When I see them walk away, and that Gemma has vanished, I start to walk toward where I last saw her. My hands shake uncontrollably. “But my friend. He wanted to register, too. They took him.” I turn to Nicholas, my mouth hot and dry, my tongue sticking to the roof of it. “They took him, and—”
“Your friend is dead.” Nicholas places the registration papers into boxes.
Did he see her get shot? “We don’t know that for sure.”
“I do. Now what do you want to do? Register or leave, it’s up to you.”
“Then I’m out,” I declare.
He looks up at me, his dark eyebrows scrunching in the center, but not angry. “I wish you the best.”
“But my friend—”
He interrupts me. “Dead.”
His words sink deep down into that part of me where there’s no return. It’s where the hope of my mother being alive lives and where Gemma’s and my friendship lives.
“Where did you get this?” Nicholas asks, examining my ID.
“From the government.” My voice is as hollow as my chest. “I think I want to sign up anyway.”
“I don’t think you should.” He looks at me and raises his eyebrows.
“I’m signing up, okay?”
“Then you’re in,” Mai says. She grabs a stack of papers and waves for me to follow her.
“We’ll talk later,” Nicholas says to me. It sounds more like a threat than a suggestion.
Arthor places his hand on my shoulder and gives me a sympathetic nod. “I’m heading to the airport.”
“Thanks for vouching for me,” I say.
“Yeah, what are friends for?” He waves as he walks away. Outside of the gates he embraces his mother. All the way from here, I can see her entire body shaking.
I look back to the spot I last saw Gemma, and there’s a red splotch of blood on the flat gray rocks. I’m a horrible friend. If I hadn’t convinced Gemma to come with me she would still be alive. If I hadn’t chosen to run toward the booth instead of toward her, she might still be…
Mai tells me to come and sit down by the table. Without really wanting to, I walk over and take my seat in front of her.
“I’m Mai, and both Nicholas and I will be your representatives from now on.” She holds out the contract with page upon page of fine print. She doesn’t read it, only explains that if in the very unlikely event I complete the obstacles in Savage Run (she sighs heavily when she says it), I will be considered a Class-1 Master citizen of Newland, with all the rights and privileges as outlined in the Master Citizen Handbook, and I will be considered a free citizen until the day I die of natural causes or relinquish my rights to them, whichever comes first. There are three ways out of the obstacle course, period. The first one is by dying, which a few of the participants most likely will, maybe even up to fifty percent.
I interrupt her. “Fifty percent? They said in the paper that only twenty to twenty-five percent might die.”
“The obstacles are a little harder than initially publicized. Only the strongest individuals will be allowed into the Master Class.” She continues to tell me that the second way out of the course is by quitting, in which case I will be brought back to my city of residence and expected to live out my days as a Class-3 Laborer citizen. And the last one is by completing the obstacle courses in their entirety.
“Raise your right hand,” she says. I do. “Do you consent to joining the Savage Run of your own free will and do you understand all the risks involved?”
“Yes.”
“And do you understand that your family has no right to any compensation on your behalf?”
“Yes.”
She explains something about the top three contenders, but I hardly hear a word she says because I start to think about where they took Gemma.
Mai taps me on the arm, waking me up from my reverie. “Do you have any immediate family?” she asks.
I look over at Nicholas who seems to be listening in on our conversation. “No.”
“Well, as a male Laborer, I suppose if you don’t have family, you don’t have much to live for,” she says.
I nod and think of Gemma, the tears pressing. “Something like that.”
“Any questions?” she asks.
“No.”
“And you are certain that you understand the dangers and still want to proceed with signing up for the Savage Run?”
“I said yes.”
“Very well.” Mai’s eyebrows rise. “Sign here, here, and here.” She points her hot pink nails to the lines and I sign. “This is your uniform. Extra Small. It will probably be more than baggy on you.” She hands me a shiny, black box with a golden Savage Run logo on it. “You have to be at Culmination airport in thirty minutes. You can go change in there.” She points to a row of white stalls.
How will I get there? The airport is at least an hour and a half biking distance. And walking? I lock myself in one of the booths and open the Savage Run box. Inside lies a neatly folded, black Savage Run uniform identical to the one Nicholas and Mai are wearing. The only difference is that mine has a gray collar and doesn’t have the registrar badge with my name on it. The shoes are sleek, black, and lightweight, and when I slip them on it’s as if I’m not wearing anything at all.
I wash my hands in the sink and try to remove some more of the gravel that’s embedded beneath my skin. My father makes me wash my hands at least ten times a day before I leave the house in the morning, between each delivery, and the second I walk in the door at home. After what I’ve done to my father, it’s strange how I feel no sense of loss. No sadness. No guilt. No regret whatsoever. I’m abandoning him. All I’m worried about is what my father will think when he reads my letter. Surely, he’ll go raging mad and believe I need to repent from this ungodly, lunatic behavior at once. I can already hear him saying that a woman must know her place in the sight of God and in her community, and that she’s required to submit willingly. Maybe he’ll think I’ve turned to cross-dressing—now that would drive him completely over the edge. The ridiculous thought makes me chuckle, but my laugh is more of a desperate attempt to drown out the feeling of panic rising in my chest than an expression of humor. What will he really do when he finds and reads my letter? Will he turn around and reveal my identity to everyone? Probably not—that would mean he’d be putting his own life and reputation in jeopardy, which is something he would never, ever do.
I throw my clothes in the trash and head outside. Should I go back to the booth? Try to find a way to get to the airport by myself?
Noticing that I’m still hanging around, Nicholas says, “You need a ride?”
“Uh…yes,” I say.
Nicholas bobs his head to the side and I trail after him. Immediately, two Unifers follow after us. We arrive at the red, yellow, and white Savage Run transporter, and they get into the vehicle behind us. My door opens automatically and I get inside. This is a brand spanking new model, and probably has more bells and whistles than the other newer models. The dashboard has illuminated blue, yellow, and white buttons.
Nicholas enters on the other side. Sitting so close to him, I notice his strong jawline and dimples. He’s not stunningly handsome, but I can see why other girls might find him attractive with those blue eyes, chestnut hair and well-defined lips—not to mention his broad shoulders beneath the black, silky Savage Run shirt. I’ve seen him in the papers quite a few times—always with a different girl on his arm. Whatever. The heavy gold chain around his neck and wrist catches my eye. In the back of my mind, my father’s words echo: “The root of all evil.”
“Why did you do something so stupid?” he growls.
His sudden change in mood makes me tense up.
“Do your parents have any idea about what you’ve done?”
I look down at my fingers in my lap, hoping he doesn’t notice how my dirty, scraped-up hands can’t seem to find a comfortable place to rest. “No.”
“Do you really think you’re serving them by doing this?” His voice is harsh.
“No, and in fact, I’m sure my father will hate me for it.” There’s no use in trying to explain any of this to him because he wouldn’t understand. “Please, don’t…”
“And your mother?”
More uncomfortable questions. My father explained it like this: When my mother went into labor, she hid in the Lavender fields from the Unifers sent to exterminate the elderly and female infants. The “cleansing” was a method President Volkov Sr. used to control the Laborer population to prevent them from becoming so numerous they could overpower the Masters. The Unifers seized the babies and threw them in the icy Culmination River, and the aged were burned in gigantic furnaces right outside each city. My father said he went to notify her that the Unifers were gone. She informed him he had a son. I can imagine my father was proud. Three days later, when her maternity leave ran out, my mother vanished without a word, leaving me—a good-for-nothing girl—with my father.
But what I say is, “My mother left when I was a baby.”
“Listen,” he huffs, “I didn’t want to blow your cover in front of everyone back there, so I let Mai sign you up. But I can’t let this madness continue. I don’t know where you got your fake ID or the idea to dress up as a guy and sign up for the Savage Run, but I need to put a stop to this.”
“Fake…ID?” I try to laugh, but no sound comes out.
“I know about Sergio, and listen, I know a girl when I see one.”
He probably does. Images of all those girls in the newspapers pop into my mind. “I’m a boy.”
“I’m not stupid. And even if everyone else believes you, which may or may not be the case, there’s no way you’ll ever make it past the first phase. These obstacle courses are deadly. In fact, I think we should just delete your registration and…”
I sit up straighter, my back like an erect board. “No.”
“Listen.” He leans in a little, and I hold my breath, finding his presence overwhelming. “I want to help you because I don’t think it’s right that you should be the victim of a man like Master Douglas. When he used to work for my father as his deputy advisor, I saw him destroy girls like you. But I have to tell you, to continue on this path is suicide.”
“You don’t know what I’m capable of.” I stare boldly back at him—I won’t be treated like a subservient any longer.
“It doesn’t matter; I know what the obstacles are made of.” He runs a hand through his thick, dark hair and his cologne stirs into the air. A privileged individual like him would never understand the desperate circumstances that forced me to do something like this. He breathes heavily for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is low. “How did you get in trouble?”
I might as well tell him everything. “It was like Master Douglas said. I helped Gemma escape because he was beating her up…I couldn’t just leave her there.”
He pauses for a moment, and it feels like his deep eyes see right through me. “Of course you couldn’t.”
He agrees with me? I’m not used to someone validating me and don’t quite know how to respond, so I look out the window.
“There must be some…” he starts.
I place my hand on his arm, and it’s as if the tension in the air surrenders. “I’m not asking you to help me. All I’m asking is that you keep my secret.”
His gaze goes from my hand to my eyes. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I’ll take my chances,” I say, although having learned that the obstacles are more dangerous than I initially thought, I’m not as confident as I was just a few hours ago. And with Gemma dead…I stop myself from finishing that thought. Nothing good will come of it.
“Fine, I’ll let you continue. And I’ll keep your secret. I just hate to see you give up your life so easily.”
So easily? He doesn’t know me—how exhaustingly obstinate I can be once I put my mind to something. “Thanks.”
“Maybe I can help coach you a little, and...” He shakes his head without completing the thought and commands the transporter to the airport.