The Forsaken

Gadya elaborates. “But it’s safest to keep each village small and spread out. Easier to mobilize, and easier to move and rebuild. There’s another village thirty miles east. Another thirty miles south. There are fifteen villages total in our sector, but we don’t communicate with them much unless we need to. Each village is pretty self-sufficient.”
    I’m half-listening, distracted by thoughts of the vaccine, and also by the sight of a boy and a girl fast approaching across the clearing. Both are fair-haired, slender and attractive. A few years older than me. The girl is wearing a white sundress, and the boy is wearing a white T-shirt and slacks.
    The boy waves at Gadya as he nears. “Trouble?”
    “Nothing I couldn’t handle. Just some drones. I set ’em straight and—”
    “Where’s your gun?” the girl interrupts, frowning.
    Gadya glares at her. “Up a drone’s ass. Why?”
    The boy laughs, but the girl keeps frowning. I want to speak up for Gadya and explain that if she hadn’t thrown the gun, we wouldn’t be here right now. But I stay quiet.
    The boy and the girl scrutinize me. I’m struck by the way their pale skin seems to glow. They both have delicate features, straight noses, and expressive blue eyes. I wonder if they’re siblings—maybe even twins.
    “We’ve been waiting for you,” the boy says. “Well, not you specifically, but for the next arrivals.”
    “There was another one, but the Monk’s drones got him,” Gadya explains. “He’s either dead already or the drones are brainwashing him into joining ’em. It’s too late to go back for him.”
    “Pity. I’m sure you’ll do better next time.” It takes me a moment to place the unusual lilt in the girl’s voice. The boy has it too. Then I realize they must be from far up north. The place once called Canada.
    The boy extends his hand to me. “My name’s Matthieu Veidman,” he says. “I run things around here.”
    I tell him my name as I return his handshake. His grip is firm and dry, despite the heat.
    He gestures at his companion. “This is Meira.”
    The girl extends her hand coolly, and I shake it, too. “Did Gadya explain about the vaccine?” she asks.
    “Kind of.”
    “My predecessor discovered how to make it,” Veidman says. “It prevents a malarial fever that used to be common around here.” He pauses. “Come with me to my cabin, and I’ll get you sorted out.” He turns to Meira and Gadya. “Bring me ten cc’s of the new batch.”
    “Sure,” Meira says, heading away at once with Gadya. I’m pretty surprised they even have needles and vaccines here.
    Veidman calls after Meira, a few final words in French. Then he turns back to me. “I’m from Montreal— in Quebec,” he explains. “I mean, before it all became part of the UNA and Minister Harka renamed everything.”
    Sensing that he probably has a lot more answers than Gadya, I blurt, “So tell me everything I need to know about this island! Is there any way to get off it?”
    Surprised by my outburst, he laughs. “Look, on the wheel you have to learn as you go. That’s how most of us have made it this far.” He cocks an eyebrow at me. “You gotta use your wits. I’m nineteen and a half. That’s one year and six months beyond my life expectancy, and I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.” Veidman puts a gentle hand on my shoulder and starts steering me toward a shack about a hundred paces away. “But feel free to ask me whatever questions you want.”
    I don’t know where to begin. “I thought only Unanchored Souls got sent here. But I’m not like that. And neither are any of you. Why would the government lie?”
    “We don’t know. There are definitely some evil people here on the wheel, but a lot of regular ones as well. It’s not too different from back home, I guess.”
    “Gadya told me about the Cannibal Monk,” I say. “That you guys are at war with him.”
    “The boys you met in the forest today are the Monk’s warriors, his hunters,” Veidman tells me. “We call them drones. They’re like worker bees protecting the hive. Other groups exist in the sectors controlled by the Monk, like gatherers, builders, and cooks. His people worship him, and they’ve been taking over the island one sector at a time for years. We’re the only sector of kids left who oppose him.”
    We reach some colorful blankets on the ground outside Veidman’s shack. We both sit down, cross-legged.
    “Actually, we think some drones might