Excerpt
I wait. They keep us in the dark for so long that andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;we lose sense of our eyelids. We sleep huddled together andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;like rats, staring out, and dream of our bodies swaying. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;I know when one of the girls reaches a wall. She begins andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;to pound and screamand#8212;thereand#8217;s metal in the soundand#8212;but andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;none of us help her. Weand#8217;ve gone too long without speaking, andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;and all we do is bury ourselves more into the dark. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;The doors open. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;The light is frightening. Itand#8217;s the light of the world andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;through the birth canal, and at once the blinding tunnel andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;that comes with death. I recoil into the blankets with the andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;other girls in horror, not wanting to begin or end. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;We stumble when they let us out; weand#8217;ve forgotten how andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;to use our legs. How long has it beenand#8212;days? Hours? andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;The big open sky waits in its usual place. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;I stand in line with the other girls, and men in gray andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;coats study us. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andnbsp; andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;Iand#8217;ve heard of this happening. Where I come from, andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;girls have been disappearing for a long time. They disappear andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;from their beds or from the side of the road. It happened andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;to a girl in my neighborhood. Her whole family andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;disappeared after that, moved away, either to find her or andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;because they knew she would never be returned. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;Now itand#8217;s my turn. I know girls disappear, but any andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;number of things could come after that. Will I become andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;a murdered reject? Sold into prostitution? These things andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;have happened. Thereand#8217;s only one other option. I could andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;become a bride. Iand#8217;ve seen them on television, reluctant andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;yet beautiful teenage brides, on the arm of a wealthy man andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;who is approaching the lethal age of twenty-five. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;The other girls never make it to the television screen. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;Girls who donand#8217;t pass their inspection are shipped to a andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;brothel in the scarlet districts. Some we have found andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;murdered on the sides of roads, rotting, staring into the andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;searing sun because the Gatherers couldnand#8217;t be bothered andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;to deal with them. Some girls disappear forever, and all andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;their families can do is wonder. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;The girls are taken as young as thirteen, when their andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;bodies are mature enough to bear children, and the virus andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;claims every female of our generation by twenty. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;Our hips are measured to determine strength, our andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;lips pried apart so the men can judge our health by our andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;teeth. One of the girls vomits. She may be the girl who andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;screamed. She wipes her mouth, trembling, terrified. I andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;stand firm, determined to be anonymous, unhelpful. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andnbsp; andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;I feel too alive in this row of moribund girls with their andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;eyes half open. I sense that their hearts are barely beating, andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;while mine pounds in my chest. After so much time andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;spent riding in the darkness of the truck, we have all andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;fused together. We are one nameless thing sharing this andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;strange hell. I do not want to stand out. I do not want andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;to stand out. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;But it doesnand#8217;t matter. Someone has noticed me. A andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;man paces before the line of us. He allows us to be prodded andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;by the men in gray coats who examine us. He seems andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;thoughtful and pleased. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;His eyes green, like two exclamation marks, meet andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;mine. He smiles. Thereand#8217;s a flash of gold in his teeth, indicating andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;wealth. This is unusual, because heand#8217;s too young to andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;be losing his teeth. He keeps walking, and I stare at my andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;shoes. andlt;Iandgt;Stupid! andlt;/Iandgt;I should never have looked up. The strange andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;color of my eyes is the first thing anyone ever notices. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;He says something to the men in gray coats. They andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;look at all of us, and then they seem to be in agreement. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;The man with gold teeth smiles in my direction again, andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;and then heand#8217;s taken to another car that shoots up bits of andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;gravel as it backs onto the road and drives away. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;The vomit girl is taken back to the truck, and a dozen andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;other girls with her; a man in a gray coat follows them andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;in. There are three of us left, the gap of the other girls andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;still between us. The men speak to one another again, andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;and then to us. and#8220;Go,and#8221; they say, and we oblige. Thereand#8217;s andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;nowhere to go but the back of an open limousine parked andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;on the gravel. Weand#8217;re off the road somewhere, not far andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;from the highway. I can hear the distant sounds of traffic. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;I can see the evening city lights beginning to appear in andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;the distant purple haze. Itand#8217;s nowhere I recognize; a road andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;this desolate is far from the crowded streets back home. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;Go. The two other chosen girls move before me, and andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;Iand#8217;m the last to get into the limousine. Thereand#8217;s a tinted andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;glass window that separates us from the driver. Just andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;before someone shuts the door, I hear something inside andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;the van where the remaining girls were herded. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;Itand#8217;s the first of what I know will be a dozen more gunshots. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;I awake in a satin bed, nauseous and pulsating with sweat. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;My first conscious movement is to push myself to the andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;edge of the mattress, where I lean over and vomit onto andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;the lush red carpet. Iand#8217;m still spitting and gagging when andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;someone begins cleaning up the mess with a dishrag. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;and#8220;Everyone handles the sleep gas differently,and#8221; he says andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;softly. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;and#8220;Sleep gas?and#8221; I splutter, and before I can wipe my andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;mouth on my lacy white sleeve, he hands me a cloth napkinand#8212; andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;also lush red. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;and#8220;It comes out through the vents in the limo,and#8221; he says. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;and#8220;Itand#8217;s so you wonand#8217;t know where youand#8217;re going.and#8221; andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;I remember the glass window separating us from the andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;front of the car. Air tight, I assume. Vaguely I remember andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;the whooshing of air coming through vents in the walls. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;and#8220;One of the other girls,and#8221; the boy says, as he sprays andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;white foam onto the spot where I vomited, and#8220;she almost andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;threw herself out the bedroom window, she was so disoriented. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;The windowand#8217;s locked, of course. Shatterproof.and#8221; andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;Despite the awful things heand#8217;s saying, his voice is low, possibly andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;even sympathetic. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;I look over my shoulder at the window. Closed tight. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;The world is bright green and blue beyond it, brighter andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;than my home, where thereand#8217;s only dirt and the remnants andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;of my motherand#8217;s garden that Iand#8217;ve failed to revive. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;Somewhere down the hall a woman screams. The boy andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;tenses for a moment. Then he resumes scrubbing away andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;the foam. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;and#8220;I can help,and#8221; I offer. A moment ago I didnand#8217;t feel guilty andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;about ruining anything in this place; I know Iand#8217;m here andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;against my will. But I also know this boy isnand#8217;t to blame. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;He canand#8217;t be one of the Gatherers in gray who brought andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;me hereand#8212;heand#8217;s too young, possibly my age. Maybe he andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;was also brought here against his will. I havenand#8217;t heard andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;of teenage boys disappearing, but up until fifty years andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;ago, when the virus was discovered, girls were also safe. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;Everyone was safe. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;and#8220;No need. Itand#8217;s all done,and#8221; he says. And when he moves andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;the rag away, thereand#8217;s not so much as a stain. He pulls a andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;handle out of the wall, and a chute opens; he tosses the andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;rags into it, lets go, and the chute clamps shut. He tucks andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;the can of white foam into his apron pocket and returns andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;to what he was doing. He picks up a silver tray from andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;where heand#8217;d placed it on the floor, and brings it to my andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;night table. and#8220;If youand#8217;re feeling better, thereand#8217;s some lunch andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;for you. Nothing that will make you fall asleep again, I andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;promise.and#8221; He looks like he might smile. Just almost. But andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;he maintains a concentrated gaze as he lifts a metal lid off andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;a bowl of soup and another off a small plate of steaming andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;vegetables and mashed potatoes cradling a lake of gravy. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;Iand#8217;ve been stolen, drugged, locked away in this place, yet andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;Iand#8217;m being served a gourmet meal. The sentiment is so andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;vile I could almost throw up again. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;and#8220;That other girland#8212;the one who tried to throw herself andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;out the windowand#8212;what happened to her?and#8221; I ask. I donand#8217;t andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;dare ask about the woman screaming down the hall. I andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;donand#8217;t want to know about her. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;and#8220;Sheand#8217;s calmed down some.and#8221; andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;and#8220;And the other girl?and#8221; andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;and#8220;She woke up this morning. I think the House Governor andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;took her to tour the gardens.and#8221; andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;House Governor. I remember my despair and crash andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;against the pillows. House Governors own mansions. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;They purchase brides from Gatherers, who patrol the andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;streets looking for ideal candidates to kidnap. The merciful andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;ones will sell the rejects into prostitution, but the andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;ones I encountered herded them into the van and shot andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;them all. I heard that first gunshot over and over in my andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;medicated dreams. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;and#8220;How long have I been here?and#8221; I say. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;and#8220;Two days,and#8221; the boy says. He hands me a steaming andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;cup, and Iand#8217;m about to refuse it when I see the tea bag andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;string dangling over the side, smell the spices. Tea. My andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;brother, Rowan, and I had it with our breakfast each andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;morning, and with dinner each night. The smell is like andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;home. My mother would hum as she waited by the stove andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;for the water to boil. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;Blearily I sit up and take the tea. I hold it near my face andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;and breathe the steam in through my nose. Itand#8217;s all I can andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;do not to burst into tears. The boy must sense that the andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;full impact of what has happened is reaching me. He must andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;sense that Iand#8217;m on the verge of doing something dramatic andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;like crying or trying to fling myself out the window like andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;that other girl, because heand#8217;s already moving for the door. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;Quietly, without looking back, he leaves me to my grief. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;But instead of tears, when I press my face against the andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;pillow, a horrible, primal scream comes out of me. Itand#8217;s andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;unlike anything I thought myself capable of. Rage, unlike andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;anything Iand#8217;ve ever known. andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andnbsp;