The Ravaged World (Book 2 of the Exiles Series)

Two: Talia

A name was called on the loudspeaker, echoing so that it was almost impossible to understand it. The over enthusiastic female voice cut through the ruckus as if it were a knife and we were all squares of butter. The person who the name belonged to (Lilia Alexander) stood up slowly from her seat on one of the farthest benches from the great metal door and started forward, looking weary. I knew that my sister Nicole and I would be leaving soon, too. Our last name, Brathol, couldn't be horribly far down the list from Alexander. But I wasn't scared; I was cold and wet from the drizzle outside and I was a bit sore from recent events but I wasn't frightened. This was our new life now. The island was the past. I had to drill that fact into me, because it was the truth.

We sat side by side, packed like sardines, in a room that reminded me of a school cafeteria. A fishy smell hung in the air, a mixture of damp clothes, body odor and stale food. We were planted on hard metal benches, the room clearly cut in half between boys and girls. People in white uniforms, the standard government garb of this city, patrolled the aisle, eyeing us all like there might be something wrong with us. Which wouldn't be entirely false. I mean, we had been sent to the island as punishment, supposedly as criminals, and had our memories wiped. So some of us were pretty messed up. But the ironic part is we couldn't remember what we had done to be sent there, so the island was kind of pointless because we couldn't be punished for something we couldn't recall.

Nicole gave me a sheepish smile. She was sitting across from me on the benches, squished between a Hispanic girl with a nose ring and a small, pale girl with pigtails. "You excited?" she asked, looking like she was certain of the answer. Her foot bounced off the dingy cement floors like the soles of her handmade island booties were made of rubber.

I shrugged and turned away distantly. "Eh, more or less," I mumbled.

"Oh no," her voice rose in volume suddenly, echoing off the stone walls, "oh no! Don't tell me, don't tell me you're thinking about...him."

I turned back towards her, eyebrows narrowed. "What is your problem?" I snapped, anger rising from nowhere.

"What?" I was suddenly reminded of a past experience, one I wasn't particularly proud of. Nicole and I had a fight once on the island, about...mainly our differing opinions on him. It wasn't anything too rough...just a little scuffle outside of her cliffside house.

"Your hatred," I muttered. "I know you're trying to be protective, but this is a new place, a whole new world. And he's gone now, so stop being such a jerk about it." The people on either side of us scooted over, afraid of being caught in the conflict.

Nic's eyes narrowed but she didn't flinch or move. "Fine, I guess you're right," she uttered.

At that very second, her name was called on the loudspeaker. Nicole stood up and dusted herself on, then started for the metal double doors at the front of the room. Where they led, I didn't know, but I would soon find out.

...

About five minutes later I was winding alone through a maze of dimly lit corridors, headed for the unknown. My footfalls echoed on the gray floor and I soon found myself in a locker room of sorts. On one side of the room were rows of showers, some occupied and others wide open. On the other side of the room were benches, vacant at the time, and a rack of snow white towels. Conversation bounced off the cavernous walls.

I quickly shuffled over to an empty shower and leaned up against the nearby wall. I removed my crude leather boots from the island off my feet and set them gently on the ground. Then, suddenly feeling modest, I hurried for the towel rack to grab a towel, hugged it to my chest and ducked into the safety of the shower. The dull silicone curtain brushed behind me as I undressed and turned on the water.

The water was frigid and pounded hard against me as I cleaned myself off as best I could from top to bottom. I pumped as much shampoo as I could into my palm from a nearby dispenser on the wall and lathered it all over my head. I shivered as cascades of bubbles floated from my scalp to the grimy tile, and disappeared down the drain.

I tried to go as quick as I could, while still getting clean, of course, as gooseflesh rose on my arms and legs. Soon I was done and practically leaped out of the shower into my towel. Not surprisingly, Nic was standing outside my shower wrapped in a towel, waiting for me.

"Stalker," I teased, carefully making my way towards her. I never remembered a floor being so slick before. Many island girls were flooding in, so many that most of them had to wait on the benches for a shower. Nicole shrugged and turned right, where her shower must have been, and gathered her clothes up in a heap. I did the same and she beckoned me towards her.

"Where do we go now?" I asked, following Nic.

"Dunno," she admitted. "I figure we should get dressed and head back the way we came. It's just my guess." I couldn't come up with another answer, so I just followed my sister to a dry, private corner where we could dry off undisturbed. Then we put our clothes back on and started, boots squeaking on the damp floor, towards the doors.

But we were turned back by a woman in a white shirt, saying that we needed to go to our dorms, they were behind the big door in the shower room. So Nic and I thanked the woman and headed back into the humid room, locating the door fairly quickly.

The dorm was already full of girls by the time we arrived. It was a small, plain room, with one small window at the end of the room crisscrossed with metal bars. There were about five bunk beds lined up on each side of the room, most already claimed with sweatshirts or solemn girls in dirty clothes. A small door was ajar on each side of the room, one the exit and the other an overly bright bathroom. The mirror was streaked with water and profanities spelled out in soap.

Nicole spotted an open bunkbed at the end of the hall. "C'mon." She grabbed my hand and pulled me with her to the unoccupied bed. Other girls stared at us with cold eyes, protecting their space.

"I call top." Nicole leaped up the ladder and pounced on top of her bunk, making the rusted metal screech in protest. I climbed into my bottom bed, relishing the comfort that I hadn't experienced for a whole year. I shut my eyes, drifting off. But not five minutes later I was awoken by a loud female voice.

I sat up quickly, hitting my head hard on the low bed frame above. My vision swam and I gritted my teeth, remembering suddenly about another island injury, a bump to the head.

A tall government personnel stood in the center of the room, holding a huge stack of white. Everyone swarmed around the woman, reaching ravenously for the pile. "One at a time!" the worker fruitlessly called.

I dashed from my bed for the woman, trying to see what it was that everyone was reaching for. I sighed once I found out what the items were: clothes. But they were clean clothes, something all of us desperately wanted and needed.

I was one of the last to the center of the group. I grabbed my share of clothes and hurriedly changed near the bed. The fabric was extremely soft and the clothes fit me perfectly. They were white and plain, but had a flowery scent that made me feel clean. Some of the other girls were handing the woman their dirty stuff, so that's what I did as well.

"You'll be called down shortly for a physical," the woman informed us, waddling with her heaping pile of clothes for the door, "by alphabetical order. Just...be ready." The woman left us to our own devices.