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I'm On Your Side (Cliffton book 1, chapter 1)
It's not fair. It's not fair. That's all I can think, over and over, as I run. It's not fair.
Sweat trickles down my cheek as I crash through the underbrush. Summer's just begun, and already it's so hot that even breathing feels difficult. Running should be out of the question, but I'm doing it anyway. I'm making too much noise, but I don't care. All I want's to get to the hollow tree. Since I found it a year ago, it's become the place I go whenever I need to get away. Pushing aside branches and wiping at my face, I press onward. Thorns tear at my clothes, but I barely notice.
When I near the barbed wire fence, though, common sense starts to creep in. I need to be more careful. On the off chance there are actually troops here, I certainly don't want them to hear me. Not like there usually are, and no one's even bothered to repair the gap in the barbed wire I'm about to squeeze through. What's the point in securing a border most people would never want to cross anyway?
I approach the fence with cautious, measured steps, scaling it and dropping down lightly on the opposite side. Even moving slowly enough to avoid attracting attention, it doesn't take long to reach my destination. Parting the ferns that surround the tree, I crawl inside its trunk. Leaning against the ancient wood, I close my eyes and sigh loudly.
"Hello?" The male voice practically makes me jump out of my skin.
My eyes fly open and I let out a startled shriek. I look around frantically, searching for the owner of the voice. There's no one else inside the tree with me, and I don't dare step out to see if there's anyone outside. I want to ask who's there, but that's not any smarter than showing my face, so I huddle in silence instead. Maybe whoever it is will give up and go away.
No such luck. A grinning face appears just outside the opening I crawled through moments ago. Its owner's about my age, with skin nearly as brown as mine. That's where the similarities between us end, though. He's got a brawnier build than any boy I've ever seen, with yellow hair and ice blue eyes. I look at his broad smile and my face burns with righteous indignation.
"What in the blustering breezes are you doing here?" I shout. "This is my spot!"
"Your spot, eh?" I can hear the laughter in his voice. "From the looks of you, this isn't even your side of the fence. I should ask you the same question - what are you doing here? Don't you know you could be arrested or worse if you're caught?"
Of course I know that, and I know I shouldn't be talking to this boy. The people on the Other Side are war-loving savages, bred from birth to be cold-blooded killers. None of them are to be trusted, or so the Instructors would have us all believe.
"What do you care if I'm arrested?" I snort. "Aren't you supposed to be trying to kill me anyway?"
"If I wanted you dead, you would be by now." The boy smiles, and his strange blue eyes twinkle merrily. "There wouldn't be much 'trying' involved - I've trained for that my entire life." His smile fades a little at those last words.
Apparently, the Instructors got that part right. The people on the Other Side really are bred to kill. At least my blonde companion here is. Except so far, he's much more pleasant than some boys back home - and by "some boys", I mean Morgan, the one I'm supposed to marry. Ugh. The mere thought of my husband-to-be makes my stomach turn.
"Why don't you want to kill me?" My curiosity gets the better of me, and I have to ask.
"I don't want to kill anyone - besides, you're not the first person I've met from your side of the fence. Although you're by far the prettiest one - uh, I mean - um, I didn't mean to say that. Sorry." The boy's blushing so hard even his dark complexion can't hide it.
Obviously, the Instructors neglected to teach us a few details about the people on the Other Side.
"I'm Calla," I say, pushing a clump of sweaty hair out of my face.
"Pleased to meet you," the boy says, sticking out his hand. "I'm Kalen. Care to tell you what you're doing in my hiding place?" His arresting blue eyes twinkle again.
I'm probably insane for even talking to someone from the Other Side, but anything's better than going home right now. Besides, trained killer or not, he really doesn't seem very dangerous. Maybe the Instructors are wrong about the people across the fence. I'd certainly like to think they're wrong about me - or at least what they'd think of me if they could see inside my mind.
"Obviously, I'm hiding," I tell him. "Isn't that what people do in hiding spots?"
"Hiding from what?" Kalen asks.
"My future." The bitterness I normally have to hide creeps into my voice. "I hate the boy I'm supposed to marry."
"Why are you marrying him, then?" Kalen's forehead scrunches up. "I guess you have to?"
Tears spring to my eyes and I blink them away. Since I can't trust my voice not to break, I only nod. Not like marrying Morgan's the only thing I hate about the life I'm about to begin. I'm of age now, and when summer ends I'll begin my chosen career - if you call my decision an actual choice. The voice of my second-year teacher, Instructor Engstrom, echoes in my mind.
Acceptable Professions for agreeable young women are as follows: Floral Arranger, Instructor, Care Assistant, House Cleaner, Meal Preparer and Child Minder. These are the duties for which the female temperament is well-suited. All other careers are reserved for men. This ruling is in our best interest - to question it would be disagreeable indeed.
Being an Instructor seems the least demeaning option, so that's the one I've selected. It's now my calling to indoctrinate the next generation. When summer ends, I'll begin teaching little girls the evils of the Other Side. I'm not even sure I believe they're evil, especially now. Kalen seems like any other kid my age.
In fact, Kalen seems pretty nice. Part of me wants to confide in him, but the rest of me can't stomach the idea of blubbering in front of a complete stranger, so I change the subject. "Now, how about you tell me why you're in my spot?"
"I found it first - I've been coming here since I was just a boy." Kalen's tone is teasing, almost sing-song.
"Yeah." I roll my eyes. "Because you're sooooooo old and adult now."
"I'll have you know I'm old enough to work." His eyes sparkle and his voice is full of mirth. Then the laughter drains away, and his next words are quiet. "And I'm old enough to fight."
"Summer is halfway over already," Kalen groans, cracking his knuckles. "I can't believe it."
I sigh as I lean against the inside of the hollow tree, perspiration running down my back. Our hideout shields us from the sun, but it barely provides any relief from the oppressive heat. Summer here's unbearable, and I'd normally be all too happy to see it end. Except I'd rather drown in my own sweat than face what's in store for me when the cool breezes come.
"Ugh, don't remind me. I'm not excited about shaping young minds." I punctuate the words with air quotes.
"At least you don't have to go out and kill people, Calla." Kalen's voice has a bitter edge to it.
"Oh, you're right, Kalen." My condescending tone's completely forbidden in the presence of a man, but I can't help it now. "All I have to do is spend my nights pleasing a husband I hate and my days teaching children to despise a person I actually like. You've got it so much worse than I do."
"I'm... sorry, Calla." Kalen toys with the lace of his boot. "I know it's hard for you, too."
Shame wells up inside me, and I regret my angry words. It's not Kalen's fault I'm so disagreeable. Morgan's a desirable man, and I'm lucky to have him. It's hardly fair to compare my fate with his - I'm not being forced to murder anyone, am I?
"Are you sure there's nothing you can do to get out of fighting?" I reach out and touch Kalen's shoulder gently.
Kalen flushes bright red, a foolish grin spreading across his face, and I have to repress a sigh. I really do like Kalen, but not in that way. Encouraging his crush probably isn't the best idea, but at least he seems to have forgotten our quarrel?
"I, uh - " Kalen's sputtering like the engine on my pa's old tractor. "Well, I mean... we could start our own rebellion! My friends Wes and Devin are insurgents - I met them on the Splinternet. They're against the war like you and I are, and they have a million connections and know how to find components for weapons and... stuff."
"Come on, Kalen." I snort. "You've told me a thousand times you don't want to kill people. I can't even say 'no' to being wed to someone I'd dearly love to disembowel. We're not really rebellion material, are we?"
"I was just kidding, Calla," Kalen mumbles, and his face is practically purple now.
Today just isn't my day, is it? No matter what I say, it only seems to make things worse. I desperately scan the inside of our hideout, looking for a distraction. Didn't I leave a deck of cards last time I was here? A game of MegaRummy might be just the thing to take both our minds off our problems. My eyes fall on the enormous wooden crate Kalen brought with him today. It's large enough that he's using it for a bench, but it rattled when he carried it in.
"Um, Calla?" Kalen's never going to stop blushing, is he? "Why are you staring at my crotch like that?"
"I'm not, you dolt." So much for being agreeable. "I'm looking at the mysterious giant box underneath it. Are you ever going to tell me what's inside?" When I asked earlier, all he'd say was "it's a surprise". I'm not sure I like surprises, but I'll do anything to break the tension at this point.
"Oh yeah, I almost forgot!" Kalen's eyes light up. He stands, undoing a latch on the crate and swinging its lid open. "I can't believe your people don't have Robot Scrabble. What do you even do for fun?"
I don't know how to answer that question. Truth be told, most people where I live don't do much for fun. School, careers and household duties keep them far too busy for any pleasure activities. I've heard tell of parties from my rich friend Elise, but the average folks have no time or money to engage in such frivolities.
"Here, see for yourself." Kalen grins as he begins pulling odd metallic bits from inside the box. What in the blazing fires of Squail is this? For the first time, I notice the words "ROBOT SCRABBLE" stamped on its side in red block letters.
"Robot... Scrabble?" Is Kalen trying to play some kind of joke on me?
"Yup," Kalen says. "It's just like regular Scrabble, only better. Every time you play a word, you get to pull from the Parts Pile. The better your score, the more parts you can take. You use the parts to build a robot - when all the tiles are gone, your robots fight to the death. The player with the last robot standing is the winner!"
For a moment, I'm completely dumbstruck. Leave it to the Other Side to turn an innocuous word game into an act of war. "Kalen, is there anything your people do that doesn't involve fighting?" I finally manage.
"War is kind of a way of life for us." Kalen stops unpacking his robot bits, looking glum again.
"It's not like my people are much better, are they?" I point out. "They don't trust anyone, not even each other, and I don't see them doing anything to stop the fighting. Too bad we don't even know what the fighting's about."
"Hey!" Kalen brightens. "We may not be rebellion material, but we might at least be able to answer that question. I was browsing the Splinternet the other day and came across an old message board. The government was supposed to have shut them all down, but I guess they missed this one."
I nod and smile, as if I have the slightest clue what Kalen means. All the fancy gadgets and robots Kalen loves so much really aren't my thing. We've got CompuPanels at school, but we don't have one at home on the farm. I barely even know what this "Splinternet" he's constantly chattering about is, let alone a "message board". Maybe if I act interested in his technobabble, he'll get to the point eventually.
"So I was checking out the board," Kalen continues, "and I found an old map of the Majestic City region."
"Yeah, so?" I demand, then silently curse myself for speaking out of turn. It's not like I didn't intend to listen politely, but maps and history remind me of school. That's something I'd prefer not to think about too much right now.
"My people used to keep these archive-buildings back in the day." Kalen doesn't even seem to notice my flagrant disrespect. "They were called 'libraries' and they stored all sorts of information - anyone was allowed to go in and access whatever they wanted."
Free access to information? That's impossible. It has to be a myth, but I don't have the heart to tell Kalen that. He's so excited about his dweeby information-farm, and at least he's not moping or blushing now.
"Most of the libraries were burned ages ago, but the map shows one that's not known to be destroyed. It's out in the desert, probably a few hours' walk. We'd have to go at night - it's far too hot to hike that far during the day. We might need to bring a camping dome and some supplies as well; there's a good chance we'd need to bed down before making the return trip." So much for Kalen not blushing - the idea of "bedding down" with me's apparently too much for him. "What do you think, Calla?" he says, his voice getting awkwardly high.
"Sure, why not?" It sounds like a wild sprinch chase to me, but we've got nothing better to do besides sit around and think about the futures we wish we could change. Besides, on the off-chance the library does exist, finding out things we're not supposed to know might be at least a little interesting.
"Great!" Kalen seems to have recovered now. "But first, my robot is going to kick your robot's ass!"
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" I ask Kalen for the thousandth time, brushing the beads of perspiration from my forehead. Summer's nearly over, but the weather shows no sign of cooling down. It's not the heat that's making me sweat now, though. I must be insane for getting myself into this.
"This part? Yeah, I'm fine." Kalen looks up from the tangle of wires before him with a nervous smile. "I wouldn't have been able to build the thing myself - my friend Devin's the one did most of that. But the wiring? A deranged squealer monkey could handle that part."
Why do I not find Kalen's words entirely reassuring? The fact that I've never even met this Devin person doesn't help. What if he doesn't know what he's doing and the bomb's defective? What if it explodes at a random time and kills us - or even worse, a bunch of innocent bystanders?
"You sure you want to do this?" Kalen's put aside his wires, and he's watching my face with concern. I'm sure he can see how nervous I am. "I won't hold it against you if you back out."
"Kalen. I'm not backing out." I wipe my clammy palms on my pants and try to look confident.
"Just making sure." Kalen grins mischievously. "I don't want to turn you into a savage like my people."
"Yeah, it's totally your people's fault," I say. "We're all a bunch of idiots."
We've been working out the details of this plan since our trip to the library. Before that day, we never would have dreamed of doing something like this. I would have meekly gone to my destiny as a wife and Instructor, and Kalen to his as a soldier. After what we found out in those forbidden books, though, this war seems more foolish than ever. If there's any chance we can stop it, we've got no choice but to try.
Kalen's forehead scrunches in concentration as he goes back to fiddling with the wires. I glance up at the sky, hoping to the highest heavens that he knows what he's doing. No one's believed in the Gods for centuries, but we need any help we can get.
"Finished!" he announces a moment later.
"All right, then. Let's do it." I raise the bullhorn to my lips, jumping as an eardrum-rending squeal issues from it. I hold it farther from my face and try again. "Attention, all citizens. Please gather at the border. Attention. Please gather at the border." A tremble tries to creep into my voice, but I hold it steady.
It takes a couple minutes, but faces begin to appear on both sides of the fence. Voices buzz, first with curiosity and then with puzzlement. One of the braver ones speaks out. "Why have you called us here, child?"
"Don't call me a child. I am of age, as is my friend here." I reach for Kalen's hand, and he slips it into mine with a gentle squeeze. "We are old enough to read and learn and question. And we are old enough to demand that this war end now."
I pause, hearing the drone of the crowd as it grows louder, angrier. The people press their bodies closer to the fence, and I imagine torches and pitchforks in their hands. No way are we getting out of this alive. I open my mouth to speak again, my throat drier than the desert sands on this side of the fence - Kalen's side.
Except I don't get a chance to say a word. The crowd parts, and even over the cacophony of voices I can hear the sound of marching feet, perfectly in sync. A group of armed soldiers emerges, their faces are hard and grim. All of them have blonde hair and blue eyes like Kalen's, but their eyes are icier than the coldest winter wind.
"You're under arrest in accordance with code 666781-2222 of martial law - tampering with the border."
That's when Kalen grabs the bullhorn from my hand. He holds up the detonator, his finger on the button. "Make no mistake - we're young, but this is no children's game." Kalen's voice is high and squeaky, and he clears his throat into the bullhorn, making it screech loudly. I resist the urge to cry out or clap my hands over my ears. "We've got a bomb, and we're not afraid to use it."
Raising their weapons, the soldiers step forward as one. "Everyone remain calm," the leader says, and the people gathered at the fence fall completely silent. "Let the boy speak."
"Do you even know what you're fighting for?" Kalen's words ring out across the sea of faces, frozen in terror. "Let me answer that for you - you don't, and neither does anyone else. Here is what we know, because we found the records our government failed to destroy. For centuries, our peoples were friends. They lived in harmony, trading goods and services. Our people - my side - were proficient inventors, while the Other Side was known for its agriculture and educational institutions. Did you know that our children studied in the schools on the Other Side? That marriages between our peoples were a common occurrence?"
Shock registers on the faces I can see. Voices murmur, but I can't make out the words.
"The records are incomplete; it's impossible to say exactly what changed. Some say the conflict began over trade disputes. Others blame the factions that disagreed with 'pollution of the genetic stream' - procreation between people on opposite sides. Rumors abounded - the Other Side believed we were building a super-weapon to destroy them, and we believed they were spying on us. No one knew the truth then, so how can we hope to ever know it now?"
The crowd's buzzing again, like a hive of angry trooper bees.
"Is this worth centuries of fighting?" Kalen demands, and his voice is cool and steady now. "This is the reason our children are trained to kill - taught to live in constant fear. It's nothing but foolishness, gossip and paranoia, and we won't stand for it anymore. Now step away from the fence before we blow you to bits."
(Next chapter is here)
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