Rehabilitation: Romantic Dystopian (Unbelief Series Book 1) (12 page)

I am too, but I refuse to acknowledge it or reveal it to the Elite.

Alex has put both his cap and visor back on, standing up from his seated position so when the tarp yanks open, he jumps down to join the other soldiers. As soon as he stands among them, I’ve lost track of him. He looks just like all the rest.

“Everyone out,” a gruff voice calls into the truck.

They all remain still, but only for a moment because when no one starts to move under their own steam, two large soldiers grab me by the arms and drag me out of the truck. I start protesting before I even realize what I’m doing.

“Let me go!” I yell at them.

I struggle to escape their grip, but it’s useless. They drag me away when my feet hit the ground, and by making an example of me, they have motivated the rest. As I’m twisting and turning, trying to get out of their hold, I see the others filing calmly out of the truck.

No one’s resisting now.

Except for me. I continue to struggle and fight against them, trying to get away, but I know it’s useless. They’re too big for me. They drag me through the camp relentlessly, giving me my first taste of Rehabilitation.

There are tents all over and a large round pit where a fire burns. People dressed in gray walk closely along the outside of the pit, as near as they can without getting burned. They’re clearly freezing. They’re wearing collars around their necks that look similar to the wristband I wore for my testing.

Most of them are carrying something, heading toward what looks like a box in the snow, with a ladder going deep underground.

I only get a glimpse of the box though, because before I know it, I’m being dragged away in another direction. There’s something else that looks built into the ground, but this one is round instead of square and no one else is going into it.

“You’re here until you learn something,” one of the men dragging me growls, and I can detect the slightest hint of sick pleasure lacing his voice.

It’s the last thing I hear before I’m released from their hold—only to be dropped like a sack of garbage into a dank, freezing hole.

I
tumble into the hole, colliding hard with the cold ground before I realize what has happened. I land on my arm, a cry escaping my lips as pain shoots through it. It hurts so badly my vision goes black for a moment. It takes a long time, with me just lying there, waiting for the pain to ebb away, before I’m able to pull myself together and sit up. That’s when I start to look around.

The walls are curved, made of stone and mortar, so they give off no warmth to speak of. What’s worse, there’s a puddle of water at the bottom covering most of the ground, which is hard beneath the water. Some of it has just frozen over altogether, and that’s where I landed, which explains why it hurt so much.

Looking up, I see the hole I was dropped through. It’s nearly twenty feet above me and part of me can’t help but wonder how I survived at all. I could have landed on my head and broken my neck or something.

Had they intended for me to survive it?

The soldier had said ‘until I learned something’, so I have to assume that when they threw me down this hole, they knew I’d be alright. Otherwise, it means they just don’t care if I die.

I shiver, feeling shaken and confused. It’s freezing down here between the rocks and the water and ice. I’m dressed for the cold, but just barely. Boots, pants, my warmest coat and a sweater, plus my scarf. But I’m not sure it’ll be enough. It depends on how long they’re going to keep me down here.

“Hey!” I yell out, aiming my voice upwards toward the mouth of the hole. “
Hey
!” My voice bounces along the interior of the walls, echoing around me but not achieving my goal.

I try several more times to call out, but it’s clear no one’s listening. Feeling defeated, I place my hands along the wall, following it all the way around as I walk in a circle. I’m hoping to find something that will help me get out of here, but I think I knew it was useless even before I started. By the time I’ve finished, I know there is no hope for escape. I sigh, fear, tension and the freezing cold weighing on me, making me feel suddenly exhausted.

Clearly I’m stuck here until they’ve decided ‘I’ve learned something’ however long that takes.

Pulling as tight into myself as I can, I crouch down, propped against one of the walls, unwilling to sit in the freezing water. There, I wait.

I wait as the light from the hole above me fades.

I wait as the water starts to soak through my boots.

I wait as my body becomes so cold, it might as well be numb, and the darkness is like a thick black blanket around me.

I try not to fall asleep, worried if I fade out when I’m this cold, I might not wake up. That’s one of the things to worry about, right? Except I can’t help it. My eyelids droop heavily, in a desperate attempt to protect my stinging eyes.

Though I’m trying my hardest, I’m about to fall asleep anyway. Until something hard and sharp hits me on the head. The sudden pain makes me jerk awake and lose my balance at the same time. I fall over into the half frozen water with a splash, crying out against icy cold as it seeps into my clothes.

I pull myself out of it immediately, stepping into the shallowest part I can feel, but it’s no use. I’m soaking wet now, and freezing even more.

Wondering what hit me, I look up, thinking it came from the hole. “Hello?” I ask, but hear nothing. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

Still nothing. I start to think no one will answer, but then a male voice calls down, “Don’t fall asleep.”

“Who are you? Hello?!” It’s a relief to hear someone else’s voice and I try to call out to whoever it is again, but I get no response. Whoever it was has already gone.

Cold, tired, and feeling more afraid than I’ve ever felt, I stay standing this time, staring up at the opening. That’s when I notice the light has begun to return. It’s morning. I’m at least partially relieved, hoping the sun seeping into the hole’s opening will warm things up a bit.

It doesn’t.

I remain freezing all day, because though the light comes about halfway down the hole, it never actually reaches the bottom. It doesn’t even reach the top of my head. I hold myself tighter, and wait some more.

I wait to hear from someone, anyone, but there’s only silence.

I wait until I see the sun drop from the sky again.

I wait until my stomach growls and I start to think maybe it was a mistake I ever came here. I feel tears well up, and blink them back, my anger creating a lump in my throat that feels as if it’s choking me.

“What was I thinking?” I ask to myself.

I had been thinking Jacob needed my help and that somehow I could save him. How stupid had I been? Miriam had told me this was the only way, but what did she know? Sure she had been here, but had she been
here
? In this hole? Watching the sun as it never reached her, waiting as her clothing soaked through and then turned into ice she had to shake off?

No, no she would have told me about that. But she didn’t. Because she didn’t care. She let me come here knowing how bad it was, knowing I would be put through hell, and for what? How could she
do
this to me?

I spent the rest of the night raging against Miriam, needing someone on which to place blame—and more than that needing to stay awake. By morning though, I’ve moved on. Now, I’m wondering how she ever survived a place like this. Poor, little, haunted Miriam. So fragile.

Who would do something so horrible to someone so gentle?

“The Elite,” I mutter out loud to myself. “And for what? Because you thought she believed in something you don’t?”

My voice echoing back is the only response I get.

“That’s just stupid,” I continue, getting angry now. “Everything’s stupid. It’s stupid she was here, it’s stupid that I’m here, and it’s stupid Jacob’s here. For what? For
nothing
!” It
is
nothing. All this Believing stuff? It’s nonsense. Utter nonsense, because if there was truly a God out there, would He let this stuff happen to people? Would He just look down on us and wave, saying, “Gee, that all looks swell to me”?

No. He wouldn’t. Unless he’s not a very good God. If he just likes people to suffer maybe, then sure. But the way Jacob talks about Him? That’s just pure and complete nonsense. There’s no great Creator out there who loves all of us like His children. Fathers don’t make their children suffer.

He isn’t real.
He isn’t real
. “He isn’t real!” I yell out to the well, screaming as loud as I can.

My voice echoes several times, traveling up and up, and then it fades. I’m left in silence. I didn’t realize, but as my hands reach up to touch my cheeks, I feel the tears that welled earlier have spilled and I’m crying.

“How come you won’t save me?” I whisper, staring up at the hole. “Am I a bad person?” Obviously Jacob has had more of an effect on me than I’ve realized, because I never would have asked the question if not for him.

And I don’t expect an answer. No one’s listening, I know, but I have to ask anyway, because of Jacob. I have to
know
.

That’s why it surprises me so much when a rope drops down right beside me. I stare at it for a long moment, then my eyes follow it up. It’s dark outside again, so I can’t see much, but I
think
a shadow is leaning over the hole.

“Climb,” comes the single word drifting down to my ears.
 

I
hear it again, and give my head a tiny shake, wondering if maybe I’m hearing things. “
Climb
.”

It’s that male voice again. I think I must be hallucinating or this is some kind of trick. A test, maybe? How could it be that there’s a rope hanging down in front of me, just when I’ve given up, when I’ve conceded that it’s hopeless?

Hesitating, I reach out, feeling for the rope. The rope is real. It’s solid and sort of soft in my hand, moving as I give it a small shake.

“Hurry!”
comes the voice again. “We don’t have much time.”

The voice sounds familiar, like I know whoever is at the other end, but I can’t be sure. He’s only a silhouette against the night sky. But I do know one thing: I have to climb. It doesn’t matter if this is a trick or a test or anything else,
I have to climb
.

I can’t stay here anymore.

Wrapping my other hand around the dangling rope, I tighten my hands as much as I can, then start to pull. I tug myself upwards, finding it hard and slow going. “I’m coming,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “I’m coming.”

It takes forever. I feel like I’m on that rope for half my life, but when the opening of the hole is in reach, it’s still night outside and I can hardly believe it. It’s right there. Clenching my knees and ankles tight around the rope, I use one hand to hold on and reach out toward the ledge with my other.

I’m shaking, exhausted and nervous and afraid this is all a dream. When my fingertips can nearly touch the ledge, I slip.

A scream escapes my lips as I realize I’m going down. I’ll fall again and crash into the ground, maybe I’ll break something this time. Maybe I’ll die. Maybe—

But I don’t fall. A strong, warm hand reaches out and grabs me, fingers wrapping around my skinny wrist. The hand yanks me up, impossibly strong and pulls me over the edge of the opening. I collapse onto a warm body, shuddering and shaking and feeling a sob catch in my throat, threatening to choke me.