Chapter One
The dark bag is ripped roughly from my head, sending a rush of light, stench, and sound that consumes my senses. I breathe through my mouth heavily, trying to make up for all the air I’ve been deprived of for what feels like hours. The room is well lit, though the color of the light is almost sickly and flickers occasionally as if it too is sickened by the condition of the place.
The walls are made of dirty steel, nothing is inside here except trash, a few broken windows, and the pretty girl with her three buddies. I hear them whispering about me, laughing. I’m more clear-headed now and can pick up details I didn’t notice before. The girl is tall, her short black hair with red tips framing her tan, round face. She seems a bit older than me, though it’s impossible to tell for sure. If I knew any better, I’d think she was beautiful. But I definitely know better. Her leather clothing makes a whooshing sound as she walks toward me, grinning with slightly crooked teeth.
“Hey there, pretty boy,” she greets seductively, “That was quite the ride, huh? I enjoyed your company. Even if you were scared out of your mind.”
A few people chuckle around the room, all of them staring at me. I try to move, and when nothing happens, I look down and remember that I’m tied to a chair, the tightly bound rope chafing my skin with every small move I make. I know struggling against it would be useless, they tied it tightly around my stomach, legs, and arms. Besides, even if I somehow managed to get loose there are about a dozen strong men and women holding various weapons.
Ugh, those terrible Joker filth. They were the ones that no division wanted, the ones who were too aggressive, the ones who broke the law, the ones who couldn’t do anything useful in our society. I used to question whether it was right to send people here, now I can understand. As I stare at these dirty, ragged people, my fear increases. I’m sure they have no problem doing terrible things to me.
“What do you want with me?” I ask, my normally deep voice quiet and trembling. People around the room laugh a riotous, loud laugh, though the girl is unmoved.
“What a little wimp!”
“He’s about to cry!”
“Typical Heart!”
The girl leans close to my ear, letting me feel her warm breath on my skin.
“You saw too much. We can’t just let you go,” she whispers, sending chills up my spine, “We’ll have to kill you. You Hearts are too honest. It’s a shame, really, to waste such a handsome face like yours.”
She slowly backs away, looking deeply into my wide eyes. Terror fills my body with adrenaline, I want to escape but it holds me in my seat, frozen. My heart is all that moves. She pulls out a gun, the sight alone allowing my body to break out of its shell.
“WAIT!” I cry in a high-pitched voice even pathetic to me, “Please, please, I’ll do anything! Don’t kill me, please! I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll do all your dirty work, I can give you information from the outside, ANYTHING! Just please don’t!”
I force myself to stop even though my instinct is to keep begging, keep pleading, keep talking until I know they’ll stop. But if psychology has taught me anything, it’s that no one listens to someone who talks too much. She tilts her head, looking me over.
“Anything? Even...murder? Or are you Hearts too kind to even imagine committing such a crime?” she taunts, spinning the gun around carelessly on her finger.
I hesitate. Murder? I couldn’t live with myself if I gave up someone else’s life just to save my own. But...maybe I could lie about it and escape before I would have to act upon my promise.
“Even murder,” I shakily confirm, making sure to maintain eye contact with her so she thinks I’m telling the truth.
She grins at me.
“Hah! What a scumbag! He’s no better than us! Fine, I won’t kill you. But you should know I will hold you to your claim. You can say bye-bye to the Four Divisions because you’ll forever and always be known as a Joker, the lowest of the low. I hope it’s worth it,” she replies mockingly, putting her gun away, “The name’s Haydia, you’ll be my personal slave and bodyguard from now on. Slaz, untie him. What’s your name?”
“Jairum,” I reply, very happy to get out of these ropes as a tall, shirtless man cuts me out of this wooden chair.
“Jairum,” she plays with the word, rolling it around her tongue, getting a feeling for it, “Alright. You can keep it unless I think of something better.”
She grabs my hand and roughly pulls me upright.
“Thanks,” I tell her, trying to stay on her good side, eyeing the gun in her pocket.
She stops and turns, offended.
“Don’t you ever say that word again. It’s just an insult to everyone here. We have nothing to be thankful for, not even our lives, so just shut it. Don’t ever say ‘sorry’ either, nobody cares if you of all people is sorry or not,” she spits.
“Sorry,” I mutter, and when she glares at me, I quickly add, “Oops! I mean...okay.”
She pulls me out of the room, her group following closely behind, and she begins to lead me to her dwelling. I begin to regret everything, feeling sorry I ever got in this mess.
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The Four Divisions is what we call the new society we created after a very detrimental civil war that almost turned into a fourth world war to keep everyone in what once was America in order and under control to prevent another war. The divisions are named Hearts, Diamonds, Clubs, and Spades. Each of the four divisions are ruled by a king and queen. Besides the four divisions there are three other places, the Deck, the Jokers, and the Aces. I suppose the names were once a punchline to a cruel joke, but today they mean nothing. Each of these places has its own area of specialty. For example, anyone who lives and works in Hearts will receive a job that has to do with mental, emotional, or physical health. These jobs can be anything from a counselor to a doctor. Diamonds deal with all things money, Spades with hard labor, and Clubs with weapons and defense programs.
Each and every child starting at age three begins going to school in the Deck and becomes knowledgeable in each of the Four Divisions’ area of study. Once they turn thirteen, they are assigned to one of the divisions based on their success and personality. They will then learn more specifically about their division’s jobs and will finally be assigned to a specific job once they graduate at age eighteen. When a job is assigned to someone, they are required to move into that division and work their assigned job for the rest of their life. But there’s a catch. If you don’t do well in any of the areas of specialty, commit a crime, or refuse to do your work in either school or your assigned job, you will be sent to the Jokers, even children, where it’s basically a prison and it’s every man for himself.
But if you exceed all expectations and do too well to be placed in any division, you will be assigned to the Aces, where you can be a scientist, an inventor, a broadcaster, even a RuleMaker that gives the kings and queens instruction! Some people are also assigned to the Deck to be a teacher, a caretaker, or just someone who answers questions about different divisions. All of the Four Divisions are separated by a huge wall of iron, too thick to break through, too tall to jump over, too deep to dig under, and too steep to climb. Even if you did somehow get over the wall, there’s nothing but No Man’s Land for miles, at least that’s what I’ve heard. The ground there is littered with traps, mines, and barbed wire.
No one can leave or enter this society and the only way to enter a different division is by the Train. The train stations in each division will take you to whatever division you like or even to the Deck, but there are special Trains for the Aces and the Jokers so that only those travelling to those specific places will ever cross paths. Otherwise people travel by car to get around their own division quickly, the traffic can get really bad sometimes. Some people question or don’t agree with this method of rule, myself included, but most people are fine with their life unless they live in the Jokers. And that’s something that doesn’t sit well with me. It never has.
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“Alright, Jairum, this is it. My home. You’ll be sleeping on the bottom bunk,” she tells me, pointing to a trashy bunk bed she probably found in a dump.
The house is small, if you could even call it that. It’s more like a tin can, the dwelling a cylindrical shape. There are two floors, both very small. The ground floor contains only a bunk bed, a wooden chest filled with clothes and other belongings, a table covered with plans, drawings, and garbage, a counter with a sink and some drawers and cupboards built into it, a stove, a fridge, and two empty wooden chairs near the table.
The top floor has a large window with no glass overlooking this trailer park of a city. There’s a telescope bolted to the floor but nothing more besides a very small bathroom without a shower. I am tempted to look through the telescope, but there’s no doubt Haydia will yell at me for it. Besides, all the dwellings and houses here are so cramped together you can barely see anything anyway. I’m not sure why she has it.
“Well...it’s…” I struggle for words, not knowing what I should or shouldn’t say.
“I know how you spoiled brats see this place. No need for any exposition,” she silences me, turning on her heel to go back down the squeaky metal stairs.
I follow her sheepishly, not sure what to do.
“What exactly do you do here?” I ask, putting my hands in my pockets, “For fun I mean.”
“Anything we want. There are no Rules here, no king, queen, or Council to tell us off,” she explains as if it’s obvious.
“Well, what do you do for fun?” I press. She stares at me for a second, then shakes her head at me.
“We’ve got to get you some new clothes, man. You look ridiculous and I can’t be seen walking around with you like that.” She shoves some dirty and smelly clothes in my arms, “Put these on.”
“What?? No, I-” I start.
“Would you rather be naked? Because I know a lot of people who would appreciate that,” she interrupts, her tone sounding both venomous and amused. I sigh.
“Fine. I just hope they fit,” I mutter, going upstairs to change.
I go into the corner of the room furthest away from the window and change quickly, afraid that Haydia will come upstairs just for the fun of it. But she doesn’t, something that surprises me since I basically gave her dominion over my entire life. Which is something I have been dreading to face. Why did I let her do this to me? There is only a slim chance of escape, especially since I’ll be with her all day. Plus there’s the fact that I’ll be forced to do terrible things. Wouldn’t death have been better, the more honest and honorable thing to do? If I really am a Heart, shouldn’t I have chosen differently?
I go back downstairs to find Haydia working on a high-tech device. I gasp a little and she notices, turning around and smiling at me.
“Hey, it fits! That looks much better, now I can actually walk around in public with you. You might want to smear some dirt in your hair or something because you look too clean,” she tells me, fingering the thing’s buttons and dials.
“Where did you...what is that?” I say, pointing at the device.
“This? I don’t know, I stole it,” she replies, waving the question off.
“From who? Someone rich?” I persist.
“I don’t know, it feeds me so who cares? The real problem is making sure other people don’t steal it. Which reminds me, I’m going to have to teach you how to fight, otherwise you’ll never survive here,” she comments, flipping a switch and both of us watch in amazement as a turkey dinner slowly appears before our very eyes.
Once it’s finished, Haydia puts the device under a pile of clothes in the large chest, shuts it, locks it with a key, and sticks the key back on a string tied around her neck. She gestures for me to sit down and eat with her, so I do, and the food tastes amazing. I know that there are devices all over the Four Divisions that can do amazing things like this, but only the rich can afford them or even have access to them. The rest of us have only a few of these modern advancements, only what comes with our homes. We still have 21st century technology though centuries have passed since then. And, again, no one complains except the poor. Why?
I gorge myself and am satisfied and happy, wondering if this will be as bad as I assume it will be, until I realize guiltily that she stole the device and may have even killed to get it. The turkey now feels like a muddy stone in my stomach, heavy and disgusting. Someone bursts through the door without knocking. Haydia rolls her eyes and swallows her food.
“What, Mydie? Can’t you see me and the pretty boy are eating?” she tells her, annoyed and scowling.
“It’s a Division Officer, he’s here about your pretty boy,” Mydie answers with just as much annoyance in her voice. But I can read a little hint of fear and panic in there too, tiny psychological hints that I have been trained to pick up on.
My heart skips a beat when I realize this is my chance to get out of here. Haydia must pick up on this because she gets up, leads me out of the house, locks the door with the same key around her neck, and roughly pulls me aside.
She shoves me up against the metal wall of her house and spits, “You better not say a word to him about what we did or I’ll tear you into so many pieces the officers won’t ever be able to find all of them! Got it? Just leave the talking to me and when he asks you about it, you back me up.”
“Okay!” I exclaim fearfully.
She lets me go and I follow her, very worried. If I tell the truth, I’ll be free but I’ll have Haydia and all of her friends after me for the rest of my life, and if I lie I’ll be stuck here forever and be thought of as one of them. My friends will laugh at the mere mention of my name, even my parents wouldn’t respect me anymore if they found out I joined the lowest of the low. And yet it seems I have no choice.
