Darkness Follows

  “Do you think it’s true…about the place where everyone said they’re taking us?” asked Melody dully. She had a round, pretty face and blonde hair. She was limping by now; her stylish boots were soaked through.

  “Yes,” I said.

  We all knew what fate probably awaited us, though on the train the words had only been spoken in fearful whispers. I should have been scared too, but somehow couldn’t summon up the energy. None of it seemed to matter any more.

  Melody shivered and hugged herself. “Maybe it’ll be all right,” she murmured. “Maybe they’re not as bad as everyone says.”

  Ahead, the older woman patted the younger one’s arm. From the jut of her chin, I could guess what she was saying: Don’t let those bastards win. You have to keep going, no matter what.

  I’d thought that too. I had a sudden flash of one of the nameless Guns who’d visited me during those long weeks before my trial, tapping brass knuckles against her palm. “Sure you don’t want to change your story, Miss Vancour?”

  I never had. It had done me no good at all.

  A cold wind blew more snow across the road; it stung my cheeks. I shivered and stared at the woman’s chocolate-brown fur coat, imagining its softness. If it were mine, I’d turn it inside out so that the luxurious fur was against my body, keeping me even warmer.

  Anger at myself hit me – I was a lot better off than some here. I stopped Melody with a touch on her arm.

  “Do you want to borrow my boots?” I said it in a rush, before I could change my mind.

  She stared at me as if she didn’t understand. Then she looked down at my heavy pilot’s boots with their sturdy soles. “But why would you do that?” she gasped.

  “Just until we get there.” I glanced around. Most of the snowmobiles were ahead of us; we had a few seconds before they swooped back on another loop. I crouched down, fumbling to work my numbed fingers against the damp laces. Staggering and holding onto each other, Melody and I managed to swap boots.

  Hers were as flimsy as they looked and pinched my feet. I felt my socks begin to dampen.

  “Thank you,” said Melody fervently. Her pretty cheeks were flushed. “I’ll give them back to you as soon as we get to…to wherever we’re going.” She darted me a glance and hesitated.

  “Amity, did you really do everything they said you did?”

  The snowmobiles were heading back now, gliding and jumping over dips in the snow. We started walking again, my toes curling against the cold.

  “It doesn’t make any difference,” I said.

  She blanched. I’d been accused of treason. They’d downgraded it to murder: Gunnison being “lenient”. “But…you were a Peacefighter,” she said.

  I gave a terse shrug. “I’m a Discordant now, same as you.”

  Throughout my trial, I’d tried to say what happened over and over, sometimes almost shouting the words in frustration. There was no point repeating it now. Everything I’d said had been mangled; quotes attributed to me in the papers had borne no relation to reality. I was sure that only heavily-edited snippets of my trial had been shown on the telio.

  Had Collie been watching?

  My throat clutched. I thought of his smile, the feel of his arms around me. I could still hardly believe that the man I’d loved so much, trusted so totally, had turned out to be a stranger.

  Unbidden, the memory came of the last time I’d seen him, when I was arrested in Topeka.

  No. I was trembling, and not just with cold. I buried the memory somewhere deep and slammed a lid on it.

  I focused instead on Madeline.

  As the Guns sped past again, I let my hatred for the woman I used to admire so much stiffen my spine. Like Collie, she worked for Gunnison. Perhaps she always had.

  I talked him into…I mean, I talked to Truce…

  After Madeline had finished her testimony, she’d rushed from the courtroom, avoiding my eyes. I hadn’t seen her again. But even now, struggling through the snow, I longed to confront her – to demand to know how she’d manipulated my father into turning his back on everything he believed in. Everything he’d made me believe in too. My need for answers was desperate.

  Yet what did it matter now? I’d never know why he’d thrown the fight that put Gunnison in power. Nothing was going to change.

  My toes throbbed in the too-small boots. A dull dread of whatever lay ahead was starting to fill me.

  I had a feeling that Gunnison hadn’t been “lenient” at all.

  As near as I could tell it took us over another hour. The sun started dipping in the sky. My feet first stung as if on fire and then went numb. At last a massive enclosure came into view, enclosed in barbed wire. Watchtowers sat just inside, with buildings beyond.

  John Gunnison was there.

  I gasped in disbelief. In the distance, a moving-picture screen rose up from within the enclosure. A black-and-white Gunnison strode across a stage. His shouting voice echoed faintly: “…because I care about my citizens! I care about Harmony! I’ll do whatever it takes, friends and neighbours…”

  Several dozen strange, bulbous shapes sat perched on the chain-link fence amongst the barbed wire. At first I didn’t really take them in – I was dazedly watching Gunnison.

  Then, when we got closer, I realized.

  I stopped short, my heart pounding. Beside me, Melody let out a whimper, her hand pressed against her mouth.

  Heads. Some looked recent; others were so weather-battered that the skin was a sickly grey. They’d belonged to both men and women. Their eyes were open, glazed. All were topped with snow, glittering with frost.

  Gunnison’s image still shouted, but I hardly heard it now. Everyone came to an uncertain, shivering stop, staring at the heads. A few people almost hadn’t made it this far – the older man had fallen more than once and stood breathing hard, supported by others.

  A pair of Guns on the inside swung open the gates. The metal Harmony symbol at its centre divided into two. One of the Guns who’d escorted us got off his snowmobile.

  “Welcome to Harmony Five,” he called in a clear voice. He grinned and pointed at the fence. “That’s what happens if you try to escape.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Guns herded us inside the gates. I huddled into my jacket, still staring at the heads. They’d all been people, once. Those eyes had seen things – those lips had laughed.

  The men in our group were taken in one direction, the women in another. There didn’t seem to be any couples, though a few people who’d talked together on the train looked over their shoulders as everyone was led away.

  The screen disappeared when we turned a bend. Gunnison’s voice boomed on. “…Harmony! The ruling force of all things! Without Lady Harmony’s balance, we’re sunk, folks…!”

  “Faster,” ordered one of the Guns, and our group somehow picked up its pace. The concrete buildings we passed looked defeated, in unending shades of grey. The sound of distant machinery battled against Gunnison’s speech.

  We reached a long building labelled Induction. I swallowed, wondering what this would involve. The Guns motioned with their pistols and we filed in.

  Gunnison’s voice faded. We were in a small room with a rough wooden floor. A sign on the wall read: OBEDIENCE IS HARMONY. Three female Guns stood, eyeing us with distaste.

  “Clothes off,” snapped one. “We have to disinfect everything you’re wearing.”

  Like the rest, I glanced furtively at the six male Guns who’d brought us here. As they pulled off the scarves around their faces I saw their smirks and a dull anger filled me.

  “Are you all deaf?” demanded the woman. She raised a pistol. “Clothes off, Discordant scum – now!”

  Slowly, everyone began to obey.

  I set my jaw. Then as I started to pull off my flight jacket, I suddenly remembered. Fear filled me. I touched the folded square of paper in my pocket. Would they search our clothes? They could take anything else, but I had to have this piece of paper.

  My
thoughts raced. As unobtrusively as I could, I gouged my fingernail through the pocket’s worn inner lining. I pushed the paper through the tiny hole.

  The female Guns watched narrowly as we undressed. They ignored the men, who were laughing and making comments:

  “Look, that one – how’d you like to get your hands on those?”

  “Touch a Discordant?”

  “Sure, that’s all they’re good for…as long as you disinfect yourself afterwards.”

  Raucous laughter. Beside me, Melody was silently crying. Her small body was thinner than mine, her breasts like tiny apples. She tried to cover herself as she took off her underwear, and staggered a little.

  Don’t let them see they’re getting to you, I wanted to whisper to her. I tightened my mouth and looked away. I was naked now, trying not to shiver.

  “All right, pick up your things and get moving,” said one of the female Guns. She pointed to a door. “Line up in order of your sun signs. Now!”

  I was an Aries. Once I’d had no idea where that fitted into the rest of the zodiac; now I knew it was the first sign. Reluctantly, clutching my bundle of clothes to my chest, I headed for the door with a few others. Whatever was going to happen, I wasn’t eager to be one of the first.

  They let us through into another room. This one had a small blaze going in a fireplace, though it clearly wasn’t for us: a clerk sat behind a desk.

  “Name?” he barked at the first woman.

  She told him in a murmur; he wrote it down and noted a number beside it. He took her things from her and marked them all with the same number.

  “You’ll get these back when they’re fit to wear again. And when you’re clean enough to wear them. Next!” He tossed her clothes to one side.

  A Gun motioned the woman through the next door. I hesitated as I moved forward. Melody’s boots were on top of my things. My own boots were back where she was – she’d told me she was an Aquarius, the next-to-last sign.

  “Put it all down,” ordered the clerk. He was younger than I’d have thought, with glasses and thick brown hair.

  I placed my clothes on the desk, angrily aware that he’d only wanted to deprive me of shielding myself. As I let go of my jacket I thought I could feel the small square of paper and prayed it would be safe.

  “Name?”

  “Amity Vancour,” I said.

  The man looked up with a sudden smirk. His gaze scanned my nakedness, lingering on my breasts. “Well, well,” he said. “Welcome to Harmony Five, Miss Vancour – or should I call you Wildcat?”

  I didn’t answer. He had a large ledger in front of him; beside my name he entered a number. He reached for Melody’s flimsy, fashionable boots and started to mark them.

  “Wait,” I blurted. He stopped, eyebrows up.

  “Those aren’t my boots,” I said.

  “Oh? Yet here they are with your things.”

  “I loaned my boots to someone further down the line. These are hers.”

  The clerk shrugged. “So you’ve traded.”

  “We didn’t! Just ask her. She—”

  One of the male Guns came over. “What’s the hold-up?”

  The clerk dangled Melody’s boots as though they were dead rats. “Our esteemed prisoner thinks she’s too good for these. She wants a different pair.”

  “That’s not—” I started, and then sucked in a breath as the Gun put his pistol to my temple. The metal’s chill seemed to burn against my skin.

  “Shall I pull the trigger?” whispered the Gun. His hazel eyes were disconcertingly attractive, with long lashes. “I don’t care if you live or die, you know.”

  “Don’t do it in here,” said the clerk. He’d marked the boots, and was now marking my other things, his pen scratching efficiently. “I don’t need the mess.”

  “Ask me nicely not to kill you,” said the Gun.

  My pulse was frantic. “Please,” I got out.

  He flicked the safety off and I flinched.

  He gave a harsh laugh. “You’re not worth the bullet, you scum. Some day you’ll wish you had been.”

  He yanked me up and shoved me into the next room. It had a long table in it; workers with ominous-looking instruments sat waiting. The woman who’d gone before me was in there already, grimacing at whatever was being done to her.

  “Sit down,” snapped a female worker. I was still shaky, trying not to show it. I sat gingerly, hating the feel of my bare buttocks against the rickety stool.

  “Hand out,” she said.

  I hesitated and put out my right hand. Mouth pursed, she swiped at my grimy palm with a damp cloth. She didn’t look at me as she started up a small drill-like machine and angled it at the base of my thumb.

  I winced as a needle darted hotly in and out of my skin. Blood bubbled up in a thin line – and then I saw the ink that was following in the needle’s wake.

  A tattoo.

  Coldness gripped me. The tattoo gun made a curving line, then went into a downward stroke. No, I thought, dazed. It can’t be. But it was. The pattern continued upward, forming a stylized pair of ram’s horns: the glyph for Aries.

  Collie’s Leo tattoo had been in this exact same spot.

  “Do all prisoners have one of these?” I said without thinking.

  The worker didn’t look up. She put some finishing touches on the tattoo and then set the machine down.

  “Next!” she barked.

  I clenched my hand and started to ask again – then glanced at the Gun who’d put his pistol to my head. My mouth dried. Slowly, I got up from the stool and went into the next room.

  It was unheated, with bare concete walls. Goose pimples scattered across my flesh. The woman who’d gone ahead of me stood in the corner hugging herself. A sign on the wall read: CLEANLINESS IS HARMONY.

  “Now you get to wait until the others are done,” said a female Gun with a smirk. “Aren’t you glad you’re an Aries? We know you fire signs love to wait.”

  I pressed against the cold wall and stared down at my red irritated palm – the curving symbol. I was marked for life, however long my life might be.

  Collie’s tattoo. I’d traced its swirl so many times, feeling the warmth of the firm skin beneath. Though I’d never have believed it, I now hated Collie almost as much as I still loved him. What did it mean that he’d had a tattoo in the same place?

  I closed my hand tightly, unable to process this.

  When Melody entered she came and stood beside me. I started to mention my boots and then saw the expression on her face. “Amity…” she whispered in a strangled voice. I swallowed as I saw the problem: a smudge of red on the inside of her thighs.

  Melody looked agonized. A male guard lounged near the doorway; she shot him a frightened glance. “I – I don’t have anything with me I can use.”

  None of us did, of course. “Wait,” I murmured back. “They’ll have to give you something to take care of it soon.” I hoped it was true.

  When the room was full of naked, shivering women, a group of Guns trooped in with buckets. We shrank backwards. Grinning, they glanced at each other and counted: “One…two…”

  On “three” they heaved the liquid contents. I yelped in shock at a slap of harsh-smelling disinfectant. It stung my eyes, drenched my skin.

  The sound of pained sobs mixed with the guards’ merriment. A fire hose lay coiled on the floor. A female Gun grabbed it, spun a dial, and a jet of icy water battered us.

  Screams. Gasping, I tried to scramble away – so was everyone else. The Gun sprayed it in wild arcs, laughing as the men whooped and shouted. “Yeah, make ’em dance. Let’s see ’em jiggle!”

  Finally she turned it off, leaving us soaked and shuddering.

  My chest heaved. I swiped at my eyes; they still burned from the chemicals.

  “All right, Discordant scum – march!” ordered another Gun.

  I wouldn’t have believed it even of Guns. They made us go outside, naked and wet in the snow, and walk to the next building. Only a hund
red feet, but the cold clenched my lungs. My skin felt shrivelled, too tight for my body. Spontaneously, we all broke into a run, desperate to get to warmth.

  The Guns cheered. I guessed the ones who might have felt sorry for us wouldn’t have lasted long.

  We reached the next building panting and shaking. In it were two female Guns and clothes of a clumsily-sewn rough material. Trousers, blouses, rough-carved wooden shoes.

  “Until your own filthy clothes are fit to wear,” said the older Gun with a sneer.

  We fell on the garments gratefully. My hands trembled as I yanked them on. Now that the show was apparently over the male Guns had drifted away, though the two women guarding us didn’t look any friendlier.

  I noticed that Melody had pulled on a shirt, but nothing else. Then I cringed when I saw why: the blood between her legs had been washed away by the hose but now it was back, worse than ever.

  “Please, I…I’ve started my period,” she stammered to the younger of the two Guns. “Do you have something I can use to—”

  The woman recoiled at the sight. “Ugh!” she spat. “You’ll get it all over the floor!”

  “Discordants,” muttered the older Gun. “Filthy animals.” She took a rag from a drawer, but didn’t hand it to Melody. “This isn’t free, you know,” she said snidely. “That’s not how things work around here.”

  We’d all gone still. Melody’s face was scorched a deep red. “I have some money with my clothes,” she whispered. “I can pay you when I get them back.”

  The older Gun laughed. “Are you serious? No, you don’t have any money. It’s all ours, to help pay for your keep here.”

  Melody looked desperate. She squeezed her legs together, but her flow had become heavier, tracing down her skin as if she’d been in a terrible accident. “Then… then you can have my slip, or—”

  “Payment now,” interrupted the Gun. Slowly, deliberately, she rested the rag to one side.

  I stood frozen with the others. The bright red blood twining down Melody’s pale thighs was mesmerizing. I felt a shameful relief that my own period wasn’t due to start for two more weeks.