The world ended; the Night killed it.
X, poor and illiterate, is trapped living in the Slums of the last remaining city, only venturing out beyond the towering walls to scavenge relics of the old world when the sun is up. At night, like everybody else, he hides inside from the lethal shadows, until an unexpected death happens a little too close to home. Now, with the blame on his shoulders, and trigger-happy guards on his trail, X has no choice but to run.
But, the city was never a safe place to begin with, not really, and his only slim chance of survival lies outside the walls, in a landscape empty of humanity – and full of the shadows that wiped it out.
The world ended; the Night killed it.
X, poor and illiterate, is trapped living in the Slums of the last remaining city, only venturing out beyond the towering walls to scavenge relics of the old world when the sun is up. At night, like everybody else, he hides inside from the lethal shadows, until an unexpected death happens a little too close to home. Now, with the blame on his shoulders, and trigger-happy guards on his trail, X has no choice but to run.
But, the city was never a safe place to begin with, not really, and his only slim chance of survival lies outside the walls, in a landscape empty of humanity – and full of the shadows that wiped it out.
X hit the ground. Hard. Hands bound behind his back, he barely shifted in time to hit the sparkling cobblestones with his shoulder instead of his face. The smooth stones glittered before his eyes, each worth enough to feed him for a week, before rough hands grabbed him by his hair and hauled him to his knees.
“You’re in the wrong part of town, Slummer,” a gruff voice said to his left.
“I don’t know what…” he started, but a sudden punch to the gut doubled him back over. His breaths came in ragged gasps, like his lungs trying to tear their way straight out of his chest, but it wasn’t a new sensation for him. How many times had his father hit him exactly the same way? How many times had he thrown up the meager contents of his stomach?
This time, it was almost a relief to have the pain of the blow replace the constant, gnawing emptiness he couldn’t quite shake. When was the last time he’d had a real meal, something more than scraps? Had he ever?
Only in his dreams. And he certainly wasn’t dreaming now.
X didn’t rush to draw in air. He couldn’t. His pain-clenched muscles would ease at their own rate, and there wasn’t a Night-kissing thing he could do to speed it up.
Knee-high boots so shiny they reflected X’s pained face stopped in front of him. Good make. Well maintained. Fancy buckles. If one cobblestone cost as much as a week’s worth of food, those boots were easily worth six months. X didn’t need to look up any further to figure out how much trouble he was in. Inner City folks had no patience for Slummers—especially when they found such a lowlife in their posh neighborhood.
But it wasn’t those boots that made his breath catch in his throat. It wasn’t even the heavy military boots worn by the three soldiers standing behind him. No, it was the single pair of metallic silver boots that had sweat running down X’s back.
“Why is he still lying around? Pick him up,” a nasally voice said.
Strong hands reached under X’s arms and lifted him back to his knees. Complimenting the knee-high boots in front of him was a suit of shimmering pink cloth, a pointed, four-inch-long goatee, and a top hat that looked like a bird had landed on the man’s head—an ugly, angry, constipated bird. The latest Inner-City fashion?
But X looked past the man with the nasally voice, past the soldiers with rifles the size of cannons. There was an Arbiter there, silver armor gleaming in the noonday sun; his posture relaxed and his face hidden beneath the smooth metal of his helmet, the Arbiter gave no sign of what he was thinking.
“He stole from me,” Nasal-Voice said.
“Did he?” the Arbiter hissed back, his broken voice like nails being scraped across the cobblestones below their feet.
“Look,” Nasal-Voice said, and held up X’s backpack. “He took this from my home. Him and his companions.”
Companions? What in the Night was he talking about?
Then X finally pried his eyes away from the Arbiter. There were three other people on the street beside him. Equally bound, but significantly more roughed up. A girl—maybe his age, but it was hard to tell under the dirt and blood—knelt beside him, barely holding herself upright. Her lip was split in at least two places, and one eye was swollen shut. Blood matted her hair and stained the side of her face.
Beyond her were two men, a brother and father by the resemblance, in even worse shape. The brother was unconscious, and only the two large guards on either side of him kept him from collapsing onto the ground. Private guards by the looks of things. Uniforms of black leather, as opposed to the powder blue pomp of the usual Inner City guards.
“They stole from me,” Nasal-Voice repeated. “And they won’t get away with it.” With the last word, he stepped in and backhanded X across the face.
It stung, but X hardly shifted. The man didn’t have a lot of experience hitting people, and he danced back a pair of steps, holding his hand and groaning in pain.
“Would you like me to…?” Gruff-Voice, the guard on X’s left, asked.
“Yes. Yes! What are you waiting for?” the man snapped.
The guard shrugged, then leaned in and clocked X across the face as casually as if he’d wiped his own nose.
X tumbled to the side, colliding with the girl beside him, and they hit the ground in a tangled heap. Black specks danced in front of X’s eyes, and he struggled to stay conscious. The Inner City fop didn’t know how to hit, but that guard sure did.
“Sorry,” X mumbled to the girl, before the guards lifted him off the ground and put him back on his knees.
“I’ll kill you for stealing from me,” Nasal-Voice said, lifting X’s chin so their eyes met.
“You will not,” the Arbiter hissed.
What? Would the Arbiter actually protect him? Was he on his side?
“Why not?” Nasal-Voice spun and asked. “This Slummer stole from me. He hurt my hand. His kind serves no purpose in the city, and he’s trespassing in my neighborhood.
“He’s worthless,” the man finished. He pointed at Gruff-Voice, then gestured towards X. The guard shrugged a second time and lifted his rifle.
“You will not,” the Arbiter repeated, and took a step forward. “Only the Prophet or her hands, the Arbiters, decide who lives and who dies. It is not your right.”
“So, you’ll kill him?” Nasal-Voice asked hopefully, his knees bending a fraction in supplication.
“This is yours?” the Arbiter asked Nasal-Voice, reaching into X’s bag. The silver fingers came back out of the bag wrapped around an old car part. Pete had called it a carburetor, and it had been X’s job to deliver it.
“Well…I…what did you say was stolen?” Nasal-Voice turned, exasperated, to the guard holding up the brother.
“Half a dozen loaves of bread, a bottle of wine, and an apron with hearts on it,” the man answered.
Food? Hope bloomed in X’s chest like the morning sun. There wasn’t any food in X’s bag. Not even crumbs. They had to let him go, right?
Nasal-Voice visibly gulped and then looked back at the Arbiter. “The Slummer must have… also…grabbed that on the way out. Yes, that has to be it,” he said weakly.
The Arbiter simply nodded, like it didn’t really matter. “I will not kill him,” he answered. “But he is yours to punish for stealing from you.”
“Stealing?” X couldn’t stop himself from speaking up. “I didn’t take anything from him!”
“Then what were you doing in my neighborhood? Huh? What could possibly bring a Slummer here other than theft…or…murder…or…whatever it is you Slummers do for fun?”
“I was making a delivery. That’s what that is,” X nodded towards the bag in the Arbiter’s hands. “It’s for a guy a few streets over. Collects old cars.”
“I don’t believe you. You stole from me,” Nasal-Voice said and turned to the Arbiter. “I swear by it.”
The Arbiter nodded again. “Do as you wish with him, but do not kill him. Or I will return, and I will most certainly take a life,” the Arbiter paused for emphasis.
“Yes…yes…of course. Just a few good beatings, maybe some broken bones. Can I cut off his hands, so he can’t steal again?” Nasal-Voice asked. “Or, maybe just one hand? And an eye. Show that I have mercy.”
The Arbiter shrugged. It really didn’t matter to him.
X’s mouth struggled to work, but no words came out.
“We’ll make an example of the four of them. That should keep scum like this from dirtying up this neighborhood again. Night, I’m going to need to get the cobblestones scrubbed to get the stink off. Ah, but I should wait until after we’re done with them, or we’ll just be cleaning up twice. Don’t you think?” Nasal-Voice asked Gruff-Voice.
“Very good, sir,” the guard said. “We should probably get a doctor here too. Wouldn’t…” he hesitated while he chose his words, “…want them to bleed out by accident.”
“Oh, you’re right. Good thinking,” Nasal-Voice said and patted the guard on the shoulder.
“You’re…going to…” X started, but couldn’t finish—this couldn’t be happening.
Who was he kidding? Of course it could. It was. He was a Slummer in the wrong part of town. They were from the Inner City. He wasn’t even a person to them. Or to the Arbiter either, apparently.
“Jose, did you bring your knife? The big one…?” Nasal-Voice asked the gruff-voiced guard.
“Got it right here,” Jose said, patting the arm-length blade at his waist. More a sword than a knife.
“Great. I wonder if I should get my wife and little Robbie out here to watch? I’m sure they’d love it.”
“I can send one of my men.”
“Yes, do that. Maybe knock on some doors too, get a bit of a crowd going. This will be a great show. Do we have any of those little sandwiches left from breakfast? We could hand those out along with some…” Nasal-Voice’s words trailed off as another guard came running down the street, a rucksack in his hands.
“I got it,” the guard said, and held up the bag. “Found the thief too. Had to put a bullet in his leg, but he’s on his way back to the manor.” As soon as the man stopped, he reached into the bag and pulled out the heart-patterned apron and a bottle of wine.
“Where …where……where…did you find that?” Nasal-Voice asked, stuttering as he looked over at the Arbiter.
“Few blocks west of the manor. Idiot thief stopped to eat the goods,” the guard shook his head. “Idiot,” he repeated.
“West of the manor?” X asked. “We’re east of the manor. We had nothing to do with it!”
“Well…” Nasal-Voice started, but the ring of silver boots striking cobblestones cut him off.
“You may leave,” the Arbiter hissed.
The guards immediately stepped away from the prisoners, and the unconscious brother fell to the ground in a heap. Just like that, it was done?
“My bag?” X dared to ask, looking over to where the Arbiter had dropped it.
Nasal-Voice walked over and picked it up. “Consider it a fee for wasting my time,” he said and sighed. “It would’ve been such a good show too. People would have loved it…” he mumbled and motioned to his guards. The whole group walked off without looking back. Without offering anything close to an apology. But with X’s pack.
Night.
“Thank you,” X said weakly to the Arbiter. What else was he going to say?
He might as well have been a bug underfoot for all the notice the Arbiter gave him as the man in silver armor turned to leave.
X didn’t move until the Arbiter rounded the corner out of sight. And he wasn’t the only one waiting. A small child, no more than ten, dashed out of a nearby alley, a small knife in hand.
“Gem! Gem! Are you okay? I was so scared. I’m sorry,” the young boy said, struggling to hold back tears while he sawed through the bonds around the girl’s wrists.
“I’m fine, Twig. Go help your Pa and your brother,” she said, weakly pushing herself to her feet.
The boy nodded, rubbed his snotty nose on his dirty sleeve, and went to the older man.
“Thank you?” she asked, wobbling in front of X. “Thank you? Almost thought you were going to ask for another punch.”
“What did you expect me to say?” X shot back. Really. Did she want him to spit in the Arbiter’s face? That would’ve done a whole lot of good.
“I didn’t expect you to just take it like some kind of beaten dog,” she snapped, drawing a knife from inside her jacket.
What did she plan to do with that?
“You didn’t do much better,” he said quietly. Maybe he was beaten. Maybe he was worthless, like the man said. But he sure as Night didn’t need to hear it from a complete stranger.
His words struck a nerve. Gem’s fingers white-knuckled around the blade. “No, I didn’t. This time.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Means I’m not going to take it forever. We’re not going to take it forever. What about you? What are you going to do?”
X’s shoulders sagged. What was he going to do? His pack was gone, and along with it his chance at getting paid. That delivery was his ticket to getting out from under his father’s thumb. And what did he have now? An empty stomach and a sore jaw.
“Can you…?” he asked, and held his bound hands out to the side.
Gem scowled, but mercifully leaned in and cut the biting cords. “You didn’t answer my question.”
X flexed some feeling back into his fingers as he pushed himself to his feet. She was right; he hadn’t answered the question. Because he didn’t have an answer. Not a good one at least. This was just like every other day for him. Every time he thought he could finally escape his life, something came along to put him right back in his place. Every Night-kissing time.
That’s just how it was for Slummers. There was no escaping that simple truth in the city of Haven.
“Well?” she asked, obviously irritated.
“I’m…leaving,” X said quietly.
“X didn’t need it anymore. He didn’t fear the Night. He was the Night."
I enjoyed Worthless much more than I thought I would. When I first read the summary, I was hesitant, especially considering the main character's name was "X". However, it slowly grew on me, and I cannot say I'm disappointed by the fact. If you're thinking the same thing, don't. It makes sense, trust me!
This story is set in a world that is very unique and vivid. I think the author did an amazing job at bringing this story to life through descriptions that, when reading, almost made me feel as though *I* was in the book. How crazy is that?
Another thing—the dialogue was great. Something I always look for in books when reviewing is the conversations between the characters, and how authentic they feel to me. This book, in my opinion, had fantastic dialogue to go with the intriguing plot, and every interaction aided in the storyline progressing with the plot moving forward, not backward.
Overall, this book went beyond my expectations, but I'm not mad about it. It is a must-read for fans of post-apocalypse and dystopia-turned worlds. You won't regret it. (Also, book 2, where are you at? I need to know what happens next as soon as humanely possible!! I'm dying on the inside with anticipation!)