Group Z

Chapter 33

I open my eyes and groan internally; my wish didn't come true and I know instantly that I'm trapped in a dream. This time feels different though. In my dream I'm walking towards a large door with ornate gold handles. The Master's office. Two Revealers open it for me and I notice that they seem much bigger than before. I look down at my hands and find them flecked with one or two scars, nowhere near as many as I now have. I bring my hand to my cheek and feel only smooth uninterrupted skin. This is a memory. I come to a stop just in front of the Master's desk where he is reading papers. I feel my heart thud faster and my hands beginning to tremble. I clasp them behind my back to hide the fact as he finally looks up at me.

'Z-1 I'm disappointed in you.' He says putting his papers away, I keep eye contact with him showing nothing. I've been here often enough that I know I can't show any emotion.

'This is the third time this week that you have refused direct instructions regarding your training schedule. I won't tell you that you're going to be punished. You know that much. I will tell you that I know why you are doing this. You know what the punishment is, yet you keep coming back. This time will be no exception, you will go on the mission I choose for you and when you get back you will receive something... Extra. You will get no rations for this mission, nothing will be given to you, and it will last about a week. You are 11 years old. It's time you leaned discipline.' He says looking away back to his papers again.

'You are dismissed.' He says waving me out of the room.

The two Revealers open his door on some hidden cue that I missed. They escort me out of the room, straight past the training room where I can hear Lizzie, her shouts as she attacks probably a training dummy. We'd been in the middle of training when I was called so I'm only wearing my training uniform. A thin tank top and shorts.

I'm ushered straight out of the door into the cold winter's day outside. One of the Revealers looks from side to side and subtly drops something that glints on the ground. I stare down at it and pick it up. It's the two daggers that I've clung to in every training match. From my first kill.

I clasp them to my chest like a lifeline and look up at the Revealer who gives a barely perceptible nod of the head. They hand an image to me of a girl maybe 6 years old with the word, Sector 5. The poorest Sector. I turn away from the Revealer and walk away. As I do everything fades to black around me.

Slowly colours start to fade in. Instantly I can feel an intense hunger and I'm cold to my very bones. I'm stalking along streets in by far the poorest area I've ever been in. The streets are covered with filth that coats my stolen boots and the houses, more like shacks offer little to no insulation from the bitter winds. Here and there are lumps in the fine snow sprinkled over the land. Bodies of those too poor to eat. I skirt around them barely paying them a second glance. Death is common enough.

I come to a stop in front of a little house, no more that some tin sheets with tarpaulin as a roof. I lift the tin away and slip in. As I'd known it would be the little house is empty. I pat the bulge in my breast pocket to reassure myself that it's still there and sit to wait. Barely 10 minutes later the door opens and a man and woman rush in, a dirty and bedraggled son and daughter stumbling after them. The boy is about 8 and the girl about 6, both are barefoot and already have that hollow starved look in their faces. The man and woman have closed the door before they notice me sat in the darkness. In the low light of the day I can't make out their facial features. But I prefer it this way. It means they can't see mine either. They gasp and move to shield their children, but I hold up my hands in the gesture of peace.

'I have food.' I say simply, deepening my voice to sound older, not giving away my identity, reaching behind me for a small loaf I managed to find in the streets the previous day.