17.
First Patrol
“Do they always follow us?”
Astrid shouts out the question to be heard above the roaring wind. She’s asking about our ‘shadow patrol’ – the half dozen heavily armed Enforcers who’ve been trailing us since we passed the outer perimeter marker. They’re concealed well in their white camo, but every now and then I hear the crunch of a boot against snow. Or a menacing growl.
I close my eyes, picturing the snow rippers we ran into half an hour ago. Saber-teeth bared. Growling and straining against their masters’ leashes. Savage eyes practically tearing us apart.
It’s hard to relax when you know you’re being shadowed by a pack of attack wolves trained to kill on command.
Oh yeah, I forgot: they’re here to protect us.
“Trust me,” Dax says cheerfully. “When you have your first run-in with the ‘Green A,’ you’ll be glad they’re here.”
Astrid and I exchange confused glances.
“The Green A?” I ask, words muffled by my mask. No wonder Dax and Vora always seem to be shouting. That’s the only way to be heard out here.
“The Aletheians.” Vora points to the burnt-out shell of a building. Even from this distance, I can see the letters spray-painted all over its dilapidated walls: bright green A’s sprouting like vines from cracked brick and concrete.
“That’s how they mark their territory,” Dax explains as we get closer. “Like rippers pissing on a wall.”
“Why don’t you remove them?” I ask.
“Why bother? They’re like weeds. Get rid of one and ten pop up the next day to take its place.”
As he’s speaking, I sense a burst of yellow – the same trapped animal fear I felt during the Fox Hunt in Washton. Seconds later, a flicker of movement catches my eye and I pivot just in time to see two cloaked figures scurrying by. They bow their heads before ducking into the shell of another building. Our first Settlers.
“Where did they come from?” Astrid asks, sounding as spooked by their sudden appearance as I am. To our right, I notice another cluster of Settlers. I swear they weren’t there a second ago.
Dax snorts out a laugh. “You mean the Ice Gophers?”
His nickname for the Settlers makes perfect sense once he’s pointed out the snow-covered mound at our feet. With his boot, he traces the outline of a trap door. “Probably popped up from one of these.”
“You mean they live underground?”
I hear my shock echoed in Astrid’s voice. Now that I know what to look for, I notice what must be hundreds of mounds dotting the frozen landscape. Maybe thousands, scattered among the ruins.
“It’s not so bad,” Dax says. “Think about it. They’re warm and safe down there. There’s a whole network of interconnected living chambers. It’s one big cozy colony.”
“But how…” Astrid shakes her head in disbelief. “How can people live like that?”
Vora shrugs. “They don’t seem to mind. Come to the surface after sunrise, work in the refineries, then return home before nightfall. It’s safer that way. They’d freeze to death on the surface.”
“Welcome to the Ice Pit, sugar!” Dax adds, playfully draping an arm over Astrid’s shoulder. “No luxury high-rises overlooking Founder’s Bay up here.”
“So I noticed.” She laughs, surprising us both by leaning into him.
Why? Is she trying to forge an alliance? The rational part of me buys that explanation, even as I’m flushing with annoyance. Why should I care who she flirts with? Isn’t that Ferro’s problem?
“Why are they running away from us?” Astrid asks.
Dax shrugs and adjusts his face mask to scratch at his beard. “Get used to it. Our Settlers spook easy.”
“But that makes no sense. We’re here to protect them, right?”
“Of course we are,” Vora snaps self-righteously. “But you have to remember: Settlers are like children. They don’t know what’s best for them.”
She turns to Dax as she says this, making me wonder if she’s also talking about him. Is there something between them? That would explain the jealous edge in her voice. Now that the thought occurs to me, it sort of makes sense. Three years stuck in this frozen wasteland would probably make for some improbable snug-ups.
Astrid must sense this too, because she pulls away from Dax. “Are any of the Settlers terrorist sympathizers?” she asks Vora.
“Yes, but we don’t know how many.”
“Can’t you just sift them to find out?”
“It’s not that simple. We think some of the Aletheians have figured out a way to hide their thoughts.”
“But…” I break in. What Vora just said makes no sense. “How is that even possible?”
Dax’s answer – shouted into the roaring wind – is anything but reassuring.
“Who fragging knows?”
We move on in silence, the veterans a few steps ahead and Astrid by my side. Judging from her pensive mood, she’s still digesting the shocking news Vora just casually dropped on us.
Could it really be possible? Have the Aletheians discovered a way to mask their deviant thoughts?
If so, then nothing will ever be the same. There can be no Sacred Vision without the Guardian’s gift – no Crystal without the Flame. Everything rests on our ability to peer into the souls of our people. To extinguish any sparks of evil before they catch fire.
But what if that power is somehow diminished? What if our vision starts to fade?
How will we keep our people safe?
I think of Orwin Locke’s urgent speech back in Washton. The one where he warned us that our enemies are multiplying like rats in the darkness, gaining strength and purpose. His words come to me now: For three millennia, your ancestors have kept the Sacred Flame burning. Will you be the first generation to let it die out?
Maybe he already knew what was happening in York when he made that speech. Maybe his words were meant as a warning.
“I think I know how it’s possible.”
Astrid’s sudden pronouncement pulls me back to the moment. She’s walking next to me, staring ahead so I can’t read her expression, but it’s hard to miss the tension in her voice.
“How what’s possible?” I ask.
“The Aletheians. Before they can learn how to mask their thoughts, first they need to know when they’re being sifted, right? They need some method of detection.”
I nod, encouraging her to go on.
“So who’s going to teach them that?”
Her question hangs in the air – a static charge just waiting to be sparked.
“You think it’s one of us?” I finally say.
“Yeah, I’m afraid so.” She halts and turns to face me, brow furrowed. “If what Vora just told us is true, then it’s the only explanation that makes any sense.”
She’s right, as usual.
Which means the terrorists may very well have a Sifter in their ranks.
*
As we venture deeper into York, more Settlers start to surface around us, first in small groups and then a growing crowd. The ruins here are denser too, toppled shards of concrete and metal meeting overhead in places to form a broken canopy. When we reach what looks like the start of another market district, Dax suggests we split up to cover more ground.
“Now’s a good time for you to learn how to swim on your own,” he says, surprising everyone by pairing up with Vora instead of Astrid. “Newbies take point.”
“That means go that way and mingle,” Vora explains with a wave toward the crowd of Settlers. “Should be plenty of sifting opportunities. Let’s see how good the two of you really are.”
Once we’re alone, Astrid stops walking and turns to me. Maybe it’s because of her tinted face mask, but her skin looks even paler than usual.
“It’s not supposed to be like this,” she says.
I’m not sure if she’s referring to the harsh living conditions or the hostile auras radiating from the Settlers around us. Probably both.
“You mean the Settlers,” I say. “The way they hide when they see us coming.”
“Exactly.” She shakes her head in dismay. “We’re here to protect them, but they don’t see it that way. All I’m sensing is fear and anger. It’s like they hate us.”
“They do hate you, Sunshine.” Dax’s voice crackles through our ear buds. “You’re here to sift their darkest secrets. What did you expect them to do? Throw rose petals at your feet?”
Astrid swats at her ear to cut him off, like she’s shooing away a mosquito. After muting the sound of his laughter, I follow her into the market.
There’s no wind now that we’re completely hemmed in by the ruins, and a thick carpet of snow amplifies even the faintest sounds. Footsteps crunching on ice. The murmur of distant conversation. Even the steady ebb and flow of our breaths rasping through fabric. When Astrid speaks again, she may as well be whispering right into my ear.
“Was it like this in Camp Wilmington?”
I turn to her, surprised by the personal question. It’s the first time she – or anyone else outside of Vin – has asked about my life before the Academy.
“Not really,” I say, trying to dredge up some snapshots from my past. It’s always like this whenever I return to my childhood. All I get are disjointed fragments. A glimpse of waves crashing against sand. The sudden peal of a child’s laughter, or is it a scream? The rough feel of burlap against my cheek. Cold bathroom tiles beneath my feet followed by the hiss and bite of ice water. Then the bite of something else – like a bee stinging my back. Are these real memories? Dreams? Nightmares?
When it comes to my early childhood, it’s impossible to tell. All boundaries are hopelessly blurred.
“What I mean,” I say, groping for words, “is I don’t remember much from the Camp. Just fragments. Barely anything, really. I was only eight when I left, though. It’s normal to forget, isn’t it?”
Instead of responding, Astrid just stares at me. It’s the kind of stunned look I saw right before Washton burst into flames.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
When she looks away, the sudden anger in my voice catches us both by surprise.
“Tell me!”
She takes a deep breath before answering. “I’m not sure. Do you really remember nothing?”
“No. I remember being discovered by a Guardian named Thea. She’s the one who taught me about the Gift.” I close my eyes and tap into one of the only vivid memories I have from Camp Wilmington. I can practically smell the apple orchard where Thea first explained how to sift. Hear the musical sound of her voice. Recall the wonder I felt as she patiently explained our Gift. The memory feels complete. Real.
“Do you have any other clear memories?”
My mind flashes back to the emerald-eyed girl on the beach. “Just one.”
When I don’t offer any more details, Astrid doesn’t press for them. “I’m not sure about this,” she says, sounding uncharacteristically rattled. “But it sounds like your early memories might have been altered. Maybe even erased.”
“But how could that –?”
I choke off mid-sentence as the horrifying answer hits me.
They stripped my mind.
Suddenly, the emptiness of my past – the rootlessness I’ve always felt – makes sickening sense. Before I entered the GA, someone must have erased large swaths of my memory. Turned me into a blank slate. And in the process… what did they take from me?
What part of me did they kill?
“Your Camp experiences,” Astrid says, putting words to my thoughts. “Some memories must have been incompatible with your new life as a Guardian.”
When I don’t respond, she touches my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Wil. I heard rumors, but I never thought…”
I jerk away and stare at her in disbelief. “You heard rumors? You mean… you always knew I’d been stripped?”
“No! Of course not! I – they were just, I don’t know, stupid gossip. I never thought they could be true.”
“Why? Because no one would dare strip a Guardian?” I flinch as the memory of what she said in the greenhouse comes back to me. “Well, I’m just a low-blooded Settler. Which means – how did you put it? – that someone like Cillian Gant could strip my brain just for kicks, right? Hey! Who knew you were being so literal?”
She stares at the snow at our feet, shoulders low. “You have to believe me. I swear I had no idea. Not until you told me you couldn’t remember anything about the Camp.”
She’s probably telling the truth, but so what? Even if she had known, what could she have done about it?
Bitterness washes over me, a ring tightening around my throat, but I swallow it down. I don’t want to feel this way. Don’t want to misplace my anger by blaming her again. “Yeah,” I hear myself say in a tired voice. “Well, it doesn’t really matter now, does it?”
“Of course it matters!” She grabs my gloved hand, like she’s trying to coax some outrage out of me. “If someone stripped your mind, then that’s wrong, Wil. No one has the right to take a person’s memories away.”
I’m about to say something sarcastic when I notice most of the Settlers have vanished. They crowded around us only a few minutes ago, but now only a few stragglers remain, eyeing us cagily from the periphery. Giving us a wide berth.
The scene floods me with an ominous sense of repetition. This is what happened in Washton. Right before…
***
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Hey Gray,
Excellent hook at the end...a real page turner for sure.
Now, to answer your question about Dax and Vora...yes, I think they add to the story. They're an excellent way to introduce back story about York and things that have gone on there. I'm sure you also have more in store for them other than just back story info, so they'll definitely add to the story as it progresses.
I didn't see nary a nit, but I was caught up in the reading to the point nothing jumped out.
I like how a subtle relationship is developing between Astrid and Wil. Her concern about his memory being stripped is touching...a real sign of friendship.
Very nice chapter.
~Ann
I like the idea of attack wolves. :-P I also like how you juxtapose Wil's greenness with Vora and Dax's ease. As you said, they're veterans--before he realizes it, Wil will probably be an old hand at this.
Ice Gophers, LOL. Love it.
Why should I care who she flirts with? Isn’t that Farroe’s problem? -> I think I've told you my thoughts on 1st person italics before--anyway, I think you can remove these.
Great job of informing the reader through dialouge, when Astrid tells Wil she knows how the peeping shields (sorry lol, I don't know what else to call them!) are possible. I also like how their conception of what it would be like to be a Guardian (beloved by the people they're sworn to protect) conflicts with reality: that the Settlers really despise and distrust them. This definitely elevates the tension.
The sudden peel of a child’s laughter -> "peal." Homonyms are fun. :-) Also great job conveying Wil's confusion over his past. I love how you convey the fragments.
Ah, good hook at the end. Not much that I'd change here. Just a couple nitty things. I like how you're not afraid to have Wil and Astrid argue. Actually, my one suggestion would be to keep the tension high and not have them make-up so easily, with Wil about to agree with her outrage. If something bad's about to happen, let it happen when they're angry with each other. Does that make sense?
This is a great read! :0)
JLiz
Greetings, GM. So, Wil has learned that he has been washed and wiped by his superiors. Very nice twist! I did not see that coming, but I should have suspected it. Small wonder that Cillian tapped him for an infiltrator; he was probably the one who cleaned Wil out.
Nits, Comments & Concerns:
>>I close my eyes, picturing the Snow Rippers that we ran into half an hour ago. Saber-teeth bared.
Replace that first period with a colon.
>>“You mean they live underground?”
If York is New York, then this makes perfect sense. The frozen city will still have infrastructure, which can be updated without too much work. The refinery (if that’s what it is) will give off steam and heat which can be piped underground to heat the living quarters. With proper insulation, the Colony would be very comfortable. Waste materials would be recycled through underground farms much the way it is done in Biospheres or Earthship houses.
>>“So I noticed.” She laughs, surprising us both by leaning into him.
Replace the period with a comma, drop the capital ‘S’.
>>He shrugs, adjusting his face mask to scratch at his beard. “Get used to it. Our Settlers spook easy.”
Actually, running away from the Guardians could serve a tactical advantage. By maintaining a frightened visage, the people nurture a culture of contempt from the Guardians, giving them less reason to enter their underground lairs. There, beneath the surface, they could create a separate living community and an entirely different culture which does not follow the Founders’ beliefs. They would also be able to harbor fugitives, support an underground railroad, or a resistance network.
>>We think some of the terrorists have figured out a way to hide their thoughts.”
>>“But…” I break in. What she just said makes no sense. “How is that even possible?”
The Enforcers can do it, which proves that it is possible. This also implies that there is a leak in the Enforcer training program. A key advantage in the forthcoming war between Settlers and Guardians (yes, I see it coming).
Spoiler Alert….maybe. Let me tell you why I know Vora is going to bite it. It’s totally your fault. You are so good at bringing a character to life and making them individual that when Vora popped up and she was kind of ….blah…I thought, “Why in the world is he writing her so….blah?” and then the answer came to me in a flash….because he’s going to knock her off. LOL! And yes…I totally get the red shirt reference. As a matter of fact you should give her a favorite scarf or gloves she wears that are red. That would be hilarious.
eyes plate-wide behind her goggles – this description threw me. Took me a couple tries to get it even with the hyphen.
Great reveal. I can see Astrid becoming a real hero….for the other side. Good work.
Bimmy
Hey, GM - Good chapter for ramping up the intrigue. Gant is worried about traitors, and now Wil and Astrid have concluded the same thing in a way. Guardians vs Settlers. I like it, and the implication I get is that our rookie Guardians will cross to the other side - after Astrid is kidnapped, of course. :)
Yes, you should have Dax and Vora there to convey the York situation to the newbies. Better than an orientation lecture from some officer; gets it down to the level Wil and Astrid will be working at.
Didn't spot a single miscue. The story keeps moving along nicely.
Take care,
Jack
More good stuff here. I definitely think Vora & Dax are working. It only makes sense that Astrid & Wil would be trained, and it allows you to introduce this new setting through them. This looked clean of nits as far as I could tell. Lots of intrigue building & I'm anxious to read more!
This is another page-turner chapter. Well done, not a single thing to pick at. Your descriptives, like, eyes plate-wide behind her goggles, is icing on the cake. You imagery is excellent. I am in the world you are building stronger with each chapter. ~~Wasn't surprised Guardian was among the settlers, hoping Wil knows (her) this person (betting it's someone who is not an obvious choice).~~Wil's background still eludes me. But I bet it has something to do with the plot—wonder if he was kidnapped, and why and by who. ~~Still cringing every time Wil or Astrid carries on a conversation. Speaking of Astrid, her loyalty to the cause is sketchy at best. But is she radical enough to be part of the Washton episode? We'll see.~~The fact that the settlers are...unsettled, makes them much smarter than they seem to be. Anyway, they are who I am rooting for.
Your work is choice. See you in the next chapter.
Susan
Ice Gophers? Nice nomenclature.
Could it really be possible? Have the terrorists discovered a way to mask their deviant thoughts?
But what if that power is somehow diminished? What if our vision starts to fade
>Silly boy. Gamma's are being born with psi powers, just like you. Of all people, Wil should be the first to that conclusion
We’re here to protect them ... It’s like they hate us
>Yeah, right there, I'd be like Okay time to go home, folks
okay... I'll go for one more...
-K
Ice Gophers - clever.
It's a great chapter. Love the descriptions of the scenery and the settlers society. Dax and Vora do add to the story, definitely. Don't drop them. Wil and Astrid's relationship continues to evolve; her concern over discovering Wil's memory has been erased was touching.
Great ending. I need to do some wring on my own, but I can't stop reading this. Dang it! :)
Nits:
<“When you have your first run-in with the ‘Green A,’ you’ll be glad they’re there.”> - to avoid repeating the similar sounding "they're there" you could replace "there" with "here."
Astrid is smart. And perceptive. Wil is learning from her, unintentionally, but definitely.
Like the dynamic with Dax and Vora, especially Vora's possessiveness and superiority. She's another one I'm enjoying disliking.
And you have a great way of weaving the story into the scenes. We're understanding more about Wil, his background and backstory, as we're shifting to the new environment and the uncomfortable relationship with the settlers. You also do a superb job with describing discomfort. Things like "Bitterness washes over me, a ring tightening around my throat, but I swallow it down." Its just so vivid, like the sensory details I commented on earlier. Very professional writing, and, always, seeming so efforless.
No nits, only one tiny suggestion. In Hunger Games, Hamish is always calling Katniss sweetheart. It's at times sarcastic, and at times it semed real. When Peeta wants to annoy her, he calls Katniss Sweetheart too. I know you're concerned about being too similar to other YA dystopian novels, so perhaps you should have Dax call Astrid "Darlin" or some other endearment. I'm pretty sure when you wrote sweetheart it was original, but sadly, it's been done. If it reminded me of Hunger Games, it might do the same for others. And that would be unfair to you and your writing.
There’s not much of Dax and Vora in this chapter, but the view of them from before holds without problem. It seems Wil and Astrid both get a dose of reality this time. However, I’m still waiting for his action on his statement at the end of the last chapter when she squeezed his hand. What was he going to do and why didn’t he? This brings up another hook at the end of this chapter that the silence and avoidance of the settlers is just like before the explosion in Washton. You have to set the hook, not just throw it out there. So, unless you at least address the hook from the last chapter in this one, you won’t get a bite on this one.
Below are the small problems I noted. I hope my observations are helpful, R.M.
{There’s no wind now that we’re completely hemmed in by the ruins, and a thick carpet of snow amplifies even the faintest sounds. Footsteps crunching on ice. The murmur of distant conversation. Even the steady ebb and flow of our breaths rasping through fabric. When Astrid speaks again, she may as well be whispering right into my ear.
“Was it like this in Camp Wilmington?”} The use of separate dependent clauses but written as sentences above is grammatically incorrect, but I think it works, only, don’t overuse it. This is the second time you’ve used in this chapter. Also, you paragraphed before Astrid’s statement. You shouldn’t have. I’d paragraph at When, the beginning of the sentence which includes her statement.
{“Tell me!”} Again, you’ve paragraphed before the statement.
Hey Gray, this just keeps getting better and better and better.
Ice Gophers and snow rippers! love it! Are the killer wolves genetically engineered. Their saber-teeth made me wonder about that.
As you probably know, I've had no formal education when it comes to writing. I was chasing a degree in ocean engineering when I dropped out of college and hit the road in 1970, but I like to think I know a good story when I read one. One giveaway trait of a good story is one where I don't catch myself skipping over slow stretches. There hasn't been one of those slow-downs, and I absolutely love this story. If you don't have an agent, I'd get one for this novel. Founders reeks with marketability.
..I hear the crunch of a boot against snow./..I hear the crunch of boots on snow.
Savage eyes practically tearing us apart./Savage eyes threatening to tear us apart.
Vora points to the burnt(-)out shell of a building. *could these be Quonset buildings? In Dutch Harbor, Quonset huts built by the military before WWII have held up better than the Army barracks on the island, with their curved roofs shedding the snow like water off a duck's back.
There can be no Sacred Vision without the Guardian's/Guardians' Gift, no Crystal without the Flame. *love this line.
For three millenia, your ancestors... *so are we in the year 3000 A.D.? Or even farther in the future?
Footsteps crunching [on] ice.
AH, Wil was mind stripped!!
Why? Because no one would dare [to] strip a Guardian?
They crowded/They were crowding around us only a few minutes ago, but now only a few stragglers remain...
Dear:
Nice chapter and a real page turner. Dax and Vora fit perfectly well here even though I think they are disposable characters who are only fulfilling the duty of giving Astrid and Wil a reason to be patrolling outside, aren’t they?
About the group of enforcers coming with them, I’m not sure. If the four of them are elite soldiers, why do they need to be protected? It doesn’t sound right that you have elite troops that need to be protected by lower level troops when they’re out patrolling the quadrant. I think that you need to further explain why the heavily armed enforcers are tailing them. Moreover, is it common that every time a Guardian is patrolling town, a group of enforcers go out with him/her? How many enforcers are there, and which is the enforcer: guardian proportion? Are there enough enforcers that if all the guardians leave the headquarters at once, all of them can be heavily escorted?
Maybe is the common practice, but then you need to make sure it’s plausible and that reasons are properly explained because at first sight it seems something is not making click.
The rest is okay. Highlighting the fact that Wil’s memories have been wiped out is excellent, putting emphasis where it should be. I’m only concern with the fact that Gantt supposedly can listen—or tape for listening later—anything that Wil says. Shouldn’t he fear that Gantt might be eavesdropping into this conversion?
I loved the “we’re here to protect them”. The oppressive class believing they’re actually helping the ones they oppress, thanks to their own propaganda, and even people like Wil swallowing the bait. Well done.
Kiss,
Gacela.
Too clean for an inline again.
Everything rests on our ability to peer into the souls of our people. To extinguish any sparks of evil before they catch fire.
Author
Reply
Thanks for the feedback. Sorry about that credit glitch. Been there, but like I said, I have an abundance of credits (due to my glacially slow writing pace).
telepathy, but only for a few? Of course evolution will bring the ability to block, it takes but one mutant. And evolution will bring the ability of all to sift. Everybody will eventually be the same and equal in talents. I wonder what the Guardians mean they are there to protect the settlers, from what? And if they fear the guardians and move away when they appear, of course they are likely terrorist or sympathizers. It is just like when color vision in humans began to appear in 3000 BC, eventually everybody got it. Same telepathy and sifting, and blocking thoughts. Good chapter, didn't have any normal kind of "help" on this one, so just threw this in. .
Author
Reply
Thanks for revisiting this, Norm! I'm on a bit of a writing drought, but hope to get back into both reading and reviewing once life slows down a bit, if it ever does. As always, I appreciate your take on this story. Helps me to figure out which direction to take things and whether to focus my attention on finishing Founders or working on something else. Thanks! Gray
No
Ann Everett