The Forsaken

of the tour that Gadya pauses. “Now that you’re gonna be living here, I want to show you something else. But I really don’t want to scare you.”
    “I’m getting used to feeling scared.”
    Gadya glances around, making sure no one’s watching. “We gotta be quick. I’m not supposed to show you this yet.” She points down a narrow, muddy trail that leads even farther away from the main camp. “Follow me.”
    Together we walk rapidly down the trail. “Where are we going?” I whisper.
    “To see the Ones Who Suffer.”
    “Who?”
    “ Shhh. No talking. I don’t want to get in trouble.”
    A few minutes later, we turn a bend in the trail. A separate clearing looms fifty feet in front of us, at the end of the path.
    But there are no cabins or fire pits here. Only writhing bodies sprawled in hammocks and lying on stained blankets. I hear moans and wracking coughs. A sickly odor reaches me, dancing on a gust of wind. It’s the stench of putrescence. These kids are dying.
    I stop moving, instantly terrified. “What’s wrong with them?”
    “We don’t know. No one does. It’s not contagious, at least.”
    “You sure about that?”
    “Not a hundred percent. But the disease acts more like food poisoning than a virus. At least that’s what we think. For some reason, it usually only affects kids who’ve been here for a while.”
    I see healthy boys and girls moving among the sick ones, tending to them, wiping sweat from their faces. Getting seriously ill on an island like this would be a death sentence. No doctors, no hospitals, no medicines—unless Veidman can cook up antibiotics in addition to his truth serum.
    I feel light-headed. “They all look so sick.”
    Gadya flinches. “Don’t use that word.”
    “‘Sick’?”
    “Yeah. Veidman doesn’t like it. Says it causes panic. That’s why we call them the Ones Who Suffer.” She pauses, reading my face. “The situation creeps me out too, okay? All we have right now are theories. The illness could be something natural, like toxic mushrooms or berries. Or bad meat. But I doubt it. I think the Monk’s drones are deliberately trying to poison us.”
    I’m watching the bodies in the hammocks. An emaciated boy about my age whimpers in pain, his eyes swollen shut. Crusts of dried blood speckle the corners of his mouth. I glance away.
    “The Suffering is one of the real reasons most people don’t live past eighteen here,” Gadya says. “I bet no one told you that back in the UNA.”
    I nod. “What are the symptoms?”
    “Fever. Tiredness. Bleeding out of places you shouldn’t bleed from. After that you just fall apart and die, like you’ve got the plague.” Gadya turns away. “Don’t tell anyone I showed you this place. Veidman usually makes me wait a few more days.”
    “I can understand why,” I mutter.
    We start walking back up the trail in silence, the wailing and coughing sounds receding into the distance. I’m stunned, and I feel terrible for the victims of this disease.
    “Can I do anything to avoid ever catching it?” I ask Gadya.
    “Watch what you eat. But it’s not like there are too many options on this island. Other than a few kinds of fruits and vegetables, hoofers are pretty much it.”
    “Hoofers?”
    “A type of wild boar. The whole island is crawling with them.”
    “I think one almost attacked me and David, before you found us.”
    “Attacked you?” Gadya scoffs. “Doubtful. Hoofers are scared of humans. We hunt ’em for food. They shriek like the devil, but it’s just noise.”
    “Good to know.”
    “And another important thing about the wheel, before I forget.” She pauses as we reach the edge of the main clearing again. “We’ve got a rule—no hooking up with guys. I mean, kissing’s okay and stuff, but no sex.”
    I want to laugh. I’m grimy, sweaty, exhausted, and my dark brown hair is a tangled mess. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to touch me, let alone hook up with me. “That’s not gonna be a problem.”
    “Good, ’cause hookups lead to babies, and no one wants that.”
    I don’t ask what the penalty is for breaking this rule, but I have no doubt that kids probably sleep with one another all the time. Still, I don’t see any babies anywhere, so maybe not.
    “Is there any place to bathe?” I ask, suddenly aware of how much my skin is itching.
    “The big river. It runs along one edge of the village. Us girls made some bathing shacks out of plywood so the boys can’t watch us. They