Three months later, and Zain was kind of catching up to them. Kind of.
“Remember, you can’t let him know you exist,” Bolton yelled out. “You have to be as silent as a snake. And just as sneaky.”
He sat across the training building on a large pile of cushions he made. Night had already taken over outside. They’d been there the whole day.
Cameron, Victoria, and Zain were all crouched down behind a short wall.
“The Pacifem has the kid. You have to take it without him knowing.”
Victoria nodded, wiping the sweat off her face. They’d been running this scenario for hours and failed every time. Cameron’s eyes were pointed downward in thought. Zain stretched out his arms, watching as his wrists shook from exhaust. Almost every time, they’d failed because of him. He was fed up with it.
“I’m going to take the kid from the Pacifem on my own,” he said angrily.
“Zain—“
But Zain had already dashed off, maneuvering in and out passages, over and under giant foam blocks. The camera was spinning slowly. All Zain had to do was stay out of its vision, retrieve the kid, and return it to Bolton.
A ways away, he saw Victoria’s head peeking over the wall. Her large eyes staring in shock at Zain’s ignorance.
“Stupid camera,” Zain muttered.
The second the camera turned away from him, he sprinted towards the child—which was actually just a tiny cushion.
“Over here!” Victoria screamed out, jumping onto the wall and crazily waving her hands around.
Zain stopped.
“What did you do that for?”
“You can’t just go out into the field with no plan,” Victoria said. “The camera—the Pacifem would have heard you. At last if I screamed you could escape with the kid and only one of us would die.”
Now Cameron stood up too.
“She’s right.”
“I had it,” Zain punted the cushion up to the very high roof. “I didn’t need you to protect me. I needed one more second to save the kid.”
Across the building, Bolton slid off of his cushion mountain.
“Zain. You’re not listening. Try to understand what they’re saying.”
“All I’m saying is—“
“All you’re saying is that you don’t need their help. We know,” Bolton said bluntly. “But you do. If you didn’t notice, the camera had already started turning in your direction before Vic screamed. Just because you’re frustrated doesn’t mean you get to act out on it. All four of us have been here all day. Not just you.”
Zain felt remarkably stupid. Bolton made his way over and patted him on the back.
“Don’t harp on it, Zain. You’ve already improved so much since we began.”
Zain shook his head.
“I haven’t improved. Victoria and Cameron are still so much better than me.”
“I didn’t say you were better than them.”
“Well, how am I supposed to get as good as them, then?”
Zain suppressed his instinct to kick the camera too.
“Go hang from that bar. Both hands.” When Zain looked at him in confusion, he repeated, “Go. Hang.”
Punishment? Zain shamefully walked over to the bar and reached up. For five minutes he hung there, waiting for Bolton to give him some kind of signal. And for five minutes Bolton stood there, watching Zain as he bit into his daily chocolate cookie. Sometimes, he just seemed like a really big kid. Now sitting next to him, Victoria and Cameron did not look confused in any way.
When Zain’s grip finally let up, Bolton clapped loudly and slowly. He grabbed Zain’s arm and lifted him out of the pit.
“Five minutes and ten seconds. You wanna know how long you went our first practice? Thirty seconds. You are improving, man. You’ll catch up to them before you know it.”
Ten minutes after that, Bolton wrapped up practice and said that they’d continue another practice.
“We’ll be going to that fair Inaya mentioned. Today, if you want to come along, Zain,” Mrs. Qureishi told him after he arrived home, beaten and broken. “I know you must be really tired, but I heard that it’s really good for kids of all ages. You should go if you’re up for it.”
Zain nodded. To be honest, he hadn’t really gone out other than for practicing with Victoria and Cameron, so he would have probably said yes no matter how tired he was.
“What will they have there? Just food and games and whatnot?”
“That depends on what you regard as whatnot. Of course they’ll have all the fair stuff and everything you need to have fun. But apparently they’ll also be talking about career choices here in Totum.”
“We’re going to a career fair?” he slipped off his cloak and untucked his shirt. “I thought this was supposed to be something fun.”
“It will be fun. And you should pay attention just in case you end up having to choose a job.”
“In case we don’t make it into the PRO.”
“With enough work, your team can make it in, Zain. I believe in you. But just in case.”
“Thanks, mom.” Zain ran his hands through his sweaty hair. “But belief will only get us so far. I can’t imagine what the other teams are like if we’re ranked near the bottom. I mean—Victoria’s the hardest worker I’ve ever seen. She’s outperformed both Cameron and I in almost every single physical field. Whatever Bolton asks her to do, she’ll do it. I’m actually kind of nervous to see how capable she is when we start learning combat. I wouldn’t want to fight her. She has abs somehow. Even Cameron’s good at things. He’s really smart, and whenever he comes up with a strategy it always works. If there’s any reason we wouldn’t make it in, it would be me.”
Zain’s mother walked over to him and took his hand in hers and squeezing it tightly.
“Don’t say that, Zain. You’ve only been here for a few months. They’ve probably been with Mr. Bolton for a long time. And you still have three months to go before you leave for that—what’s it called? The place where you do the tests?”
“Glimmer Headquarters.”
“Yes, that. You still have three months. A lot can happen in three months, you know.”
Apparently so. Zain was still having trouble believing what Bolton had told him about his improvement.
That night was the first night Zain had ever worn fancy clothes—not fancy fancy, but fancy enough that he found them very uncomfortable. He had no clue where his parents obtained the clothes, considering he hadn’t seen them go clothes shopping once. Nevertheless, Zain’s mother told him that he had to wear the button-down shirt and the belt and everything.
“You don’t want to be underdressed compared to everyone else, do you?” his father had told him while handing him a black and silver belt.
Within the hour, the Qureishi family and Uncle Malek stood at the front door, ready to leave. Zain felt like his shoulders were being suffocated and his waist was being squeezed. Everyone else’s clothes were just as uncomfortable looking. Mrs. Qureishi was taller than usual—she was wearing heels. It must have taken her ages to slip one over her metal foot. Inaya, on the other hand, expressed large disapproval at her dress and was allowed to change back to pants and shirts—also button down, of course. Sana was too busy eating a cookie to even care what she was wearing.
“Are we going to drive there?”
“We don’t even have a car yet. We’ll walk there. It’s only a mile away.”
“When will we get a car?” Zain asked. “Not that people use them a lot. But we should still have one just in case.”
“It takes a while, Zain,” Mr. Qureishi opened the door for everyone. “I’ve heard that they have to secretly buy the cars and drive them here to even get a supply. And the road stops a long way before Totum.”
“And the Pacifems don’t suspect a thing?”
“I don’t think so. Once someone buys a car it’s theirs to use. There’s no need to keep track of everyone like the government needed to before the war.”
“I wonder if Kiara’s out looking for us,” Inaya said as they passed a couple who smiled at them. Everyone was nice in Totum. “She must have been pretty stunned when she arrived wherever she was going and found that her van was empty. She must’ve thought we escaped.”
“All thanks to your friends, Zain,” Uncle Malek remarked.
“We’re going to miss all your games, Malek,” Zain’s mother said with a laugh. “They bring me back to when we used to play as children.”
“Being a kid must have been a fun thing back then.”
“It still is, Sana. And I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun here as well. You just need to make some friends.”
It was hard for Zain to see a world where childhood was fun.
When they arrived, Zain was surprised to see that Victoria, Cameron, and Blythe were also attending the fair. Zain had forgotten how differently Cameron and Blythe acted, despite the fact that they were twins.
“Our mom likes to come to the fair every year and she just brings us along,” Blythe explained. He had to talk very loudly to compete with all the buzzing voices.
“What about you, Vic?”
“My parents are at work.”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Zain nodded. She seemed kind of out of it. Every few seconds, she zoned out and stared at the grass. She wound’t tell him why, though. Making close friends was more time-consuming than Zain thought.
“Hey, Zain,” Cameron said. He quickly glimpsed at Zain’s parents but then looked away, embarrassed.
“Hello again, Mrs. Qureishi,” Victoria said with a cordial handshake. “I’m glad to see you could make it to the fair.”
Breathing in, Cameron also shook each of their hands. Zain and Victoria smiled.
Over the giant grass fields, the lanterns hung on lines stretching from each tent to the next. They were everywhere. Zain couldn’t look up with out seeing them. And all around, the tents each had their own unique bright color. Some had men or women inside very vocally expressing that everyone should come buy one of their snacks. Some had small sandboxes filled with little children jumping on each other and biting on whatever wooden toys they could scavenge. Zain stared at these children for a few minutes before he realized it must have looked weird. He’d never expected to see so many little kids in such a little area having so much fun. And then there were the career tents. They were mostly empty and some of them were even vacant of the employees.
“Maybe this is just a real fair with the title of career fair,” Zain whispered to himself.
And it was big. Big enough so that Zain felt like he was adventuring through a maze every time he took a new turn. The only way he navigated himself was using the tall buildings surrounding the fair.
“If you want to go with your friends, Zain, that’s alright now,” his mother whispered in his ear. “We’re going to go look around a bit more.”
After they had left, Victoria grabbed Zain’s wrist and pulled him over to a tent with a very sweet aroma. Cameron and Blythe had to sprint behind them to keep up. Inside was a man in a pink tuxedo. He was spinning some kind of fluffy string on a stick. After a while of waiting for him to finish whatever he was doing, Victoria took one and bit into it.
“You eat the string?”
“It’s not string, Zain,” Victoria said, laughing. “It’s cotton candy. Here—try a piece.” She ripped a piece of the fluff off of her stick and handed it to him. He hesitantly put it in his mouth. For a brief moment, he tasted something very sweet, but the fluff melted away in his mouth just as quickly. He hadn’t even swallowed.
“It’s gone.”
“Well, that’s the point. Go, get some more!”
Within the minute, the pink man had managed to make three more and handed them to Blythe, Cameron, and Zain. Satisfied, they waddled away and sat on a bench to eat their cotton candy. It may not have tasted the best, but it sure was very fun to eat. Once they had made sure that every grain of sugar had been consumed, the group stood up again.
“I like Totum,” Zain said blankly.
Victoria chuckled.
“Do you wanna see something really cool?” she asked.
Without giving him time to respond, she grabbed his wrist again (she had a freakishly strong grip) and yanked him in a new direction, once again leaving Blythe and Cameron in her wake. It took a while but eventually they came to a halt in front of a tall, wide stage with shining lights and endless rows of seats in front of it. On top of it was a big sign: Pacifem Resistance Organization.
“What’s it for?”
“They have it here every year,” Blythe said. “It’s the only career part that people actually pay attention to. They have interesting announcements. And they probably have some pretty important announcements this year, especially with the new fighting aspect. I’m not sure they’ve told anyone about the combat yet . . .”
Every time Blythe spoke, Zain expected him to make some grumpy comment but then was surprised to hear him rambling on.
“We should probably sit down right now,” Cameron began walking towards the front row of seats. “This area packs up fast. If we don’t sit down early we’ll be standing in the back. Probably behind idiots much taller than us.”
Cameron was right. By the time everyone had tired of food and the kids had gotten bored of the sandboxes, hordes of people waited in front of the stadium, going as far back the cotton candy tents. Sprinkled throughout were excited children sitting on their father’s and mother’s shoulders to get a look at the stage.
“The PRO is the one thing everyone in Totum cares about,” Blythe explained to Zain. “It’s like the heart of our city.”
On his right, Victoria’s eyes were sparkling and she was bouncing in her seat. Zain had to calm her down before the man behind grew frustrated.
When a screeching microphone sound blasted from the stage, everyone in the crowd quieted down. Some children could be heard sobbing, but soon that ended as well. The microphone screeched yet again and a voice could be heard from the speakers.
“Greetings, citizens of Totum. We thank you for joining us at our Pacifem Resistance Organization Annual Address on this fine evening. We hope you all take note of what we have to say this year yet again. And if you have a child who is disrupting the audience, please kindly separate yourself for as long as it takes to calm them down. We have at least one thousand people listening today and some are very far away from the stage. Without further ado, I welcome this year’s announcers.”
A loud applause erupted from the audience. Zain laughed. His ears had never been under this much pressure before. On his left, Cameron had covered his ears.
Two men and two women walked onto the stage, each in white cloaks identical in shape to Bolton’s black one.
“Welcome,” one of the women with a very square jaw said. She had broad shoulders and was tall enough to compete with a bison. In her hand, the microphone resembled a wooden pencil. “As our announcer has kindly said, we thank you for making time to come here this evening. You won’t be disappointed,” she finished. She had a rough voice.
“As you may know,” one of the men stepped forward, “our PRO Recruits Trials will begin in a few months. Recruits of the ages 13-14 compete for five of our one hundred teams to make it in. While this age does seem rather young, we have to find the few recruits who stand out from the beginning so we can hone their skills by the time they become true PRO members—18 years old.”
“But we have something new to announce this year. Something the PRO hasn’t attempted in a long time. The 25 recruits accepted this year will not only be trained to rescue children and bring them here, but fight Pacifems. Of course, it is a last resort, but many missions have been cancelled due to the interference of Pacifems, and the children involved were . . . put to rest.”
Many of the children in the audience gasped and cried.
“But not to worry. Our Pacifem recruits this year will be learned in both combat and stealth, so that whatever they have all the skills needed to save every child.”
“For a decade, our principle has been to not interact with a Pacifem in any way or form. And because of this, half the children we try to save end up unsaved. But now everything will change. Every illegal child will be brought to Totum and safely put in their parents’ arms without a worry!”
About half the audience applauded. The clappers were eagerly and vigorously slapping their hands together while looking up at the stage in ecstasy and pride. The others were either frightened or extremely angered.
“And what about the secrecy of Totum?” someone in the audience yelled. “What if one of the recruits is caught?”
As if that was the signal, the crowd burst into conversation as people agreed and argued with each other.
“Everyone, please QUIET DOWN!” The square-jawed woman roared. She didn’t even need the microphone. “I can assure you that won’t happen. It’s been over thirty years since the Immortality War. Not a single Pacifem has fought a day in their life since the moment that missile was launched into the sky—even if they did once have combat abilities. They’re weak. If any of our members employs combat against a Pacifem—which I repeat, is a last resort—they will bring them here and we will teach them our way of life under extreme security. Besides, there’s no way they can return to their original home. They don’t know where Totum is located and it is too far to travel on foot. Simply put, the Pacifems are too weak individually to cause a break in this plan.”
This did not seem to change anyone’s mind.
“They’re wrong,” Zain told Victoria. “They’re not bad at fighting. At least the one that caught me and my family wasn’t. I’d never seen anyone fight like her before. Not even on TV.”
“Well, that’s why they’re training us, aren’t they?”
“I guess.”
“And we have one more big announcement to make. We’ll be announcing the new criteria by which recruits will be accepted into the PRO.”
Cameron’s head perked up and Victoria leaned forward in her seat. Zain refocused his attention on the stage.
“There will be two tests. Both of them will take place in Glimmer Headquarters where viewers can watch only the first test in person or on TV. The first test will be based on physical and combat ability. The second will be based on intellect, strategizing, and reasoning. The five teams who score highest and pass every test will be accepted. So recruits—we wish you luck. That is all we have to say.”
The second the last white-cloaked announcer stepped behind the curtain the crowd burst into conversation again. People were laughing and people were screaming and people were jumping. Some people were crying.
“Some of them must really have no faith in the PRO,” Blythe remarked.
After the announcements, people stuck around a while longer but slowly the grass alleys grew less concentrated and the sounds of children grew smaller By the time the Qureishis had reunited, some of the tents were already being taken down.
“I may have eaten Zain’s bodyweight in cotton candy,” Uncle Malek rubbed his belly.
“I’ll see you at practice tomorrow, Zain.”
“It was nice talking to you after all this time!”
“Goodbye.”
Zain watched Blythe grab another cloud of cotton candy as they walked away.
“We’re missing a kid,” Mrs. Qureishi had just finished doing a headcount. “Where is Sana?”
Sure enough, she was nowhere in sight. Mr. Qureishi sighed.
“She’s always getting herself lost somehow. This place is pretty big. We’ll have to split up. Everyone return to this spot after fifteen minutes.”
Zain nodded and hurried away, back in the direction of the stage. This way and that way and this way and that way until he heard his little sister’s voice getting louder. She sounded like she was apologizing for something. Zain made it just in time to see Sana’s titanium leg shred through an old man’s wooden stand.
“It won’t listen to me!” she cried. “Stupid leg!”
She was right. Every time she brought it back down to the ground it lurched out and kicked the stand again.
“I’m coming, Sana!”
Zain darted over to Sana and tried holding down her boot. Unfortunately, it had other ideas. He felt the impact on his chin before the pain actually hit him. Now the old man was yelling at Sana and even throwing his cooking tools up into the air. Before any serious damage was done, Zain managed to lift Sana onto his shoulder and secure her leg in a tight lock. The salty taste of blood spread over his tongue.
“Come on, Sana, we’ll take you home. Uncle Malek can probably fix it.”
“Fix it?” the old man yelled behind his wreck of a stand. “This girl broke my whole stand! Maybe try fixing that.”
“We’re sorry. She’s still getting the hang of using the prosthetic leg, and sometimes it malfunctions a bit. It’s newer technology.”
“Listen here, girl. Come near my stand again and you won’t be leaving it.”
Zain had intended to walk away, but Sana couldn’t argue for herself at the moment as she was in a much more worried state than her usual, rambunctious self.
“You take pride in threatening a little girl, do you? She’s eight. You’re like 200 years older than her.”
For a moment, the man almost screamed at Zain, but he stepped back and walked out in front of his display.
“What’s your name?”
“Zain.”
“Zain, you better leave my stand and walk away in the next ten seconds.”
“And what if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll make you.”
“Is there a problem here?” a familiar voice emerged behind Zain.
“Yes, there is a problem, sir. This little girl broke my stand and immediately after that this boy has the audacity to taunt me for my age!”
“Is this true, Zain?”
“Sana’s prosthetic leg was malfunctioning. Her leg broke the stand. He started yelling at her.”
“Sir, with all due respect, children are at the heart of Totum. If you can’t realize when they aren’t able to control what’s going on then I’m not sure you are capable of living here. Please learn to teach a young child from their mistakes rather than reprimanding them next time. Come with me, Zain. And I assume Sana is your sister.”
“Yes, Bolton.”
“Good job, Sana. Big people can be scary when you’re a kid,” Bolton put up a hand for a high-five as they walked away from the stand.
“I wasn’t scared of him. He was just a loser.”
“At times, I find it hard to believe some of the people in Totum are real, the way they treat children,” Bolton said. “In Totum especially, all kids should be respected.”
Bolton brought his hand back down as Zain hesitantly placed Sana back on the ground. He waited for a moment and when her leg didn’t smash his knees he let her walk beside him.
“I think I may have just gotten a bit too excited,” Sana said. “I don’t know how to control it when I get excited.”
“Everyone gets excited,” Bolton looked down at her. “It’s not your fault.”
“Are all old people like that, Bolton?” Zain said. “I thought they were supposed to be wise and kind and . . . stuff.”
“There are always some people who think they’re above everyone else—even if they are wise. In Totum too. Most old people aren’t like him, Zain. You’ll probably meet a nicer one in time. You don’t have any old relatives here, do you?”
Zain shook his head.
“Me either. Both my parents were rescued by the PRO with me. That’s why I signed up to join them. And now I'm a mentor.”
“I thought everyone in Totum was nice,” Zain said. He grabbed Sana’s hand as they walked.
“I don’t think there’s anywhere in this world that has only good people. Not in my experience.”