Adel Bedoud

The Search

Novel extract

Chapter Three

Val

Lost

†

A mist descended upon the land surrounding the Stadium. Val watched as it rode effortlessly on the wind, slowly shrouding some of the smaller buildings within its spectral grasp. Soon, only the very top of the Orbit Tower’s intertwining red loops were visible, still managing to poke out above the fog. Val could imagine the scene fitting perfectly in one of the fantasy novels she had asked Emily to get for her from the Stadium’s library. Recently, she had been tempted to ask Emily to fetch her another, hoping it would provide a welcomed distraction from her thoughts. However, she could already envision Emily’s disapproving stance, hands on her hips, accompanied by the remark, ‘Another one, really?’ It was true that over the past year, the stack of unread books she kept by her bedroll had only grown.

In the pre-dawn darkness, everything had been eerily silent. Val had crept out, careful not to wake Emily as she unzipped the tent in order to get some air. She hadn’t meant to go far, but as she delved deeper into her thoughts, she somehow found herself at the outer wall. The only people she saw were those from the Garrison Regiment, stationed high above her on the man-made walls that ringed the Conservator’s base. 

By the time the darkness gave way to dim daylight and the morning drizzle had transformed into a torrential downpour, Val had already lost track of the number of laps she had walked. As she followed the wall around the Stadium, the fractured concrete road transformed into a sinuous river, its waters cascading downward as if fleeing from the Stadium’s looming shadow. 

She splashed forward quicker now, trying to stay warm as she pulled her plastic rainproof poncho tighter. The figures on the walls were quickly lost, as was the mist in the distance, both dissipating in the downpour.

Emily is probably awake by now, she noted silently. 

Before Val could contemplate whether to turn back, dark blurs moved through the rain and into her path, causing her to stop dead in her tracks. The damp quickly started to seep into her socks, despite the thick-soled boots she wore. Doing her best to ignore it, Val watched, squinting to see through the droplets falling from the iron sky above.

It was a group of about half a dozen, their figures concealed beneath individual rainproof ponchos in the shades of brown and green—standard issue for the Conservators. They got to work quickly, with no delays in their actions, and before Val could fully grasp what they were doing, another, poncho-less figure was forcefully dragged out of the very tunnel the others had emerged from moments earlier. The hooded group pressed the figure against the base of the outer wall. If they cried out, Val could not hear it over the sound of thunder overhead. It was a man they had bound to the wall, undoubtedly now awaiting the Conservators’ justice, his body limp and lifeless. 

Slowly, Val dared to inch a few steps closer, hoping they would not notice her. Between the bruises and cuts, Val could not determine his age. He looked scrawny and starved, wearing nothing more than faded camos, which were now soaked.

What have they done to him?

His right ear appeared to be missing; a bloody mound remained in its place, and the rest of his exposed limbs weren’t fairing much better, also covered in scabs and scars. As the group muttered amongst themselves, he looked up for a moment, as if searching for something in the clouds.

As Val fixated on the man, she scarcely noticed the voice calling out her name until it was virtually in her ear. 

“Val?” Emily yelled out over the ceaseless staccato rainfall. The girl approached rapidly, not caring, and splashed straight through the puddle that Val was standing in. From beneath the hood of Emily’s own plastic poncho, a few strands of red hair peeked out to rest on her brow. 

A couple of the figures from the group next to the prisoner turned their hooded heads to look in their direction. 

Val sighed, her breath condensing in the frigid air.

“Hey, are you okay?” Emily asked, squeezing Val’s arm. 

“I’m fine,” Val replied, unable to tear her eyes away from the bloodied man again. 

“I doubt that. People who are fine don’t disappear into the rain before sun-up.”

“I just… needed some air. I couldn’t sleep anyway.” 

Being back at the Stadium should have meant she would be able to make up for all those sleepless nights in the city, and yet her mind would not let her. 

†

Even in the blank canvas of her dreams, Val felt the spray of debris hit her cheek as the gunshots landed too close for comfort. She tried to leap for a firmer piece of cover, the same way she had before during the endless training and skirmishes she had endured and somehow lived through. The same movements, the same feelings, the same endless struggle—yet this time, nothing happened. Her limbs refused to respond as they should. Instead, voices from a distant past began to call her name. 

“Val,” they cried, echoing throughout her dreamscape. 

As she struggled beneath the invisible weight of her memories, the echoes morphed into piercingly inhuman but also familiar screams. 

Please, they need me! I have to help them! Except, deep down, Val knew she could not help them. Not anymore. 

Once again, the memory played out in Val’s mind, as if stuck on a loop, unresponsive to her attempts to push it away. But a part of her knew that she did not want to push it away—that was all she had left of her friends. As she reached out in another futile attempt, Val felt herself begin to spiral deeper into the void, fading from her dreams and back to reality. 

When she awoke, a shallow whimper escaped her lips. It was always the same story, the same nightmare that would never relent its grasp on her. 

Is this all it will ever be?

†

Val felt her muscles relax as Emily finally relinquished her grasp on her arm. She waited for the tension to subside before allowing a hushed murmur to break free from her thoughts. 

“What do you think he did?”

“Does it matter?” Emily’s tone was bitter now; any concern seemed to have been drowned out by the growing flood around them. 

They both knew the Conservators would not tolerate any violations of their rules, and there were only two outcomes for anyone who dared. Time in the Hole or death. Considering the man’s situation, it was obvious what they had decided. 

“I guess not. ‘A violation of the rules remains just that—a violation.’” 

The Conservators had relentlessly drilled those rules into every recruit and made examples of the ones willing to test them. 

A dark look crossed Emily’s face. “Their rules, you mean?”

Before Val could reply, one of the members of the group stepped forward and approached the prisoner. Straining to hear the voices, she wanted to move closer, but a part of her resisted the urge, as if maintaining some pretence of distance somehow isolated her from their actions. 

“Jacob,” a man called out. 

He spoke louder than he needed to, and Val could not mistake the voice for anyone other than Torres, Captain of Delta Squad. She had known him when he was still a lieutenant—before the decimation of Echo Squad. No one who had been there that day could deny that his actions had saved her life, as well as the lives of those who also managed to make it out of the slaughter. He showed the lengths he was willing to go for the Conservators and their mission—something that Command had seen as a reason to promote him. 

That was almost a year ago now, and I can still hear them…

Though Torres was systematic to a fault, Val knew there were people worse than him. Men like Captain Zack and Smith were well-known for the extremes that they would go to. Based on the stories Val had heard, they seemed like the type of men who had no reservations about feeding prisoners to the dogs in order to save rations for their squads. 

How can I fault anyone for their willingness to survive? W—we all do what we must. You can’t change the past; you can only move forward.

That was the nature of their reality—doing whatever was necessary.

“Jacob,” Torres repeated. “You have been found guilty of desertion and, therefore, by extension, treason against the Conservators. You have been stripped of any rank and shall be executed for your actions. You abandoned your mission and the future of humanity.”

“‘Your mission,’” Emily spat. Venom laced her words, and for the first time, Val was glad the rain was there to drown her out. “A mission they forced on us. It’s not our mission; we don’t decide—”

“Emily,” Val hissed. She knew that if one person overheard, they would both be lined up beside Jacob. Over the past few months, however, whenever they were alone, Emily seemed to share more and more of her true feelings with Val. 

The redhead sniffed but seemingly agreed to hold her words.

For a brief moment, Jacob looked at Captain Torres. If he was speaking now, Val still couldn’t hear him from where she and Emily were standing. 

Is Jacob a part of Delta Squad?

It was usually left to squad captains to enforce the rules and discipline their soldiers; usually, they would not overstep and act against another squad’s units unless authorised or forced to, depending on the circumstances. 

Torres continued. “Your guilt has been decided by myself and the lieutenants present. The time is six thirty-six A.M, on the twenty-sixth of September. Corporal Harris, you may proceed.” 

Val held her breath; even though his hands were bound, she still expected Jacob to shout, curse them, or do whatever he could to lash out and rage against the fate they had decided for him. Instead, he simply let his bony neck sag down in defeat.

A short man stepped forward, unslinging a bolt-action rifle from over his shoulder. He drew his hood back, revealing his short black hair. Moving with practiced precision, he took a knee in front of the captive. He then raised the butt of the rifle against his shoulder, and Val instinctively counted to three. A single shot pierced the air. The world seemed to stand still. No one spoke, no one moved, and no birds took flight—it was as if nothing had changed. Jacob had died bravely; he didn’t flinch or look away. He simply stared at the people he had once called comrades as they took his life. And it was over as quickly as it had started. Two of the men from the group got to work untying Jacob’s body and hauled it past Val and Emily to dump it somewhere outside of the walls. Val could feel Emily bristle beside her as they dragged the corpse past them. A crimson trail followed their footsteps, floating on the waterlogged ground.

“Surprised he gave in so easily,” one of the men dragging Jacob’s body said. 

“Yeah, it was like he was already dead,” the other replied. “Remember when we found him? Fucker was an animal, raving about things in the storm. Bastard nearly scratched Cathy’s eyes out. Guess Asher’s beating did actually discipline the traitor.” 

Discipline…

Val winced as she replayed the word through her mind while the remainder of the group began to disperse back to their other duties. Out of habit, she couldn’t help but rub the top of her arm, reminding her of the ‘discipline’ she had endured as a child. 

†

“Ouch,” Valerie hissed. 

Recoiling her arm back in pain, she clutched at the fresh bruise slowly appearing on her skin—her reward for talking out of line with the man. He had meant to hit her where the bruises wouldn’t show, usually on the back of her shoulders, but Valerie had flinched at the last second, causing the belt buckle to land on her arm instead, which now betrayed a visible mark. 

“Well done,” he remarked. The greying man’s eyes regarded her coolly for a moment. “You’ll be wearing long sleeves from now on, just like you wanted.”

Valerie had only wanted to wear long sleeves to try and remind herself that she was her own person, not his plaything to be dressed and used as he pleased. Not that it had earned her any favours. He never did or said any of these things in front of anyone else in the community. He barely paid her any attention outside of the nights she was forced to spend with him in the library. But somehow, she knew he was watching. She could sense his dark eyes following each and every one of her movements. 

“I didn’t realise a girl like you, Valerie, would need to be disciplined. I thought you were smarter, willing to do ‘anything’ for your brother?” Leader John whispered into her ear.

†

Soon, they were alone, with only the blood in the water as a stark reminder that what they had just seen had actually happened. 

Val turned to face Emily, and despite the hood obscuring most of her features, she was still able to discern the faintest hint of a scowl taking shape underneath. It wasn’t surprising; Emily’s disgust with the Conservators had been growing ever since the day her parents had died, and every excursion that they were forced out only served to intensify her anger further.

“Let’s get food before the line gets too long,” Emily mumbled. 

“Not hungry,” Val replied.

“And you think I am?” Emily cursed beneath her breath. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so… I just mean we should eat. Even if we don’t feel like it.”

Breakfast usually consisted of the same meal each day: porridge with a side of hard biscuits or dry oatcakes and a cup of weak tea with no sugar or milk. In times past, if they were extremely lucky, they might even get a slice of fruit or vegetables. 

She’s right; I should at least try to eat something.

Though each time Val pictured herself sitting down to eat, all she could see were specks of blood floating in her bowl of watery porridge. Her stomach turned at the images burrowing their way through her mind. They flicked from bloody porridge to Jacob, his corpse being dragged along the ground, leaving bloody smears in his wake. The leering faces of the figures who dragged him suddenly twisted into friends and squad mates long dead.

First was Jill, with her hay-coloured hair and cool smile—the smile that now belonged to a rotten corpse abandoned somewhere amidst the ruins of the city. Then it was Jordan, still wearing his baseball cap, even as chunks of flesh slowly dribbled down the side of his face from a gaping wound. Oliver winked at her, just as he had in the moments before that blue-eyed boy had leapt from the shadows to pierce his side with a shoddy wooden spear. There were more—too many for Val to focus on. Even those she had not seen die, yet she was sure were dead all the same.

Gayle. Luna. Stella. Sarah. Fio, I thought… that I could endure it for you. Val shook her head, determined to banish the lingering apparitions once and for all. “Val? Come on. Let’s go,” Emily pleaded. “At least let us get out of this rain.”