Chapter 1

tickets to freedom

The sound of the gong forces us out of the house at dawn, before the sun has risen, before the light has hit the ground. I grab my older brother’s jacket (which is now mine since he disappeared three years ago) and trudge through the mud towards the line of miners. The patrol officers in their blue uniforms are herding us like sheep, holding out their batons, unafraid to use them.

I already hear them beating someone, usually they don’t start with violence until we’ve reached the mines. Someone’s screaming now, everyone in the line is giddy, nervous, thinking they might be next. Something’s got the patrol officer’s worked up, something’s happened.

The line begins to move. My dad, who is standing beside me, puts his hand on my shoulder. I look at him, seeing his tired bloodshot eyes. I don’t know how much longer he can handle working in the mines, death will take him soon, and I will have failed the promise I made to my brother of keeping dad (and mom) safe and alive.

I keep my gaze downwards while we make our way out of the Miners Community, walking past the Washers Community, the Workers Community and the Elites. We go beyond the wooden wall, beyond the frozen fields where nothing but small shrubs grow, till we’re walking along the chain fence towards the mines in this grey and daunting morning.

Tiredness sits on my shoulders like a heavy burden, and I haven’t been able to shake off my sleepiness. I haven’t had breakfast, I rely on the lunch that the patrol officers provide us to keep me going through most of the day. My mouth waters at the thought of my mom’s home-cooking. It might not be much, just boiled eggs and kimchi stew, but it’s warm, it’s somewhat fresh, and that’s good enough for me.

My feet ache from all of the yesterday’s that I’ve walked and they tremble in fear at all of the tomorrow’s lying in wait. Some of us walk with heavy steps, others are able to march in synch, left foot, right foot, almost like soldiers, but nobody runs — they wouldn’t dare.

The sound of our boots against the ground drowns out the hushed whispers being passed among us. It’s mostly gossip, nothing too important. People find other ways to pass on a message containing crucial information, often about the other communities or the delegates and Elites watching over us.

The line comes to an abrupt halt right outside the mines. We are comprised of four lines now, one from the Miners Community, the three others from the Workers Community and the underground chambers (which is where I know they, the Guild, keep their prisoners).

I can already smell the oil from the lamps, can feel the thick smokey air wrap around my throat. I scrunch my nose, tuck my chin into my chest, hiding myself. I hear the patrol officers walking past us and through the corner of my eye I see an officer raising his arm and pointing at the line.

Before I know it we are being pushed and shoved, some of the miners begin to mutter in protest, others tell us to keep quiet. Someone grabs my shoulder. I instantly try to wriggle out of the grip but the hand tightens, scrunching the material of my jacket. There’s a fear, a horrible dread of being dragged away from the line because I know what happens to the people who are pulled away. I’ve seen it before. I want to kick and scream, tell them they’ve got the wrong person but then someone wraps their arms around me telling me to keep still.

Finally I raise my head, seeing my dad with a weak and practiced smile on his face. That’s when I notice his hand on my shoulder and that Chaeyoung, a close friend of mine from the Workers Community, is the one holding me. She must’ve managed to slip through the lines without being caught.

My heart leaps. I close my eyes, willing every thing in me to still. I keep my mouth shut, stay quiet. I go unnoticed while someone, not me, is pulled away from the line of miners.

There’s a terrible scream that ripples across the chaos in the lines, a desperate plea of wanting to be spared. And then a silencing gunshot. I open my eyes. Trough this dark morning right outside the mines I see the silhouette of a man on the ground. The patrol officers are crowded around him, nudging his lifeless body with the nuzzles of their rifles, as if he might miraculously spring back to life.

I look over at the fence knowing that this is my chance, I could try and escape. The patrol officers aren’t looking my way or at any of us. Too preoccupied with the man they just shot. I could scale the chain fence, crawl underneath the barbed wire and run across the tundra, find the train tracks, follow them until I reach a station, hide there until a stock-train arrives and stowaway in one of the compartments.

I’ll get away from here to place that I’ve been having dreams about lately, in hopes that it exists outside my mind.

Then something extraordinary happens: I see the sun rising over the tundra, the red light crawling over the ground towards us. I haven’t seen a sunrise in months. Usually by now the patrol officers would’ve had us herded into the mines, but I feel the light on my skin, the heat, the warmth. I see my foggy breath swirling in the air in front of me. Holding my hand out in front of my face I see the dust and soot on my pale skin and the dirt and grime beneath my fingernails.

I’ve almost forgotten what a sunrise out here looks like. The Guild have got us working from morning till night, and I’ve spent so many years working in the mines I’ve forgotten what a new day looks like. And if there is a sunrise, there must be a sunset. I am almost dying to see one of those as well. So that I might see what an end looks like.

The patrol officers force us inside the storage house where we collect our assigned equipment: a safety helmet, a lamp and some tools. Then we go back to differently assigned lines, sorted into men and women.

Sticking out of one of the women’s lines is Tzuyu, a close friend of mine who lives with the Elites. She’s tall, taller than any other girl her age I’ve met, she even towers over some of the boys. I watch as she disappears down the wooden steps and into the mine. Chaeyoung, who is in the same line as Tzuyu, follows her.

We’re known as a troublesome trio, which is why patrol officers are extra cautious around us. Tzuyu, Chaeyoung and I have been punished more times than I can count, but we work well together, we get stuff done, look out for one another, we’re almost like family — inseparable. They have tried to tear us apart before but Chaeyoung and I rebelled, causing mayhem for the patrol officers and the Guild. Which is why we’re still in one piece.

Taking one of the oil lamps from the shelves I walk down the wooden stairway deep into the mine. I despise this place, it’s dark, it’s stuffy, it’s tight and I hate it when the dogs bark. Their deep rumbling growls bouncing off the cave walls frightens me. The miners have nicknamed them hellhounds because the dogs can rip people to shreds with their bare teeth, or so I’ve heard.

Water drips from the roof of the mine, landing on my helmet. Soon the droplets of water are drowned out by the sound of pickaxes hammering away at the cave walls. Chaeyoung, Tzuyu and I are working in a small private corner, almost hidden away from the others, where the roof of the cave is low. Chaeyoung is already working, hacking away at a blue wall of oxidised copper. Tzuyu is rubbing her hands together in hopes of maintaining warmth.

«Here,» I say handing Tzuyu the oil lamp, «use this to keep warm.»

I see the skepticism in her eyes, Tzuyu worries her lip, but then takes the lamp knowing I won’t take no for an answer. We’ve argued enough times for her to know I won’t let her freeze to death in the mine, too many people do, and I sure as hell won’t let Tzuyu be a number on a death chart.

Chaeyoung wipes the sweat off her forehead and glances at me. She opens , about to say something, but quickly shuts it when a patrol officer walks by.

The little corner that we’re working in becomes eerily quiet, only our deep, tired breaths are heard, along with the tools we use to hack at the walls. Then we hear a patrol officer coming closer again. Tzuyu steps closer to me, holding the lamp above my head so that I can see.

The patrol officer passes us, yelling ‘good job’ to Chaeyoung and telling me and Tzuyu to get our asses moving. When the officer is gone, Chaeyoung stops, drops the pickaxe and reaches for the nape of her neck, soothing a cramp. I hear it crack. Chaeyoung groans in relief. Tzuyu takes a step backwards and holds the lamp tightly in her hands. I stop working as well, taking a step back to catch my breath.

None of us asked for this: to work here in this dark and cold place until death carries us away. We didn’t want to be miners, we had it going pretty well for us before the accident that sent us here happened.

I was a good pupil, even played the piano for the school choir. I could’ve gotten out of the Miners Community, could’ve been a real, proper worker, could’ve had rights, could’ve had the chance to be someone instead of a doomed miner destined to die in this hellish place.

Chaeyoung lives in the Workers Community. She draws a lot, I often see her taking out a pe