Kill School: Slice (9 page)

My parents enjoyed taking us out all the time when we were
young. We would sit in a row in an auditorium like this one and watch the
acrobats and clowns. Back then, giraffes, lions, tigers, bears, and elephants
were all part of the show. Crowds were enormous, with kids and adults sitting
side-by-side, cheering on the acrobats and screeching at the antics of the
clowns.

Then, only sapphire and emerald tokens were issued, so we
didn’t live in fear of death. Teenagers could sit next to their parents. The
elders stayed home, aware of being potential targets. Some of them even moved
to separate villages, or went into hiding. Most of us enjoyed living together
in a community without fear.

Slowly, as the animals became extinct. At the same time, the
token range changed, finally including all ages. People became too scared to go
out. The number of circus performers, both human and animal, dwindled. Fewer
people attended. That’s why they established the safe zones like the office
buildings near the post office. Kids with tokens aren’t supposed to go there,
except under strict supervision.

I spot the quads sitting at the far corner of the
auditorium. All four of them huddle in deep and secretive conversation. With Demi,
Vanessa, and Mateo all in my group, I begin to feel like I can get through
these next four weeks. My eyes cross over the crowd, and stop at the mean boy’s
face. He is glaring at me. So much for getting through training camp unscathed.

 The auditorium goes dark and then a beam of light projects
onto the domed ceiling.

“Are we going to watch a movie?” someone whispers.

A giant tidal wave appears on the ceiling doubling as a
movie screen. I know the wave is fake, but I push back in my seat expecting to
get wet. Some kids scream as the wave descends the dome in three dimensions. As
the water descends, it leaves behind a starry night sky.

The history of our world flashes before us in vivid
destruction. Droughts and famines leave starving and thirsty people across the
country. Blazing fires, people screaming as they perish in the fames, viruses
that wipe out entire populations. Our history is gruesome and deadly.

Clarkhaven House rises out of the flames as a symbol of
hope. The film depicts the new way of life, immortality, and the advancement of
science as revolutionary. Our new home, Greenland, appears on the screen as an
animation. Dozens of animated people multiply exponentially. Soon, little heads
symbolizing people cover our new home. The population explodes and throws the
country into starvation. History repeats itself. Greenland sinks into the ocean
with the weight of all the people.

Suddenly, the screen goes dark. One by one, surrounded by a
circle of light, each token appears on screen. Ruby. Garnet. Turquoise. Opal.
Pearl. Sapphire. Emerald. Cheers erupt from the crowd with each token. The most
noise comes from turquoise, the least from ruby. Nobody wants to admit to being
a baby killer.  

An amethyst circle appears and then vanishes in a second.
My gut tells me my token should have been in the middle of that circle and that
someone edited it out. Amethyst tokens must be an important part of our
history. They exist for a reason. If only I knew the reason, my choice would
become clear.

When the lights go up, the four Regulators stand before us
all in deeply rich robes. Amethyst Robes. Why hadn’t I noticed before? Each
Regulator represents a region. Regulator Azarian represents the north,
Regulator Krish the south, Regulator Thorn the east and Regulator Halsted the
west. Some of the kids stand; others cheer and clap from their seats, but most
remain seated in silence.

Each one
of the four Regulators comes forward to address us, one for each region, north,
south, east, and west.
With the acoustics, the
Regulators sound closer than they look, bringing a menacing tone to their
words.
Their speeches are boring, filled with flowery
words and reassuring promises. Kill to live. A life for a life.

A man steps forward and introduces himself as Regulator Azarian.
Demi’s father. His eyes are kind and his tone humble. He actually apologizes
for us having to be here. I can see it in his eyes. He hates this process as
much as we do. Next, a tall woman with dark skin and short curly hair steps
forward. Regulator Thorn, our region’s representative. I can’t help but feel
excited about her forthcoming speech.

Vanessa, next to me, grabs my hand and squeezes it tight.

“It’s her,” Vanessa says. “She’s so close. Like she’s
sitting next to us.”

“She’d never sit next to you,” Mateo says.

Regulator Thorn speaks of a time I remember, when it rained
for eight straight weeks. She tells us of a time when she was a child and the
same thing happened. Except, after the rains came sickness and disease. She
describes events that took place hundreds of years ago, stories passed down
through the generations.

“Four times, I almost died.” Regulator Thorn holds up her
fingers for emphasis. “Four times my ravished tissue regrew. We all survived.
In my lifetime, we have beaten everything. Only one disease can kill us. That
is starvation. We must fight the enemy starvation here today. Be good students.
Learn the rules. We are here to protect. We are here to serve. You.”

Regulator Thorn bows deeply so that we all feel as if she
truly is here to serve us. She bows again to an outbreak of applause and takes
her place back with the other Regulators. I am proud to be represented by such
a popular Regulator.

Finally, Regulator Halsted steps forward. I recognize him
from his picture. His gaunt cheeks, his small eyes, his bushy dark hair. Long
thin fingers with bulbous joints. He looks as if he grew from the roots of a
tree and crawled out from under it.

“Today is a great day for us.” Regulator Halsted places his
hands on his heart. “And a great day for you.” He opens his hands wide to
encompass all of us. I don’t think it’s a great day, but I’ll go with it.

“Today we have chosen a new way to usher you in to your
training.” Regulator Halsted waves his hands forward. An old woman walks onto
the stage. I recognize her as one of the women at the post office, the one
behind the glass window. My body stiffens as I try to guess why she is here.

“Today Ernestas Velasquez has volunteered to show you how
it’s done.”

Regulator Halsted grabs Ernestas’s hand and holds it high
in the air. He waits, as if we’re supposed to cheer. I look to the faces of all
the kids watching him. No one shares his enthusiasm. In fact, most kids look
like I feel—green with dread.

Regulator Halsted drops Ernestas hand as if he’s disgusted
with us. She rubs her wrists and stands idly by his side. She looks a bit doped
up, swaying and gazing around the crowd as if she can’t quite focus.

“Joaquim, come forth.” Regulator Halsted waves the young
boy that was running around the crowd earlier up on the stage. “Joaquim has had
his token for almost a year.” Regulator Halsted raises the token, which hangs
around the boy’s neck, choking him a bit in the process. It’s an emerald.

“He’s not?” Vanessa asks.

“He is.”

Regulator Halsted is going to make us watch a termination.

The next few moments pass by in slow motion. Regulator
Halsted offers Ernestas a chair, in which she sits. He then ushers Joaquim over,
and says a few words to him too softly for me to hear. Joaquim places a cloth
in his hand and pours some liquid on it. He then takes the cloth and covers
Ernestas face with it.

Within a few moments, Ernestas stops moving and the boy
starts to cry. He buries his face in Halsted’s robes, making the Regulator look
very uncomfortable. The act was easy. The reaction is not.

The audience sniffles and murmurs in disbelief. We have
just watched a murder. For the first time, I feel real fear. I want to get up
and walk out of here. I want to run all the way home and beyond. This life
isn’t for me.

Regulator Halsted, obviously annoyed at everyone’s
reaction, waves his hand again. “Silence,” he says. “You are disrespecting
Ernestas.”

A team comes out and whisks Ernestas’s body off the stage.
Joaquim follows them on wobbly legs. I bite my lip as I hear Joaquim’s
sorrowful wail as he disappears behind the stage.

Vanessa hands me a tissue and we both wipe our eyes. Mateo hides
his face in his hands. His shoulders shake up and down although he makes no
sound.

Next, our anthem plays and we stand. Everyone knows the
words, but barely anyone sings, except Regulator Halsted whose booming voice
echoes across the auditorium. The lights go dim and we stay in our seats,
sniveling and wondering what to do next.

When the lights come back on, the Regulators are gone and a
man wearing a multicolored poncho stands on the stage. It takes me no time to
figure out that all of the colors on his poncho represent the colors of the
tokens. His light brown hair is slicked back and a thin mustache resides above
his lip. His plastic smile makes me dislike him immediately.

“Welcome to training camp,” he says. “My name is Mr. Frank Wassillie
and I am the director of this camp. I am also your leader, your counselor, and
your friend. You can call me Mr. Wassillie, but never Frank.”

A few people clap, but most of us don’t. We’re all still
trying to recuperate from watching someone die.

Mr. Wassillie pumps his fists in the air. “Come on, Kids.
Everyone out of your seats.” He pushes his palms to the ceiling. “Up, I say.”
Some of the kids stand, and then more. Vanessa pulls me to my feet. “Hug your
neighbor. Everyone needs a friend right now.”

 We spend a few awkward moments hugging each other. I hug
Vanessa and the girl next to me who smells like horse.

“Sit,” Mr. Wassillie says. He claps his hands, balls them
up in fists, and then sticks out the index finger of each hand. A well-rehearsed
move. “A few years ago, I was a scared and vulnerable sixteen year old just
like you. Look at me now. I’m a fighting machine. Camp will teach all of you to
be just like me.” His poncho flows around him as he paces the stage. “We will
teach you to meticulously plan and plot your executions. My own termination
took close to two years because I was careful. We don’t want you to make a
mistake in choosing your victims. Everyone deserves a merciful death. We are
here to show you who to kill and how to do it.”

Mr. Wassillie takes a breath and stares out over the crowd.
He nods as if he likes what he sees. The movements come out too rehearsed, as
if he has performed this act many times before.

“Two years of training and in two seconds it was over.” He
clasps his hands together. “My victim was dead with a single bullet to the
head.” He improvises pulling the trigger to his own head. “You are here to
spend four weeks with us. These four weeks you will learn how to kill and how
to cope. It took me years to get over what I did, and many hours repenting. I
finally emerged from my cocoon of hate and sorrow to join you here at Kill
School.”

He signals for the counselors, who have been waiting by the
stage, to join him

“With my guidance and my fellow counselors. We will get you
through this together.” He raises his fists in the air and this time garners
some applause. “You can do better than that, come on, give the counselors a
warm welcome.” Mr. Wassillie starts clapping like a maniac. Soon, we all join
in. I am surprised to feel relief with the growing enthusiasm. He really likes his
job and, it would seem, us.

“That’s better,” Mr. Wassillie says.

The counselors walk in a line onto stage. Mr. Wassillie runs
through all of their names, but I don’t listen. I can’t take my eyes off Burke
as he saunters across the stage. Burke stops, arms folded across his chest, and
stares out at the crowd. He doesn’t look happy. He doesn’t look sad.

“Counselors please go to your circles,” Mr. Wassillie says.

The counselors each walk toward the different colored
circles. Burke goes to the ruby red circle and places the tips of his boots on
the edge. I wonder who assigned him to the baby killers and why. It makes me
feel sad that he has to go through training kids to kill children every four
weeks.  

“Your turn.” Mr. Wassillie gestures to us in a sweeping
wave of his arms that sends his poncho fluttering. “Starting with the first
row, come on up on stage and stand in your circle.”

We are eight rows high in the auditorium. Vanessa, Mateo,
and I are on the second to last row. We stand and watch the kids climb down the
auditorium steps and up to the stage. Each one files into his or her circle
like ants going home to their nest.

There is not an amethyst circle, but I wouldn’t have gone
to it if there were one. Slowly the kids climb onto the stage and into their
appropriate spots. The turquoise circle fills up with more and more kids, so
many kids in fact that they start to drift toward the opal and garnet rings.

“Are you ready?” Vanessa asks as the row in front of us
moves down the line.

“No,” I answer honestly.

“Me neither.’” Vanessa smooths her turquoise dress and
fiddles with her collar. “I hate this thing,” she grumbles.

“Come on,” Mateo says. He takes Vanessa’s hand and leads us
down the row. The procession plods along in slow and deliberate steps.

“What’s going on with all the turquoise this year?” Vanessa
asks.

“I don’t know,” I say. The turquoise circle keeps getting
bigger.

I follow Vanessa up the stairs to the stage and glance out
over the audience. The auditorium is empty now, with all of us on the stage.
With the glaring lights, I can’t see much, but I feel the emptiness all around
me. It’s as if all of us kids on stage are playing to the ghosts of fellow
campers watching us from the balconies.

The stage is crowded. We have to push through the others as
we walk past the circles. There are only six kids in the sapphire circle. Twelve
kids, including one of the quads—Matthew with his crew cut, are in the emerald
circle. When I near the ruby circle, Burke shifts his attention towards me. A
smile curls on his lips as he recognizes me. His circle is empty. I breathe a
sigh of relief for him and for myself.

“He’s cute,” Vanessa says. “I’ve never seen a blondie.”

“How do you know him?” Mateo asks.

“It’s a long story,” I say.

We join the group of kids in the turquoise circle. Shortly after,
I feel someone’s hand in mine and turn to see Demi.

“Found you,” Demi says.

I squeeze her hand. “I’m glad.” I introduce her to Vanessa
and Mateo. She greets them as if she’s known them forever and soon we are all
conspiring in low whispers. By the time everyone has reached his or her
circles, we are standing with at least sixty other turquoise kids. Our
counselor, a short woman with lots of muscles, looks bewildered at the crowd.

Mr. Wassillie comes over to our group. Thankfully, he has
taken off the poncho. His shirt isn’t much better, representing all of the
token colors in a mish-mash abstract-art sort of way.

“He takes his job seriously,” Mateo whispers.

“I guess you are going to need some help,” Mr. Wassillie says
to our counselor. “We’ll combine the pearl and opal groups this session. Burke
and Lavonne, you are assigned to turquoise.”

Mr. Wassillie divides the group of kids up by tugging on
our arms and sending us to one of the three counselors. He sends Mateo and
Vanessa to Burke. He reaches me next and grabs my elbow, sending me to Burke as
well.

Mr. Wassillie tries to send Demi to the other counselor,
but she won’t let go of my hand.

“I have to go with her,” Demi says.

Mr. Wassillie looks her up and down. “You’re questioning
me?” His eyes flutter in astonishment.

Demi blushes and looks surprised that Mr. Wassillie won’t
agree to her request. She must be used to getting her way. I feel bad for her.

“She’s Azarian’s kid,” Burke says. “Let her come with me, Mr.
Wassillie.”

Mr. Wassillie’s eyes go wide. “Azarian?”

Demi smirks. “Yup, he’s my dad.” She glares at Burke in a
how-could-you kind of way.

“I didn’t expect you. Yes, certainly. You can go with your
friend.” Mr. Wassillie lets Demi into our circle.

“Thanks,” Demi whispers to Burke sarcastically.

“What?” Burke asks.

Demi watches Mr. Wassillie who is busy sending some tough
and scruffy boys, including Erwin, the mean boy from the train, in our
direction. Revenge maybe?

“I don’t want anyone to know who I am,” Demi says to Burke.

“Everyone will know who you are,” Burke says. “The way Matt
talks.” He tosses his hair and grins. “I had to do something. Your dad would
kill me if I didn’t watch over you.”