Fadeout

Chapter 2: Silas

  Two thoughts rammed themselves against his skull. The first was that escape was impossible. Wouldn’t everyone have tried it, or suggested to try it, if it wasn’t? No one that Silas had ever known or heard of since being moved into the Cartiam had even attempted to escape. He’d never heard someone say, “Let’s break out tonight,” over their dinner of stewed beans. Silas wasn’t even sure he knew where to start to accomplish a feat that big and risky. The implants in their necks would be a problem. It would have to be removed completely and Silas wasn’t sure if that could be done safely.

  His hand reached up and scratched at the small lump at the base of his head. He could feel something under the skin move when his fingernail pressed at just the right spot. It was near his spine and he knew enough about anatomy that the spine was important. If he cut into his neck wrong, things could go from difficult to impossible. In his second year, a kid had managed to hide in the cafeteria inside a tiny cabinet after dinner, but the guards had a tracking devise that led them right to him and he was not given food for a month.

  Then there was the locked cell and the walls and the guards. All of which Silas didn’t know how to get out of or avoid. And that led to another issue. Assuming they could get through all those things, what would they do next? Where would they go? How would they blend in? Carillians were never a part of society. They were born on farms and then transferred to places like the Cartiam until those in charge knew what they wanted to do with them.

  Silas had read some of Patton’s books that described society, but who knew how old those books were or if they were only made for Carillians to read. He’d read of towns, markets, malls and houses, but he’d never seen them. He imagined they looked similar to the family residences on the farm he grew up in, small two room sections attached to others just like it on both sides. And towns were bigger places with more rows where people dwelt. Markets and malls were happy places to go if you needed something. Instead of walking from house to house every Friday where people would hang what they made from their door or display it on their table. It would be every day and there would be color. Instead of the brown Carillians had to wear there might be blues or greens like the guards’ uniforms or yellows like the dandelion he found and gave to his mom when he was five.

  Silas slowed his breathing and checked the positions of the guards. They continued their normal rounds. He knew how to act in the yard, but what if no one acted like this out there? What if he gave himself away just be being himself? It was a lot to consider.

  However the second thought that hit Silas was that Malina’s eyes shone. She stood straighter and there was energy in her voice and in her small movements, like the way she tucked her hair behind her ear. What is more, Silas realized it had been months, maybe years, since she had seemed this alive. Living in the Cartiam had a way of weighing on you. The daily schedule, the hidden fears and the struggle to stay away from others all played a part in destroying any happiness you might have. It took Silas a second to grasp that Malina was letting herself hope, and another second to realize how quickly her smile would vanish if that hope died.

  “We have to plan this carefully,” Silas whispered. He didn’t want anyone to hear, especially Patton.

  “I know, but you’re good at that.”

  “Meet me by the wall,” Silas said. He tossed the ball a few times and then told his cellmate he didn’t want to play anymore. Taking his time, he walked around the yard and rested three feet away from where Malina was waiting.

  “Our implants.” It was the first concern Silas knew had to be solved. If they couldn’t remove their implants, alarms would sound and they would be easily tracked and recaptured. There was also the implants restraining element that prevented individuals from getting out of hand. In Silas’ first year he saw three boys the size of Tymas attack one of the smaller guards, but within 30 seconds all three were screaming in agony on the floor holding their heads.

  “I’ll ask around, but I’ve heard there are ways to disable them or even remove them. How would we get out?”

  “We need to record the guards’ schedules, especially at night and see if we can find any weaknesses and then we make a plan. You keep track of what happens in the girls ward and I’ll do the boys.”

  “What if we don’t find any weaknesses?” Silas could feel the worry in Malina’s glance and tone.

  “We will. We’ll find a way to get out of here.” Silas could hardly believe he was agreeing to it, but as he did a warm excitement filled his stomach. They were going to try to escape.

  “Okay.”

  “It might take some time.”

  “As long as I can keep my emotions in check I should have a few months at least. But we need to do this right, Silly.” Malina walked away a bounce in her steps.

  “I know.” Silas said it more to himself, so he could hear the words out loud and remind himself of how much was at stake.

  He mentally made a list of all the things they would need to do to escape. At the top of the list was finding a way to get out of the Cartiam walls. Silas had lived on the farm with his parents until he was eight and then he’d been rounded up with other eight-year-olds and loaded on a wooden cart. The cart had high wooden walls and a canvas roof that kept the sun out. He didn’t have a chance to see anything because he’d been stuck in the middle, but one of the girls was near a small slit in the wooden panels and she would report on the towns and people she saw.

  When they arrived at the Cartiam they were escorted through an enormous house with carpeted halls and into a cold, cinder blocked building with white walls and tiled floor. There was a brief moment as Silas jumped down from the wagon that he noticed the trees that grew around the building with its wall. It was so different from the flat open dirt plain that surrounded the farm. There was some grass outside the farm’s chain link and barbed wire fence, made from a hardened plastic, but not much grew on the inside. Outside the Cartiam there were rolling hills of green grass and a forest of trees. Even though it meant that he was farther from his parents, the trees made Silas calm and at home.

  Once he was inside the Cartiam the trees were much harder to see and the yard was a barren stretch of dirt from all the feet that walked on it. A twenty foot wall circled every building but the main house in the Cartiam and it connected to the main house on both sides, so you had to go through the main house doors to get in or out. Aside from his first wide-eyed trip, Silas had not seen the main house since. There were few places Carillians were allowed to go: the yard, the ward, the cafeteria and the Machine building.

  The more Silas thought about it, the more he realized that he didn’t know where all the doors were or who used them. After spending five years in the Cartiam, all he’d noticed was the shirt of the boy in front of him. That would be the first thing he had to change. If he was going to make a plan, then he would have to know all the ins and outs of the Cartiam and the people who worked there. He glanced up at the guards on the wall. He didn’t know their names or even how many of them there were and learning more about them would be key to discovering how they could get out. This would be easy during the day, but he’d need to stay up all night listening to the guards make their rounds. No sense in waiting. He’d stay up tonight. Suddenly Silas couldn’t wait for free time to be finished.

  He began to notice things he hadn’t before. How all the guards but one of the Ajaks carried their hands on their gun as they walked from post to post. Silas tried to see the guard’s name, but was too far away. He’d seen this guard for five years and he still didn’t know his name, although at least he recognized him. It’s not like guards would introduce themselves when you were new, but he was surprised that he’d never noticed the guard’s name tag before.

  Some guards like Tymas Silas could easily remember, because he liked to stick his barreled chest in your face and all you could see was his shirt pocket with the letters Tymas stitched above it. Westminster also stood out because he was Tirean and never tired of letting
others know it. He wouldn’t do certain things because it was beneath him. It didn’t matter that he had been disgraced, he was still Tirean even if he was a guard, which might also explain why he was always frowning and wrinkling his nose on shower day.

  The class order in society was something Silas hadn’t picked up on at the farm. It was only when he arrived at the Cartiam that he noticed there was a distinction between the classes. The guards would interact in one way with those of the same class and a completely different way with the guards from other classes. It was impossible to not notice it. There was a whole chain of command within the chain of command. Like the pecking order Silas read chickens have, back when he was in school at the farm.

  At the top of the order were Tireans. They ran the country, the justice system, education, science and all the important, big businesses. Of all the classes Tireans were the most educated, the richest and whatever they said became law. Since all the Tirean families had some claim on power, they considered themselves more important than other classes. Like Westminster, it didn’t matter that he was working beneath his station because he would always be Tirean and one day he might have the chance to rise again.

  Second in the class order were Faans. All the Faans Silas had ever seen were dark skinned, sometimes almost black and their bodies were built tall like mountains with muscles bulging everywhere. Their land was somewhere in the south, but they had been under the Tirean rule for centuries and seemed content with the way things were. Faans were the enforcers and the military. Some Tireans served in the military, especially the higher ranks, but there were few warriors with the capabilities of a Faan.

  There were four Faan guards at the Cartiam. Tymas, an old Faan with the name Lloyd stitched on his uniform and two women guards that only watched over the girls ward. Silas had only caught glimpses of the girls’ guards and since they never did yard duty or watched over the cafeteria, he had never seen them interacting with others.

  Ajaks were third in the class order, but even within Ajaks there was a ranking order. There were upper Ajaks, who owned the average businesses, ran the pubs, sailed ships and manufactured clothing. Then there were the lowers Ajaks who took care of the trash, served in Tirean homes, watched children and did the hard labor. The only reason Silas even knew there were two types of Ajaks was that there was one from each in the Cartiam. The lower Ajak was the one who didn’t rest his hand on his gun.

  As for Carillians, they didn’t make the class ranking at all. They were lower than the lowest Ajak, worth more dead than alive. If it wasn’t for the Machine, Carillians would have been wiped out decades ago. But the Machine extracted emotional memories, e-mems, from Carillians that were then used to power the electricity everyone used. Even the Cartiam ran on e-mems, a reality Silas tried to forget. Without the Carillians there would be no electricity and in that sense they were valuable, but that was it.

  There was movement up on the wall. Silas noticed that the two Ajak guards came out of the guard house and stood by the door. They looked more watchful than usual and before Silas had a chance to wonder why, the bell rang. Everyone in the yard stopped what they were doing, balls were tossed back into the box and two straight lines of boys and girls were formed by their perspective doors.

  Silas caught one last glance of Malina before the second bell rang, the doors opened and everyone started filing back inside. Her head was tilted at an angle where she could still see the guards on the wall out of the corner of her eye. She also seemed to be paying more attention to the movement around her. Someone behind them coughed and Silas saw Malina jerk at the same time he did. Then he entered the boys ward and followed Patton back to their cell.

  The two Ajak guards entered the hall and watched as the boys walked by. As he passed the lower Ajak, he pretended to cough and glanced at the guard’s name. The guard’s name was Rickman and something jogged Silas’ memory. He remembered the guards joking about calling one of the Ajak guards Rickshaw instead. It must have been Rickman.

  Silas glanced up and saw that Rickman wasn’t even watching the boys as they filed past. He made note of it and determined he would find a way to use this. If they could memorize Rickman’s schedule, they would have a better chance of leaving unnoticed.

  Once they were back in their cell, Patton climbed up to his top bunk and settled down with a book.

  “So what was that about?” Patton asked without looking up, yet there was a slight twitch in his mouth.

  There were sometimes when Silas thought he trusted Patton. After all, they had been cellmates for five years, but other times, like now, that made Silas wonder if there was another reason behind the question. He’d never even told Patton that Malina was his sister. Patton just thought Silas attracted older girls and one in particular.

  Silas ducked into his bunk and said, “Nothing.”

  “You know you’re going to get in trouble talking to that girl all the time.”

  “We don’t talk all the time.”

  “No, but you’re always looking for her. If you’re not careful, they’ll use you against each other. Lovers make the best Machine candidates.”

  “It’s not like that. We’re only friends.” And family.

  The top bunk creaked as Patton leaned back. “Just be careful. The guards look for any connections.”

  Silas closed his eyes. He should rest now if he was going to track the guards’ movements all night. They would be more careful. Limit how often they talked and always, always hide all emotions. It was a feat that Silas knew would be more difficult. He’d been hiding and suppressing his emotions for so long that they all stacked up inside him, a suitcase where the straps strained to keep the lid shut, but the straps always held and he didn’t know how long that would last for him. Some kids exploded the first time their emotions were unleashed. Add three more years of emotions and Malina must have it much worse. Plus she’d reached her emotional puberty, where her emotions flew higher and crashed deeper. But if Malina could keep herself calm, he would find a way to get them out. He would do anything. If they failed both of them would go to the Machine, but that could happen anyway. What did they have to lose?