The Fractured: Elena: A Blemished Novella (Blemished Series) Read online

  Clare brushed tears from her eyes. “You’d better dress. The train will leave soon.”

  *

  Thirty minutes later Elena sat on the train with Jake, who laconically bossed around the film crew and other runners with grunts and monosyllabic commands. Elena sat in her new outfit – a tasteful grey pencil dress – and listened to one of the camera guys rattle on. He was short and skinny with low-slung jeans and eye-liner. He told her about how they had high hopes for her. The country needed a new star. They weren’t united anymore. They didn’t believe. Elena stared out of the window, only half listening.

  “They need to stop the Resistance,” he said. “It’s getting out of control. There isn’t a fashion show or a reality television programme that isn’t interrupted by them. They seem to think they can hold the city hostage with their protests and bombs.”

  “Bombs?” Elena pulled her eyes away from the countryside and stared at the camera guy with furrowed brows. “There are bombs in London?”

  “Oh yeah. It’s a minefield, honey. People are knocking seven bells out of each other. It’s terrible, really. You’ve picked the worst time to come to London.” He paused. “Or maybe the best time. This is the last chance, I reckon, to pull everyone together. They need someone like you, a rags to riches star. Someone with a story, who has made it to the Capital from the worst Area in Britain.”

  “So that’s why they held the competition,” said Elena. “It’s the first time anyone has actually made it to London from our Area. This is all some sort of plan to try and fix the crap happening down there.” She laughed. “Great. And I thought things were looking up.”

  “Oh, they will, honey. One way or another, things will start looking up. They can’t get much worse.” He shrugged and applied lip balm.

  Jake watched the conversation unfold with interest. Elena wanted to ask him what the hell he was staring at but instead she rested her head against the glass and closed her eyes. She was vaguely aware of the television crew in the background, filming her every move, but she didn’t really care. One of them set down the camera and ate an apple, Elena saw him as she peeked out of the corner of her eye. She felt a little smug to be proving to be such a boring subject.

  The journey continued. She watched the countryside drift by in a blur and enjoyed the luxuries of the shuttle – including champagne, canapés and a hairdresser. The train was empty apart from her and the film crew. She thought about Clare, about how empty the house would be, and about her mother stuck at home, probably getting her Blingin’ Botox discount. People fussed around her, telling her what time they would get to London. They didn’t really tell her what to expect, just hinted about protests from the Resistance and counter-protests from fans of the show. Surveys showed how popular she was. People liked her forthright nature and beautiful face. She just wanted to sleep.

  The scenery changed, from rolling hills to dusty towns. The faces of the Blemished stared up at the train from the gardens of houses squashed up to the train tracks. They were dirty and clad in their black tunics. Everyone looked away except for Jake and Elena. At one point Elena watched Jake watching the Blemished and thought she saw pain flash across his face, but then he saw her looking and her eyes darted away.

  The train stopped at an old station with one platform. It was drizzling outside which merged in with the grey of the station. Up ahead Elena saw a huge concrete wall. There was graffiti all over it, messages of Resistance. Some featured paintings of the Resistance flag. Others showed murals of women being separated from their babies. She’d seen similar murals on the walls of the ghettos in Area 14. Her pulse quickened with the anticipation. London was on the other side of that wall. Her new life was about to begin. What could she expect to see beyond those walls?

  Chapter Eight

  At least the Enforcers looked the same. They still had their large round helmets covering everything but their eyes. They still spoke with that creepy muffled voice, and when they moved you could hear the creak of their black leather uniforms.

  Elena sat and watched as they inspected the train. They demanded passes from the film crew and a pass for Elena. Someone produced it for her.

  “Registered Plan-It?” the Enforcer asked her.

  “It broke,” she replied.

  The Enforcer took his own Plan-It out, scanned her pass with it, typed something onto the white rectangle and then put it back in his pocket. “You’ll have a replacement waiting for you at the gates.

  “Well aren’t you efficient,” Elena said with a sarcastic smile. Next to her, Jake laughed.

  Elena noted that as well as looking and sounding the same, their humour tolerance levels were the same too. The Enforcer glared at her for a second and then walked off. Apparently it was safe for them to disembark, as Jake and the others collected the many suitcases and started dragging them towards the exit. Elena had nothing to carry so she followed them with her hands in the pockets of her grey dress. Her ponytail bounced along as she walked.

  When off the train Elena shivered. It was a chilly day and the lace cardigan that went with her dress was not warm enough.

  “Can I wear a coat?” Elena asked.

  One of the camera guys answered before Jake could reply. “No, think of the photos!”

  Jake shrugged in half apology so she wrapped her arms around her body and followed them along the grey platform. It wasn’t the grandeur she was expecting, but then they hadn’t gone through the border yet. The platform faded into a gravel path flanked by net metal fences, like the kind on the tennis courts at school. Enforcers stood on either side of the fences, holding their laser guns. Their dark uniforms stood out starkly against the grey. Up ahead the border loomed down, the only colourful part of the landscape. Elena shivered at the sight of the large cartoon depictions of the Fracture; the pale faces of the Blemished beaten down against the Enforcers. She had to look away.

  There was a hut built into the wall, with a gated portion which was open to reveal a metal detector, body scanner and turnstile. Jake and the other assistants passed the suitcases through the metal detector and scanner before passing over documents to the Enforcer sat in the hut. He examined and returned them. Then the others stepped through one by one, pressing their fingers to a scanner on the turnstile. A small LED screen flashed with a green arrow and one by one they filed through. Elena followed them, stepping through the scanner and then metal detector. The Enforcer in the hut passed her a new Plan-It and she tucked it into her pocket. She pressed her thumb to the scanner on the turnstile, just as the others had. It bleeped and she stepped through.

  But she wasn’t in London yet. There was a gap, the size of a large road, with another wall on the other side. Enforcers in small buggies buzzed around the road, talking on their Plan-Its, walking in troops or standing guard. Elena felt like a tiny ant in a giant’s world, looking up at the huge walls. She followed the others as they approached the final gate. Another Enforcer opened it for them and they stepped through into London.

  It was like someone had turned on the lights. The world burst with colour. From the clothes of the passers-by – the bright red coats and teal trousers; to the flashing advertisements featured on every building; to the buildings themselves – so tall and grand, some made of glass, others of stone and even more of brick. Elena found herself staring upwards, her neck craning to see everything, she wanted to see everything. She inhaled, smelling the car fumes mingled with the damp rainy air.

  “Um, where’s the car?” said the camera guy. “It should be here waiting for us.”

  “I’m on it,” Jake said, getting his Plan-It out of his pocket.

  “You’d better be. Or the protestors will be here soon.”

  A dark expression passed over Jake’s face. “I know. I said I was sorting it.”

  Jake took a few steps from the group to talk into his Plan-It. As he did the camera guy came closer to Elena. “I do not like that young man,” he whispered. “I don’t know where he came from or how he got the
job, but I don’t like him.”

  “He is kinda annoying,” Elena admitted in a small voice. She watched Jake, the way he paced up and down, his lips moving. Every now and then he squinted up the road and pressed his earbud.

  Then there was a flash to Elena’s right and she turned to see someone with a camera taking photos of her. She had to shield her eyes from the bright flash. The group were stood by a taxi lay-by, presumably the place the car was expected to be. It didn’t shelter them from view. On the other side of the road Elena heard a shout and then saw a group of people rushing towards them, two Enforcers from the border moved closer to Elena.

  “There she is!” Elena heard from across the street. It was coming from an older blonde woman with large breasts that jiggled under her loose t-shirt as she jogged across the road. Cars beeped at her but she ignored them. “Oh, she’s so beautiful.”

  There was something wild in the woman’s eyes that made Elena shrink back. She stayed close to the Enforcer on her right.

  “Look at those cheekbones. They made the right choice.”

  A young skinny girl holding a placard of Elena’s face pushed forward. “Will you sign my picture? Will you sign my picture? Will you sign my picture?” She gasped as though she couldn’t breathe.

  “I don’t… I don’t have a pen,” Elena said in shock as more people crowded around them.

  Someone thrust a pen into Elena’s hand and she started signing the picture as more people turned up, pushing and shoving. Another cameraman appeared from nowhere with a presenter announcing Elena’s arrival to London. She asked Elena a question but it was drowned out by the sound of the crowd chanting her name. Someone placed a crown on her head and a sash over her body. Elena leaned towards the presenter to ask her to repeat her question when a bag of flour exploded over her shoulder and the right side of her face. She doubled over, screwing her eyes up as the flour trickled into her eyes. Jake jogged back to her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Elena was too stunned to reply. Her mouth opened and shut. But at that moment the chanting started and Elena wouldn’t have been heard anyway.

  “Down with pageants! Down with the fake! Down with pageants! Down with the fake!”

  Elena turned towards the sound to see the sight of dozens of people, all striding towards her wearing scarves tied around their faces, showing just their eyes. They waved placards in the air, most featured her face disfigured into a monster. They were mysterious, faceless things, with theirs hoods pulled up and their scarves covering their noses. They threw more flour bombs towards the group and the blonde haired crazy woman screamed before running towards the group. The Enforcers stepped in, trying to prise the two groups apart, knocking people to the ground. Amidst the chaos a car sounded its horn.

  “Come on,” Jake instructed.

  A large black car pulled through the crowd into the lay-by and Jake opened the door and pushed Elena into the back seat. The suitcases and others followed, squashing everyone up into the small space. The car tried to pull away but there were so many people it couldn’t move. One of the crazy women banged on the windows and tried to open the doors. On the other side, near Elena, a protestor pushed up against the glass. She saw their angry eyes and it frightened her. Finally the car moved away. Elena stared through the glass, partly seeing her ghost white reflection, and partly seeing the chaos she’d created.

  Chapter Nine

  Elena had never felt so stupid as she did stepping into the reception area of the grandest hotel she’d ever seen, covered in flour. When the receptionist saw her they clicked their fingers and ordered a bell boy to sweep up the flour she left in a trail on the carpet as she walked through.

  To make matters worse – the walls of the hotel were talking to her. Since she’d put in her new Plan-It wherever she went the advertising screens decided to shout at her: ELENA DARCEY, MISS AREA 14! Glitz’n’Glam shoes are the trendiest in town. Press your palm to the wall and we’ll deliver them to your hotel.

  “How does it know my name?” she asked Jake.

  “From the information on your Plan-It,” he said in a soft voice. Since she’d been pelted by flour he treated her differently, as though he blamed himself. Maybe it was because he couldn’t get the car there any sooner. “It has all of your shopping history, knows your whereabouts and your friend contacts. It even knows what kind of music you listen to on the radio. The ads change especially for you.” He half-laughed, it was surprisingly breathy and Elena liked it. “If you think this is bad, you should get on the tube. It’s a rabble. But if you want to buy something, just put your hand on the screen.” Jake showed her the green box big enough for a hand. “You can choose something, too. Watch.” Jake walked closer to the wall and it started to speak.

  Hola, Jake Bloom! Fancy another Latte? Totally GEM Coffee have a sale on – Grande for the price of Tall!

  “I’d like lunch reservations for four tomorrow at 12pm in the Savoy Hotel on Strand.”

  No problemo, Mr Bloom! Place your palm to the screen to book.

  “Expenses to go to GEM TV.”

  You betcha!

  Jake placed his palm in the green box and a little white light ran up and down his hand, scanning his palm print. Elena leaned forward, watching it. She was fascinated with how the light highlighted his skin, and how it knew everything about him just from the tiny grooves in his palm. She reached forward and placed her hand over his, without thinking. Jake snatched his hand away, making Elena jump and then blush. The screen changed to an image of a very high class restaurant. The camera zoomed into a table by the window.

  Your table for tomorrow, Mr Bloom. We hope you enjoy your lunch!

  Jake was no longer looking at the screen but staring intently at Elena. He had a strange expression on his face, pained and tense. He cleared his throat and looked away.

  Elena tried to distract him from what she’d done; feeling embarrassed and like her face was burning up. “Who runs those things? They know everything about us. It’s so weird.”

  Jake laughed without humour. “Who do you think? The GEM. They run everything –TV, radio, advertising. They even keep control of all the businesses. Come on. The parade starts in just over an hour.” He turned and began walking back to the reception desk where the rest of the film crew and assistants were waiting with the suitcases.

  “Parade?” Elena said with a whimper. “I didn’t know there was going to be a parade.”

  *

  After a shower, Elena was at the mercy of her new team of make-up artists and hairdressers. A member of the film crew asked her inane questions about her favourite things as she sat cross-legged on the bed in a dressing gown. There were people all around her working hair-dyers and curling irons and eye-lash curlers and hairspray and lipstick and spray tan. She never knew sitting could feel so exhausting. All the time Jake stalked up and down the room talking on his Plan-It and writing on his clipboard, occasionally running his hands through his hair and sighing.

  When the hair and make-up was completed – which Elena felt made her look like a particularly manly transvestite – she was ushered into the bathroom with a ball-gown. It was strapless and corseted with a plunging neckline. It was also bright pink. This was not what she had in mind, but had to go with it. She placed her crown on her head and wrapped the sash around her body and stepped back into the hotel room.

  “Oh, don’t you look a picture!” said one of the stylists.

  Jake sniggered and then clamped his mouth shut with the palm of his hand. Elena rolled her eyes at him.

  “You look like a Princess,” said the make-up artist.

  “How do you feel?” asked the cameraman.

  “Like a Princess,” Elena said. She tried to force a smile. But the truth was – she felt terrified. She’d already had a taste of fame and didn’t like it. It was weird. She was a celebrity. As she forced her feet into crippling high heels, she thought about the placards and flour bombs. She thought about the angry eyes of the
protestor, staring at her with complete and utter hatred. It left a sour taste in her mouth.

  “The car’s here. It’s taking us to where the parade begins,” Jake said. He was still staring at her dress with an amused grin on his face.

  “What’s this going to be like?” Elena asked. “Am I in a float or something?”

  “No time,” Jake said. He ushered everyone out of the hotel room, into the lift down to the car-park and into the large van. In a blur they were out of the hotel car-park and on the road.

  Elena stared out at the surroundings as they drove through London. She loved looking up at the tall buildings looming down. She saw Big Ben. They’d rebuilt it from glass after the fracture, and you could see the cogs turning around inside, keeping perfect time. At night it lit up into a famous light show, changing into every colour you could imagine. The car stopped too soon, pulling up on Fleet Street with the bus up ahead. Elena felt a tightening in her stomach as she thought about all the attention she’d be getting soon. She didn’t know if she was ready for it yet.

  But at least the sight of the bus distracted her from the nerves. It was one of those huge old-fashioned double-decker buses that she’d only seen on television and gleamed bright scarlet against the grey sky. It was magnificently tall. As she got out of the car and stepped forward she had to crane her neck upwards to see the railing around the open top roof.

  “Do you think people can throw that high?” she said in a voice far more squeaky and strained that she’d intended. “You know – flour bombs, rotten tomatoes, arrows, knives or axes.”

  “You’ll be safe,” Jake replied.

  “Hmm, why don’t I feel like that’s true?” Elena put her hands on her hips and stared up at the bus again. “What’s going to happen to me?”