The Wheel: A Young Adult Dystopian Novel (Nightfall Book 1)

  The Wheel

  Nightfall, Book One

  Cynthia Hickey

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  Copyright © 2021 Cynthia Hickey

  Published by: Winged Publications

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  No part of this book may be copied or distributed without the author’s consent.

  All rights reserved.

  1

  In less than an hour my fate would depend on a spinning wheel. One yank, and my fate sealed.

  Anticipation, and an element of fear, trickled through my veins. I peered at my five-foot-two frame and smoothed the skirt of my patched, but clean, yellow dress. My best one, the one with sprigs of blue flowers across the fabric. Not my favorite article of clothing. It made me look younger than my eighteen years.

  I couldn’t help but hope for a position in a fine house on top of the hill in our community of Soriah where cold didn’t seep through holes in the walls and food always graced the table. A job where my private space was more than a cot separated from the rest of the house by a thin blanket hanging from hooks in the ceiling. Crawling through dank leaves in the forest looking for edible plants had long since lost its appeal.

  “Crynn Dayholt!” My mother’s cry came from the other side of the moth-eaten blanket making up the wall of my bedroom. “You cannot be late today of all days. It’s a criminal offense.”

  Taking a deep breath, I stepped from behind the blanket and sat down to a breakfast of hard biscuits soaking in broth leftover from dinner the night before. “What job do you think I’ll get?”

  Mam sat across from her. “Maid would be nice, even an assistant in the bakery, working for those rich folks, but you’d have long hours and little free time. You might get a job in one of the factories. It’s backbreaking but the hours aren’t as long.” She leaned her elbows on the table and lowered her voice. A flicker of fear crossed her face. “I’ve heard there are jobs unimaginable on that board, Crynn. Terrible ones. Pray the wheel doesn’t land on one of those. Better to be poor than dead.”

  The biscuit stuck in my throat. I grabbed for the glass of water next to my battered metal bowl and took a gulp. I, too, had heard rumors of the wheel landing on something, then the applicant disappearing without a trace. What would my disabled mother do if that should happen to me? The small amount of sewing she did whenever she could get her hands on material wouldn’t be enough. The rich women on the hill didn’t pay much for their tailoring.

  I reached across the table. “No matter what, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

  She nodded. “I will be, even if you’re lost. Lorna’s son disappeared. Remember Fawke Newton? His wheel landed on a black square, and he was rushed off right after the feast. Anyway, his mother receives money every month. Not a lot, but enough to live on. She’s doing better than we are on my disability, but misses her only son very much.”

  While I wanted to help better my Mams life, I didn’t want to do so at the expense of mine. Outside, one long blare of a siren signaled the time for all eighteen-year-olds to gather at the community hall. I took a deep shuddering breath and pushed to my feet.

  Mam grabbed her crutch and forced a smile. “Don’t wait for me, dear. You’ll be late if you do and that will get you in trouble.”

  “I love you.” I wrapped my arms around her frail body. “I’ll see you at the feast.”

  “God willing.”

  Her words hovered like a dark shroud over my head. There was nothing exciting about turning the age of an adult. Not in a world made of darkness because of humanity’s greed.

  Oh, I’d heard tales of a land filled with sunshine and flowers, clean smells and fresh water. Far different from the dark, cold world I’d grown up in. Any light came from fires lit at regular intervals along our cracked streets to keep from freezing. I grabbed a tattered shawl from a hook by the door, wrapped it around my shoulders, and stepped into the frigidness of a summer morning.

  “Good day to determine your future, aye Crynn?” A tall lanky boy named Borke slowed his steps to match mine. “I’m hoping to work in the metal factory. With all the destroyed buildings in the lower city, finding work supplies will be a cinch.”

  “Aren’t there…things that live in the cities?” I’d heard stories told to children to make them behave. Tales of creatures that thrived in the dark. “That would be dangerous.”

  “Those are fairy tales, Crynn.” He scowled. “I bet you’ll be a maid in a fancy house. They like the pretty girls to work there. Or,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “maybe you’ll be an entertainer. I’ll be your best customer.”

  “You shut your mouth right now.” I pulled my shawl tighter and shuddered. Entertaining the male species was not something I wanted to consider. Surely the secret powers that be had to be men in order to establish such a career meant only for females.

  “Identification, please.” A man dressed all in black stood outside the community hall.

  I stepped forward and let him scan my pupil. He opened the door and announced my name.

  An elderly woman in gray ushered me to a back room away from the tantalizing aromas of roast meat and … was that vegetables? My mouth watered. Only on your eighteenth birthday did you eat like royalty, unless you were one of the rich.

  “Wait here until your turn. Applicants are called in alphabetical order. You are toward the front of the nineteen applicants. It won’t be long.” She left me alone and locked the door behind her.

  I glanced around the room barely bigger than a closet and sat on the hard metal chair, the only thing in the room other than myself. I folded my hands in my lap, closed my eyes, and prayed for the perfect future.

  My turn came way too soon. The door opened and the same woman beckoned me to follow her. She stopped in front of a set of double doors. “Through there. March to the front of the room. Do not look to either side or back at me. This is a solemn time. Approach the wheel. You will receive further instructions from the man waiting there.”

  I nodded and pushed the doors open. No one in the two rows on either side of me glanced my way. From what I could see in front of me, there were maybe twenty people, not counting the five solemn men sitting on a platform next to a giant wheel.

  As I approached, I could make out letters in most of the slots of the wheel. One slot was painted a solid red, another a solid black. My throat threatened to seize. What were the jobs those colors represented?

  “Stop in the square painted on the floor,” a man bellowed from somewhere behind me. “Then raise your right hand.”

  I stopped and raised my hand.

  “Do you swear upon your mother’s head that you will accept the fate the wheel chooses for you?”

  I nodded.

  “Speak up, girl.”

  “I … do.” My voice trembled, betraying my cowardice.

  “Spin the wheel.”

  All sounds ceased as I closed my eyes, gripped the handle, and spun. With hushed whispers the wheel spun around and around until the words and colors blended. I swore those in the room could hear my heart thundering.

  The wheel slowed and finally came to a stop. Gasps filled the silence.

  I opened my eyes to see the needle firmly in t
he middle of the black square. My heart stopped, and I glanced over my shoulder at the stricken face of Mams.

  “Take your seat,” the man ordered.

  I rushed forward and practically fell into Mams’s lap. She patted my back and muttered over and over that it had to be a mistake. They couldn’t take her only child. Except we both knew the wheel never made a mistake. I’d vowed to accept my fate.

  I sat in stunned silence as others’ needle fell on normal jobs. One young man’s fell on the red and he was the only one ordered to spin again. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the red was meant only for the females. When all were finished, a smiling man in pristine white robes stood and invited us all to partake in a feast.

  “Am I the only one who landed on black?” I asked my mother.

  Tears filled her eyes as she nodded. “Only you, the smallest and prettiest.” She lifted her chin. “We’ll be fine. Wherever you go, you will be fine. I have faith.”

  Oh, how I wished I shared her faith. I believed in the Supreme Being, I just wasn’t so sure He believed in me.

  I sat in an empty chair next to Mams and stared at a pile of roasted meat and vegetables. How ironic that hours before I’d been starving, and now I’d lost my appetite. Not knowing what lie before me and, knowing I might need whatever strength I could get, I filled my plate, even folding a meal’s worth in my napkin and slipping it into my bodice.

  Mams had the same idea and filled my pockets. We were poor, but we were smart, and always tried to be prepared. “I won’t be able to see you after the feast,” Mams whispered. “Stick this knife in your boot. I wish there was a way for you to take the water gourd. With no knowledge of where you’re going, we don’t know what you’ll need.”

  “Won’t they supply me with those things?” My eyes widened.

  “I do not know. Keep your wits about you. Be prepared for anything. Always think before you act or speak.” She cupped my cheek. “Make me proud.”

  “I’m frightened.”

  “Never reveal that to anyone. Never show fear.” She straightened. “You are a Dayholt. Your father worked the mines on the outskirts of the territory before his death. He did not show fear. Not once. Even when the ground closed above his head folks said he stayed strong.”

  “No fear.” I forced the words out in a harsh whisper and focused on the food in front of me. Like a roboton I chewed mouthful after mouthful until my full stomach became uncomfortable.

  “Crynn Dayholt, you will come with me.” A man with bright red hair stared at me from across the table. “The rest of you follow the man in green.”

  I stood, clasping my Mams’s hand. I gave it a squeeze depicting all the love I held for her in my heart then, without looking back, I marched away.

  The man led me to a large room full of weapons and piles of clothing. “You will have thirty minutes to gather what you will need.”

  “What is my job?” I turned to face him. “How do I know what to take if I don’t know what I’ll be doing?”

  He smiled without humor, a cruel glint in his dark eyes. “You, my tiny one will be the new leader of the Stalkers. Your predecessor died a few days ago. You, my sweet, will hunt Malignants in the burning recesses of the city.” He glanced at his watch. “Time starts now.”

  2

  A Stalker? Malignants? I’d never heard those words before. Did he mean the creatures told in hushed whispers? I stared at shelves of supplies, weapons hanging on hooks, and piles of what I thought was clothes.

  I disrobed, tossing my thin yellow dress onto the pile in favor of thicker clothing. I donned some tights and sturdy boots. A leather skirt and jacket lined with fur over a dark tee-shirt. I tied several scarfs around my waist and shoved a pair of tinted goggles onto my head. I stuffed gloves into pockets.

  After locating a sturdy canvas bag I could carry on my back, I added the food Mam and I had filched from the feast then approached the shelves of supplies, stuffing as much freeze-dried food and water inside as the bag would hold. How much time did I have left? I dropped a bottle of something called purifying tablets into the bag.

  I had no idea how to use any of the weapons hanging on the wall. I shoved a dagger in each of my boots and slung a scabbard and sword over my shoulder. The door opened as I reached for a white box with a red cross on it. Holding the box behind me, I turned and faced the man who’d locked me in.

  His gaze roamed over me. “You don’t look like the pretty young thing that came into this room. You actually look the part of a Stalker. Let’s hope you last longer than your predecessor.”

  “I’m still confused as to—”

  “It will all be explained.” He poked a needle into the flesh of my right forearm. “Your tracker. Follow me. Your orientation starts now. You’ll be dropped off in the morning. You might want to put the first aid kit into your pack. You can only leave the room with what you are wearing or is in the backpack. This is a test to your wisdom. I hope you chose well.”

  My boots slapped against the stone floor as I hurried after my guide. This time, he led me to a room and ordered me to sit in front of a long table. At the other end were three empty chairs. Without a word, he backed from the room and closed the door.

  I wasn’t sure how much time had passed before another door opened and two men and a woman entered. All were of indeterminate ages and covered with scars. The woman stood close to six-feet tall, the men not much shorter. One man missed an eye, a dark socket where once an eye had been. My fear and apprehension grew.

  “She looks rather small,” the woman said, her lip curling into a sneer. “If the former leader lasted less than a moon how will this one endure?”

  I scowled. “I’m stronger than I look.” My legs might tremble at the thought of my unknown future, but I would not be looked down on by anyone.

  “Perhaps. You do seem to have chosen well from the outfitting room.” She took her seat between the two men. “Crynn Dayholt, the wheel has chosen you as a Stalker. With the leader having passed, you, being the next chosen, takes his place.” She folded her hands and focused a sharp gaze on me. “Question?”

  “Why a leader? I’m not even aware of what a Stalker is.”

  “I’d prefer one of the more experienced Stalkers had taken the position, but they all refused.” She set a jar on the table in front of her. “Smear a line of this across each of your cheeks, then put the jar into your bag.”

  “What is it?”

  “The stripes signify you’re the leader.”

  I frowned. “There’s something about these stripes the others didn’t like, isn’t there?”

  She shrugged. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  As I dipped my fingers into the thick paste and painted on the stripes, she continued, “A century ago a plague wiped out most of the human race as I’m sure you learned in your six years of education. Then war and bombs. What was left behind is a world of danger, fire, and bitter cold. Dark days that vary little from the night. A handful of humans survived. Others survived but are not the same. Those are the Malignants, a species intent on our destruction. They eat anything with a heartbeat. The Stalkers have the job of ridding the cities of them so one day mankind can reclaim the lands they lost.” Her eyes narrowed. “This is the most dangerous occupation on the wheel. The three of us were once Stalkers.”

  That explained the scars. The stripes were a mark. “The Malignants target the leader, don’t they?” My blood ran cold.

  The man with one eye nodded. “We were all leaders once. If you survive for ten years, you are brought back here to live a life of peace and luxury, such as we can attain.”

  Somehow, I didn’t believe many made it ten years. “Will you train me?”

  “You will train tonight, have a few hours of rest, then more training. Day after you’ll be dropped in the city.” She stood and motioned for me to follow. “When you are in the city, you will have to find food if you run out of the weekly provisions dropped inside the wall. I suggest you make your
food and water last. There is little to hunt on the other side of the wall except those creatures.”

  Realizing her talking was part of my training, I soaked in her words, branding them on my brain. The next room she led me to resembled a wasteland full of discarded metal, bins of burning debris, and steel bars the type used in building. “Is this what the city looks like?”

  “In a very small way.” She ducked through a door, leaving me alone.

  Okay. I turned in a slow circle, freezing as something scraped against the floor. My mouth dried up.

  Someone in a hood that obscured their features screamed and rushed me. I scrambled backward falling to the floor. I scuttled backward like a forest crab.

  “Stop,” a voice called.

  I glanced up to see the woman who’d left me there frowning down from behind a glass window.

  “You have a sword, don’t you? Pull it.” She shook her head and withdrew, mumbling I should have chosen a better weapon.

  “Idiot girl,” the hooded figure hissed. “Try to stay on your feet. Don’t worry about hurting me. I’m past harm.” He, she, it headed back behind a pile of metal.

  Not knowing whether what I faced was human or monster scared me more than the shock of the unexpected attack. Not wanting to be caught unprepared again, I pulled my sword, surprised by its heavy weight. While I struggled to get a tight grip, the next attack came from the back.

  Something hit me. I dropped to me knees and dropped the sword. I rolled, pulling a dagger from my boot and thrust upward. The knife slashed through nothing but air. The breath left my body as the hooded figure stood over me. “What are you?”

  “A hologram. You did much better. Good instincts. Again.” It disappeared.

  We trained until I could no longer stay on my feet without fear of falling. “No more, please.” I sagged against the wall. I’d either fight well enough to survive or I’d die. At this point, I leaned toward the latter, but still held on to the thin thread of hope that I’d go to sleep and wake up to find it all a dream.