“Don’t be such a baby!” Nazirah laughs, walking over to the closest wooden swing. “We haven’t done this in years!”
When Nazirah and Cato were younger, they always used to ride their bicycles on the rundown boardwalk in Rafu. They would peddle hard, racing to the swings at the end of the beach. Nazirah always won, much to Cato’s chagrin. On the sand dunes, they would swing for hours, daring each other to go higher and higher, until someone eventually either chickened out or accidentally launched off. Nazirah can’t recall why they stopped doing that.
Nazirah hops up onto one swing, standing on the flat wooden board. It creaks slightly and Nazirah gently tests the rusty metal chains, making sure they will hold her weight. She starts swinging, feeling light, suddenly in a great mood for no good reason at all.
“And I’m the baby?” Cato asks dryly.
Her laughter rings out like a dozen tinkling bells, completely infectious. Without another moment’s hesitation, Cato stands on the swing to her left, beaming. They swing for a few minutes, not competitively like they used to as children, but just enjoying each other’s company. Nazirah’s hair whips everywhere, wild copper highlights ablaze in the setting sun. “Would be nice to have an ocean to look at right now, instead of just concrete,” she says, breathless. Cato doesn’t respond. Nazirah looks at him questioningly. He is staring past her right shoulder, visibly upset. He isn’t laughing anymore. “What’s wrong?”
Nazirah turns her head and she has her answer.
Adamek stands not ten feet away, leaning lazily against the chain-link fence. His book is closed. The fading sunlight highlights his cheekbones and glitters in his emerald eyes, making him look not entirely human. He clearly moved from the picnic tables awhile back in order to catch the last rays of reading light, and has been watching them the entire time. Watching her the entire time.
Nazirah is shocked that she didn’t notice him, when he has been so close. And she is angry, because he has seen her vulnerable. Quick as a flash, Cato is off the swing and standing menacingly in front of Adamek. Cato is a head shorter, but he is fearless, hands balled into fists. Adamek’s stance is passive, his entire body relaxed. He watches Nazirah clumsily get down and stumble over to them.
“Look at me, you sick fuck!” Cato shouts.
Adamek does, eyes narrowing dangerously. Cato is too close to him. Nazirah has known Cato her entire life and is well acquainted with his hot temper. Nazirah looks around for help, but no one else is outside anymore. “Cato, stop!” she cries.
“Stay the fuck away from her!”
Adamek’s raises an eyebrow. “Or what?” he asks. “What are you going to do about it?”
Cato grabs the front of Adamek’s shirt, but Adamek doesn’t flinch. “Just because you have amnesty doesn’t mean I won’t beat the shit out of you!”
“Cato!” Nazirah grabs his arm. Her voice triggers something. Cato slowly releases Adamek’s shirt and steps away. Nazirah looks between Cato, who is panting heavily and flushed red, and Adamek, who has not moved a muscle.
In Niko’s office she called him a murderer.
He told her not to forget it.
And Nazirah gets it now, really gets it.
It’s terrifying.
“Watch your back, Morgen,” Cato threatens, cracking his knuckles.
Nazirah reaches for his hand. Cato looks at her then, looks at their joint hands. Nazirah can see his anger diminishing, if only slightly. She takes the opportunity and pulls him away, dragging him towards the main building. Halfway there, Cato strides ahead of her, slamming angrily through the doors. Nazirah follows him inside, taking one final look back at Adamek. He’s still in the same position against the fence, has not moved at all. But it’s his expression that completely unsettles Nazirah. Adamek stares almost longingly at the swings, still swaying back and forth in the breeze.
Nazirah doesn’t dwell on that as she walks through the door. Moving quickly, she catches up to Cato by the mess hall entrance. He waits for her there, arms crossed.
“What was that?” she asks.
“What was that?” Cato snaps. “You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not kidding!” Nazirah says hotly. “You completely provoked him! He was just standing there!”
Cato looks at her in disbelief. “Are you seriously that naïve?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“I’m sorry. But he wasn’t just standing there, Irri. He was watching you … only you. Just steer clear of him, okay? I feel like he’s singling you out.”
Nazirah hates the way he babies her, speaks in delicacies, keeps her from the whole truth. “It’s not like we exactly hang.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Fine,” she says, hoping to drop the subject. She tries to reassure him with, “Don’t worry about me, Cato. I can handle myself.”
Cato sighs as they walk through the mess hall doors. Nazirah knows he isn’t convinced. She doesn’t blame him.
She isn’t convinced either.
Chapter Six
Nazirah falls to the floor hard, air crushed from her lungs. She cannot breathe, cannot move. Someone hovers over her threateningly. Her arms are scratched and bruised. Blood drips into her right eye from a cut above her eyebrow, blurring her vision. One side of her face swells. From the corner of her unaffected eye, Nazirah sees Cato move to help her. Lumi puts a firm hand to his chest, stopping him. Grimacing in pain, face strained, Nazirah slowly rises to her feet.
Combat training.
It started two weeks ago and has been torture ever since. On the first day, a rainy Monday afternoon, the recruits shuffled lethargically into the old gymnasium with their fighting instructor, Grum. Grum is an exceptionally cranky, middle-aged intermix. He takes every chance he possibly can to beat his students down, both physically and emotionally. Not much is known about him except that he was a rum-runner in his adolescence. Caught by Medi soldiers, he was brutally maimed for it. They left him alive, horribly scarred, as a warning to other bootleggers. His scars mar an already vile face, most notably with a thick keloid that runs from lip to eyebrow.
When Grum told the class they were to start learning actual fighting techniques, the recruits didn’t take him seriously. They laughed and joked and practiced mock karate moves on one another. Nazirah got into plenty of fights in Rafu, but always with bullies who tried to mess with her. She never started fights, and the thought of battling her fellow recruits was disturbing. Nazirah hoped they would practice on dummies, like when they learned to throw knives or shoot guns – or maybe just watch Grum perform a move and follow his directions.
But that was not the case.
Grum made them form a semicircle, selected two recruits at random, and forced them to battle each other. Only when they both were bruised, bloody, and crying had Grum said it was enough. If the recruits viewed rebel training through rose-colored glasses before, well, the glasses are definitely off now. They are being groomed to win. And in order to win, they have to fight and kill.
For the last two weeks, Nazirah has been losing touch with reality.
Nazirah slowly faces her opponent, an Oseni named Anzares. Nazirah has never spoken to her before today, but she knows from watching Anzares fight in class that she is vicious.
Anzares doesn’t give Nazirah even a moment to prepare. She kicks her full in the stomach, sending her sprawling onto the floor again.
“Enough of this!”
Cato yells at Grum from somewhere to Nazirah’s left. Cato has defended Nazirah each time she has to fight, but Grum never lets her off that easily. Nazirah holds her hands over her stomach protectively, the blood rushing to her ears. Anzares stands over her, looking up at Grum, seeking his approval to end the fight. But Grum shakes his head.
“Either she learns to fight now,” Grum says to the class, pounding his clipboard, “or she dies on the battlefield. The same goes for each and every one of you! Is that what you want?”