Chapter 33
"What's going on?" I whisper to Berkley, who's perched beside the rest of our crew, as I sit down beside him in the compound's largest auditorium. It's filled with our cohort, and dozens of others. New and old.
He shakes his head and motions for me to be quiet.
There are five people up front. Zander stands among them, and they look serious as they talk amongst themselves by a raised platform.
Zander checks his watch and motions for the group to take the stage.
All of them are dressed impeccably; in tweed suits, pencil skirts and blazers.
They must be the esteemed Council members.
No one in New Providence dresses like this anymore.
There's not a patch or stitch missing, not a hair out of place.
They all look rested, clean, and healthy.
The antithesis of everyone else across the country.
The woman in the center clears her throat. She's tall and slender, with golden skin and sleek black hair, she looks utterly perfect but I can't help but feel a coldness from her as she stands there, her spine locked unnervingly straight.
"Hello, New Providence officers, soldiers, and cadets.
I want to thank you all for taking the time out of your busy schedules to come to this meeting.
We thought addressing you as a group would be beneficial, so there isn't any confusion or lost information along the way.
" She clears her throat again, a nervous tic, maybe.
An older man to her left passes her a folder.
I wonder briefly why Zander isn't addressing us. He's supposed to be a head Council member, and he's led all things military over the last decade. An uneasy feeling wraps its way around my middle, seeing all the Council members together like this.
"We have some unfortunate news. Over the last week, we have seen significant civilian and military casualties.
Conflict has been reported in several areas throughout our portion of the continent.
We're not clear yet on the motive, but we have concluded these have been calculated attacks.
Unlike previous conflict along the Zaphira border, this was a strategic deployment.
They are consistently coming in through The Mouth, and our crews have been struggling to hold ground.
" She pauses, hurriedly flipping through the papers.
The Mouth is the small valley between the mountain ranges and tar pits.
A sliver of land where New Providence and Zaphira meet when otherwise divided by natural borders.
The long tar pits from the north are almost impossible to get through unscathed, and the mountain ranges to the south are just as treacherous.
The Mouth was the safe route that wasn't dangerous to travel, until humans made it so.
Most of our ongoing conflict is there. It's where most soldiers are posted for their first placement.
Unless a crew is ranked well, and then placed in a more elite section.
Officers are ranked higher than soldiers, and their duties are often more residential. They enforce the Council's laws within our population, aiding the churches, and enforcing law and legislation.
I'm struck, once again, by how haphazard the structures are here.
It's evident in the odd hierarchies and placements— like someone slapped together several systems and just hoped for the best. The fact that more people don't question it is a testament to the energy they've put into pacifying everyone.
The coercive control in the military and the reduced mental capacities of our citizens has obviously been effective.
People no longer bother questioning anything at all.
"We are also seeing activity near the barrier. Reports are classified, but there is some concern that the structure of the barrier itself is becoming more volatile," she states, wrinkling her nose in open disdain. As if the thought of something so disorderly would dirty her impeccable skirt.
Frustration bubbles up inside of me as I wait for her to give us more information. For instance, maybe what the fuck the barrier actually is? What does she mean by volatile? But she says nothing, in typical New Providence fashion, and assumes this tidbit of half-information is adequate.
The anger that I feel overflows inside me, until it's a storm I can't ignore.
I lean over to Leo. "Ask what the barrier is made of and what she means by more volatile," I whisper to him. He looks at me, confused, then shakes his head, I nod mine. I’d ask myself, but the last thing I want to do right now is draw more attention to myself from the Council.
We have a silent fight with one another until a gruff voice breaks it.
"Can we get a little more clarification on what you mean by the barrier being volatile? Do we have any more intel on what the barrier is?" Berkley's loud voice booms confidently across the room.
I hold my breath waiting for the response.
The woman's eyebrow twitches, just slightly, enough I catch it, even from here. She recovers flawlessly.
"We haven't been able to fully assess the barrier.
But the actual integrity of the wall seems to deteriorate and then revitalize itself.
Essentially, we are concerned it can act as a weapon of sorts.
It's unpredictable and its reach is unknown.
We've always been able to approach the barrier to a certain distance without harm, but as of late, those distances have varied, resulting in casualties.
" She runs a hand down her clothes, smoothing out invisible crinkles. She's lying, nervous, or both.
I frown.
Another hand flies up.
"Why are we still sending resources there if that's happening?
Why not just put all our resources into the issue with Zaphira, and leave the barrier alone?
Especially if we can't seem to get a grasp on what it is, or how to control it.
" I recognize the girl speaking from our cohort.
I'm surprised by her brazenness. She almost sounds… angry.
"That's classified, for now. Your superiors are aware of the situation, and we will let you know more when the time is right," Zander cuts in with a smarmy smile from beside the woman.
The councilwoman then goes on to say that we need to prepare ourselves for the worst. She suspects a long haul ahead.
Then she surprises me.
"We have seen significant agricultural growth in the last month.
We are pleased to announce that the Gods have finally taken notice of all our hard work and devotion, and for that, we have you to thank.
For protecting us and upholding our ideals, as we make our way back to greatness.
" She scans the crowd slowly, as if giving us each an ounce of her attention is enough thanks.
There's a roar of applause and whooping, everyone celebrating the prospect of new growth and new beginnings.
I glance down at my friends, who are all shifting nervously. I start clapping, hoping they'll follow. The last thing we need is to draw attention to ourselves. I feel eyes are on all of us now.
I see I'm correct, as I look back to the front and see Zander's attention on me.
He gives me a curt, pompous nod, which I return, while keeping my expression blank and my shoulders slack—hoping he can't see the anxiety flitting through my body.
If he thinks he's going to collect on our agreement already, he must be insane. I haven't even unpacked yet.
The speaker dismisses us with a monologue about avenging our fellow soldiers who have died for the mission, and about how close we are to reviving what once was.
She then leaves us by saying that we must keep our faith; we must continue to sacrifice, and be worthy so the Gods may continue to bless us.
My stomach curdles with how many devote nods I see in the crowd. All I can think is:
I can't wait to get out of here.
I am riddled with anxiety. The kind that makes me angry and tight, like I'll sink my teeth into anyone who dares to speak to me. It's the worst kind because all my energy goes into wrapping it up inside myself, tangling it in a web within my gut and locking it away.
We just had what Leo likes to call a family meeting, and I was outvoted— by everyone. Including Tarius, who is now up to speed. Knowing Berkley's full story, we gave him the option of coming with us, and he agreed without hesitation. There's nothing here for him anymore.
The vote was whether or not we should meet with Sibs again before we leave. I voted no; I already have to find and meet with Macklin and Briggs, convince them to act as guides for us.
The crew was adamant, and while I agree that we need as much information as we can get before we go, I'm unsure meeting with the eccentric woman is the best option. The last time I met with her was... catastrophic, Farra paying the price with the scars on her back, and despite knowing that it wasn’t Sibs' fault, I can’t help but feel dread at all the possibilities of things going wrong while I’m there.
Farra was the one who sealed the deal for me going.
She said she's still determined to find out what happened to her brother; she pulled the best friend card, and there was nothing else to be said.
We've gotten nowhere with the library. We've been unsuccessful in every other attempt to gain information.
I stalk through the city, feeling a bitterness I can't quite place. Maybe visiting Willow and Linden amplified this feeling. The pressure that had become a distant nag comes roaring back to the front of my mind. I just need to get us all out of here, before things get worse.