The Antiarch Trilogy

By Eryn Carpenter

The Complete Antiarch Trilogy - Plus BONUS Epilogue! 

Finding Axiom 

When Finn, a sixteen year-old Enforcer-In-Training, learns that The Wall built to keep citizens safe from The Wild is really a cage, he starts questioning all he's been taught. 

Maybe animals aren't as dangerous as he's been conditioned to believe. Maybe his rebel parents aren't the bad guys. Maybe he's playing for the wrong team. 

Finn must choose a side, either way it will cost him. His family, or his future…but neither are as terrifying as what may lurk beyond The Wall. 

A Conditional Truth 

Being an Enforcer is tough. Being an undercover spy for the resistance group, Axiom, is even harder. Not having the people you love know the truth is killer. 

When fellow Enforcer, Marissa, pursues Finn, he discovers she has the information he's looking for. This leaves him with an impossible choice: stay true to Piper and ruin the mission or betray the girl he loves and save the city. 

The Wall and The Wild 

In the climax of The Antiarch Trilogy, nothing will stop the Advisor from launching his newest deadly weapon against Axiom. Still undercover as an Enforcer, Finn must lead the rebellion growing inside Antiarch if he has any chance of defeating the Advisor.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kristopherson Press
• Release date: Jul 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223057130

Book preview

Like a cold fog

fear creeps into our hearts and minds,

clouding judgment,

justifying compliance,

surrendering our power.

CHAPTER ONE

The Advisor tells us there are only two kinds of animals: dumb and dangerous. I take a step back, staring into the black pupils of the beast in front of me. I hope this one is dumb.

Citizens of Antiarch should avoid animals at all costs. If a citizen must be in the presence of an animal, they should watch it at all times. One never knows when an animal will go wild with rage.

(Antiarch Code of Conduct, Rule 3)

But I have to break the rule; I have to look away. I need to make sure I'm awake, that this is real. I look to my left. Yep, there's the kitchen. To my right is the dining table. I reach out and touch it to ground myself. The cool surface focuses my attention on my fingertips for a moment. The light gray walls of our apartment feel like they're closing in on me more than usual, but at least they confirm that I'm in the living room.

Mom and Dad stand in the doorway. Sitting on the floor next to them is that thing.

I look at it again. My breath shakes as it leaves my body. Heat gathers under my skin, crawling up my neck, popping out in beads of sweat. Snap out of it, I scold myself. You've seen these around the city. Not this big, sure. This animal's head is past Dad's knees, but still. You're almost an Enforcer, Finn. Man up.

I clear my throat. What in the Wild do you think you're doing? The words burst out of me like poison. Mom and Dad flinch, but my words are a poison they've experienced before. They've spent the last year building up immunity.

Watch your words, young man. Dad's voice, hard and cold as the concrete wall that surrounds our city, snaps back at me.

Mom presses her lips together and tucks a loose tendril of hair back into her messy bun. She won't meet my eyes.

What's going on? Eny, my fifteen-year-old sister, stands rigid in the hallway. For Advisor's sake, is that for Finn's birthday?

Both of you, watch your language, Dad says, avoiding her last question.

Eny there's no way that abomination is for me. There's no way we're keeping that.

Hand on her hip, Eny rolls her eyes at me. It's your birthday tomorrow. Who else would it be for?

She walks over to them and reaches down toward the dog. Her hand shakes. As much as my little sister likes to pretend she isn't afraid of animals, she's seen all of the warning videos, too.

The dog noses forward and Eny's hand shoots back. She curls her fingers into a fist, takes a deep breath, and tries again. This time she holds still and the dog licks her fingers. My stomach drops.

It's just a dog. It's just a dog. It's just a dog that looks exactly like the black dog from the new warning film. The Council's videos of grisly animal attacks run in a steady stream through my mind.

Finn. Mom steps forward and my eyes focus on her. We know this isn't exactly what you were thinking of —

Not exactly! Are you guys deaf? Have you heard anything I've been talking about? Animals are not safe. The Advisor himself says so.

They aren't illegal anymore, though, Eny shoots over her shoulder.

Cheap, En. You know they only lifted the ban because of the black-market sales. Legal or not, loyal citizens of Antiarch should have nothing to do with animals. Period.

At that, the dog must decide it's done sitting and it moves toward Eny wagging its tail. Dad isn't prepared for this and the leash pulls free of his hands. He lunges forward, trying to get it back.

Get it. Please. I'm frozen as I watch it happen in front of me.

Dad's hands fumble and grab at the air, but they come up empty. I can't move a muscle as the dog starts running around the apartment, dragging the leash behind it. Its eyes look wild and it opens its mouth to reveal razor-sharp teeth.

It turns toward me and I move to the right, just in time. Its claws scratch and scrape at the concrete as it slides past me into the living room. My heart is about to pound right through my chest.

This thing's wild! I yell, moving toward the door and covering my nose and mouth with my shirt so I don't catch anything from it. It might even have the dreaded Canine Flu everyone's been talking about. The few Conditioned animals I've seen in the city since the Advisor lifted the ban definitely did not run around like that. Look what you've done. The Conditioning must not have worked.

I point to the beast that turns toward Eny and lies at her feet, licking at its paws. Eny manages to tug the corners of her mouth up enough to feign a smile. She has to be scared right now. She doesn't want to admit she's wrong.

But as I watch her face in all its shaking, shivering, distortion, I see a change. Her muscles relax and a genuine smile spreads across it. She bends down and pets the animal. In response, the dog rolls on its back, revealing a black, furry stomach. Eny scratches at the dog's belly and she laughs. She actually laughs.

Eny, what do you think you're doing? What about Canine Flu?

Mom and Dad roll their eyes. I know they don't believe in the flu at all, but Eny should, unless they have her convinced it's fake, too.

She looks up at me. I was scared at first, Finn. I was. But he's kind of nice. He's funny! And who even knows if Canine Flu is real? We've never even seen anyone who has it.

The dog seems content at her feet and its eyelids begin to flutter shut.

I throw a hand in the air, but keep the other holding my makeshift mask up. We don't see the flu victims because they're kicked out of the city. Do you want to follow them? This animal is obviously deranged. It can't stand up straight; it's falling over with disease.

Mom and Dad share a glance that has the flavor of worry, which makes the sour taste in my mouth that much worse.

Finn, it's not used to walking on the concrete. Give it a little time to acclimate. Mom wipes the worry from her face as quickly as it came.

I narrow my eyes, but let myself breathe normally again. If the Council had this thing for a week, it should be okay.

Should.

I huff and sit down at the kitchen table, as far away from the animal as I can get right now.

Okay, so it doesn't have a disease, but can someone tell me what it's doing here?

Mom shifts her weight and her eyes shift around the room, any place but on me. Eny is right; it's your birthday present. Mom's huge smile tries to make up for the words she knows I don't want to hear.

I shake my head. Even though I suspected as much, hearing her say it makes the room spin. I calm myself down. If I want them to listen, I need to be as rational as possible. Why? Why would you get me an animal? I thought I'd made my views clear to you guys.

Dad nods. You made it clear that you believe you are destined to be an Enforcer. You made it clear that you believe anything the Advisor or Council tell you to believe. What you haven't made clear is where our son went, the old Finn. Dad finishes his sentence and looks over at Mom; it must be her turn to try to change my mind.

Haven't we done this dance before? And don't we always end up with bruised toes?

Bruised or not, Mom takes her turn. You never used to buy into all of it, Finn. We thought an animal might remind you of who you used to be. You changed all of your ideals so quickly last year when you found out you might be an Enforcer. You only have six more months until you have to decide. Mom winces as if thinking of my career choice hurts.

I know exactly how long I have. My words come out more emotional, more frustrated than I'd like. I'm well aware of the time I have until I make the final decision about my career. It's a longing and a fear that burns deep in my stomach constantly. I know exactly how long I have until I choose, my family or my career. I know the rules and once I'm an Enforcer, I know that I'll have to stop contact with them. Members of different classes don't interact.

Citizens from different classes will only mix when necessary for productivity in the workplace.

(Antiarch Code of Conduct, Rule 25)

Sure, you may work around someone of a different class, but there isn't much contact beyond that and seeing them on the street. My family is part of the Suits, the business class. As an Enforcer, I'd be a Black and White, part of the elite class. That means once I become an Enforcer, contact with my family stops. Like Grandma and Grandpa Hammond, Mom's parents. They're both Covers, working class. We haven't seen them more than a few times, and then it was only in passing. But that's the way things go, right?

I crack my knuckles to keep busy and shoo my thoughts away from those dark places. They only choose a handful of Enforcer candidates a year. You guys have known this would happen since last year, I don't see why you think you can change it now. Why can't you just be proud of me?

Dad walks over to me and places a hand on my shoulder. Son, the Council gives you three options for a reason. You haven't even looked into the other two.

When Antiarch citizens turn 15, they will be presented with three career choices based on aptitude tests and parental class. They will study these three fields carefully during their 15th year.

(Antiarch Code of Conduct, Rule 21)

I shrug it off. Because it's not a question, I say. Enforcement is where I want to be, protecting the streets, keeping citizens safe, and tracking down Axiom.

My mind wanders. I can almost see myself bringing in members of the resistance group while crowds line the streets, cheering. Sure, I'm not certain who or what Axiom is, but the Council seems to think they're a threat. The Council says Axiom is tricky, that the group has spies everywhere and their one goal is to ruin our way of life. That's enough for me.

Yes, but becoming an Enforcer also means never spending time with us again, arresting people, making people disappear, and spreading fear through our city.

He grabs my arm this time, squeezing it firmly.

I flex my bicep in opposition.

Are you planning on arresting us? Dad's voice cracks and he clears his throat. We're Agitators, remember? We don't see eye to eye with the Council. Are you looking forward to seeing us disappear?

Chills radiate through my body. I've thought about this a lot. A lot. I know that when I become an Enforcer I'll have to turn them in. But I have months before I'll have to do it, so I try to push the thoughts away for now.

Of course not, I lie. You guys are careful. You won't get caught. I cringe, another lie. Rallies don't seem careful to me. It's still a very real possibility that someone else could arrest my parents before I can even become an Enforcer.

Agitator arrests happen daily. The Council may treat Axiom like it's going to destroy our city, but the truth is that no one sees Axiom. What we do see is Agitators. We see them vandalizing signs, gathering in anti-Advisor rallies, and we see them getting caught all the time.

You know you could always stop. I try the suggestion one more time.

Dad shakes his head, eyes downcast. You know that we can't do that. And you know that you're going to have to choose, Finn. Us or them. You can't have both. He releases my arm.

I know, the thought pulses through my body.

Mom steps forward now. People are disappearing, Finn. The Advisor says it's because the Canine flu has contaminated them, but the disease doesn't even exist. It's made up. He doesn't care about us. He and the Council are making laws that benefit themselves. Do you think the Wall is for protection? No, it's to keep us trapped -- to prevent contact with the Outer Cities. They're trying to split up our family, like they did with me. They know a strong family when they see one, so they throw a career in the mix that's another level up. A career that seems promising and hard to pass up. My parents insisted I take the step up, but they didn't know any better. They didn't know. She stops and rubs her temples. Her long brown hair falls in bunches out of the messy bun on the top of her head.

Mom's quietness, the slight shaking in her voice, it gets inside of me and unearths feelings of doubt our shouting matches never can. What does she want from me? They miss the old Finn, but he was weak. Before last year, I hadn't questioned my parents' views. Is that what she wants me to be again? Someone who goes along with what his Mommy and Daddy do without thinking for himself.

The words of my classmates echo in my mind, If you get a chance to be on the Enforcer path, you have to be stupid not to take it.

And I am not stupid.

Mom, I'm still myself, I say. I know it's hard to think of not being together anymore, but it's for the best. Plus, it's not like I'm becoming an Enforcer tomorrow. I still have months before I start Training.

Her eyes tighten as tears gather and threaten to fall. You're right. It isn't happening tomorrow and it's late. We should all go to bed. We can talk about this more in the morning. She reaches out and brushes my hair out of my eyes. Then she pads quietly down the hall to her bedroom.

My heart aches. I feel like a puddle, a mess. I feel like I'm about to lose all of my conviction and cave in, when Eny whispers, Can the dog sleep in my room then?

I roll my eyes. We aren't keeping it, Eny.

Enough. Dad's voice is quiet, but it rumbles through me, stopping any thoughts of more arguing. The dog will stay out here tonight and we will talk about this some more tomorrow. He walks over to a bag by the door and pulls out a bathroom pad. He places it in the corner and grabs a blanket to lie down next to it.

I tense as Eny walks away and the dog stands up, looking after her. Finally, it walks over to the blanket. It stretches, circles, and plops down in the center, a large sigh heaving its chest up then down.

I stand up and head down the hall to my bedroom, not even pausing to say goodnight as I shut my door and push it until the lock clicks. I jerk the handle; the door remains shut. I definitely don't want that thing getting close to me while I sleep.

CHAPTER TWO

Despite the fact that I'm dead tired, I barely sleep all night. I keep hearing noises in the hall, keep checking that the door is securely closed, and all of those warning videos run through my mind in a constant stream. Mom and Dad have seen them, Eny's seen them, why am I the only one in this family who's taking this seriously? I mean, going to protest rallies is one thing, but getting an animal... that's crossing the line.

I change into my gray Preparation uniform and comb my floppy hair out of my eyes. My hairstyle is the one aspect of Antiarch fashion that I don't follow. Many men shave their heads and women wear their hair back to show support for the kind of un-compromised lifestyle our Advisor promotes.

But I don't buy the fact that your hair has anything to do with how focused you are. I think it's a superficial way to show support. I choose to donate service hours and, someday, become part of Enforcement, where I can show my true dedication to our city and our leader. I take a deep breath and recommit to my future. My family sure can make me doubt it sometimes, but I know I'm right. Enforcement is my destiny.

Creaking open my door, I slip into the hall, checking each end to make sure parents and dogs don't notice me. I don't want to have a run in with either this early. I creep down the hall, moving a few feet at a time.

Morning, birthday boy!

I jump and swallow my heart back down my throat.

Eny! You trying to scare me to death?

She smiles sweetly. What might you be scared of here, in our safe apartment?

I drop my head to one side. Knock it off.

It's only a sweet dog, Finn. She pushes me the rest of the way down the hall into the living room.

For now, I mutter. We both touch our thumbs to the pad on the wall and watch as two red lights illuminate above the screen, making three total.

Citizens of Antiarch will be present for each morning and evening announcement. They will check in using their thumbprint. Citizens not in attendance will be warned or arrested.

(Antiarch Code of Conduct, Rule 5)

Three thumbprints. I look around. Dad is in the kitchen already. Great. I knew we would at least have to be in the same room for the announcement, but I hoped I could limit our interaction this morning as much as possible.

Morning, he says, meeting my gaze and holding it a little too long. If he wants an apology, he's going to be waiting for a while.

At his feet is the dog, rolling on its back, kicking its legs in the air. Again, it hits me that though I haven't seen many animals in the city since the Advisor lifted the ban half a year ago, the ones I have seen definitely haven't acted like this. A shiver creeps up my spine. I shake it off and walk past Dad, grab a bowl from the cupboard, fill it with oatmeal and water, and pop it into the microwave.

I roll my eyes as Eny bends down to pet the dog and scratch behind its ears. I can feel the comments lining up in my throat, ready to shoot out at her, but the beep of the microwave scatters them and I take my breakfast to the table. Silently.

A cheery bing bong sounds twice throughout our apartment, signaling a broadcast. Eny sits next to me, Dad leans against the counter in the kitchen, and Mom jogs in from the other room, placing her thumb on the pad on the wall, turning on the fourth red light just in time.

The Advisor's angular face appears on the large screen in our living room, his white shock of hair icing his serious complexion. I put down my spoon and the morning announcement begins.

Citizens of Antiarch, good morning. Today is the 62nd day of the 18th year since we raised the Wall around our great city. Yesterday, Enforcers made three Agitator arrests as well as five warnings. At 5:00 pm, I will make a special announcement about the new law that will go into effect tomorrow. Also, next week's rations will be low on vegetables and fruit due to agricultural shortages. Productivity rewards the soul.

The screen turns off automatically.

The new law. The room seems to buzz with silent worry. It seems like the whole city's been leaning forward, tiptoeing around since the last big Agitator rally. And by big, I mean the biggest rally there's ever been in the city. There are only so many Enforcers in the city and they can only arrest so many people. You'd think the arrests would discourage the Agitators from holding these rallies, but they only seem to make them grow. This latest rally is the reason the Council created this new law, even though they won't admit that on the announcements.

Mom walks over to where I sit, her long brown hair still thick with static from her hair dryer. Morning, sweetie. Happy Birthday. She wraps her arms around me and I get lost in the warm scent of her perfume, a stash she still has left over from the pre-Wall days.

I close my eyes and melt for a second. But then I hear the clicking of nails on the floor. The dog must be walking out of the kitchen. My blood feels like it's been loaded with a thousand needles. My body tenses and I push away from her, out of her arms. Standing, I move back and shake my head.

You have to get rid of it. You want to give me a birthday present I'll appreciate? Get rid of the dog.

Mom's eyes squint and her lips tighten together. I look away.

Dad clears his throat. Finn, let's sit down and discuss this over breakfast. Maybe we can help you see our side, Dad says, pulling up a seat at the table and motioning for me to take mine again.

My jaw clenches and my stomach wraps around itself. I can't. The words are quiet and loud all at the same time. I'm leaving early and that thing better be gone by the time I get home this afternoon. I look them in the eyes to make sure they've understood my conditions, grab my bag, and throw open the door.

The slam that follows vents the worst of my anger and leaves mostly worries. I lean against the door, close my eyes, grit my teeth. Why do they have to make everything so difficult? Why do they have to make my decision this much harder?

I take a deep breath instead of trying to answer these questions, swing my bag onto my shoulder, and head to the elevator.

In the elevator, my stomach settles as the three floors tick by. I'm almost feeling normal as I step into the clean, gray foyer. A few early risers walk with me through the doors and out onto the street. Everyone in our building is in the business class. Suits, like Mom and Dad, they wear crisp gray suits, mirroring black Enforcer suits in all but color.

Walking through the city, the citizens are focused and strong, as if they're made of the same concrete that surrounds us. People don't stop to talk to each other; they don't chat and laugh. They walk. Efficiency means that we get where we need to be in the least amount of time possible. There are social events after work and Prep hours occasionally and always on the weekends. I smile and the familiarity of my city washes away the unrest my family caused.

As I make my way down the street toward the Prep building, a more diverse crowd mingles with the wave of Suits. A few Covers, wearing gray coveralls enter the street, on their way to work in the factories in the Northern region of the city. Streets, which used to hold cars before the Wall went up, run in perpendicular patterns throughout the tall concrete structures. Black and red banners billow down from some of the buildings sporting city slogans and pictures of the Advisor, our beloved leader. Productivity Rewards the Soul! The Advisor Sees All. Antiarch, our Home.

Down one of the alleyways, I catch sight of a group of Scavs. Scavengers. The fourth, unspoken, unrecognized group in our city. Black and Whites are the elite class, the top. The business class or Suits come after that, and then the working class or Covers. If you do something bad when you're a Cover, they take away your rations, your living quarters, your status. You become a Scavenger. You have to find your own food, clothes, and shelter. Eny told me that she's heard of people choosing to live that way. They must have fur for brains.

I guess that is the rumor. While Covers usually aren't known to be too bright, Scavs are said to be downright crazy. Luckily, I've never had the misfortune to find out.

I walk faster, away from that alley. The Scavs move further into the shadows. With my quickened pace the South Prep building, gray and grand, looms to my right. It services half of the city's students, most of the business class and some of the upper class like Council member's children. North Prep accommodates the rest, the working class' kids.

I linger for a minute, my gaze focusing down the street. A tall white building rises above the others. The heart of Antiarch; home to the Advisor, the Council, and the Enforcers. There, the sea of gray suits mixes with a swell of stark black Enforcer suits and a few all white suits of the Council members. Black and Whites.

I should be there.

I will be there.

Soon.

I heave open the large metal doors of the Prep building. The familiar smell of floor wax and pencils folds about me and makes me smile. If I'm stuck in Prep for another year, at least I'm stuck somewhere I like. I stride down the hallway to Mr. Vance's room.

I hear voices as I near my destination. One is obviously Mr. Vance, an ex-Enforcer and my mentor. The other, one I also know well, is Mr. Zimney, another teacher here. But being teachers here is about the only thing they have in common. Well, that and the gray business class suits they both wear.

Nicknamed Zany Zimney, everyone says it's a mystery how he ever got hired, much less remains a teacher. He's a suspected Agitator and a former Animal Worker, or Scooper as we call them. Though he teaches history, he fails to appreciate the great things our city stands for. My parents know him and even they are a little wary of him. They say he has some pretty out there notions about the Council and possible ties to the resistance group, Axiom.

I never expected that these two would like each other very much, but the voice that stops me in the hall is loud and frustrated.

Does this have to do with the new law? Mr. Z shouts.

You'll have to wait and find out with every other citizen of Antiarch. All I can tell you is that you should have watched your words. Mr. Vance's voice is calm, arrogant.

That sounds like a threat, Vance.

Take it as you will, but I think you'll find your time here has run its course.

I see. So it's come to this. Mr. Z's voice crackles as if it's about to catch fire.

The Advisor will triumph, Bern. You should know this better than anyone. Your kind will be eliminated.

Whoa! Go Vance. Your kind? What did he mean by that? Agitators? Or something worse? I lean in closer; I want to hear what Zimney has to say about that.

But the only sound I hear is footsteps pounding toward the door, snapping me back to reality. I duck into a hallway to my left and stand flat against the wall as Mr. Z's angry, hunched form whips out of the room.

Once the retreating stomps grow quiet, I make my way over to the door and knock. Mr. Vance sees me through the glass and waves me in, all smiles. While Mr. Z seemed frazzled by their conversation, Mr. Vance seems refreshed, as if he just learned he won lunch with the Advisor himself.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Merrick! Vance's tall frame and shaved head make him look intimidating sometimes, but now, with a smile in his eyes, he looks inviting. He turns to his desk and picks up a small present, wrapped in standard issue black wrapping. No frills.

Oh! Thanks. My mind is still occupied with the argument I overheard and I stand there looking at the present for a moment.

Your first gift is this, he reaches inside his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, my access code to the city database. Mentors are allowed to give it to their protege when they start Training, but I think you're ready now.

I take the paper. Wow, thanks!

All citizens residing in Antiarch will be recorded in the city database. Enforcers will use this database to access information about citizens as they patrol the city.

(Antiarch Code of Conduct, Rule 12)

And second. Mr. Vance holds out the package. Go ahead. Open it.

I take the package, sit down, and rip at the taped edges. Tearing the paper off, I'm left with a plain cardboard box. I lift the top off the box and my eyes open wide, hoping for clues that might tell me what it is. Inside the box sits a striped red and white band of fabric, folded lightly. I look to Mr. Vance, my mouth open and head shaking.

What is it?

I can't exactly tell you yet, he answers soberly. Let me say that it is another step down the road you're taking. Beyond that, it will become clear with tonight's announcement. Nevertheless, I thought it might be a nice reminder of where you're headed, perhaps something else to help you get through this next year. He smiles proudly as I pull out the band.

I smile because I don't know if I should be happy or confused. Thank you... so much.

That's what mentors are for, right? Now we just need you to cut off all of this hair. He gestures to my chin-length hair and his mouth tightens. He smiles, making a joke out of the comment, but it's too late. My defenses are up.

I will, I reply curtly, but anybody can cut their hair to show their support of the Advisor. I choose to show my support in other ways.

Oh, sure, sure. He leans back. Everything okay this morning, Finn?

No! I scream inside, but it remains there. It has to. Even though I feel closer to Vance than my father lately, if he knew about my parents and their doubts, if he knew what's in my apartment at this very moment… I shiver. Not trusting myself to say anything, I shrug my shoulders and look at the floor. I rehearse what I need to say, not what I want to say, and take a deep breath. It's hard to wait.

And turning sixteen is yet another reminder of how long you still have. He looks past me, past the walls of the classroom. I know the feeling. I couldn't wait to join once I got my career choices. He places a rough hand on my shoulder and nods slowly. But I have a feeling you'll be in better spirits after you hear about the new law tonight.

I look at him and wrinkle my forehead, hoping for more information.

He throws his hands up and smiles. Look, I've said too much already! They're going to stop telling me things. He glances at the clock. I'd better start getting ready. I'll see you later today. He winks.

Okay, thanks again, Mr. Vance. I tuck my puzzling treasure under my arm as he walks with me to the door.

CHAPTER THREE

Islip into my seat in Mr. Zimney's history class, but my mind stays with my gift, tucked safely in my locker. Usually I wouldn't be caught dead in Zany Zimney's class early, but I can only stand by my locker for so long. After a quick check that the room is Zimney free, this seems to be my best option.

I pull a crisp sheet of paper from my bag, along with a pencil. Putting today's date at the top, my thoughts return to what I heard outside Mr. Vance's room. Is that why Mr. Z isn't here yet? I wonder. I sketch in the margin of the paper as I think.

Remembering their argument makes my thoughts return to tonight's announcement. The new law, what will it be, and why was Mr. Vance so sure it will affect Zimney? What will it mean for my parents? A pit grows in my stomach.

I look down at my paper and my heart stops. What started as harmless zigzags have become the razor sharp teeth of my so-called birthday present. I absentmindedly enclose the teeth in the curled, sharp face of the large black dog. The dog on this paper, identical to one from the warning videos, has been haunting my dreams ever since the Advisor lifted the animal ban a few months ago.

I don't know why, but I continue the frightening image. The animal's coarse hair stands on end as its claws grip the surface of the paper as it usually grips the concrete and corners me in my nightmares. I'm shading in the body of the paper-beast when the door opens. I break into a cold sweat and return to the trapped feeling of my dreams as if I'm looking at the animal itself.

Mr. Z walks into the room, eyes narrowing as he notices me. His wild, stone-colored hair sticks out in odd directions, making me seriously consider shaving mine to avoid having anything in common with him.

Great. I'm alone in a room with another wild beast. I force myself to sit upright and meet his gaze. If I'm going to be an Enforcer, I need to learn to deal with men like Zimney. I need to be able to handle him like Vance does.

Then he sees my drawing. His eyebrows rise. I know that look; Dad's just about perfected it. Frustration. Anger. Disappointment.

What do we have here, Mr. Merrick? he scoffs as he moves to his desk in the front of the room. Are we practicing for a new warning poster? His dry voice points an accusing finger at me.

I realize that I have no idea how to answer that question when a face appears in the small vertical window in the classroom door, well most of a face. My best friend's large, square head bobs up and down as he looks in. Seeing me, he opens the door. My heart jumps in relief. I've never been happier to see his thick, brick-wall frame.

Finn! What are you doing in here? Gresh's voice, all too loud for such an empty room.

My eyes widen and shift over to where our crazy first period teacher stands, looking ready to continue his morning argument with other loyal Antiarch citizens. Gresh catches sight of Zimney, his face turns pale, and he lumbers over to me.

I need to show you something in the hall, he says loudly, more toward Mr. Z than me.

I smile, grab my bag and paper, and follow him quickly out the door, tossing my drawing into the trash on the way out.

Whoa, that was close. Zany Z looks like he's gonna blow this morning.

Yeah. What did you want to show me?

I've been trying to find you. I wanted to give you your birthday present. He slaps me on the back and shoves me forward. The big one six. His small mouth stretches as far across his large face as it can. Welcome to the club.

Gresh turned sixteen about a month ago and never lets me forget that he's older. I've always gotten more attention from girls than he has. That plus my grades makes his age one of the only ways he can think of to one up me. I let it go; we'll still go into training and become Enforcers at exactly the same time. That's how we became friends; we are both on the Enforcer track. Without that in common, I think I'd be among his daily pummeling victims instead of being a witness.

Gresh pulls something small from his pocket and hands it to me. I rip open the dark paper and, once again, my eyes widen in surprise. Gresh doesn't even wait for me to say anything.

You know my cousin, Sheldon? I got him to make these for us in the factory. They're not standard issue or anything, but I thought they'd be cool to have.

He pulls the pin out of my hand and holds it up. The metal glints in the florescent lights of the Prep building hallway. My eyes focus on the pin, or copy of the pin, I've coveted every day for a year. On it, a red rectangle encompasses a stark white A. There are similar pins attached to Enforcer suits all over the city.

Wow, thanks! I shake my head. Two presents in a row, I say, more to myself than him. Well, three if you count the disaster last night, which I don't.

Gresh's eyebrows lift. What was the first?

Blood rushes to my face. I shouldn't have said anything. Fleas and ticks, how am I going to be an Enforcer if I can't keep a simple secret? I walk to my locker across the hall and stand in front of it to protect the gift.

Oh, Vance gave me something this morning, but I'm not really supposed to tell anyone about it, I stammer.

At the sound of the name, Gresh stiffens. He wanted Vance to be his mentor too, but Vance only takes on the candidates at the top of the class. That left Gresh to seek mentorship from Mr. Dayling, another former Enforcer. However good Dayling is, he doesn't have Vance's status and connections, a fact that I think bugs Gresh like a constant itch.

I press my lips together, holding in the words I know I shouldn't say. I try to make my face a cold, concrete mask. Don't give it away, I tell myself.

Gresh straightens his posture and crosses his arms. I'm your best friend, Finn. Plus I won't tell anyone. His eyebrows lift as if he already knows I'm gonna give in.

Even as I prepare another excuse, I can feel my concrete mask cracking, chipping, and breaking apart. Alright, I sigh, but you can't tell anyone. Reluctance slows my movements as I open my locker and pull out the package. He wouldn't tell me what it's for, I say as I remove the lid.

Right away, I know it was a bad idea to show Gresh. The look in his eyes makes me draw back a bit. It almost seems like he's about to reach out and snatch the gift from my hands. I pull the package a little closer to me and close the lid.

Hmmm, he says, looking around the hall as if the walls and lockers are now more interesting. Probably a sash for all of the service hours you've done.

I dip my head to the right. Maybe, but he did hint that it had something to do with the new law. I immediately regret the words that defensiveness pushed out. I place the box back in my locker as a few people walk by. My eyes lock onto Gresh's. Look man, we should see if Vance can get you one, too. Or maybe you're already getting one. Vance gave this to me early for my birthday.

Gresh's eyes clear and he seems to come back from wherever his mind was taking him. Sure. I must be getting one, too. He slaps my back harder than I'd like and we walk down the hall, stopping in front of Mr. Z's room again.

With only a few minutes left before class, most of the students are milling about the room and we're safe to enter. Zimney's eyes follow us as we take our seats. Then he turns away.

The bell rings, Zimney clears his throat, and adjusts his gray suit jacket. He's a tall man, but not necessarily big. Though, I am used to Gresh, who is huge by most people's standards.

To be honest, Zimney kind of reminds me of my dad, except older. I shift uncomfortably in my seat and decide it must be a similar jaw line or nose. I push away the nagging voice that tells me the Agitator rallies they attend are an even bigger similarity.

Gresh looks at me and rolls his eyes, a daily occurrence in this class. He's not that good at hiding his feelings. I widen my eyes in return, but I'm not about to let Zimney catch me making any rude gestures.

Class, today we will continue our lecture on the decision to build the Wall. Please take out your notes from yesterday, we'll pick up there.

I open my binder, flip to my first tab, and look at my last page of notes while everyone else does the same. Yesterday, we officially learned about the Great Attack (though everyone in the city knows the story by heart). My skin tingles and I shiver to stop the bumps forming on my arms. I scan my notes.

Twenty years ago, a band of Grizzly bears traveled into the city and attacked innocent citizens. The bears killed 49 people and severely injured another 62. It was the worst animal attack in our city.

My notes are slight for one of the most infamous events in Antiarch history, but that's probably because of Zimney. He always skims over the attacks, and then spends way too much time on Council appointments and laws.

So after the Great Attack, the Council met and decided they had to put some form of protection in place. Posting armed guards wasn't stopping the attacks or preventing diseases from spreading. They needed something more. Zimney's jaw clenches as if someone is holding a knife to his back, making him say these words. "So they decided to build a wall, the Wall.

Pencils scratch furiously, as all around me, everyone takes these notes down, not wanting to miss a thing. As if we haven't all heard this story a million times already. I add a few sentences to my notes and sit, waiting for more. Maybe I can bring this home to convince my parents that they're putting us in danger.

Okay, let's talk about the Wall. Zimney's features relax, his shoulders settle. It took 20 engineers a whole year to come up with the design. The construction required two more years. Many citizens were moved from their regular assignments to help build the Wall.

Gresh and I nod; both our dads had been selected to help. This of course, was before we were born, but we've heard the stories. What Gresh doesn't know is that the stories told in my house about the Wall are not tales of honor and aspiration, but of obligation. He smiles over at me and I focus on my notes.

Zimney coughs and switches on the large projection screen at the front of the room as he pulls up engineering diagrams of the Wall. We spend the rest of class copying them into our notes. A few of the students, on track to work as engineers in Wall Maintenance, look riveted.

Wall maintenance was one of the three career options presented to me last year. I swallow carefully, trying not to let my dad's voice come back into my thoughts, reminding me that I could still change my mind. Wall Maintenance and Food Sciences are still within my reach.

Zimney checks the clock and sees we only have a minute more. He finishes the lesson with a final thought, The Wall completely encloses our city. There is only one gate, one heavily-guarded gate. A small smirk spreads across his face, but it fades away as quickly as it appeared. Tomorrow, we will learn all about the changes we had to make to our agriculture because of this fact.

I bite my lip. I did see Zimney smirk, didn't I? The Enforcer-to-be in me sounds the alarm. Does Zimney know of a breach in the Wall's protection or guards? Should I tell Vance about it? No. I can't be certain of the look, and certainly not of what it meant. I definitely don't want to be like the boy who cried bear. I brush it off, put my pencil down, and shake out my sore hand as the bell rings.

Finally, Gresh whispers to me, throwing his head back. Not that I don't appreciate the Wall, but couldn't we have spent more time on the Great Attack? Is it me, or is Zimney even more wacko than usual?

I nod, but keep my thoughts to myself. I disagree with Gresh. I appreciate not getting into too much detail about the Great Attack. The last thing I need is to gain more fuel for my nightmares, now that I have a real nightmare living in my apartment.

We walk out into the hall together and head down to Mr. Dayling's room for language. I sigh. Being a writer's son means that I learned to read and write at an early age. So looking at biographies of past Advisors, newspapers, and historical Antiarch documents comes easy to me.

I keep my mouth shut. Gresh can't relate to this feeling. He struggles with his reading, always has. I mean, he can read, but ask him to write about anything he's read and he tends to get angry. And physical. Usually his frustration simmers under his skin during class and he lets it out on Aden Penning or another loser in the halls after.

We walk into Dayling's room and then I take my seat, letting Gresh charge up to the front of the room to talk with Dayling by himself. He's on the Enforcer track all right, but unlike me, he's nowhere near the top of our class. What Enforcement prizes is intelligence, wit. Like me or Mr. Vance.

But what Gresh lacks academically, he sure makes up with enthusiasm and sheer size. Enforcement doesn't usually take too many candidates solely because of their physique, but lately they seem to be making more and more exceptions. I don't think there's a doubt in anyone's mind that Gresh will make a good Enforcer. With his frame, bad temper, and reputation, he could enforce quite a lot.

Me, I'm not scared of him. I'm an old-school Enforcer candidate: lean, smart, loyal. I know those are the qualities that are going to count when we start our Training.

I look up front to where Gresh is talking to Dayling. The teacher's forehead creases as he responds. They only talk for a minute more before Gresh comes storming back in my direction. His cheeks redden as he thumps down into his seat.

Everything okay?

Stupid Zimney's class is killing my points, he mumbles. The fact that they expect me to take that class serious is ridiculous. I get bad marks from Zimney on purpose!

I press my lips together, wondering if he's choosing to fail this class, too. Dayling clears his throat and the bell rings.

The class passes by in a blur of textbooks, notes, and frustrated grunts from my best friend. When the bell rings again, I'm up and out of my seat quickly. Gresh meets me in the hall after pushing Aden into the wall on his way out the door. I smile as he laughs. At least he's in good spirits again.

We grab a bite to eat in the cafeteria, laughing and talking about our future as part of the elite class as Enforcers.

Our smiles fade, however, as we reach our next and second to last class, Trade Skills. We've nicknamed this class Trash Skills because it's a waste of our time. I understand that some of the people in our class are still undecided about their career paths and need to learn more about other options before making a choice, but for those like Gresh and myself who've already decided, this class is a snore.

The class today focuses on freeze drying techniques and a lesson on how to cultivate tomato plants. All things I will never need to know. But I walk to my next class, Career Paths, smiling.

My last class of the day is with Mr. Vance. Our task every day is to research our three career path options. Having already decided on Enforcement I have the whole class period to research what I love.

Vance gives me a wink as Gresh and I enter the familiar room and my thoughts return to the gift waiting in my locker.

CHAPTER FOUR

Ican feel the chill from Eny's gaze even before I reach her waiting on the steps outside the Prep building after school. Great, she wants to finish this morning's fight.

Finn Merrick... She doesn't go any further. She doesn't have to. Her clenched teeth create tiny muscle tremors along her usually quiet jawline and I have a good idea of what she wants to say, of how mad she is. All I have to do is think about how frustrated I am with her, with Mom and Dad.

Counting to five in my head, I take a breath. I have a list of facts, retorts, counterpoints to their arguments lined up in my head, ready to go. I've been preparing all day. But I save it. I'm going to need all the ammunition I can get for my conversation with Mom and Dad tonight.

Sorry, En. I flop my head to one side and give her my cheesiest smile.

She looks away. Her green-blue eyes ice over and she flips her long dark hair behind her like a sheet. Looking at my sister's almost-halfway-down-her-back hair reminds me that at least that's one thing we agree on, not following the new hair trends in the city. I scrunch my nose up at a couple walking past, his head shaved, her hair pulled tightly into a bun. Trendy. I turn my attention back to my sister.

I can't help it that Mom and Dad drive me crazy sometimes, I say. I give her a playful punch in the arm and then ruffle her hair a bit. This gets me eye contact, but no smile yet. Besides, it is my birthday. I smile, knowing I've brought out the big guns, like top-of-the-Wall-big guns. She can't stay mad at me now.

You're ridiculous, she mumbles through a smile.

Oh, good. I pretend to wipe sweat from my forehead, throw my free arm around her shoulder, and we start walking. It's always better when you realize I'm right.

She ignores my comment and points to the box tucked under my other arm. What's that?

We turn down North Street and I slow down. The hairs on my arm prick up as I remember my gift. My birthday present from Vance. I'd show you, but it's a secret.

I sigh as my thoughts try to wander away into what-could-it-possibly-be land. But the stiffening in Eny's shoulders pulls them back.

Vance? She wriggles free of my arm and stops in the middle of the street in front of our apartment building. When are you going to get over that guy?

I shift the package under my arm as if to protect the idea of it. I know Eny blames Vance for me wanting to become an Enforcer, but I think her dislike also has to do with the fact that she has to take Vance's class next year and he's super hard on students on track to become Animal Workers. Like Eny.

You'd see how great he is if you'd focus on one of your other career choices. I can't help that he gives Scoopers a rough time. Besides, he's my mentor. And he's given me a lot more than Mom and Dad have lately.

Eny rolls her eyes and turns to walk into our building. In the lobby, she whips around and whisper-yells at me, I can't believe you! A year ago, you wouldn't have said that. Mom and Dad are trying to help you, but if you can't see past Vance, maybe they can't help you.

Fine with me, I mumble. We step into the elevator.

How would you feel if I went around going on and on about Mr. Zimney all the time? Her black curtain of hair swishes by my face as she flips around to stand in the corner furthest away from me.

You kinda do.

She huffs, crosses her arms in front of her, and blinks about a million times.

Claws and fangs. Eny's so bad at trying not to cry. She'd look more normal if she would let a big fat tear or two fall down her face rather than looking like she's having some sort of allergic reaction.

En, what do you want me to say? I cave. Again. For Advisor's sake, could I be any more of a pushover?

A million more blinks. Just put that thing away when we get home so you don't get into it with Mom and Dad again.

I scowl. She has a point. I want Mom and Dad to listen to my opinions about the dog and telling them about Vance's gift will go over about as well as inviting the Advisor to dinner.

Alright, I'll put it away. I open my Prep bag and shove the box in with my books. For now. Once I figure out what it's for, I'm not going to hide it for their sake.

Well, you're going to forget all about stupid Vance's gift once you see mine, she jokes. Her eyes sparkle playfully, tears forgotten.

The elevator stops and the doors open, revealing the light gray hallway. We walk out and down the hall to our apartment. I pull out my keys, but find the door already unlocked. We eye each other suspiciously and walk in.

Mom and Dad are never home this early, but here they sit waiting on the couch, their backs to us. I scan the room to see if they listened to me and got rid of the beast. Seeing no black terror running wild around the room, I let out a shaky breath and relax a little.

Why are you guys home so early? Eny asks, plopping her bag down by the door and kicking off her shoes. Eny scans the room like I did a second ago, but instead of letting out a relieved sigh, her face contorts into an angry scrunch. Wait. Where's the dog? You didn't —

Mom turns her body to face us. We came home early so we could take it back, she says.

Finally! Someone around here is starting to get it.

Eny slouches forward and mirrors the motion with her bottom lip, but as she walks closer to the couch, she straightens back up in surprise.

My stomach lurches. What have they done? Or not done? I hear the clicking of claws on the floor as the dog jumps up from where it laid at Dad's feet.

The black shape whirls around the side of the couch, tail whipping back and forth. Its mouth hangs open, tongue flopping out of the side, teeth glinting in the fluorescent lights of our apartment. I jump and scream. The beast cowers and runs away from me.

Well, we intended to take it back, Mom adds, looking anywhere but at me.

Seriously? I yell, raking my fingers through my hair. I pace for a moment and I can feel all eyes on me, even the un-human dark brown ones.

Deep breath.

I set my jaw. I'm outta here. I turn, grab my bag, and get my hand around the doorknob before —

Freeze. The deep voice sends chills through me like no animal ever could. My skin tightens, it's trying to run away too, but my feet obey him.

You're sixteen now, Finn. You don't have to listen to him. Walk away. You can live with Gresh.

Dad continues, And when the Enforcers show up later when you aren't here for the evening broadcast, what would you like us to tell them?

Fleas and ticks and claws and fangs. I close my eyes and breathe out slowly.

Citizens must reside in the provided housing location generously allotted to them by the almighty Advisor. Citizens unaccounted for during morning and evening broadcasts will be located and reprimanded or arrested.

(Antiarch Code of Conduct, Rule 25)

Okay, that's one rule I'm not so fond of.

I let go of the doorknob and drop my head back. Why are you guys doing this to me? I whisper, more to the wall than my family.

But they hear me.

Because we love you, Mom whispers back.

Please, hear us out. Dad's next to me, hand on my shoulder.

My heart aches as it's tossed back and forth. As much as I try to pretend I'm one-hundred percent for the life I've chosen, there's still a bigger part of me than I want to admit that's not sold, yet. And that's the part that turns me around.

What? I ask, defeated.

Mom and Dad share a silent conversation. Mom nods to Dad. He's gotten the short stick.

Dad rubs the stubble on his chin and nods as he thinks. It figures, he finally gets me to listen, and he can't remember what he wanted to say.

We got the dog for two reasons, he starts.

Enlighten me. I scoff. Mom shoots me a warning with her sharp green eyes.

Dad holds my gaze. First, you need to be around an animal, see what they're like before you take on the responsibility of capturing them. Yes, the ban has been lifted and there are animals in the city again, but you and Eny haven't been in contact with any.

For good reason, I retort in my head and let him go on.

Secondly, we've been talking with Mr. Zimney and-

What? I step back. It's bad enough that you guys are Agitators, it's bad enough you brought this time-bomb home, but this is Zany Zimney's idea? I pace, the words are gathering too fast in my brain. Words. Questions. Blame.

Don't call him that! It's Eny's turn to jump all over me.

Oh shut it, En. You don't know what he's like. You haven't even taken a class from him yet.

She opens her mouth, but then closes it and stomps her foot. I've got her there. Well... well, don't you think it's a bit ridiculous that a tough Enforcer-to-be such as yourself is so scared of a dog?

That's-- I say, ready to argue, but I stop myself. Heat rises up my neck and blood pounds in my ears. What can I say to that? I'm supposed to be joining Antiarch's elite, the city's defense force in less than a year and I can't even keep my cool around one animal.

My thoughts flash back to this morning with Zimney. I can't keep letting my fear get in the way. If I'm going to be an Enforcer, I'm going to have to patrol the streets and capture un-Conditioned animals. Being weak and having nightmares about