The Ivory Tower (2 page)

“I don’t know. They
just warned me to stay away from the tower, and from you,” she mumbled. “They
said I needed to start following the rules, for my own good. I didn’t tell them
much, just the obvious. I had to explain the paint, and why we were in the
woods instead of class. And of course I wanted to know if they knew anything
about the tower.”

Simone held her breath
expectantly.

“At first they didn’t
say much, just that I couldn’t see you anymore,” she chuckled.

“Ah, there’s nothing
new there. They’ve told you that from the beginning. It wouldn’t do for a 35 to
be seen with a 277.” She hid the sting with a joking tone. “One of these days
they’ll realize I’m more than just a high number.”

“It’s not about our
numbers,” Christine said, hiding the cuff of her sleeve under her palm. “It has
nothing to do with that. It is about the rules. They’re tired of seeing me
break them.”

“We’ve been breaking
them our whole lives. I don’t know what’s different now.”

“We’re getting older, Simone.
It’s no longer just skipping out of last class or taking someone else’s
rations. We’re almost old enough for the factory, and that means we need to
follow the rules. They are here for a reason.”

“What sort of reason? To
numb our lives into a routine of nothing?”

“Shhh, lower your
voice,” Christine said, pushing her off the fence. “You can’t talk like that. The
rules are here to protect us. It might be a life of routine and rules, but it
is still a life. We’re the lucky ones, you should remember that. You know our
history just as well as I do. Your mom may have fed you bedtime stories of adventure,
but mine filled me with the truth. How everything collapsed, the crops failing,
the violence, the anarchy. Once the disasters began, life unraveled. People
lost more than just their homes and food. They lost their humanity. Camp life
may not be the best, but we are still alive, and those guards are protecting us
from the evil and contamination beyond the walls.”

Simone climbed back
onto the fence. They sat, watching the people wait for the third bell.

“None of that really
matters anyway. In a couple weeks we’ll be too busy with the factory to worry
about boredom and rules.”

“Has your mom told you
anything about the factory yet?”

Christine shook her
head, and frowned. “No, it’s like she pretends that part of the day doesn’t
exist. She never mentions it, and I don’t bring it up. I’m sure it’s just
tedious. I mean, how much is there to talk about with sewing? A stitch here, a
stitch there. I’m sure they’ve all run out of things to talk about anymore.”

“Well, we’ll liven up that
group then when we start. But before we do that,” she said, with the side of
her mouth turning up mischievously, “what do you say we skip out and take
advantage of the sunshine? Do you think we can find it again, the tower?”

“Let it go, Simone.” Her
voice hardened. “We can’t go back there.”

“What aren’t you
telling me? There’s obviously more to the story. What did your parents tell
you?” Her stomach knotted.

Leaning forward,
Christine looked around before dropping her voice to a whisper. “Ok. My mom
told me a little more once she calmed down. All she would say was that the
tower brought death and disaster for all who went there. It’s bad stuff,
Simone. Everyone that’s gone near it has come back contaminated, scarred, or
dead.”

They locked eyes, and a
new shiver ran through her.

“Even your mother,”
Christine’s voice quivered. “About twelve years ago, there was a shortage to
the rations, and work was getting tough. A group went out, searching for extra
food, animals to hunt- anything to lessen the burden in camp. Instead, they
found the tower. There were a lucky few that the guards found in time, but even
they didn’t escape unscathed. Something horrible happened to all of them. Some
died, some came back scarred, but everyone came back a different person.”

“Whoa, why I haven’t I
heard about this?”

Christine looked at her.
“You were only three. It’s not the sort of thing someone would tell you. And
even now, no one wants to talk about it. A lot don’t even remember it, or just
pretend it didn’t happen.”

“How do you even know
that it’s true, then?”

Christine raised her
eyebrows, and gave her a knowing look. “Have you ever looked closely at Mr.
Booker, or James, the oldest farm boy? Look at their hands next time we line up.
They are all marked, melted from contaminates. They were on that expedition,
and even though they came back, they came back changed. Something out there is
bad, something associated with that tower, and the outside. Everyone that
survived refuses to leave the center of camp. It just goes to show what we have
been told. The world out there is still bad, and the camp is here to protect us
from it.”

Simone packed the rest
of her rations into the steel container at her hip. “I know you’re right. You
always are. It’s just that when I saw the tower, something inside me changed. When
I saw it, I don’t know,” she sighed. “It just made me feel.”

“Made you feel what?”

Simone gave her a sad
smile and shrugged. “It just made me feel.”

Both jerked at the
sound of the third bell.

Simone hazarded a wink.
“What should we do today then?”

“I’m sorry, I have to
go to class today,” Christine said regretfully, jumping off the post. “I’ll see
you tomorrow.”

Simone watched her go,
feeling the emptiness resonate as the third bell went silent.

***

Plagued by nightmares
and visions of the tower, morning did not come fast enough. Simone stared at
the window, watching the slow transition of the stars fading to gray before the
morning sun rose. As soon as the light breached the window, she ran out the
door, leaving the other kids still sleeping in their beds.

Wrapping her arms
inside the sleeves of her shirt, she walked toward the center of camp, feeling
her teeth chatter. Looking to the sky, she realized winter would be starting
soon.

The walk to center camp
took a few minutes. On the opposite side, the orphanage backed up against the
small forest. The quiet of the morning cleared her mind, allowing her to focus.
Only the soft scuffling of dirt and rustling of their flag grabbed her
attention.

Flickering in the wind,
their frayed flag marked the center of camp. Outside the meeting hall, a line
of rusted farm equipment rested against the wall. On one side, boxes waited to
be unloaded. In the other direction, barbs and trained gunmen guarded the main
gates.

Her goosebumps rose as
she walked by a guard, becoming uncomfortable under his appraising gaze. He
turned his eyes back to his paperwork. Pulling her hair back into a ponytail,
she tucked in her chin and kept her eyes down.

She sat on the steps and
waited for the line to fill in. Haunting her dreams, and now her waking
moments, Christine’s words floated through her mind. Her head pounded and her
vision blurred as exhaustion rolled over her.

Before long, people
filtered in. The lower numbers lined up first. Then came Christine and her
family, the other kids, and finally, the couple she had been waiting for.
Hidden under a wide-brimmed hat, Mr. Booker took his place next to his wife.
She had never paid them much attention. Except for the stern looks of
disapproval, and disdain, Simone did not interact with the adults from camp.

Their bodies blurred
under her tired eyes, but not enough to hide the truth behind Christine’s
words. Through her strained eyes, she saw his right hand, tortured skin peeking
out from beneath his marked cuff. Splotches in a variety of shades twisted
together, as if the skin itself rejected the idea of healing.

Her heart raced. If
Christine was right about this, what else was true? What did that mean about
her mother? Ideas jumbled together, melting into the fog of her mind. The line
tightened under the ringing bells, and the daily routine began.

Dragging her feet, she
stumbled forward until her eyes settled on the polished black boots and pressed
trousers. Unable to stop the progression, her eyes continued up to the
Colonel’s face. Her breath caught in her chest as their eyes connected. Under
the structured cap, a hint of madness gleamed from his dark eyes. A shiver ran
down her spine as his eyes lowered from her face to her sleeve. With a curt
nod, his gloved hands struck off her number from the list. Simone bit her lower
lip as the guard waved her forward, empty-handed. Her stomach protested the
rejection.

Her stomach turned at
more than the hunger, as the questions from the morning continued to run
through her mind. The teacher ushered the other hungry kids out of the street
and into the classroom, quieting the streets, but not their hunger. Simone
sighed. Did everyone really think keeping things out of sight would keep them
out of mind?

Over at the wooden
fence, Christine sat peeking inside her rations.

Simone managed a slight
smile as she sat next to her. “So, did you get any extra treats in your pack
today?” she asked, peeking over Christine’s shoulder.

Christine’s shoulders
relaxed and she smiled. “Do you ever take anything seriously?” She pulled out
an extra sugar cube.

“Not if I can help it.”

“Nothing today?” she
questioned, looking at Simone’s empty hands.

Simone smiled. “It’s
the nature of the number,” she said, grabbing another cube from the bag. “You
get the good food, and I get the trouble.”

Simone watched as
Christine hid behind a section of hair. “It’s almost gone, you know. Maybe we
should go back,” she joked.

Christine’s eyes widened.
“That’s not funny. I thought we talked about that yesterday.”

“We did. I was just
joking,” she lied, rummaging back through the bag. “It is one of our last days,
though. We won’t get this chance for freedom once we join the factory, even I
can’t get us out of there. We’re not really supposed to have it now, so we should
do something. Unless you want to go back to school today.” She popped another cube
in her mouth.

As the lingering tone
of the third bell fell silent, Simone cast a sideways glance toward Christine. “I
think it would be irresponsible if we didn’t take advantage before the factory
work begins. Are you up for another game?”

Christine looked
around, watching as the farm boys grabbed their shovels and plows. The line of
brown sweaters lined up outside the factory. “Ok, but this time, I’m going to
find you.”

Simone tugged on her
tangled ponytail and jumped down. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

***

Even though Christine
agreed to play, she moved with hesitation. At her insistence, they had started
the game nearer to camp. As soon as they entered the forest behind the orphanage,
her eyes refused to settle.

“You better start
counting,” Simone said, watching Christine relax.

Christine tossed her
ball of blue paint from hand to hand, taunting as much as joking. “You’d better
start hiding. It took me days to get the yellow out of my sweater. We’ll see
how long it takes you to get out the blue.”

“That’s if you can find
me,” Simone yelled back, already blending into the greens of the forest.

“One, two, three…”
Simone ran into the woods, feeling the cold air attack her face. The biting
chill stretched her cheeks, chapping her lips at their touch. She didn’t dare
glance back or slow down, knowing that the moment Christine stopped counting,
her own time slipped away. Her carefully-placed feet were silent in the
underbrush. She balanced on the fallen logs as much as possible, to lessen the
disturbance and leave fewer footprints.

At the moment the
countdown began, Simone dropped all pretenses of the game. She was going to the
tower. While part of her understood Christine’s reluctance and the fear of
contamination, another part felt compelled to see it again.

The air quieted. She
heard only the crunching of leaves and branches, and the occasional fluttering
of wings as the forest deepened around her. She passed the rock quarry, the
fallen hemlock, the high wall of brambles, and finally, the small river. She
splashed through the cold water, skipping along faster and faster, in rhythm
with her heart.

And then suddenly, she saw
it. A layer of grime had settled over the years, shading the outer edges of the
brick. Silent steps brought her to the edge of the clearing. The corroded barbs
teased her, looking harmless. She grasped the cool metal.

The wind rustled
through the branches. Bright red leaves drifted down, settling down around her,
and at the base of the tower. The visions that haunted her dreams for the past
week transformed into reality before her eyes. That same feeling of fear and
curiosity burned through her, her chest aching. She itched to touch the bricks.

As she waited, the forest
became alive behind her. Her time had almost disappeared. Without a thought, or
second breath, she gripped tighter along the barbs and threw her legs over,
cursing as the teeth tore into her right shin.

She slid underneath the
hanging sign and into darkness. Muffled calls rang out behind her. She imagined
her friend outside, and the betrayal sunk in. Had she pushed it too far this
time?

Simone focused on the
world around her. The containment of the walls quieted the air. The silence was
deafening. Through the dim light, she saw signs inside the door, written in the
same charcoal ink as the outer threshold marker. Strange symbols she had never
seen before. The world surrounded by stars, letters forming acronyms, and words
unfamiliar to her.

The light filtered in
sporadically from the worn bricks, highlighting small areas, while the rest
settled into gray haze. The air felt heavy. The chill settled onto her skin
like a damp rag. Her leather shoes were quiet on the floor, leaving a small wet
imprint on the smooth surface. The spiral steps rose steeper and narrower than
she anticipated. She climbed higher, fighting the trepidation in her heart growing
with each step.