The Divide

Chapter 5

I'm on a train. The windows are beaded with rain that hammers down on the metal roof. I wipe the condensation from the window with my sleeve. The train runs over the tracks so fast that the passing buildings become a hazy blur.

I'm sitting on a grey bench, surrounded by people dressed in navy, blue, and yellow, but the majority are dressed in black. I'm the only one wearing white. I notice that everyone else is asleep apart from a man standing by the door. He catches my eye but carries on looking out the window. I look at the people around me, there are twenty-one. After a few minutes, the girl opposite starts waking up, and so do the majority of the others. She looks up at me with her dark brown eyes.

"How long have you been awake?" she asks, her voice smooth like honey.

"Not that long," I shrug.

Everyone is awake now except for a boy dressed in yellow – District 4. He's sitting right down at the end of the carriage next to a few boys dressed in black.

"I'm Zoe," the girl says, bringing my focus back to her.

"Listen up, everyone!" The man in the corner shouts before I can reply. As he walks to the front of the carriage, muscles bulge out of his black t-shirt, and he rests his arm on the corner of someone's seat. His hair is long and greasy, and his cold eyes sweep across the carriage like ice.

"I'm Max, and I'm one of the leaders here in District 3." His voice is cold and deep – it sends a shiver down my spine. "We will be leaving the train soon," he continues, "so make sure you're ready to jump."

"Jump?" Zoe says, her eyes wide. A few boys get out of their seats and walk over to Max, elbowing each other and laughing on the way there. I stare over at their empty seats. The boy in yellow is still sitting there with his eyes closed. Everyone else follows them as they walk past, forming a crowd around Max.

"Don't you think we should wake him up?" I ask Zoe as she stands up, nodding my head over in the boy's direction.

"Why?" she asks, as her furrows her dark eyebrows to look at me.

I shrug, but I walk over to where he sits anyway, clenching my fingers. No one deserves to be left behind. My heart pangs, I'm thinking of my parents. Does helping him make me feel less selfish for leaving them?
I stop in front of where he sits. His blonde, curly hair flops over his freckled face – he looks similar to Thomas.
I kick his leg with my foot. He doesn't move.

"Hey! What are you doing over there?" Max shouts down at me. A few of the boys laugh and whisper among each other. I ignore them, bringing my eyes back to look at the boy. I kick him again, harder this time.

"What are you playing at?" I hiss in his ears, but he doesn't even flinch.

"Come on!" Zoe shouts down the carriage, but I can't leave him behind, not like how I left Thomas. Max pulls open the train door and jumps, followed by people dressed in black, navy, and blue. Their screams and shouts echo throughout the carriage. It's just me, Zoe, and the boy left.

"Are you coming or not?" Zoe shouts, quickly running to the open door. The train is still moving. I see everyone on a roof of an old, run down building. Some are lying on the floor, nursing injuries from landing, but others shout and cheer. I look back at the boy. He still isn't moving.

"Well, I'm not missing out because of you!" Zoe sneers, before jumping off after everyone else. I see her through the window fall onto her knees once she lands, but she gets up quickly, laughing.

Hurriedly, I wrap my arms around the boy's waist and swing him over my shoulder. His head lays limply against my back. He's heavier than I expected, and my legs almost collapse as I run over to the open door. The train has almost passed the entire roof of the whole building.
The gap between the track and the roof is about 2 metres - I doubt I'll even be able to make it, but I can try. Adrenaline courses through my veins like blood. As I take a few steps back from the door, sweat drips down my back. My arms begin to ache – if I don't jump soon, I will collapse under the weight of the boy. So, I run, and I jump out the door. It's as if time slows down as I fly through the air with the boy over my shoulder. The wind chills my skin as gravity starts to pull us down towards the floor below. I let out a strangled scream – what if I don't make it? But then my body slams against the edge of the roof, and I clamp my hands around the ledge before I fall to my death. My breathing is fast and shallow, and my hands sweat and tremble. My grip isn't that strong; my fingers start to slip from the edge. The boy is going to die because of me. I close my eyes, biting my lip as hard as I can as I hang from the ledge. I try to re-adjust my grip, but then two strong arms clamp around my wrists, pulling me up from my imminent death. Someone else pulls the boy off my back as my knees scrape against the rough brick, causing pain and blood to shoot down my legs. Max places me on my feet in front of him, only three inches away from my face. I can see the coldness of his eyes even closer from this distance. They're an ice-cold grey. It's as if someone sucked the life out of him and left these as a reminder.