The Fall

I couldn’t remember much of anything, to be honest. “Are—are we there yet?” I asked.

“Where? Eirenea?” Adam laughed, but there was steel in the sound. “No. Don’t interrupt.”

He had the relaxed posture of a person in control, but he wore it uneasily, as though he were copying something he’d seen another man do. My head rolled around slightly while I tried to think. There was nothing easy in his face. His teeth were clenched so hard that he had to move his jaw around before speaking. “And so my sister died in your arms,” he was saying. “And I’m not sure whether we covered this last year, but she was all I had. And she needed me.” He leaned forward. “And you let her die.”

If I had made us helpless, Adam had returned the favor tenfold. I spent my days in a cloud of confusion, blindly following any instructions I was given. I wasn’t dizzy, exactly, but I had a hard time getting my bearings. Every so often, I came to my senses, and Adam would be there. Sometimes he just wanted to talk. Sometimes he didn’t speak at all.

But sometimes, he taunted me. On these occasions, there was cake. Always pink.

And I had to eat it. And he told me a story I shouldn’t hear while I plotted ways to kill him. Usually with a fork.

Not everyone on the Ark was drugged. Eren, as far as I knew, spent most of his days in InterArk Comm Con, sending and receiving transmissions related to the Ark’s operations. The last time I tried to contact him had not gone well. I stumbled into the amphitheater, stupid from the drugs. I saw Eren, his eyes wide, his head shaking back and forth, subtly at first, and then more urgently.

And then I awoke in the commissary six months later, half a sandwich hanging from my mouth, without even the slightest memory of any medication top-ups that must have taken place since.

I didn’t try that again.

So I was on my own. Adam sat back, warming to his story. “But all was not lost! Not quite yet. Not for you, Char. They say all’s fair in love and war, but that’s never been my experience. The Academy, for example, was not fair. They took me when I was five. Did you hear that? Five, Char. And my parents just let them.”

The Academy was a school for certain children from all over the world selected to survive the meteor. They were trained in science, medicine, or engineering at an early age, so that they would be as useful as possible on board the Arks.

Unbeknownst to the people set to die in their place, they were also trained in military strategy. And combat.

“Sounds rough,” I said. My voice cracked from disuse. I had a hard time feeling sorry for anyone chosen for a place on an Ark when all the rest of us were left to die in the meteor strike.

“They took her, too. Same age. What do you think they did to her at the Academy? They didn’t want students. I’ll tell you that. Because everything there was a weapon. Especially us. Tell me something, Char. What were all those weapons for if no one was supposed to use them?”

His voice trailed off, and he gave me a long look before continuing. “And I escaped. Obviously. And I found her. And I made sure she lived, Char. Because that was my job. To protect her.” He glanced around the room. “Eat.”

I ate.

“You should know something about that, Char. Being abandoned? Protecting your family? And you did a great job; you really did. They escaped!” He smiled darkly. “For a few minutes, anyway.”

This was the part I wasn’t supposed to listen to. Every year, same thing. Adam woke me up and told the same story. And I made the same mistake every time I heard it. First, the blood would rush through my ears, drowning my plan in panic. And then my chest would squeeze. And then I started screaming.

And then he’d smile and knock me out again.

But this year would be different. This year, I had a job to do.

If only I could remember what it was.

I needed one more shot of whatever the Lieutenant had given me. Then maybe I would remember.

I lowered my head and spoke in a soft monotone. “You knew about my father’s Arkhopper, and you blew it up. They’re all dead. My family is dead.”

Adam took a long pause, then slowly reached for the holster where he kept the drug. I braced myself for oblivion. Another year lost.

But instead, he straightened his jacket and shook his head, annoyed. “No. That’s not her. That’s not what I want. Wake her up some more. I want the real Char.”

The woman straightened. “But sir—”

“Now, Lieutenant. Do it now, or we can continue this conversation next year. When I wake you up.”

There was a rustling of equipment behind me as the Lieutenant rushed to comply. Another sting in my arm. Another breath, and it all came crashing back.

I was definitely supposed to stab him.

Two (#uf86b7220-9698-5528-a603-8bc991971ac3)

“So there I was, minding my own business in my new office on the Guardian Level, when I got news that the Commander was dead. Thanks for that, by the way,” Adam nodded at me. “I wasn’t sure I had the nerve until that moment. They need me, you know. This Ark.” He leaned in. “They know it, and I know it. They need someone who can keep a sense of order around here.”

The Commander had had control of the Guardians, and he’d wielded them like his own personal army in a failed attempt to retain control over the Ark and to crush the Remnant, a hidden group of survivors who opposed him.

Oh, and he was also Eren’s father.

Eren. Blue eyes. Security, like a thick blue blanket. A fleeting moment of happiness from a silver ring with a pale blue stone. But there was something dark in my memories of Eren, too. My thoughts pressed themselves forward all at once and without a coherent order. I rubbed my leg nervously, trying to clear my mind, but they kept coming. Green pins of light and a red expanse of blood. His father had died by my hand. Surely I hadn’t meant for that to happen, had I? I wondered where Eren was. Hadn’t I sent him away? I wondered if he missed his father in spite of everything he’d put us through.

Wait, stop. Stabbing. I needed to focus on stabbing now.

“Hope Eren didn’t take it too hard. So I thought to myself, Adam, we’re doing all right. Everything’s coming together. Isaiah may not ever come around, but we’re better off without him anyway. The only way the Remnant was going to achieve equal footing was by blowing everything up and starting over.”

He crossed his legs, studying my face. The fork was light in my hand. I shifted my grip without looking down.

“But you, Char. You were different. I thought, I can explain myself to her, and she’ll listen. Maybe not at first. But she understands what it’s like, being ignored. Being feared. She’ll know what to do. I didn’t even want to kill Isaiah, Char. Honest. The Remnant—the whole thing was his idea in the first place. It wouldn’t have been right.

“You didn’t have to be my enemy. But then Amiel was dead. And you walked right into my trap.” His head tilted. “And I decided to change tack.”

“You’re lying,” I said. “My family isn’t dead. The Remnant isn’t—”

“There she is!” Adam sat up straight. “Welcome back, Char. It’s been a long, hard year without you.”

“If you’re trying to scare me, give it up, Adam. I’m not afraid anymore.”

“A return to form!” Adam clapped. “This really is exciting. Can I tell you their last words?”

Don’t listen. Don’t listen. Don’t—I breathed in measured beats. Steady. I had a job to do.

“Do you ever wonder whether they were talking about you? Worried for you? I don’t think we got this far last year.”

Don’t listen dontlisten‌dontlisten. I breathed a little faster. The handle of the fork bit into my palm.

Adam leaned in, exposing the softest part of his neck, and lowered his voice to deliver another blow. “They didn’t die right away, you know. There was screaming.”

I rushed him, arm high, and made a sound like a burning pterodactyl. He jumped, predictably, and I drove the fork into his neck.

Or at least, I tried to.

At the last instant, a blunt weight tackled me from the left. I hit the floor harder than I expected. For some reason, I was unable to break my fall.