Community, p.17
Community, page 17
Zaiden’s father took a step back and waited for him to stand again, but he was unable to move. He clutched his stomach, rolled over, and prayed his father would not kick him while he was down. He desperately wanted the violence to end.
Through his watery eyes, Zaiden saw his broken clock lying just inches away. If he could grab it, he might have a fair chance of knocking his father out with the tough wooden backing. At this point, it seemed like his only option. Zaiden had given his father a chance to stop, but the fire in his father’s eyes told him that the violence would not end. He didn’t have a choice.
Carefully, Zaiden grabbed the clock and pulled it to his stomach. The hard surface steadied him as he took a shaky breath and stood, keeping his back towards his father and the clock out of view.
“Turn and fight, you coward,” his father snarled.
Zaiden did not turn. He heard his father inch closer.
“You are weak,” his father said, the words sharp and dangerous as a knife. “Your mother was right. She said you’d never be a good leader. She said you were too soft.”
Zaiden dug his nails into his palms. He reminded himself that his father was drunk. He didn’t mean the things he was saying; he couldn’t. It was just his way of antagonizing Zaiden, but Zaiden wouldn’t let him win. He wouldn’t fight—not in the way his father wanted.
Governor Warren took another step, now so close that Zaiden could feel his breath on his neck. “You’re pathetic,” he whispered into Zaiden’s ear. Zaiden flinched.
Finally, he turned, and in one swift motion, he brought the thick wooden base of the clock down on his father’s head. It hit with a nauseating crack, and Governor Warren slumped to the ground, motionless.
Zaiden looked down at his father. His chest heaved. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
But he wasn’t.
Zaiden tossed the clock onto his bed and dropped down beside his father to check for a pulse. It took him a moment to find it, but there it was, thump thump thump… Its pace quickened by alcohol.
Zaiden used his last bit of strength to roll his father onto his side, away from the broken glass. He placed his hand beneath his father’s chin so that, on the off chance he got sick, he wouldn’t choke. When he pulled his hands away, he saw that his father’s shirt was blood red. He checked his father’s body for injuries, but there were none.
Shocked, Zaiden looked down at his own hands. The clock’s shattered glass had pierced his skin, and now blood trickled down his arms. He examined the blood as it dripped from his arms onto the floor. He tried to comprehend what had just happened. His eyes flickered to his father, and he felt ill.
Zaiden stumbled from his bedroom, shutting his door firmly behind him. His father would wake up in a room surrounded by shattered glass and blood-stained walls, but Zaiden hoped he would be sober by then.
Zaiden stumbled from his penthouse into the hallway, clutching his arms to his chest. He shivered as the air hit his skin. His head hurt where his skull had hit the wall. He touched it gingerly. Did he have a concussion? Maybe… He felt tired and confused. He should go to the infirmary to get checked out; he knew that. But he also knew that going there like this at three in the morning would raise too many questions. They couldn’t afford to have people questioning his father during such a volatile time in Community’s history. He could go to Rocco’s or Atlas’s place, sure—but their fathers were on the council, and that would only lead to the same issue.
He’d have to take care of it himself.
33
SEREN
Seren sat at her kitchen table and stared blankly at the wall. There were only four hours left until the Awakening, and she still hadn’t been able to coax herself to sleep. There was too much going on in her head. Lucas’s disappointment felt like a crushing blow, but what was she supposed to do? Join him in a suicide mission? Governor Warren might be evil, but Zaiden wasn’t. And when Zaiden came into power, everything would change. They just had to wait until then. Couldn’t Lucas wait?
Can Ma? a voice in Seren’s head said. Can the other women who are unlucky enough to get pregnant in the lower Tiers?
“Shut up,” she said to the voice.
Exhausted, but still unable to shut down, Seren stayed in a quasi-sleep state, seated, and staring into the abyss. When she heard a banging on the door, she thought she was imagining it.
But then the banging came again, more desperate this time.
Seren sprang up from her seat and opened the door to find Zaiden hunched over, his shirt covered in blood.
“Oh my God!” she said. “What happened?”
Zaiden’s eye was swollen shut, and he had a bloody cut on his lip. His hair was a mess, and he was half dressed. He blinked at her, as if he, too, was surprised to find himself standing there.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking around. “I didn’t… It’s late. I should go.”
“No!” Seren said, far too quickly. “No. What… Are you alright?”
Are you alright? What a stupid question. Of course he wasn’t alright. His skin had lost all color, as if it had drained right out of him.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“Of course.” Seren ushered him in and sat him down in the chair by her table. He fell backwards into it, nearly knocking it sideways. Seren caught it in time and steadied it as Zaiden closed his eyes. His breaths were shallow.
“I’m sorry to wake you,” he said.
“You didn’t wake me,” Seren replied. Her eyes traveled over his bloodied arms. Innumerable questions came to her mind, but she held back. “We should get you cleaned up.”
She went to the sink and wet a towel before also grabbing a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a pair of tweezers she had stashed away in her bathroom drawer. Zaiden remained still, his eyes fixated on the wall as Seren knelt at his side. She examined his arms. Bits of glass stuck out of his skin, like the quills of a porcupine. Nausea rose up, but she shoved it down as she opened the bottle of alcohol.
“This may hurt,” she said, pouring it over his wounds.
Zaiden flinched, but did not cry out.
She took the tweezers and began to painstakingly remove the glass. The pieces were mostly just piercing the first few layers of skin, but some were deeper. Zaiden cringed each time she removed a piece, but he did not complain once. Seren tried hard to keep her hand steady.
They did not speak, which was fine by her. Seren wasn’t sure what she’d say if they did. She did not want to assume the worst; he could have gotten in a bar fight, or a spat with one of his classmates. This didn’t have to be what she thought it was.
But from the look on his face, she feared the worst.
Zaiden still wouldn’t meet her gaze. Seren pulled the last bit of glass from his arm and examined it gently.
“There,” she said. “All done.”
He mumbled a thank you.
“I’m going to get you something cold for your eye,” she said. He didn’t answer, so Seren stood and went to her freezer. She pulled out a bag of vegetables she’d frozen to make broth with and handed it to him.
Zaiden took the bag and brought it to his skin while Seren sat on her cold hands and tried to warm them. Neither spoke.
“Are you okay?” Seren asked finally. Again, it was a stupid question; of course he wasn’t. Still, Zaiden nodded. Seren bit her lip. “Does he do this a lot?”
When Zaiden didn’t deny it, Seren knew for sure: Governor Warren had done this.
She felt sick.
“Not like this,” Zaiden said, shifting the baggie on his face. He paused. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
Seren knew she shouldn’t trust him, but seeing him sitting there, looking so defeated, made her want to more than anything. “I won’t tell a soul.”
“Thank you.”
Seren stayed by his side. The gentle hum of the radiator filled the silence. It was the first time anyone had been to her Tier Two place, and Seren realized she liked the company. With another person there, it felt more like home. Zaiden felt like home. She searched for the right thing to say to him, but nothing came to mind.
“I try to tell myself that he’s not a bad man,” Zaiden said. Seren looked up at him. “I try to tell myself that everything he does, he does for the people of Community. He tries to protect us; I know that. But sometimes, it feels like he’s making the wrong choices—choices I would never make.”
He went quiet. Seren looked at him, urging him to go on.
He sighed. “Like these birth control shots. I know the aging population is a problem. I know placebos are the only solution. But tricking women into getting pregnant, just to lose their lives… It feels like he’s playing God. It feels wrong. So much of what goes on in that Council Room feels wrong.”
Seren froze. Placebo shots? Tricking women into getting pregnant? Playing God…?
Oh my Warren… Ma’s unlikely pregnancy finally made sense. It wasn’t that she’d had forgotten to get the shot; the shot just hadn’t worked. And that wasn’t by accident—it was by design. Women got pregnant, had the kid, and were subsequently killed. One in, one out—the perfect solution to an aging population.
Seren felt like she was going to be sick.
“I’m sorry I’m unloading all this on you,” Zaiden said, finally looking up at her.
“It’s okay,” she choked out. But it wasn’t okay. It would never be okay. How long had Zaiden known about this? How long had he sat on this information and done nothing about it? Suddenly, she saw him in a different light. No longer did he have this beautiful, mysterious glow. He had become one of them.
Instinctively, Seren backed away.
Zaiden didn’t notice. “I’m also sorry for waking you up,” he said.
Seren shook her head absentmindedly. “I wasn’t asleep,” she managed to say.
“No?”
“Sleep hasn’t been coming easily recently.”
“For me either,” Zaiden said. He crossed his arms, like he was giving himself a hug, and looked at the floor, suddenly shy. “Hey, I hate to ask any more of you, but … do you think I could sleep here tonight?”
“Sure,” Seren said, forcing her voice to remain steady. “Of course.”
Zaiden looked relieved. “Great. Thanks,” he said. “For everything.”
. . .
He was gone before the Awakening. The only evidence that he’d been there at all were the pieces of blood-stained glass on Seren’s side table and her blanket, folded neatly on the arm of the couch.
Sighing, Seren tossed the blanket back onto her bed. The way Zaiden had looked standing in her doorway the night before was seared into her mind. He’d looked so fragile, so broken—much like Seren felt now, knowing the truth.
Governor Warren had blackmailed her, all the while knowing that he was the reason Ma was pregnant. He had led her to believe that he would spare Ma’s life, when he was the reason her life hung in the balance at all. The man was a sociopath, sick—and Seren would stop at nothing to bring him down.
Seren wondered if Zaiden had any idea what he’d done by coming to her door last night. He had provided her with the clarity that she needed. She had made her decision.
Now she just had to work up the courage to act.
34
SEREN
Lucas was administering an injection when Seren walked into the Tier Four medical center. He looked tired. Still, he was smiling and chatting animatedly with the woman sitting on the table in front of him.
“Lucas,” Seren called.
He looked up, surprised.
“Would you excuse me for a moment?” he said. His patient nodded, sat back, and put her hands on her belly. She had a stomach even larger than Ma’s. Seren wondered if it was her first child, or if she, too, had been wronged by Governor Warren. Her anger returned in full force.
“Twice in one week?” Lucas asked, approaching her with a smile. His voice was light, but Seren knew him well enough to recognize that underneath his bright exterior lurked disappointment from yesterday’s conversation. He had expected more from her. Now, she was ready to give it.
“I’m in,” Seren said quietly.
Lucas’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Without warning, Lucas yanked Seren into a hug and held on tight. “You’re making the right decision,” he whispered.
Seren thought back to Zaiden’s wearied face and battered body. She remembered the way he had stared off into space as she removed the glass from his arms. He looked so young, so innocent—and so hopeless. She thought about the placebo shots being administered and the women that Governor Warren was allowing to die. She thought about the horrific images Governor Warren had shown her and the pleasure he’d gotten from watching the violence.
He was evil, and he had to be stopped.
Seren pulled away. “How can I help?”
. . .
In the privacy of the surgery room, Lucas described to Seren in detail where to meet him after his shift that afternoon. It was risky to go during the day, he said, but riskier at night after curfew. He knew a secret way into Tier Five—one that wouldn’t require Seren using her identity card. In turn, she told him briefly about the real reason she’d been brought up to Tier Two to work. He pursed his lips as she spoke, explaining the blackmail and Governor Warren’s cruelty and his promise to help her mother. Lucas took a while to respond, and Seren feared this may be the straw that broke the camel’s back in their relationship, but once she’d finished speaking, he nodded.
“This is perfect,” he’d said. “You’re in the perfect position to help us. I can’t talk about this more now. We’ll talk later.”
Lucas returned to work, and Seren promised to meet him after his shift.
That afternoon, Seren met Lucas where he indicated: an old abandoned public bathroom on the far edge of Tier Four. Most public bathrooms had gone out of use after the leaders of Community discovered they had the potential to spread germs. Consequently, many restrooms had been torn down and repurposed, but this one remained, blockaded only by an Out of Order sign and bright yellow caution tape.
“This is it?”
When Lucas had described a secret way into Tier Five, she’d expected something more exciting. This was not that. Even from outside the door, Seren could tell that the bathroom was totally dilapidated. Strips of white paint hung from the walls, and bits of broken mirror lay in the sinks.
“This is it,” Lucas replied.
“How has no one figured this out?” Seren asked. She couldn’t imagine that Community had many secrets left. Two hundred thirty years was enough to discover most if not all of them. This entrance to Tier Five had to be one of the only remaining secrets.
“There are no cameras in this area,” Lucas said. “No bugs, either.”
“No bugs?”
“The resistance isn’t just a bunch of bourgeois, Seren,” Lucas said, giving her a pointed stare. “We have friends in high places.”
Who? Seren wanted to ask, but Lucas had already moved on. He lifted the caution tape and ushered Seren beneath it before following her inside.
The bathroom was even worse beyond the caution tape. It looked as though someone had changed their mind halfway through its destruction. Half the sinks were smashed, their porceline remains littering the floor. Most of the stalls were missing their doors, and the toilets held no water. Seren watched her step, careful not to bring her foot down on any of the broken pieces of sink.
“I can see why no one would want to come in here,” Seren said, her eyes trailing the chipped walls.
She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the cracked mirror and flinched. The girl staring back at her looked exhausted. Her auburn hair and rosy cheeks lacked luster, and the sterile light in the bathroom did nothing to help.
“Yeah, it’s not the most glamorous of locations,” Lucas said. He removed a key from his pocket. “Are you ready?”
Seren tore her eyes away from her reflection and nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
She followed Lucas to a thin wooden door at the end of the bathroom, beyond all the stalls. He fumbled with the key, wiggling it in the lock a few times before something clicked, and the door unlocked. He pulled it open to reveal a dark, damp tunnel, its ceiling nearly as low as Seren was short. The tunnel tilted downwards, halting the flow of light and making it impossible to see the end.
Seren’s pulse quickened. She’d never liked the dark. “You should have told me to bring the flashlight,” she whispered.
Lucas laughed. “You’ll be fine. I’ve done this plenty of times. It’s not as scary as it looks. Come on.”
He hunched over to fit beneath the low-hanging ceiling and walked a few paces before turning back to Seren. “Are you coming?” he asked.
Though she really didn’t want to, Seren nodded and followed Lucas into the dark tunnel, closing the door behind her.
The air in the tunnel was cold and stale. It smelled putrid, like rotting fruit. Seren followed Lucas closely, holding onto the back of his shirt for support. She blindly moved along, stepping carefully, and tried to avoid touching the walls. She was on edge, nervous about both the tunnel itself and what was on the other side of it.
“How long is this thing, anyway?” she asked.
“Why? Are you scared?”
“No,” she responded a bit too quickly.
Lucas chuckled, and his laugh echoed, momentarily creating the illusion that they were being followed. Seren stiffened.
“It’s just a bit further,” he said.
They walked for a few minutes more before Lucas stopped.
“I want to warn you before we go in,” he said, his tone becoming suddenly serious. “Things are different in Tier Five. I wasn’t expecting it the first time I came, and I want you to be prepared.”
“Different how?”
“I think it makes more sense for you to see it. Hold your breath,” Lucas suggested.
