Lost Atoms

Chapter 1

Today is the sentencing from Tryvon's arrest in July, and I'm already expecting the worst.

Like any of us scavengers, there was a risk he'd be next. A single, accidental clue led the authorities to him, and when you're careless, they find you. Despite being apprehended outside city limits, they brought him back here to execute.

Sure, it'd be easier for them to desert him out there, never to be seen again. It's not like he'd survive anyway. But the zoners prefer to send us a message.

Don't leave the dome. That's what they're saying. It's a different message than the one I actually hear. Don't be careless.

"Asher!" My shoulder jolts as Navani gives it a shove. I open my eyes and sit up. The thud of eight sets of boots marching in unison on the asphalt commands our attention.

Navani's pointing west. I shield my eyes from the blazing sun with my hand, trying to follow. Past the bowl of the skatepark beside us, the road is just visible. On my other side, my best friend Zenith groans. We already know what this many zoners together means.

I squint, the sun's rays refracted by the transparent barrier of our city. Sure enough, Tryvon's lifeless body is elevated above the zoners masked faces. The boy's thin frame is tied atop the wooden plank they carry. A ninth zoner follows behind, his assault rifle drawn. It's as if he's daring someone to try to retrieve the body. This is their reminder.

Zenith is staring, transfixed beside me. His rich, dark, untidy hair is pushed back from his eyes. The video setting on his smartphone is zoomed in, recording the zoners' parade. We've never had cell service here, so his phone is useless for anything else. It doesn't matter to Zenith. He loves to document.

"What you're seeing now," he says to the non-audience of his video, "...is Tryvon Veilix, our schoolmate and valedictorian, murdered for scavenging in the Between."

"It's sick," I say, and Zenith turns his camera my way, always eager for my hot take. He must see the disgust on my golden, sweat-laden face though, because he stops recording and lowers the phone. Navani responds from my other side, squeezing my hand.

"That's why I don't want you to do it anymore." There's an edge of worry in her voice that doesn't feel entirely hers. Yes, she cares about me, ten months into our relationship. But the anxiety over how I earn money stems from her mother. If she had her way, Navani would steer clear of me at all costs. Apparently, I'm dangerous.

I meet her gaze, and even though she has more to say, she pauses. She unclasps her hand from mine and grips her mother's ring on her finger, distracting herself. Her chin quivers, and I wonder if she's wrestling with the same lump in her throat I get when I think about the consequences that befell Tryvon and so many scavengers before, that could befall any of us scavengers.

Navani's deep brown eyes look into mine. "What if that's your body up there next time?"

"It won't be," I say defiantly, turning away. "I'm too careful. Besides, I don't have a choice."

"You do though," she insists.

I don't respond. I already know she wants me to keep looking for a real job. One that won't get me killed like Tryvon. One that will earn me good grace with her mother. I want to remind Navani it's not that easy. To ask why she doesn't have a job. But there's no point in arguing again.

The wind generators whir to life. They're perched on the tall buildings of the business district nearby. High-powered gusts are sent out in all directions, including ours, but it is just a soft breeze by the time it reaches us. Still, I have to clear my dark brown hair from my face as it dances across my forehead. I close my eyes and tilt my head, soaking in the feeling of the flowing air on my sticky skin. Although the synthetic material of our city's protective dome was made to block some of the sun's heat, the air is still stale, stagnant and warm most of the summer. The wind is not a luxury we get all that often.