeling better?” Mother Kadi asks.

  I nod and smile. “What’s happened?” I ask, keeping my voice low in the hope that she’ll confide in me.

  “Eve…” She sighs, putting my toy back beside me as she realizes that the main reason I’ve complied with her requests is to gain information.

  “I want to know why we’re in here.”

  “There was an incident,” she mutters, glancing at the other Mothers, who’re talking among themselves.

  “Keep going,” I whisper, picking up my Rubik’s Cube as though we aren’t even talking to each other.

  “Your friend.”

  Bram.

  “Did anything happen?”

  “Your friend has left,” she says.

  I run the words over in my head and try to make sense of them, wondering if they’ve kicked him out or whether he’s fled, because surely he would’ve stayed if that were an option.

  “Gone where?” I ask slowly, still twisting the toy in my hands as my brain churns through possibilities and panics at the thought of life without him. “Is he okay?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What happened?” I sit up so that I can hear her more clearly.

  “I’ve not been told exactly, but there was a concern that you might be the target of an attack.”

  “He’d never hurt me,” I say, feeling the blood drain from my face at the thought of someone I care about so much possibly being capable of such a thing.

  “Eve. Not all people are good,” she says.

  “I know that.” I frown, annoyed that she considers me so gullible and naive. I encounter the wrath of Vivian on a daily basis, and I witnessed the murder of the kindest woman I’ve ever known: of course there are bad souls, but I’m certain Bram is not one of them.

  “Do you?” she says, her voice calm and kind as she pulls her fingers through my ponytail. “Sometimes I wonder if they’ve done you a disservice by allowing you to remain so sheltered here.”

  “I’m not sheltered.” My jaw tenses.

  She opens her mouth to say more but stops herself.

  “I know there are bad people in the world,” I tell her adamantly. “He’s not one of them. He’s nothing like Diego.”

  “Maybe not, but there are also people who think they’re good but can’t distinguish whether their actions work for good or evil. Their views are wonky, their trust misplaced.”

  “How do you know yours aren’t?”

  She gives me a stern look as she takes a long, slow breath.

  “I made a pledge to protect you, as has every woman in this room,” she says. “We love you as though you were one of our own children.”

  “Did you have any other children?” I ask.

  “I miscarried several times—all girls—but birthed eight boys,” she says, her tone unwavering.

  “And where are they now?”

  The wooden beads around her neck bash together as she shrugs. “I made a choice when I came here. You. You were my choice.”

  “But your boys?”

  Her expression is unabashed.

  “So they made you disown your own flesh and blood?”

  “It’s not that simple or heartless. We want a future for our children.” She sniffs, looking around the room before bowing her head into her chest. “We believe in you, Eve, so we have given you our all.”

  “At such a cost?” I ask, hearing the pain in my own voice.

  I’ve always been drawn to Mother Kadi. There’s something about her that’s enchantingly unique. She seems full of wisdom
and a certain worldliness. Perhaps it’s the colorful beads, or the age-blurred tattoos that tell of a cultured life before she came here. She’s petite, but she’s fearlessly strong in spirit. I don’t understand how such a woman could walk away from her family for someone she didn’t know. It doesn’t make sense to me.

  “That’s not for you to worry about,” she says, getting up and ending the conversation. Before she leaves me she turns and places her mouth against my ear: “For what it’s worth, I don’t think he’d hurt you either. But they don’t want him near you.”

  I watch as she straightens up and takes my plate to the sink, then accepts a cup of tea from Mother Kimberley.

  Closing my eyes, I pretend to sleep, but all I can focus on is a tightening sensation in my chest and an overwhelming feeling of loss.

  He’s really left me.

  35

  BRAM

  I’m falling headfirst, upside down along a slim carbon-fiber tube. Emergency strip lighting flashes past, blinding me.

  I try to glance back up the chute. Has anyone followed me? It’s impossible to move my head due to the g-force holding me against the wall as the chute rounds out, following the contours of the exterior of the mountain-shaped Tower. My body slows from terminal velocity to a slightly more comfortable speed.

  I can move again. Just. The forces from the fall are diminishing as I approach flood level. I need to move fast. I need to think fast. Ketch’s team will be making their way to wherever this chute ends. I won’t have long.

  I lift my head and peer along the miles of tube I’m leaving behind. I never thought I’d be using one of these things. I’d rather this than a Gauntlet, though.

  Something hits me. A freezing-cold force slams into the top of my head, shooting down my neck and back like lightning. I want to scream with pain, but my breath is taken away from me as the icy temperature engulfs my entire body.

  The next panel of emergency lighting flashes by in a burst of yellow, and I see that the chute is half full of water. This is not normal.

  This is not good.

  My whole body burns as I submerge in the liquid, my descent slowing rapidly. There’s no going back: this chute is a one-way trip with only one exit. Like the Gauntlets, not all chutes on the Tower were operational after today’s drill. Some were declared unsafe and scheduled for maintenance. I guess this is why.

  The water is up to my chest as I continue sliding downward. My ears submerge and I feel my body slowing even more. My heart pounds. How far is the exit? How long can I hold my breath? Is this tube big enough to swim in? I’m about to find out all those answers.

  It happens fast. The chute drops again, winding around the Tower, and I’m totally submerged. Completely upside down. My body slows as I sink into the water.

  I pull my arms up and try to swim, but my elbows hit the walls of the tube. I can just about kick my legs to give me some forward motion. It’ll have to be enough. It’s all I’ve got.

  I open my eyes and the pain is intense. Excruciating. It feels like the fluid inside them wants to freeze.

  I kick. I know my body is using oxygen fast, but I’m not going to die without a fight.

  I use my fingers to grip the walls, assisting my restricted legs by pulling myself downward along the tube, clawing chunks of ice out of my way.

  I can hear my heartbeat. It practically echoes around my head, like a drummer inside my skull. It gets faster. Faster. Booming down the tube ahead of me.

  I must go down. It’s against every instinct: when you’re submerged in water you want to go up, but if I turn back I’ll never get out. They’ll leave me to rot in here. I must keep moving. There are only two options for me now: either I make it out, or I die trying.

  Suddenly I see it.

  The chute straightens in front of me, leveling off from vertical to horizontal in a tight bend, at the end of which is another panel of yellow lights, this one circled by green.

  Green is good.

  Green is my exit!

  My heart pounds at the sight, and adrenaline pumps through my veins. I accidentally release some air. Bubbles float away, like tiny life rafts escaping.

  I can make it. I must make it. I kick my water-filled boots as hard as I can, smashing the side of the tube with each blow. The sound booms along the chute ahead of me, almost showing me my path to safety, like sonar.

  I grab at the walls and try to slide myself along faster, but my fingers slip on the ice that has formed on them. I feel my pulse throbbing in my neck as my body aches for oxygen.

  As I stare at the beautiful green exit lights illuminating the murky ice water, the edges of my vision begin to darken and blur. I claw at the walls, digging my fingernails into the frozen lining inside the chute. Suddenly everything is glistening, sparkling, as though the water is full of diamonds, or the sort of microscopic life that inhabits deep oceans and emits its own light.

  It’s beautiful, losing consciousness. Peaceful.

  A block of ice smashes into my head. It burns, but it knocks a moment of sense into me. I can see the shape of the exit hatch a few feet out of reach, but my legs aren’t cooperating. My body is shutting down, trying to protect itself from the cold. My fingers are useless too.

  I’m drifting like a dead satellite, lost in space.

  The green is overpowering. The hatch is close. So very close. I blink and feel ice crystals crack and float away from my eyeballs. There is a small red square of lights in the center of the circular door in front of me, illuminating a metallic lever. I try to stretch out my arms. They obey, but in slow motion. The lights dim, the color fades. Now it’s just white light on a gray door.

  My fingers graze the metal. It sends tingles up my arm. I wiggle my fingers but can’t get a grip—it’s just a few millimeters out of reach. The remaining air in my lungs is burning my throat, desperate for me to release it and replace it with clean, fresh oxygen.

  This is the end. My dying moments. My mind is racing now, thoughts traveling at light speed, flashing images into the forefront of whatever remains of my consciousness.

  My father.

  My mother.

  Hartman.

  Eve.

  The Dome.

  A Rubik’s Cube.

  Eve.

  Dangling my feet off the Drop.

  Eve.

  Eve.

  Eve…

  Whatever energy reserves my body was holding release into every muscle. Warmth swells inside me. My vision goes black, but then her face appears as I stretch for the last time. My fingers grip the handle, and as the air explodes from my mouth in a rush of bubbles, I pull hard and lose consciousness.

  36

  BRAM

  My lungs burn. I’ve never been able to feel them before, and now I wish I couldn’t. I float across a small courtyard, flowing with the ice water that escaped with me from the chute. I have no energy to fight the current.

  It’s dark—black, even—or maybe my vision hasn’t returned. I’m pretty sure I blacked out. Last thing I remember I was underwater, reaching for a handle.

  I come to a halt lying faceup, floating in a foot of water. With every breath of fresh oxygen come equal parts relief and agony. My vision is still blurry and colorless, but I can make out the enormity of the EPO Tower standing over me. I’ve not seen it from this angle since I was a boy. When you make it inside the Tower, you don’t leave unless you have to. Unless they make you.

  I blink and take some deep, burning breaths, putting the pain to one side and enjoying the oxygen soaring around my body. As the color in my vision begins to return, so does my hearing. The silence is replaced by a high-pitched, constant ringing. It hurts, but before I can shake it off it is replaced by something else, something deeper, with rhythm, something repetitive.

  Voices. Chanting voices.

  I gather
my strength. There’s no time to recover completely. I settle my breathing as best I can, but I must get to my feet. I must work out where the hell I am and get as far away from here as possible. Ketch will be on his way down right now, and I’ve no doubt surveillance drones will drop through the cloud base at any second to locate me.

  I hurl myself onto my side and force myself to my knees as something hooks under my armpits and hoists me into the air, like a doll.

  “It’s one of them!” a gruff voice booms. As he yanks hard on my soaked uniform, I see the outline of a surging crowd. I get my first distorted look at who he’s speaking to, who the chanting voices belong to.

  Freevers.

  The raging crowd of protesters seems to multiply, and the men in my immediate range hoist me above their heads, cheering, shouting, passing me around, parading me. I swing a punch and hit air. I swing again and get laughs in return. Fists pound my ribs from below—one connects with my stomach, knocking the wind out of me.

  “EPO scum!”

  “Criminal!”

  “Free Eve! Free Eve!”

  “Kill him!”

  “Free Eve!”

  The men’s voices chant all around me. I’m completely at their mercy. All at once the hands that are lifting me into the air are gripping me, pulling at my clothes, tugging me in different directions. Hands are everywhere, stretching my limbs, ripping at my skin. I’ve been fed to the lions. No, I fed myself to them.

  Suddenly the hands around my wet boot slip and I see the filthy man stumble to the ground. Mid-fifties, judging by the wrinkles in his skin.

  Wrinkles? My vision’s returned!

  I swing my free leg around, driving the steel toecap of my boot hard into the jaw of the muscular Freever pulling at my other leg. Teeth fly through the air, and in the sudden commotion caused by my attack, I know I have a window of opportunity. This is my only chance. I must fight.

  My legs are free, and I don’t hesitate to use them. I wrap them around a young Freever’s head—he’s around my age, but twice my size. As the crowd tries to pull me away, I use their momentum to bring him forward, driving him facefirst into the water. The bigger they are, the harder they fall.