Page 9 of To Cage a Wild Bird (Divided Fates #1)
The guards waved the transport through the city’s barrier wall, and then the vehicle crawled over the potholed road that threaded
between the fields of scraggly crops that sustained Dividium.
The fields dwindled until the only thing that could be seen for miles on all sides was cracked, bone-dry dirt. Not a living
creature or shrub in sight.
The Wastes.
After some time, the rumbling of the transport’s engine lulled me into a fitful sleep.
In my dreams, Jed was a child again, and we were on the hunting grounds at Endlock. Only I was chained down, forced to watch
as Jed died a hundred deaths at the hands of hunters, their faces twisted into monstrous grins as they shot him in the back.
They laughed maniacally, parading around with his corpse like it was some kind of grotesque trophy, even as I screamed and
screamed.
I woke, panting, when the transport went over a nasty bump in the road, and I nearly flew into the aisle. Bleary-eyed, I jerked
my body upright, my manacles grating against the raw flesh of my wrists as I turned toward the windows lining the side of
the vehicle. My breath hitched in my chest.
Instead of the crowded buildings and towering structures customary in Dividium, a sprawling expanse of forest stretched out
on either side of the road. Trees, lush and brilliantly green, crowded the terrain. Rays of fading sunlight trickled through
the branches, painting everything with a hint of gold.
A few scattered trees, wisp thin and sickly, stood in the Lower Sector.
In the Middle and Upper Sectors, with everything spread out generously, I knew residents had access to carefully manicured parks filled with hardy trees and shrubs that managed to survive against the contaminants in our soil—places they could go to escape the endless maze of concrete.
Still, the flourishing greenery before me was a far cry from those uninspired spaces in the city. I hadn’t realized such untamed
nature had continued to exist after the war.
We drove past a turnout with a sign that said, “Turn here to visit the new campground accommodations, Camp Endlock.”
A few minutes later, the trees gave way to a gleaming, five-story hotel and resort. Guests dined at outdoor tables in the
courtyard, and others lounged by a pool at the side of the building, sipping cocktails while their children splashed in the
water and laughed. Lower Sector citizens dressed in polished uniforms walked between the guests, handing out drinks, folding
towels, and taking food orders.
Some guests stood and pointed as they watched our transport rumble by, excitement widening their eyes.
The vehicle continued up the road, past a childcare center, shops, and several restaurants.
The buildings consumed me so thoroughly that I failed to notice the slowing of the transport until we came to a standstill,
the brakes screeching loud enough to make my ears ring. I tore my gaze from the window to take in the view through the windshield,
which revealed a daunting set of iron gates flanked by watchtowers.
The driver gestured to a uniformed figure perched in one of the watchtowers. A buzzer sounded, and the gates began their slow
swing inward. Once we passed through, they closed with a metallic clang behind us—and then my attention was drawn to the structure
ahead.
The first sight of Endlock stole my breath.
The building was a fortress. It rose scarcely higher than a two-story building in Dividium, yet it stretched across the property
and out of my sight. It was made up of bare concrete walls studded with narrow, barred windows.
I imagined an endless layout of grid-like rooms with low ceilings that would push down in a claustrophobic embrace. My breaths came in short spurts as my gaze swept over the property.
Outside, a fence sliced through the landscape, a slithering metal serpent emerging from the forest and coiling protectively
around a vast field and the perimeter of Endlock.
Every hundred yards or so, watchtowers punctuated the fence, each manned by guards, their rifles held at the ready.
Beyond the chain-link fence, there was no sign of activity. Instinctively, I knew the field was part of the hunting grounds—a
two-mile-long forested cage where visitors to Endlock were released upon their chosen targets.
The growl of the vehicle’s engine died out, and my eyes tracked a uniformed figure that slipped from the prison’s front entrance.
He approached us with brisk, stiff strides, mounting the transport’s steps to stand at the end of the aisle. His assessing
gaze swept over us.
He wore a uniform consisting of a starched black shirt that reached his throat, a matching pair of black cargo pants, and
tightly laced leather boots. Warden was stitched onto the breast pocket on the left side of the shirt in bold white letters, and the flag of Dividium decorated
his right shoulder. He was balding, with a salt-and-pepper beard framing his round face, and skin pale enough that it bordered
on translucent. He wore three short strings of teeth around his neck—he hadn’t opted to shave them down so they maintained
their natural shape.
At least a hundred teeth.
I fisted my hands on my thighs, swallowing against the bile rising in my throat.
“Welcome to your new home,” the man said, a serpentine grin curving his thin lips. “I’m Warden Larch.”
A chill slipped beneath my skin, turning my blood to solid ice in my veins.
“I’ll be leading you through the building until we reach the processing area,” Warden Larch continued.
“Remain behind me at all times. We will encounter guests. If you try to harm them, we will kill you without hesitation. And if we kill you, we’ll lose out on the fee a hunter would have paid for the opportunity to take your life. ”
His concern for our well-being was touching.
“Is that understood?” Warden Larch asked curtly, demanding our acknowledgment.
I nodded my head along with everyone else, my pulse kicking into high gear.
“Let’s get you checked in, then,” Larch said, exiting the transport.
We filed out behind him, a group of guards surrounding us.
Endlock didn’t have a separate entrance for prisoners.
As soon as we stepped into the front lobby, I understood why.
A group of hunters stood next to a check-in counter, crowded around a life-size cardboard cutout of Pharil Coates, the CEO
of Endlock Enterprises.
Coates was a celebrity in Dividium. He was wealthy and powerful from the success of Endlock and had a mansion in the Upper
Sector that was larger than any home owned by the Council. He was handsome enough that he couldn’t go anywhere without a group
of fans following him and proclaiming their love. There’d even been a famous reporter a few months back, Blythe Levine, who
had been arrested and sent to Endlock for stalking Coates.
When the hunters saw us, they stopped what they were doing, pointing at us and whispering excitedly as Warden Larch motioned
for us to stand against a wall painted with a mural of trees.
“Warden, sir!” A woman in a pink skirt suit and a gold-plated name tag that read Rina stepped out from behind the check-in desk and walked toward us, heels clacking against the white marble-tiled floor as she
spoke to the group of hunters. “You bunch are in luck. Not everyone gets to meet Warden Larch.”
Larch stepped up as if playing a rehearsed part.
“Welcome to Endlock,” he said to the guests, his smile threatening to split his cheeks. “As you can see, this new transport of prisoners has just arrived. They haven’t been processed yet, so you can’t officially select them as targets, but... ” Here, he paused for effect.
Officially? My mouth went dry. Was there something worse than being selected as a target? Some sort of off-the-books execution package
the hunters could purchase?
The other sounds faded away as I scanned the lobby for a weapon. There was a paperweight on Rina’s desk, but the nearest guard
would shoot me down or knock me unconscious with the wooden baton hanging from their belt before I could make it that far.
But... I looked down at the shackles binding my wrists together, and the corners of my lips twitched.
The guards had unwittingly armed me with everything I needed to strangle them, or the hunters, should I need to defend myself.
Of course, I wouldn’t be able to take them all down, but I wouldn’t die without taking a few of them with me. Not if they
weren’t going to give me the chance to see Jed again.
I widened my wrists, the chain between them going taut, readying for an attack.
The hunters leaned closer, hanging on to Larch’s every word as he continued. “If you’ve purchased the photo package, you can
step right up for a photo opportunity with these prisoners.”
The photo package?
My brow furrowed. Surely, we weren’t exciting enough for the hunters to be willing to spend their credits on—
The hunters rushed us, jostling into me hard enough that I stumbled into the prisoner standing next to me. He glared as I
righted myself.
A photographer came forward, directing the hunters. “One group at a time, now. Quickly, quickly. Don’t worry—they’re restrained.
They can’t hurt you.”
I fought the urge to bare my teeth.
Keep your head down. Get to Jed without getting yourself killed.
“Photography and cameras of any kind are prohibited during hunts and on the hunting grounds, so this is one of the only opportunities to have your picture taken with inmates,” Larch announced. “If you want to add on the photo package so you don’t miss out, Rina can help you out at her desk.”
I rolled my eyes as a gaggle of hunters rushed to Rina’s desk, waving their wristbands in her face.
“Warden, sir.” A middle-aged woman in a T-shirt with the slogan Endlock: The Thrill of a Lifetime sidled up next to Larch, resting a hand on his bicep and batting her lashes. “I was wondering if I could get a photo. Just
the two of us.”
Larch gave her a smarmy smile, smoothing back the few strands of hair on his head before posing with her, his hand resting