TWENTY-SEVEN
BREE PULLS A SERIES OF thin white journals from the overcrowded library shelves.
“Most of the stuff in this room is documentation of the Rebel formation,” she explains. “Forces aligning, plans of attack, defensive strategies. But these”—she raises the pale journals overhead before plopping them on the desk before me—“these are the goods.”
“Proof of the Laicos Project?”
“Proof and then some,” she says. “Notes and commentary written by Frank himself.”
I run my hand over the cover of the top journal. The material is soft, like worn leather, and the corners curl toward the ceiling. A single, handwritten 1 sits on its center. This is the first of many. I take a deep breath and flip open the cover.
The words inside are too uniform to be written by hand. They remind me of the records Emma and I had found in Taem, each letter evenly spaced, each line precisely parallel. I lean over the bound pages and read.
Five test groups have been set up across AmEast, labeled, for now, from A to E. As the nature of this project is to create durable and tough soldiers, we need a range of subjects for experimentation. Each test group will be presented with a different scenario, ranging from most desirable (in A) to least desirable (in E). My initial prediction is that the most successful soldiers will be created from those groups in the most challenging of environments, but only time will tell.
Each group will be enclosed by a wall and supplied with basic tools for survival (axes, saws, knives, etc.). Some groups will even have existing shelters in place—with so many communities deserted or left in ruin after the Second Civil War, it seems foolish to waste these resources. We will raise walls strategically, so that our cameras and monitoring systems can ensure observation from Taem’s control room.
Test subjects will be a mixture of boys and girls—all fifteen or younger—acquired from institutions overcrowded in the wake of the war. Decisions are still to be made regarding when test subjects should be removed and transferred to Taem for further research.
There is a blank page before the documentation picks up again. I look to Bree, but her nose is buried deep in a book, and so I continue.
Test Group Breakdown:
Group A, Western Territory. Most ideal of living situations. Functioning farms, factories, and food supplies already in existence. Fruitful soil, fair weather. Civilian houses in existence and supplied with electricity.
Group B, Southern Sector. Comfortable living conditions. Existing homes. Large freshwater lake, plowable fields, warm weather.
Group C, Capital Region. Base-level conditions. Fair weather and terrain. Collapsing but salvageable cabins. Water resources: small lake and rivers.
Group D, Seacoast. Rough living conditions. Limited freshwater; rocky, dry land surrounded by salt water. No prebuilt structures, harsh sun, exposed to wind and other elements. Cold winters.
Group E, Northern Realm. Survival-of-the-fittest conditions. Cold, long winters. Short, cool summers. Heavily forested. No prebuilt structures.
The next several pages talk about the project’s early days and Frank’s initial observations. All five groups go through a phase he refers to as hysteria, where, regardless of the conditions of their environment, the children panic. They know their own identities, as well as basic knowledge acquired through schooling, but are completely unaware of an outside world, nor do they remember people from it. This convenient situation is the result of memory work conducted in Frank’s labs prior to placing the subjects behind the Wall. When the hysteria passes, the real show begins, and the next phase takes up a handful of Frank’s journals.
Interesting developments in groups B and C. A leader has emerged from each and attempted to divvy up roles and responsibilities. Each leader has named their land, Group B going by Dextern (the last name of the leader there) and Group C by Claysoot (selected because of the appearance of the location’s soil). Group A is in a state of constant bickering and chaos. E struggles due to weather exposure. . . .
Group D, finally named Saltwater, has followed suit by producing a leader—surprising twist: a female. Group A remains unnamed and in conflict. Group E has nearly died out. Perhaps conditions there were simply too extreme. . . .
At six months, all groups have now discovered the Wall. Only some have climbed. All deem it unsafe due to the bodies we return, and have been successfully educated to stay within their confines. This is crucial, for if we want our experiments to continue beyond the first generation of test subjects, we cannot have them scaling the Wall freely. . . .
Group A has transitioned from chaos to war. Subjects are split and fighting one another over resources and control of the best living complexes. . . .
Group C has built a surprisingly stable town. In just over a year they now have livestock fields and markets. They have rebuilt all the cabins and their leader has formed a council, where representatives are elected from the group and lead lifestyle decisions for the greater community. Talks of something similar have sprung up in B. . . .
Group D is remarkably ingenious. Freshwater springs have been found and guided into reservoirs. Shelters from sun and wind have been created. Women have a surprising amount of power in this group when compared to other test groups and share in many of the otherwise masculine roles. . . .
Group E is extinct. Research here has been halted. Group A continues to battle. Much blood has been shed and I fear they will eliminate themselves completely. . . .
The first of the extractions are approaching. It has been agreed that removing test subjects from Group A would be foolish. The children have gone mad, and any technologies created from them will likely be unstable and volatile. For Group A, the Laicos Project is over. I am cutting the electricity to everything but the cameras. They will remain on so that we can confirm what we hope for: that the savages die out completely. Extractions will instead be performed in Groups B, C, and D.
Eighteen seems to be a fitting year for boys. They are well matured and physically in their prime. In Group D, however, many of the girls are as strong and tough as the males, partaking in very similar roles and careers. Given this revelation, I believe it may be beneficial to have several test subjects of the female gender and Group D will be the provider. We will pull girls at sixteen and we will do so selectively, ensuring we remove only the best candidates to undergo experimentation.
All extracted subjects will be shipped to Taem, where continued research will take place. They will be kept in separate wings and labs. There will be no crossover between test subjects from different locations. . . .
I move on to the next set of books, which are full of notes regarding the Heists: how they are performed, how each group reacts to them. The shaking earth and general feeling of discomfort during our Claysoot Heists now make sense. The Order flew in by helicopter—a steel bird that sounds similar to the objects I witnessed AmWest manning during their attack on Taem—and dropped odorless drugs to subdue the town while the boy was removed.
There are hundreds of pages covering experimentation in the next several journals, but I skim through them. The scenes Frank’s words depict are too grim, and I don’t want to read about the people who died on his tables. I flip frantically through the documentation, and before I know it, I’ve worked my way to the final journal.
I’ve recruited a new addition for our labs today, a boy by the name of Harvey Maldoon. He is young but brilliant, a genius at the mere age of sixteen. The blessed child is already hard at work, confident that he can create a Forgery as skilled and mature as its source. He promises me it will remain healthy and strong, rather than faltering after a day like the replicas my other lab workers have created.
“Heists” (a term coined in Group C that we have adopted internally) will continue, and I keep my fingers crossed that Harvey will be successful. I need him to be successful. Only then can I set up a production compound closer to the borderlines. AmWest continues to attempt infiltration. They are persistent, and while I must protect our people from their wrath and our freshwater from their greed, I cannot keep losing the lives of Order members at their hands. These Forgeries, these lives without family or history or homes, will be an invaluable resource.
The journal ends here, but I know where the story is headed. Experimentation would carry on for many years, and while Harvey would eventually create a successful Forgery, he would never manage to create the limitless variety that Frank still craves today. All along, things would steadily fall apart in Taem. Laws would become overbearing and people would begin to flee, Elijah among the first. The Rebels would become another nuisance in Frank’s efforts, and when Harvey finally ran, Frank would do everything in his power to get him back.
I flip the final journal closed and push it toward the others. It’s hard to take in so much so quickly, and yet it’s oddly relieving to see the truth so plainly before my eyes. Reading it like that makes it feel so definite, concrete.
“So you were Group D then. Saltwater,” I say to Bree. She looks up from her book and nods. “And Fallyn, as well?”
“You got it. There’s a representative from each test group in Crevice Valley, serving as a captain under Ryder’s command.”
I do the math quickly. It’s wrong. “But there’s four captains, and only three groups faced Heists.”
“Raid’s from Group B, Dextern; Fallyn’s Saltwater; your father’s Claysoot. And then there’s Elijah. He represents the citizens of Taem. And there’s a lot of them. In fact, they make up the majority of the Rebels.”
So maybe Frank’s records were right after all. “Did Elijah start the Rebellion?”
“Yes and no. He was one of the first to go in search of people sharing his viewpoint outside the city, but I think his act of running meant nothing until he met Ryder. They crossed paths somewhere past the Hairpin and started gathering supporters. That was when the Rebellion really began.”
“What about Ryder? I mean, I know he was from Claysoot, but how’d he end up here?”
“I only know so much. You and I were lucky, Gray. When we got to Taem, Harvey had already run and, because of that, Frank’s experiments were on hold. But Ryder didn’t have that luxury. He was fed the lie that Frank was trying to free Claysoot and then underwent constant operations, thinking the lab workers would find something within his blood that could save his people from the Wall.
“From what I’ve pieced together, Ryder struck up a strong friendship with one of the other boys from Claysoot. They discussed how Frank never got any closer to solving things and agreed that their only chance of leading a somewhat normal life existed far away from Taem. They started talking about running for it, and eventually Ryder did.”
“And the other boy?”
“The two of them broke into Frank’s office during their escape instead of running straight for the hills. Stupid move, if you ask me, but at least Ryder managed to grab the journals you just read. They were caught on camera, though, which alerted the Order. Only Ryder made it out.”
“And then he hid in the woods until Elijah found him years later?”
“Yup. And by then, Ryder didn’t want to fight Frank anymore. He was old and more or less happy. But after Elijah told him everything Frank had done to the city and its people, Ryder was convinced it was never too late to fight back.”
All the pieces are joining: the records in Union Central merging with the journals in this library, which are further stitched together by Bree’s stories. My brain hurts, but in the best way possible. The truth is addictive.
“And you?” I ask her. “What’s your story?”
“I got Heisted, although we called it being Snatched back on the island. I watched a video where Frank told me Harvey was behind it all, that he needed my patience and assistance until he could free Saltwater. I was out on a scouting mission when I realized I didn’t want to go back. I trusted Frank at the time but didn’t want to spend my whole life searching for Harvey. I guess this makes me sound pretty selfish, actually, not wanting to save the rest of my people, but I was alone and scared. So while everyone was sleeping, before I even contemplated if it was a smart idea, I took off. A few days later, I stumbled into a rough Rebel camp.”
“So you’re, what, sixteen, seventeen?”
“Almost seventeen,” she answers.
“You don’t seem that old.”
“Why’s that? Because I’m so mature and levelheaded?” She grins proudly.
“More the opposite. Because you’re so wild and impulsive.”
“Oh screw you.” Her tone is half-serious, half-playful. “You’re as impulsive as me—maybe even more so.”
“I think we are both more alike than we’d care to admit.”
Her face morphs into a scowl. “I’ve served more responsibly for the Rebels’ cause than you can say. I’ve delivered on missions and promises and then some. That alone makes us very different.”
“I just need the chance, Bree. I can shine under pressure, too.” I flash her a smile and she rolls her eyes.
“Yeah? Well, I need a drink.”
She stuffs Frank’s journals back on the shelf and we leave the library in search of some alcohol.