Agrarianna

As the train trundled up the pass to the plateau of Agrarianna Jackson tried to enjoy the moment, holding the hand of the most amazing girl he’d ever met, ignoring the fact that their chance to escape would be narrow. The fractured rock cliff beside the track diminished to open up a grand view of the starry sky. They sat in the open door of the boxcar, feet dangling above the passing rocky track bed. He leaned over to steal one more kiss from Shevi before whatever hell awaited had the chance to dawn on them, but he’d waited too long.

Shevi’s eyelids just started to flutter closed in expectation when she saw something that made her gasp and draw back, eyes wide and worried. Jackson turned to see an infinite barrier rise into view. It was a patchwork of colors stretching out of sight in both directions. It appeared that someone had boarded up the entire horizon, like the future in that direction had been closed permanently. The Iron Curtain—a fence made of Carbon Nation road signs surrounding godless and godforsaken Agrarianna. It was on them already, so soon. A guard tower loomed beyond, another silhouetted in the light of the setting moon. The train began to brake.

What do we do? Shevi whispered.

They were on the flat now, out in the open. Nothing hiding them from view except the faint twilight. A barren field stretched away from the tracks.

Jackson hadn’t escaped execution down in I Town to fall into a worse fate up here. Can you jump? he asked. Shevi’s ankles had taken some pretty bad abuse over the last couple of days.

Her eyes went to the Iron Curtain, the fear in them transforming into resolve. She nodded, tugged him toward her and kissed him.

When they parted, he asked, On three?

Three! she yelled and bailed off the worn threshold of the boxcar.

Jackson plunged with her. The ground was unyielding. It jarred his teeth and bones and guts. Their momentum rolled them across it relentlessly. There were rocks and thrashing sticks and brittle grass. Jackson found himself on his hands and knees, his skin stinging from the abusive impact. The front flap of the loincloth Mr. Myrtle’s goons had dressed him in for his execution dangled from the thin cord around his waist. He checked Shevi. She was on her side, her bulky white gown wadded around her. She coughed.

You okay? he shouted over the rumble of railcar wheels.

She opened her mouth to answer, but a roar from above drowned out her words. Something big landed near Jackson and bowled into him, scrubbing his bare skin along more of the uncaring ground. It was Cole, the big lug Shevi had been betrothed to back in I Town. Jackson had already taken one beating from him and had no intention of taking another. The big sandy-haired guy jumped to his feet, fists ready, but didn’t come for Jackson. He turned his ruddy face toward Shevi. Pure hatred contorted his fat features.

YOU KILLED MY DAD! The roar shamed the sound of the train wheels on the track. Somewhere ahead, one dog barked and set off a chorus of baying.

Hey, big guy, Jackson hissed. Keep it down. He rose to his hands and knees again and peered cautiously in the direction the train was going. Lights flashed up there.

In the other direction Shevi wrestled with the robe Mr. Myrtle had selected to hide her wonderfully round body. Cole advanced on her.

Jackson jumped up and ran to him. Listen, I don’t know what your deal is, but—

Cole’s fist blasted against the side of Jackson’s head. Stay out of this, Dim, the big boy shouted.

Jackson staggered. With as hard as the contact had been, it still didn’t bother him as much as the noise the idiot was making. He found a big rock, an equalizer, and prepared an assault to silence the giant when the ground around them exploded with light. Gray turned to stark white. Black turned blacker. Colors went to extremes, washed out hues: green, brown and red. Cole’s eyes were white-hot spots on his red face, his mouth a gaping hole. He looked above and beyond Jackson, and Jackson knew what he was seeing—the guard tower’s beacon had come on and was shining right at them. Jackson ran to Shevi and grabbed her hand.

She looked up at him and shook her head. I can’t.

He tugged at her. Yes, you can.

No. It was a sigh, a surrender.

Shevi, try.

Go.

To hell with that. Behind him, Cole drew in a long terrified breath. Jackson spun around. Yeah, here we are. You get it now, genius? We’ve got to get out of here. You’ve got to help Shevi. Got it?

Cole looked at them, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. For a couple of loud heartbeats Jackson thought it would work. Cole looked shocked enough to go along with anything other than getting captured by the heartless cannibals of Agrarianna. But then fear overcame any form of rational or irrational thought. Cole belted out a shocking infantile cry and blasted past Jackson and Shevi with speed that was impressive for a guy his size.

The dogs’ barking ramped up in volume. They were coming.

Go, Shevi begged.

No, Jackson replied. He stood by her and watched as a pack of the biggest, fiercest four-legged creatures he had ever seen charged toward them.

He took her hand. She squeezed his. They drew together like beads of water on the side of a glass, not necessarily of their own will, but of the imposition of their circumstance.

The dogs had teeth, big teeth bared in hunger or anger. The fur of their brown coats rippled in the draft born by the swiftness of their feet. They were yards then feet then inches away. Then they were gone. They charged by the pair in total ignorance or with complete lack of concern. Jackson and Shevi watched after them, watched another oval of light span across the open field. Cole was a brilliant pantomime flailing against a seemingly infinite blackness—until the dogs caught up with him.

Jackson flinched and cringed. Shevi whimpered. Then a new sound disturbed them. Coming up from behind them, from the direction the train had gone, a cacophony of rattles and squeaks. Together, they looked back. Little lights flickered and bounced toward them—fast.

Jackson looked into Shevi’s eyes. Are you sure you can’t?

No, she said uncertainly. She took a couple of steps toward where the dogs had Cole and stopped. Yes. Are you sure you won’t?

Jackson sighed and looked toward the jagged edge of the dark horizon.

If you did, Shevi said, you could come back for me.

Jackson turned to the Iron Curtain, saw how the patterns along the bottom disappeared into the ground. No telling how far down they went. Along the top, silhouetted against the purple sky was a looped strand of barbed wire. Circular objects fastened it to the top of the curtain of steel signs. Insulators, Jackson knew—to keep the voltage in the wire from grounding to the signs. Once again, he was trapped between electric current and the ground, like he’d been when he vamped the connection to Wheel Three back in I Town for that nasty creature, Mr. Myrtle.

He gripped her hand tighter than he ever had held anything. Whatever we do, we’ll do together.

She leaned forward to kiss him, but again they were cut short. Two men on bicycles rattled past them, one on each side. Two more halted before them. Little lights on the handlebars died out when they stopped. Coils of wire on the struts and the magnets on the spokes of the front wheels induced the current for the lights. The two men drew long shafts from over their shoulders. Knocker rods. The two prongs ready to inflict a quick, painful stab of voltage. Shevi and Jackson parted and raised their hands in surrender—they’d both had enough of knocker rods over the last twenty-four hours.

Jackson suddenly saw an aspect of the situation that should have been obvious the instant the guards came into view. Hey, you’re free, he whispered and then laughed at himself—who was going to hear him out here in the middle of a field? Come with us.

He reached out his hand in friendship to these poor souls who had managed to slip out of the relentless grip of the Iron Curtain. The results were grins, exchanged glances, and finally one of them lodging the prongs of his knocker rod into Jackson’s bare chest.

It could be fatal. Jackson heard his own thought, as if one part of his psyche were conversing with another. So close to the heart. The voltage propelled him backward and onto the ground while, in some other universe far from the white hot pain he wondered what could have been wrong with his logic. No one ever escaped the maniacal regime of Agrarianna, and yet these guards had. Who wouldn’t run from the oppression? Why hadn’t they seen the huge advantages of his offer?

Questions crowded his mind until it was a black abyss.

Shevi gasped at the guard’s unprovoked attack. Jackson was just trying to be nice. He just wanted to help them.

The other guard said, Now he’s not so smart. He pointed his knocker rod at Shevi. You got any wise remarks to share?

Shevi shook her head, stood perfectly still with her hands raised in surrender. She appreciated Jackson’s forwardness and his desire to help these poor people, but in the last few hours she’d had all the knocker rod contact she wanted for the rest of her life. She wasn’t as strong as Jackson, didn’t have his willingness to take chances and risk everything. She guessed it was because she’d lived the good life back in I Town. Back there she was all but a queen—at least a princess—while Jackson had been little more than dirt.

The rhythmic beat of running footsteps approached, more people who had made it out of the hell of Agrarianna. Surely some of them would come to their senses and lead a permanent escape. Four men in the same camel brown uniforms ran up.

What have we got? one of them asked.

Three, the guard who had zapped Jackson declared proudly.

Excellent. Jasper and Lincoln, take these back. We’ll go get the other. He and another guard ran on to where the dogs had taken Cole down.

The other two carelessly grabbed up Jackson’s hands and feet and began hauling him in the direction the train had gone.

Shevi couldn’t stand it anymore. She had to say something even if it meant taking another knocker rod charge. You’re not seriously going back, are you? After you got out?

The guard who had stunned Jackson shook his staff to recharge it. The other said, You contentionist scum. You’re all the same. One more word and you’ll be joining your pal in La-la Land. He motioned with the end of his staff.

Shevi drew herself in as small as she could to slip past the end of the man’s weapon and follow Jackson’s carted body toward the doom of Agrarianna. If he’d lasted a little longer, he would have figured a way out of this. The instance of the Duel Wheel coming off its undercarriage shone as brightly in her mind as the beam of the searchlight that followed her now. The audience that had gathered to witness her and Jackson’s inevitable and unavoidable demise had witnessed Jackson’s buoyancy instead—his resiliency. He would get them out of this when he came around.

She trudged forward. That one hope keeping her from falling down on the ground and giving up, digging like an animal into the dirt to escape, making them stun her and put her out of her conscious misery.

The rails of the train track disappeared under the hideous wall of signs. A guard tower rose above. Jackson was on his feet now, barely, staggering along between the two guards who had carried him. He didn’t look back or seem to know where they were, still dazed from the pain of electric shock. One of the guards pounded on a big brown sign with KNOTS BAY BOAT ACCESS written sideways up it and an arrow pointing heavenward. The sign swung inward where the terrible place of Agrarianna waited to destroy them. Shevi watched Jackson, hoping to see him looking around, taking everything in in his methodical way, dissecting the environment and locating its weaknesses, but he just swung loosely between the guards as they took him into the gaping mouth of the beast.

Shevi’s head swooned. The morning seemed suddenly very bright as she took the last few steps of freedom, before her life officially ended. Her resolve to trust in Jackson waned. What if he didn’t get them out? Couldn’t? What if this awful place was too much even for him? She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t pass through that horrible portal of doom.

Miss? one of the guards behind her said.

Her steps were small and unpredictable, the muscles in her legs trying to take charge of her destiny and save the rest of her from death.

A strong hand clutched her arm—squeezing, lifting and guiding.

No, she panted, her head shaking side to side as if on a broken neck.

Miss. The voice was stern now.

No, she repeated. No. Please. No.

The maw of the beast was right in front of her. It was so big now. Oh, it hadn’t looked so huge and overwhelming from the distance when it opened. An iron pipe served as the threshold. She would have to step over it. Oh, God, how could she? It was the gate to Hell and she had to make the effort to lift her feet over that line on the ground.

She grabbed at the sides of the opening, wanting to hold herself back, but another hand took her other arm and forced her inside.

Everything around her was metal, all hard and cold. Rust and dirt everywhere. Dim light bulbs under metal overhangs. And the smell of death. The place reeked of death. On the loading platform beside a train that here seemed rustier and dirtier that it had back home, a man struggled. Two other men contended with him. They would kill him. That’s what happened here. Everyone knew it. Everyone said it. It was a place of death and of damnation and of no return, of lost hope. They would kill this man right in front of her. Maybe it would be her initiation into this hell, to witness death firsthand and know its certainty.

Ahead of her Jackson straightened up and stiffened, halting between his captors. Dad? he said. Dad! He bolted forward.

One guard grabbed him. Hold on, boy. That’s none of your business.

Now recognizing that it was Levine Koss, Jackson’s father, Shevi yelled, It’s his dad.

The guard said, There is only one father of us all in Agrarianna, and that’s not him.

Jackson looked over his shoulder at Shevi. He looked around, taking in where they were. His eyes bulged. Oh. It was a hopeless sigh.

Shevi and Cole sat on either end of a bench in a dingy hallway. Cole’s tight shirt showed the bulge of his luxurious middle, typical of I Town’s big Ironclads, while Shevi huddled in the remains of the toga Mr. Myrtle had forced her to wear to shame her. Guards flanked them, stiff and silent in camel brown uniforms.

Cole scooted down the bench until his leg was firm against hers. She flinched away.

His swollen cheek slurred his whisper. We should make a run for it.

Shevi forced herself to take a deep breath. Cole’s sudden movements had escalated her panic. She turned her face downward, letting the tangled and matted waves of her brown hair hide her face so their keepers couldn’t see her lips move. I don’t know why we’re still alive. She risked a glance at him, desperate to get her point across to him. They’re cannibals, Cole. Probably, that’s why we’ve been separated from Mr. Koss and Jackson.

She couldn’t make a run for it anyway, with both of her ankles swollen. Back in I Town she’d twisted one ankle saving a child from being thrown out with the trash, and then injured the other when she escaped house arrest by Cole’s parents. And now here she was, stuck in the farmlands, with him.

They’re the lucky ones, she said, too small to be eaten.

But where were Jackson and his father? She didn’t want to die not knowing their fate.

She couldn’t believe this—the situation she was in. And all because Cole was so stupid. She gritted her teeth and did the only satisfying thing left in her control. She kicked him hard in the leg, sending a dart of pain through her already throbbing ankle. He grunted and shot her a confused glance. That’s how stupid he was. He had no idea why she’d kicked him. Shevi wondered, if she was granted one last request, would she ask to be killed first so he had to see what he had caused, or should she get the pleasure of watching him be slaughtered? She couldn’t decide.

Cole slid back to the other end of the bench as a door opened down the hall. A petite girl wearing the same style uniform as the guards came through, toting a box filled with bottles and bandages. She faced Shevi and Cole and gave them a long look. She shook her head. You poor things. I’m Katrina. I’ll help you settle in. Come with me. She turned and hurried down the hall.

Cole was up, following dumbly, but Shevi kept her seat, gripping its front edge as if it were her last hope. She would not go willingly to her own death. Hadn’t Jackson taught her better than that?

The girl looked back, grinning. What a demon! She looked past Shevi and nodded. Shevi turned and shrunk away as one of the guards left his post and came toward her. She shook her head and held on tighter to the bench seat. She couldn’t restrain the sound that came out when he grabbed her arm—not a scream, only a pathetic squeak.

Careful, Katrina said, looking her over. Both of her ankles are injured. Can you carry her?

The guard looked from Katrina to Shevi and back at Katrina. She returned a flicking, waving gesture. He cleared his throat and commenced wrestling Shevi into his arms. Her sloppy toga tangled in his hands.

Cole took advantage, charging past them and running at the guard still posted at the door. The guard’s knocker rod discharged with a sharp zap. Cole shrieked and fell to the floor.

Shevi’s guard looked at the heap of boy and said, I got this one. He wrapped his arms around Shevi’s waist and hefted her off the bench.

Wait, Shevi said and put up her hands in surrender. Just . . . I’ll walk.

The guard released her with a relieved sigh. Katrina motioned him to help the other guard get Cole up off the floor.

Cole swatted at them. "I’m a Turney, and I will not be—"

Katrina stopped at a door, her hand resting on the knob. She hesitated before opening it. Cole? That’s right, isn’t it? Cole?

Cole nodded. Shevi almost felt sorry for him. Katrina’s voice had taken a tone that reminded Shevi of Cole’s mother, a matriarch and powerful woman not to be challenged.

Cole, you are now a citizen of Agrarianna. In time you will learn the meaning and value of that citizenship and will appreciate that you are simply Cole, no longer tied to any family.

Bull! he spat. But as he spoke, he stood and came down the hall.

Katrina smiled and opened the door.

When Shevi was close enough, she asked the only question that mattered to her. Where is Jackson?

Don’t worry about him, the girl said over her shoulder. He’s fine.

The room was hard and cold—white tile and stainless steel. The sight of two guards fighting to hold Mr. Koss onto a table brought Shevi’s panic rushing back. One of the guards pinned the man down on a table while the other worked to strap him to it. Shevi’s stomach lurched as she witnessed the brutality this place was famous for.

Gently, please, Katrina said. Levine needs a great deal of patience right now.

Patience? Gentleness? What kind of twisted mind called for these means in the process of slaughtering its victims? She searched the room for kitchen utensils—knives for harvesting meat and saws for cutting through bone—but there were only towels and shelves of bottles behind glass.

Mr. Koss’s face was bright red, the muscles in his neck in long, tight strands. Where’s Jackson? he fumed. Where’s my son?

He’s fine, the devil girl said.

Shevi knew it was a lie by the creepy calmness in Katrina’s voice as she stroked Mr. Koss’s forehead. Shevi could barely stand to watch, expecting the girl to tear out his throat as she bent over him.

You’ll be fine—soon. The girl turned back to Cole. We will make you better, too.

Cole stood paralyzed as she moved toward him. His eyes grew wider as Katrina approached. She took his hand and studied the swollen wound on it then cast a rueful glance at the guards You could have done without the dogs. Dabbing the wounds with a moist rag, she said to Cole, We’re very sorry.

The girl carefully medicated and bandaged Cole’s wounds. When Shevi couldn’t bear the emotional strain any longer, she went back to her original question. Where is Jackson?

Mr. Koss stopped struggling with his handlers and looked at Katrina, his eyes wide with curiosity.

Who cares? Cole spewed.

Shevi gritted her teeth. I do.

Katrina turned to Shevi. Let’s have a look. She didn’t offer acknowledgement of Shevi’s question this time.

Shevi watched the top of the girl’s head and braced herself for the agony of a cannibal’s teeth tearing flesh from her leg. But Katrina only dressed her ankles with a soothing ointment and wrapped them firmly. The relief was so refreshing that Shevi had to say something to break the tension inside her. So you’re just Katrina? No last name?

That’s right, the girl said, looking up from her nursing with a twinkle in her blue eyes. It is a wonderful way. I’m sure you’ll come to agree.

Jackson woke startled. He pushed his hair from his face and stared, amazed at all the books. Hundreds. Thousands! Corner to corner. Floor to ceiling. Grandpa Piedmont’s library couldn’t compare. He pulled his hair back and eased himself into a sitting position on a plush sofa with upholstery that was comfortably worn, coarse but soft. A sound like the ringing of a little bell alarmed him that he wasn’t alone. He jumped up and whirled as the sound repeated.

A man rose from a chair. He was a plain man with a light complexion toned by the sun. Sandy blond hair a shade darker than Jackson’s own stood up across the man’s scalp. He held a tea cup in one hand, left a spoon by a saucer on the table, and directed a warm smile at Jackson. Crow’s feet blossomed wide from the corners of his blue eyes.

Jackson struggled to remember his escape from I Town: riding the train, jumping off—but not soon enough—his dad had been there, and . . .

Agrarianna!

Where’s Shevi? he gasped, backing away from the man until his calves pressed against the low table in front of the sofa. Where’s my dad?

We find it’s best to isolate initiates until they’re fully integrated, the man said. I’m Ivan. I’ll be your mentor through the process. What can I get you?

Shevi. I want to see Shevi.

The man sighed and nodded slowly. Of course. Soon. Very soon. But first let’s get you settled in.

Mr. . . ? Jackson paused.

Ivan, the man said. "I am Ivan, Maxim of Agrarianna. And you may, if you require or insist on formality, refer to me as Maxim Ivan. But I would prefer a simple first name basis between us."

I’m . . . Jackson.

Indeed. The infamous Jackson Koss of Induction Town. Ivan’s smile widened. The spark in his eyes grew brighter. Bane of Mayor Van Asche’s existence. The one who stopped a wheel, turned their world upside down, and then escaped. He fluttered his hands as if describing the mystery of a magic trick.

I didn’t actually stop the wheel.

Ivan chuckled. Of course not. That’s just the news.

Jackson suddenly felt self-conscious. How do you get news from I Town?

Ivan shrugged. He grabbed a package from the table and tossed it. Jackson caught it. Brown paper. Firm but flexible. Heavy but soft. The man gestured for Jackson to open it. Jackson did. Inside was a leather-bound volume. The pages were blank.

I’ve heard you like to keep a journal.

Yes Mister—sorry. Yes, Ivan, Jackson said.

Ivan stepped to the back of the sofa and extended his arm across it. Jackson shook his hand.

You’re going to find a wonderful place for yourself here in the Motherland, Jackson. I’m sure of it.

Yes. Jackson did what he could to mask his skepticism. He didn’t know what this person truly was, but, for now at least, he was Jackson’s only source of information. Jackson didn’t wait to take advantage of it. He returned to the vital question. What have they done with Shevi?

Ivan drew back. Something shifted in his demeanor. His voice went low. Why, we’ve chopped her up and roasted her and eaten her flesh, of course.

Jackson’s mouth went dry. He swallowed desperately, opened his mouth to try to speak but found he couldn’t.

Ivan burst into laughter. The eruption shocked Jackson, setting the hairs on his arms stiffly upright and making his pulse race.

Ivan wiped tears from his eyes and shook his head. "We do not eat people here, Jackson."

Jackson wanted to believe him, but he’d always been told the people behind the Iron Curtain were feral, rabid mongrels. This man didn’t display wickedness in his appearance or his demeanor. Jackson only needed to know that Shevi was okay, since it had been his own fault that she’d ended up in the farmlands.

Please, he said. Is she okay?

Ivan said, Shevi and your father and the other lad will be cared for here as they never would have been in Van Asche’s wretched hive of self-centered contentionists—that you wisely escaped from. She is a human being. A valuable resource.

Resource?

An asset for the workforce, he said.

Perhaps Jackson was looking for something to hold against the man, but he was certain