It was nearly time.
They were in the final preparations and the countdown had begun.
Everyone said this was a suicide mission; they were either going to come out heroes, having done the impossible, or they wouldn’t be seen again. Weathered troops had gone before and few had returned; those that had come back were shadows of the people that had left—apparently two of them still hadn’t said a word—and now the next platoon was heading towards the abattoir. With so few people left in the city eligible to recruit, it was no secret that everyone thought this would be their last chance to win this.
She watched them go into the main part of Necropolis, the giant warehouse that stood proudly above the mismatched buildings of the City of Suthchester; a landscape that had been irreversibly changed by The Breakdown. The warehouse was the hub of the army base of The Southern Company. It was really called The August Centre but nobody saw it as noble anymore; Necropolis seemed far more fitting and now there were very few who didn’t refer to the entire base as such. She had always wanted to know what was inside but civilians were forbidden unless employed directly, and even then, they were sworn to secrecy. The troops were rarely allowed to fraternise outside of the base, so there was no one to ask. It was a constant tease. She lived below the city and the entrance to her home was tucked into the city walls, just far enough up the hill that it required her to walk past the gates that gave her a view straight in. Every day she watched the soldiers walk in, coming up from the barracks at the bottom of the hill on the other side, each day looking a little more beaten. Most of the cadets left were only a little older than her, completing their initial training. She sighed and stood up from her perch on a bollard, knowing she couldn’t put off going home any longer—there was no way she’d get away with being late for supper again.
She skulked back towards home and the ornate metal gate built into the crumbling brickwork; behind it was a thin, winding staircase that you’d miss if you didn’t know it was there. She scurried down the stairs as quickly as her legs would allow, pausing at the front entrance to undo the catch as gently as possible and pushing delicately. She opened the door just enough to slip through, any further and she knew it would creak—she’d made that mistake too many times. She slipped along the hall and tried to dash across the kitchen doorway; thinking she had made it.
“Terrwyn. You’re late. Don’t you dare pretend that you weren’t outside of the gates! It is not proper for a young lady to be out on her own during the evening.” Oh great, Sister Cariad. Why was it never Sister Astrid who caught her?
“Sorry Sister, the troops went in late tonight…”
“You and those boys. If I didn’t know any better, Wyn, I’d think you wanted to be one!” Brother Aster chuckled, walking into the kitchen, squeezing her shoulder gently as he passed.
“You really need to keep away—it isn’t right for a young lady. The General wouldn’t like it.” Sister Astrid followed him in, but had a gentle smile lingering behind her words.
Wyn sighed with relief at being able to use the Brother and Sister as a buffer; she was safe from Sister Cariad’s wrath, for now at least.
“Exactly! Enough nonsense, it’s supper time—a Collectioner caught a rabbit, so we’re having rabbit stew,” Sister Cariad snapped, rolling her eyes. She gestured to the pot bubbling on the stove and the smell that rolled over to Wyn was ridiculously inviting as she realised she hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
Without being asked, she hurried round to set the rustic oak table that took pride of place in the centre of the kitchen. It was modest in design but the strength and weight behind it was a luxury compared to any other she’d seen in the city and it screamed ‘home’ to her. As she straightened the fourth place setting she looked up and saw Brother Aster had moved to the head of the table and was tracing the veins in the wood with his finger.
“Are any of the others joining us tonight, Brother?”
He jumped slightly, and looked at her flustered.
“Sorry, I was lost in thought, a conversation I had today just keeps playing on my mind… But anyway, enough about that. No, it will just be the four of us tonight, there are talks in the city that we must have representatives attend.” He chewed his lip and couldn’t stop the concern from casting a shadow over his face.
She smiled softly at him and continued in her task. The Retreat where they lived was split into two, and her end was generally reserved for taking in those in crisis—which is how she’d ended up being raised there, although she had rarely seen anyone else come in from the community. She always thought it was a shame that the Collections Children from the other end so rarely came to see them and she could tell that her Brothers and Sisters wished that they were more included.
It wasn’t long before she was called to collect a bowl and took her spot, taking in the scent of the rich broth that was rising up to warm her. The day had been rainy and miserable and she couldn’t have thought of anything better than a hearty casserole, especially Sister Cariad’s—she may be stern but she was a fantastic cook.
“Brother Aster, did today’s engagements go to plan?” Sister Astrid asked, briefly pausing to look at him.
“I cannot say that they were positive. Things across the water have gotten increasingly difficult, and the last company to deploy has suffered greatly. They’re saying that this will no longer be the final deployment; all bases will have to sign up another tour.” Brother Aster looked lost in the gravity of what he was saying. “General Baudin described what they are contending with as nothing but a massacre, bodies lining the…”
“Not in front of Terrwyn, Brother!” Sister Cariad barked, furious at such an inappropriate conversation being brought up at the dinner table. They finished the meal in silence.
Wyn was sent straight to her room once they were finished—she wasn’t even allowed to stay and clear away from dinner. Not that she argued about it, she hated washing up—especially the stew pot that was coated a deep brown from years of use—but she resented the reprimand nonetheless. She was sixteen and far too old to be treated like a child, but that was the ‘joy’ of the Collection.
She sighed as she sat on her bed and looked around the room; it was modest with a basic metal bed frame, wooden desk, and minimal belongings. Living with the Brothers and Sisters of the Old Collection, affectionately known as the Collections Children, meant that since she had been in their care she had lived in line with their lifestyle. Too many personal items were considered selfish and shallow but they had been lenient as she grew up, never completely denying her toys or art materials, and books were readily encouraged. She’d lost her parents when she was a baby and had no family that she knew of, they’d lived as workers in a countryside estate and that had left nowhere for her to go. She knew she should be grateful that they had taken her in but there was still a part of her that wished she could live out in the city. Much of it had been lost and restricted through the conflict that had been going on since before she was born, but there was still technology and a modern life that she had never been allowed to explore properly. She had only seen glimpses of the outside world through the odd day at a friend’s house and what little they could afford at school. It was all worlds’ away from how The Old Collection lived and even further away from what her life would have been before that.
Wyn turned out the light, lent back and stared at the ceiling; a thin shaft of moonlight was creeping into the room and casting shadows across the floor. She had often climbed onto the bed frame when she was younger to look out of the small, barred window, but had been disappointed to see nothing but the coastline, although it was soothing to her now—the sea breeze whispering of freedom and peace to pierce the containment of her room, and the lapping of the waves lulling her to sleep. Despite this, her sleep was always restless, full of words she could never quite understand and implausible stories that she couldn’t quite remember being told. And tonight was no different.
At school the next day, the new updates on the troops was all anyone could talk about. Kiara’s dad was on the council, the General’s right-hand man, so she got all the gossip first.
“So, daddy said that the new selection will be in the next few weeks. He told mother that the enemy had brought in new people that had taken them by surprise and that they were working to retaliate. Some of what they saw was gruesome and daddy thinks they’ve been doing genetic experiments on people. They’ve got logistics coming in from another base to bring new technology and training – out of all the bases, they’ve chosen Necropolis to be the next base of the Special Forces recruitment!” She sounded excited at the prospect, but none of them really knew who Special Forces were. “Daddy didn’t know I was listening so I don’t think we’re supposed to know anything yet!” Kiara smirked at the congregation of her classmates, satisfied at her insider knowledge; there was nothing Kiara loved more than holding an audience and being the centre of attention.
“So, when are they signing up? We’re old enough now, right?” Carter pushed past Wyn to get closer to Kiara, not even glancing in her direction as she stumbled away from his elbow.
“They just said ‘soon’, but it can’t be long, they’re absolutely desperate. But yeah, seventeen is the limit, so most of you are fine.” Her eyes scanned the rest of the boys in the huddle. “I didn’t know you were so desperate to sign up, Carter? I’d miss you…” Her voice had gone all girly and high-pitched as she flirted shamelessly. Wyn didn’t even try to hide her contempt as she rolled her eyes.
“It’s a man’s job to protect the community and be a hero. My eldest brother went, and Cole’s just finished his training so he will be going out on the next tour too. But we shall just have to make sure I have a girl to go out and fight for… and to come back to…” he winked at Kiara and sauntered off; she flushed pink and fanned herself dramatically.
“Isn’t he amazing, Wyn?” she gushed. Wyn stared at her in disbelief.
“Amazing? He’s so arrogant! I don’t know what you see in him Kiara, let’s hope he buggers off to war and we can find you someone better!”
Kiara did an unattractive squawk and looked at her best friend with disgust; beside her, the other girls giggled. The boys had already dispersed, following their arrogant leader, and Kiara turned on her heels with a huff and stalked off with her nose in the air. Wyn chuckled to herself; she knew she’d be over it by first break. Kiara was one of the few people Wyn had always had in her life; their parents had grown up together and Kiara was one final connection to a world she couldn’t remember. As such, she would never lose faith in the strength of that bond.
“She looks like one of those birds on the canteen roof when she walks like that, doesn’t she?” Wyn commented to Isabella and Cleo, who had fallen in step beside her, watching Kiara swing her hips as she stalked across the schoolyard. The girls giggled and chatted as they followed her into the tired-looking building.
Wyn couldn’t concentrate during class. Customer-facing roles of modern banking just didn’t hold her interest and instead, she was thinking about what Kiara had been saying. Special Forces; it sounded exciting. She wondered whether the cadets would look any different. They were running out of people to sign up so maybe all the strong ones were already gone and they’d only get the wimpy guys. Maybe there would be new things to watch with Special Forces coming in. What would the logistics experts even be like? She sighed. She knew she didn’t have much chance of knowing; if only she could get onto the other side of the fence.
“Okay ladies, so remember, if you do follow a career in finance, it is important to always check the customers’ credentials but also approach each individual with great caution. We don’t want you to get into a situation you can’t get yourself out of.” Even Mrs Clay sounded bored by her lesson, probably fed up with the patronising drivel that she had to cite. She was always so distant from her class. Her teaching style was strict and although there was the odd occasion when she was in the mood to laugh and joke, she generally kept them at arm’s length. Wyn could never decide if this was because she just didn’t like them or if there was something more to it.
The boy-girl segregation that came into effect due to The Breakdown was frustrating. It was justified as a requirement to prepare the boys for life in the forces, to help them understand the different roles and coordination, and whatever else they could get away with teaching in schools. However, according to Kiara, General Baudin had said the boys’ syllabus was pointless. The teachers didn’t have any idea what they were doing, or know anything about the army, and they had to be completely rewired when they got into training. Meanwhile, the girls were taught the basics of the roles they would have to fill to keep the city going.
“Okay girls, fifteen-minute break and then back in here for some Modern History with the boys.” Mrs Clay grabbed her coffee mug off the desk and scurried out of the room in search of a caffeine fix.
“I don’t think I’d mind working in a bank,” Isabella said as Wyn spun round in her seat to face her friends, “I like dealing with money.”
“You like spending it, more like! I think a restaurant would be more interesting, don’t know if I could manage in the kitchen though,” Cleo mulled thoughtfully.
“Ooh, I know what I want to do! I want to work somewhere in the Gild District, doing hair or nails or something, like mother used to do before she met father and moved back out to the country. Then I only have to deal with the elite, and I can marry an Officer. I’d get to use all the nice things instead of actually having to work.” This was so typically Kiara, she was definitely not naturally humanitarian. “What about you Wyn?”
“Ugh, I don’t know… I guess if I had to do something I’d teach, but only if I could teach the boys’ stuff... Our classes are so dull.”
“Oh Wyn, you’re so obsessed with what the boys do, it isn’t normal! Why are you so desperate to see what the troops do, it’s probably just messy and loud and unsanitary.” Kiara cringed at the idea, and something boiled in Wyn as she saw how happily they all just accepted the society standard for women.
“I just want to do something exciting…”
With that, Mrs Clay re-entered the room, joined by Mr Kane; interrupting Wyn from expressing her notion, and distracting the rest of the girls who began primping and pursing their lips, to ensure they were ready when the classes merged. The boys followed and took their seats, giving them the last few minutes of break to flirt across the desks. Once they had all settled down, Mr Kane took a seat at the side as Mrs Clay picked up the tablet and flicked across until a presentation filled the screen at the front of the classroom.
“Okay guys, today we are going to be recapping some stuff we’ve studied over the last few years and through it, create a timeline of women in history. Back when women were once allowed to actually do something—rule and lead and fight. Before that chauvinistic pig Lint took over the military and government… When women could actually think for themselves.” She spat the words out, her eyes misting over in anger.
Mr Kane took the tablet out of her hand in one clean movement that was too quick for Wyn to even notice him leave his chair.
“Enough Lydia,” he hushed furiously and moved on with the presentation.
The words rang in Wyn’s ears, ‘When women could fight’. Maybe she could fight. What if she put her case forward? If they were as desperate as Kiara made out, then they might just let her. Her head started spinning, but how could she convince them?
