Within the Walls

Chapter 7

"Good afternoon, citizens of the Floodgates. Both Concave and Convex, I order you to pay attention." Lord Sneya bellows, his voice an echoing roar. He stands right next to me, his eyes rendered on his citizens. I notice half a dozen Convex men stand below the stage, pointing cameras at Sneya. At that, I glance behind me to see two large screens projecting the image of Sneya and of me. No doubt the live footage will play across the River, too.

I know Aston will watch the spectacle from the screens dotted around the Trades. I imagine that his attention has long gone from his stall, his eyes trained on me instead. His cheeks will redden with anger. Then there's Isabelle. She will be wide-eyed, clutching a book to her chest as she watches her younger sister stand vulnerable before the city.

"I would like to introduce you all to Elizabeth Fallon of the Convex Sector. She is the girl who dared to disobey the law and swim in the tainted River. We do not yet know her motive; perhaps she wanted to spread the virus and risk all we have done to survive as we have. Whatever her motive, any contact with the River is a crime and so, we will punish her. Miss Fallon will serve as a reminder to anyone else who might dare to think that defying me is forgivable."

He pauses, allowing his words to resonate with the Floodgates. "In the hours that followed Miss Fallon's crime, my head scientist, Doctor Cedric Hatchman, discovered she has also got a gift, immunity." The word drips from his tongue like poison.

The crowd erupts into protests. A cacophony of angry shouts and profanities fills the amphitheatre. My jaw clenches and I focus on keeping my face impassive.

"She's a monster!"

"Banish her!"

"Her blood is the answer to a cure! We need her blood!"

"Silence!" Lord Sneya barks into the microphone. As the shouts dissipate, Lord Sneya continues. "Elizabeth Fallon is immune, a Red Leaf as we shall call her kind. But she is not superior to any of us. Even those who seem powerful and strong on the surface have a weakened foundation. And in the next meeting, you shall see that. Her existence is a crime."

At that, I hear the slap of boots behind me and feel enormous hands grab my arms; the fingers digging into my flesh. Eyes widening, I kick back, my heel connecting with the Tranq's shin. He grunts, but his grim remains firm.

Lord Sneya turns to the Tranqs, nods approval, and then his unforgivable green eyes meet mine. He smiles. "Break her."

They jerk me back. I wrestle against them, but they drag me towards the back of the stage and to the right where there is a doorway. The crowd cheers, rejoicing because a Convex girl with an immunity to the viral death sentence is going to be punished. We pass Ruben, who wears in a white suit, standing with his hands behind his back. His distant gaze meets my own and something flashes across his eyes. I try to hold his focus, hoping he will help me. Instead, he tears his eyes from me and clenches his jaw.

Lord Sneya's eyes never leave me, however. He regards me. His relentless grin remains on his face as someone shoves the door open wider. Just before they drag me down a set of stairs to disappear, I put up one last protest; I give Sneya my middle finger.

The cheers of the crowd continue long after the door has shut. My eyes blink, adjusting to the dull lighting, which comes from candles on shelves carved into the walls about five steps apart. The Tranqs continue their rough grip on my arms, directing me down the stairs. We arrive at the bottom of the stone and concrete steps and the Tranqs shove me through a door and into a small room. The room has no windows. I suspect we are underground and my stomach churns at the thought. They made the walls of stone and concrete. There is a wooden chair on the left wall and a fireplace in the corner on the right. Flames blaze, eating away the tinder. The room is only lit by the fireplace and several candles lining the walls.

I curse as the Tranqs force me into a rickety wooden chair. I try to fight back, but I am helpless as they pin my hands to the sides and strap my wrists down with leather straps.

"Fuck you," I spit, pulling at the straps, but of course, they do not give. Instead, the leather rubs into my skin.

"Doctor Hatchman will be here soon," one Tranq says, unbothered by my insult. The Tranq has creases by his eyes and greying hair, making him look around the same age my father was. It is strange how an environment and its circumstances can influence what a person becomes. The Tranq appears remorseless and obedient, a contrast from the man my father was.

The two Tranquillity Patrolmen then turn and march out of the room, closing the door, turning the lock. I am left alone and trapped. I let out a frustrated, guttural sound, hating myself for getting into such a situation. I watch the way the flames in the fireplace leap and twirl in a fiery dance, competing for the remaining kindle.

As promised, I hear footsteps echo off the walls. The door clicks open and Doctor Hatchman steps into the room. He pauses for a moment, taking in my appearance, before grinning and moving closer.

"Elizabeth, you looked stunning up there. Quite the spectacle for the citizens, you were." His blue eyes glisten in the orange light.

I stay silent, glaring.

"You are a Red Leaf," Hatchman says, amused. He turns away to a small bench, picking up what appears to be a long metal rod, with a symbol attached to the end. "A suitable name for such a person, with a...gift, as Lord Sneya called it."

He approaches me with the rod and presents it to me. The metal symbol attached to the end is in the shape of a leaf in a circle. "I think this symbol is quite fitting too. Our Lord has an eye for that kind of thing."

"What do you want from me, Hatchman?" I muster a voice and glare at him icily, my silent battle against the injustice.

The corner of his lip twitches, before growing into a grin. "You shall see."

Doctor Hatchman walks back to the fireplace and, to my utter horror, sticks the metal rod into the blazing flames.

"What the hell are you doing?" My voice laced with panic, and I fight against the restraints pinning my wrists in place. But they hold me down, shackling me in place.

Hatchman pulls the iron rod from the fire and the metal symbol glows red hot. My breathing speeds up. My heart hammers beneath my chest, screaming in place of my voice. Hatchman walks back over, stepping behind me. I know I am helpless to the cause and I try to focus on steadying my breathing as my hands curl into fists, nails breaking the skin on my palm.

"We must give you something that distinguishes your kind, a Red Leaf, from those who are not immune." Hatchman brushes my now messy braid over my shoulder, his fingers burning my skin.

Then, he presses the hot iron into my skin, and a searing pain consumes my entire being. I am on fire as the room fills with my scream.

They have branded me.