Текст книги "Intermix Nation "
Автор книги: M. Attardo
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 23 страниц)
Chapter Two
Nazirah lies in an overgrown meadow, a ways behind headquarters. The weeds, wild flowers, and long reeds hide her in plain sight. Head resting comfortably in the crook of her arm, one ankle crossed lazily over the other, Nazirah stares at the sky for hours. The clouds roll in, expand, change shape, and roll out again. The sun slowly trails across the heavens, afternoon light dimming, fading to dusk, and then turning deep blue. The stars come out, blinking themselves awake after their day of slumber.
This field is Nazirah’s secret hiding place, accessible through a weak link in the compound’s electrified fence, discovered during her first week at headquarters. She comes here when she feels overwhelmed, when her small room is too confining, or when she just wants to escape reality for a while … or forever.
She slowly runs her hand over rough blades of yellow grass. It’s still summer, although it’s warm in Eridies regardless of the time of year. Nazirah wonders briefly what seasons feel like, if the flowers in the front yard at home are overrun with weeds. They were only beginning to bloom when she left so abruptly in April. Riva would often pluck the flowers from their small garden and braid them skillfully, weaving vines and blossoms through Nazirah’s long chestnut locks. Nazirah could never quite manage it by herself. Riva had an elegance Nazirah does not possess. And now she isn’t around to teach Nazirah anything, anymore.
Nazirah picks one of the longest blades and begins knotting the stem, occupying her hands. She thinks about Rafu, not far from here. A few days’ walk, maybe. Only an hour’s drive, if Nazirah had access to a car, which she doesn’t. Barely anyone in Rafu drives. Only the wealthiest people can afford automobiles, and the roads are so cracked and dangerous that most prefer bicycling or walking.
The roads here in Krush are smooth and paved, because they’re much closer to the capital. The lines of communication are also better in northern Eridies. Nazirah has to admit that Krush is a perfect location for the rebels to keep tabs on Mediah and interact with other territories.
Nazirah has never been to the capital before, obviously. She has never even been outside Eridies. But she has heard stories, has seen images in books and on the small television in her home.
Skytowers so tall they rise above the cloud line. Lights so powerful they blind your eyes if you look for too long. Fancy cars and heavy smog everywhere. A complex network of bullet trains carrying resources from the four territories all day and night.
Nazirah never rode in a car until the night her parents died. Nikolaus, with his deep Eridian connections, had known about their parents’ murder almost as soon as Nazirah had. He came for her in a car, not an hour after she discovered them.
Nazirah remembers sitting on the porch, face red and raw from crying. She remembers the neighbors looking at her through their windows, pitying her, but unwilling to risk their lives by offering her comfort or shelter. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t go inside, couldn’t watch the paramedics bagging the bodies. But she couldn’t just leave, either.
There, on her front step, the chorus of guilt that has plagued Nazirah for months began playing the first chords of its death march. What if she stayed home that night and hadn’t snuck out? What if she was there to defend her parents? Why hadn’t she joined the rebellion sooner? Why hadn’t she kissed her mother goodbye? When was the last time she told her father she loved him? Why wasn’t she a better daughter?
So she sat, completely numb, and waited for absolution.
She is still waiting.
Niko arrived in a black sedan. He said nothing, just hugged her for the first time in years. Nazirah could tell he had cried, but when she saw him, his face was dry.
And that was it. He ushered her into the car, which made her even dizzier and more nauseous, and took her to Krush … to headquarters. Nazirah made him pull over several times so she could throw up on the side of the road.
They returned a few days later for the funeral. Since her parents were interracially married, they were banned from having a traditional Eridian burial. So Riva and Kasimir were cremated, and the two surviving Nations spread their ashes into the ocean behind their home. Following an old Eridian custom, Nazirah and Nikolaus lit paper lanterns on the beach and watched them gently float into the night sky.
Nazirah could not gather the strength to enter their home, so Nikolaus retrieved her clothing and belongings. They told no one, invited no one, but people still showed up by the hundreds. Family friends, acquaintances, Cato and his family, neighbors, and students that Riva taught over the years all came to say tearful goodbyes. Then the news vans had come from all over the country, lining the street like caravans. The story was national news, because the government wanted to use Kasimir and Riva’s death as a demonstration for the four territories:
This is what happens when you step out of line.
Two small headstones were erected in the sand dunes behind the Nation’s home, overlooking the azure sea. Nazirah yearns to go there again, to run her fingers over the smooth black stones, to feel closer to the deceased.
At times, Nazirah finds herself unable to recall the exact pitch of her father’s booming laugh, or the precise shade of her mother’s honey eyes. She finds herself forgetting. And of all the things that scare her, this scares her most.
Nazirah rises slowly, shaking and stretching the stiffness from her limbs. She takes her time walking back, uneager to return to headquarters. She came to the field directly after lunch, skipping both dinner and Territory History. Her teacher, Ms. Bairs, probably wants to strangle Nazirah by now, but Nazirah knows Cato will cover for her. He covers for her a lot, because Nazirah cannot muster any enthusiasm for participating in recruit training. She does the bare minimum to get by. And, although her teachers initially let her absences slide, they are quickly losing patience.
Nazirah enters through the back door of the main building and walks through the deserted hallways. Exiting the staircase on the floor that houses the girls’ dormitories, she briefly checks the time.
7:15pm.
There’s still over an hour to kill before she meets Niko.
Nazirah pushes open the door to her bedroom and throws herself onto the bed, shoes still on. She misses her room at home. It was south facing, and her windows were always open to let in the salty breeze. Here, her room is tight and cramped. It has none of the comforts of home, for Niko didn’t think to bring anything besides her clothes. Her window faces a solid brick wall.
Only in this room does Nazirah cry.
In solitude, she allows herself to fully experience her guilt, grief, and loneliness. She felt lost before her parents died, in the way that an average intermix girl with few options in life and a huge chip on her shoulder feels lost sometimes. She would rebel against her parents, not listen to their advice, and sneak out of the house … just to assert her independence and power in a world where she truthfully had none.
Now, she is truly lost.
So lost that living feels more like dying.
So lost that Nazirah doesn’t remember the person she once was, much less know how to find her.
#
An hour later, Nazirah drags herself out of bed. She feels worse than she did before, and considers blowing Niko off and going right back to sleep. But Nazirah knows he will come banging on her door, eyes and neck veins bulging, demanding to know why she didn’t show up.
Nazirah walks sluggishly into the shared girls’ lavatory on her floor, thankful to see no one she knows. She quickly brushes her teeth and splashes water on her face, trying to erase the red from her bloodshot eyes.
She has her mother’s eyes: honeyed irises, almond-shaped, heavy-lidded with thick lashes. She also shares Riva’s olive skin and slender build. As a child, Nazirah hated being compared to her mother. She always thought of Riva as weak, and longed to be like the strong Kasimir.
Riva was never weak.
Nazirah didn’t realize that until it was too late.
Now, Nazirah likes to think a part of Riva lives within her – and that, every time she looks into a mirror, it’s her mother who stares back.
She can’t quite convince herself. Riva was always smiling.
Deep in thought, Nazirah braids her hair nimbly down her back, the strands bleached with copper highlights. “Cato’s looking for you,” someone behind her says.
Nazirah jumps and whirls around to face Aneira. “God, Ani, you scared me! You can’t sneak up on people like that!”
“Sorry.” Aneira shrugs half-heartedly.
Aneira is fifteen, and has not yet grown into herself. She is tall, but gangly and flat-chested. She has Lumi’s beautiful blue eyes, but her facial features look out of proportion, their angles not quite working.
Nazirah feels unusually protective of her. Aneira seems lost too. Sometimes, Nazirah wants to give Aneira a huge hug and tell her everything will be all right, even though she doesn’t believe it herself.
“It’s okay,” Nazirah sighs, the annoyance in her voice gone. “I just get startled easily. Do you know what he wants?”
“I think he wants to make sure you’re okay,” Aneira says. “You weren’t in Territory History tonight, but he covered for you. Again.”
“Great,” says Nazirah, making a mental note to visit Cato after speaking with Niko. “Thanks for telling me.”
“Sure.”
Nazirah should ask Aneira how she is doing. Aneira is so unlike Lumi or even Yuki, both social creatures by nature. Aneira is quiet and introverted, and that’s probably why Nazirah likes her so much. But Nazirah really is late now, so she exits the bathroom without another word.
Nazirah walks quickly towards Nikolaus’s office on the other side of the building. She hopes that whatever this ‘matter of extreme importance’ concerns, Niko will make it short. It’s late, and it’s Friday, and Nazirah wants to sleep. Could Niko know about her and Cato sneaking tequilux from the kitchens last weekend? She doesn’t think it’s likely.
She smiles a bit, remembering. A few of the younger recruits gathered around a bonfire, drinking and laughing and dancing. Nazirah was happier that night than she had been in a long time, if only fleetingly.
Nazirah hopes Niko won’t try to convince her to sell their cottage again, before the government seizes it. Intermix are forbidden from owning property. Their cottage was listed under Riva’s name, because she was technically still an Eridian. But now it belongs to no one. Niko mentioned selling it a few months ago. Nazirah was so blindsided by the suggestion, she went berserk on him. He hasn’t brought it up again.
Nazirah also hopes Cato is wrong, and that Niko won’t get on her case about missing class. She has a feeling that might be where this is headed, but it still doesn’t explain the urgency. Unless the rebels already have her bags packed and out the door or something, which Nazirah cannot say she would hate.
Arriving at her destination, Nazirah walks in without bothering to knock.
Most people would never guess Nikolaus and Nazirah are siblings. Unlike Nazirah, who resembles Riva, Nikolaus Nation is the spitting image of Kasimir. Nikolaus is tall and built like a tree, with bulging arms, broad shoulders, and a wide trunk. His skin is pale, eyes a deep, earthy brown. His hair slightly curls at the top. Nikolaus is reserved, but not quiet. He is kind, but not compassionate; he is calculating, but not deceptive. Like Kasimir, Nikolaus has a laugh that can win over the greatest enemy.
Nazirah has not heard it in a very long time.
Nikolaus is currently hunched over his desk, deep in conversation with a group of strategists, advisors, and fellow commanders. The other two commanders are a pair of stalwart Red West twins, Glumindo and Badoomi. Nazirah and Cato affectionately refer to them privately as Gloom and Doom. Gloom and Doom are usually holed up in the control tower, in charge of weapons technology, defense, and surveillance. Nikolaus is responsible for strategy, offense, and reconnaissance.
Nikolaus looks abnormally stressed. From the back of the room, Nazirah can see his left eye twitching. It is a tic he developed as a child whenever he got anxious. Nazirah hasn’t seen it occur in years. It’s very unsettling.
Niko’s desk overflows with loose papers and books. Some files spill onto the floor as he rifles through them. Nazirah quietly sits in the back of the room, listening curiously.
“I don’t care if he’s on leave,” Nikolaus is saying. “I need to talk to him. Bring him in.”
Nazirah’s attention drifts around the makeshift office. A huge, inked map of Renatus, divided by color into five regions, is pinned to one wall. Thumbtacks are pushed in at various locations, and certain cities have been circled emphatically in red. A large projector hangs near the corner, constantly looping government propaganda speeches, currently on mute. Stacks of yellowing newspapers from every territory, in every language, are piled floor to ceiling.
Sergeant Patch – Aldrik – scribbles Niko’s ramblings vehemently on a ledger. Even from a distance, Nazirah can see his writing looks illegible. She idly considers having a talk with Niko about recruiting some new, younger strategists. With his grizzled beard, ancient face, gnarled fingers, and haggard appearance, Aldrik appears to already have one foot in the grave.
As if reading her thoughts, Aldrik spots Nazirah with his functional eye. He shoots her a dirty look and leans into Nikolaus, speaking privately.
“Unfortunately, we must finish this tactics meeting tomorrow,” Nikolaus tells the room, glancing at Nazirah. “My sister and I have a personal matter to discuss.”
His tone is indecipherable and Nazirah remains seated. There are a few moments of unorganized mayhem as half a dozen rebels stand, scrambling to collect their papers and files from around the room. They clear their throats awkwardly, peeping at Nazirah. Everyone knows that the Nations are siblings, but rarely do people see them interact.
The rebel leaders shuffle outside as Nikolaus shakes hands with Gloom and Doom. From the bewildered looks on their faces, Nazirah guesses they don’t know why she’s here anymore than she does. Aldrik sneers as he walks past, intentionally bumping into her as he ushers the remaining stragglers out the door.
The door closes with a heavy thud. Nazirah and Nikolaus are finally alone. Nikolaus’s back is to her as he studies a wall map of the bullet train system. Nazirah slowly rises from her seat.
“You’re late.” He diverts his attention from the map, turning to face her.
Nazirah walks up to him, rubbing her arm where Aldrik knocked it. She plunges into a mock curtsy. “My apologies, Commander,” she says breathily.
“Quit it.”
“What’s Aldrik’s problem, anyway?” Nazirah asks, arm still smarting. “Old age getting the best of him?”
“You are, I’d guess,” Nikolaus says. “I don’t imagine he’s very fond of you.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” Nazirah scoffs. “I don’t imagine I’m very fond of him either.”
“You’re eighteen years old, Nazirah,” Nikolaus chides. “Stop acting like a child.”
“I’m not acting like a child!” she says, crossing her arms. Nikolaus raises a bushy eyebrow and Nazirah quickly uncrosses them.
“Yes, you are,” he says emphatically. “And I don’t just mean right now. Lateness, missing meals, skipping classes, not turning in assignments … your ingratitude here is legendary.”
So this is about her lackluster attitude! Nazirah makes another mental note to find a garden snake and put it in Bairs’s desk later tonight. “I never asked to be here, Niko!” she complains. “I don’t want any of this.”
Nikolaus circles his chair and stands before Nazirah, leaning back on the desk. Up close, Nazirah can see exactly how tired and strained he looks. When he speaks, the annoyance is gone, replaced by exhaustion.
“And what exactly do you want, Irri?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” she asks. “I want us to leave here, get away from all of this war and violence! I want us to be a family again! You do have a sister who still lives, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Nikolaus’s face hardens, eyes darkening. If Nazirah wanted sympathy from him, she won’t get it now. “Of course I haven’t forgotten!” he spits, slamming his fist on the desk. “Don’t be such a martyr! I’m doing all of this so that we will have a place to go home to! So that we will always have the same opportunities as everyone else, will always have enough to eat! So our children and our children’s children can finally be safe! And I’m not just doing it for us. I’m doing it for every intermix, for every territory-born in Renatus. And you want to – what? – run away and let someone else fight your battles? Let someone else die for you? Do you not understand what we’re trying to accomplish here?”
“That’s not what I meant!”
That’s exactly what she meant. She’s ashamed to admit it to him and especially ashamed to admit it to herself.
“You need to start pulling your weight,” Nikolaus continues, on a roll. “I’ve had it up to here with your moping, piss-poor, woe-is-me attitude. Everyone in this damn place is either an intermix or a refugee. You think you’re the only person with problems? The only person who has suffered?
“You will start going to classes, every damn one! I don’t care how much you hate them! You will show an active interest in the rebellion and everything we aim to achieve, because you are my sister. You’re a role model.”
Nazirah winces; he sounds exactly like Riva and Kasimir. She is so tired of being everybody else’s disappointment. “I’m terribly sorry if my mourning the death of our family is belittling to your authority, Commander,” she says. “You know what? Screw your authority! Our parents wouldn’t have wanted this!” Nazirah waves her arms at the room. “Our parents were all talk, books, and ideas, and look where it got them! Dead … fucking dead. And here we are, orphaned, practically sprinting into the exact same trap.”
“Nazirah, you’re wrong.”
“No, Niko!” she shouts. “We’re turning into exactly what Riva and Kasimir never wanted us to become! They would roll over in their graves if they could see us now!”
“They weren’t buried –”
“It’s an expression, you ass!” she yells. “If they were here, they would tell us to get as far away from this war as possible! You know I want to avenge them as much as you do” – Niko’s eye twitches – “but our parents were fools to think they could change anything in this world! And since we can’t, they would want us to be safe!”
Nikolaus is quiet for a moment. And then gently, so incredibly gently she isn’t expecting it, he takes her shaking hands into his own. “Irri, look around,” he says. “There is no ‘safe’ anymore. Not for people like us. There never was, really. That’s why we need to keep fighting –that’s exactly what we’re fighting for. Riva and Kasimir would be proud of us.” He continues holding her hands, like he’s afraid she’s going to break. “We cannot go back, Nazirah, do you understand? We can only go forward.”
Nazirah doesn’t want to believe him but, in her heart, she knows he’s right. Probably knew it all along. She nods sadly, wanting to leave and crawl under her covers and stay there for good. She takes a small step towards the door, but Niko’s grip on her tightens, preventing her from leaving.
“What is it?”
“I’m sorry to burden you with all this, but there is still more that we need to discuss.”
His tone is different now, cautious and unsure. Nazirah looks at him warily because, of the many things Niko is, he is never hesitant. “Okay.…”
“I know our opinions often differ, and that you are not happy here or with my choice of what to do to protect the remains of our family,” he says. “You have been through so much in the past few months that I don’t want to trouble you with anything else, but I need you to do a favor for me.”
A favor?
“I can try and go to class more,” she says, hoping this is what he’s getting at. “But I’m not promising anything long term.”
“It’s not that,” Nikolaus says, “but I would appreciate the effort.” His eyes dart towards the door, making sure it’s completely closed.
“Niko, you’re freaking me out.”
“Do you trust me?”
What kind of a question is that? He’s her brother! She may not always agree with him, she may not even like him half the time, but of course she trusts him.
“You know I do.”
“I can’t tell you much,” Nikolaus says. “We’ve had a request for an amnesty agreement and I need you to go to the Deathland prison to close the deal.”
Now Nazirah is really confused. Amnesty requests are nothing new. In the four months she’s lived at the compound, Nazirah has heard of several, although she doesn’t know the details of any of them. Amnesty agreements are official pardons granted by the rebels to various Renatus lowlifes and criminals, in exchange for crucial information about the government. Between its strongholds, the rebellion has illicit connections with several prisons around the country, so it’s able to make these negotiations under the Medi radar. Many prisoners request amnesty, but most are rejected because their information is not valuable enough to merit it.
Amnesty pacts are highly classified. The conditions of negotiation and information provided are known only to the commanders. Sending a mere recruit like Nazirah to go and confirm the pact is unheard of. And in the Red West, no less! Is Niko giving her some sort of test?
“I don’t understand.”
“Look, Nazirah,” Niko says. “I know you’ve never done anything like this before, and I know it’s a lot to ask, but I need you to do it for me. It’s an extremely important, time-sensitive matter. We’ve already negotiated the prisoner’s terms, and he’s agreed to ours. You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to. You don’t even have to look at him. All you have to do is give him this.” Niko reaches into his pocket and holds up a small pendant. Nazirah recognizes it as the necklace every person granted amnesty must wear. “Oh, and get him to sign his name,” Niko adds as an afterthought. “That’s it, I promise.”
A million questions race through Nazirah’s mind. Amnesty pacts are sacred to the rebels, and are not something entered into lightly. “Why me, Niko?” she asks. “Why can’t you go, or another Commander – or even Aldrik?”
“Because they don’t know about it,” Niko says. “I haven’t told anyone else yet. Not until after the pact is officially made. And I can’t go. Everyone knows who I am, and everyone knows I’m a commander. I’m too noticeable, Irri. People may know your face because you are my sister and because of what happened to our parents, but they won’t recognize you as easily. You’re small, smart, and can think on your feet.
“Listen to me carefully: this amnesty pact is what we need to tip the scales in our favor. What the prisoner is offering is invaluable. I need you to do this for me. You’re the only one I trust to get it done.”
Nazirah remains skeptical, but Niko has a point. And if this is what the rebels need to help them win the war, and get Nazirah home faster, then so be it.
“Of course I’ll do it, Niko,” Nazirah says. “I still don’t understand, but I’ll do it if you really want me to.”
“Thank you.”
“Who’s it for?” she asks.
Nikolaus is silent then. He searches her face, eyes asking something she does not comprehend. Nazirah has the sinking feeling that something is about to happen, something important. Something, something, something … but she cannot begin to imagine what it is.
“Tell me!” Nazirah cries, voice high and pleading.
And he does.
“Adamek Morgen.”
