Elevation 1: The Thousand Steps. Helen Brain

      CHAPTER 2

      Major Zungu is there to meet us. He’s stony-faced and cold, and we’re all terrified of him. He’s in charge of all the soldiers who guard us, and it looks like he’s going to oversee the sacrifice.

      How will they do it? Will it be over quickly? My heart thuds with fear as he gives a signal and six soldiers fall in line next to us. Then they march us down the gloomy tunnel while the members of the worship team dance ahead, their bells jingling as they wave their arms and leap and turn, thanking Prospiroh for giving us the chance to sacrifice ourselves.

      I search the walls and roof for a way to escape, but I know that I’m wasting my time. Like the rest of the bunker, this passage is carved out of solid rock, with armed soldiers guarding the exits. They’re not going to kill us down here, in the colony, or our decomposing bodies will bring diseases. They must be taking us somewhere where they can throw us out. I decide to be cooperative for now. It’s my only chance to survive.

      The High Priest and the general come bustling past, and we press ourselves against the walls and bow our heads. The High Priest gives my necklace a sidelong glance and then they hurry on down to the end of the passage.

      I wonder if they made Micah walk this corridor when they took him away. Micah, the black-haired Year Three who asked a million questions, and wouldn’t do as he was told. I’ll never forget how it felt when he kissed me. They took him the next day, and he never came back.

      Maybe I’ll meet up with him again in Celestia when I die. If there is such a place as Celestia. Somehow all the Prospiroh stuff has always made me feel uncomfortable. Jasmine has often whispered to us that it’s all rubbish, and that there isn’t any God. But the world can’t have just sprung out of nowhere. Prospiroh must have made it.

      I try to pray. I try my best to keep his commandments, but worshipping him makes me feel dirty for some reason that I can’t explain.

      We reach the end at last. The High Priest and General have disappeared into the wooden elevator and three soldiers are pushing on the huge wheel, grunting with effort. We’re not going in the elevator – that’s reserved for the authorities. They take us down a short passage to the left, and we stop at a grey metal door.

      The worship leaders end their hymn. They blow out our candles and take them from us. Then Major Zungu opens the door and gestures to us with his gun. “Go.”

      We’re on a metal staircase that runs up the inside of the round shaft. I clutch the handrail and look over the edge. The sleeping cells, washing areas, composting and water storage tanks are below us. I look up and it stretches forever, flight after flight clinging to the rock face like a bean plant creeping up a growing frame. At the very top there’s a tiny circle of blue, the size of my fingernail.

      The sky.

      I’ve finally seen the sky.

      My soldier nudges me with his gun. “Hurry up!”

      I follow the others up the stairs. Fourteen steps then a sharp turn and up the next fourteen. A turn, another flight. I trudge on flight after flight until the sweat runs down my face and my shift sticks to my body.

      “Where are you taking us?” Shameema asks. She’s one step ahead of me, cradling her broken arm against her chest. The soldier marching next to her doesn’t respond.

      “Where are we going?” she says, louder. Still nothing.

      I’m trying to work it out too. I try to recall everything we’ve learnt about the colony in class. It’s buried deep inside Table Mountain. The top part of the mountain is sandstone. The lower half is granite. Hard, impenetrable granite. That’s where they built the bunker, where we’d be completely safe.

      It’s a thousand steps from the bottom to the top of the bunker. We’ve climbed ten flights so far. By my reckoning we’ve passed the workshops, the weaving galleries, the plant rooms and the levels where the animals are kept. That’s as high as we’re allowed to go. Above that are the out-of-bounds areas – the storage galleries, then the army barracks and the High Priest’s galleries. Above that is nothing but six hundred metres of solid sandstone, with a web of ventilation tunnels running through them.

      Shameema’s voice is rising. “What are you going to do with us? Are you going to shoot us?”

      “They wouldn’t waste their bullets,” Jaco says wryly, looking back. “They’re probably going to throw us over the edge of the mountain.”

      “I said shut up,” the guard snaps. “Get in there.”

      Major Zungu pushes past us, and unlocks the metal door. We step into a low, narrow corridor. The end is flooded in light. Daylight. Real light, not refracted through the complicated system of mirrors and skylights that only the engineering teams understand. It’s when the gust of wind hits us that I realise where we are.

      “We’re in one of the side shafts,” Jaco exclaims.

      “They’re going to open the end and shove us out,” Shameema says. Her voice cracks.

      “But we’re not at the top yet,” one of the Year Fives says. “Maybe we won’t fall far.”

      I can hear the hope in her voice, but she’s forgotten how high they say Table Mountain is. I try to imagine what it will be like if by some chance I do survive the fall. Everything is dead out there. No plants, no people, just ash and burnt rock. I’ll die of thirst, or starve.

      We reach the end, and two soldiers are struggling with the bolts that hold the thick metal grille over the end of the shaft. Shameema is sobbing, and I put my arm around her. Jaco hugs us both. The three Year Fives huddle together, sniffing.

      “This damned bolt is jammed,” one of the soldiers grumbles, hitting it with the butt of his rifle.

      But it comes undone suddenly, and the grille clangs to the floor. A blast of dust and dried leaves swirls inside. Major Zungu grabs one of the Year Fives and shoves her towards the opening. She gives a sharp scream that ends abruptly as she drops out of sight.

      I clutch Shameema and Jaco. My mouth is filling with saliva. I’m going to vomit.

      Now Major Zungu has the second Year Five girl. Tears are streaming down her face and she wrestles with him. It’s futile. I look away as he bashes her head against the wall, and tosses her out before she can crumple at his feet.

      “Please, Prospiroh,” Shameema prays, clutching my shoulder with her good arm. “Lord Prospiroh, I have been faithful to you. I’ve worked hard for you. Save me. Please save me.”

      “The witch next,” Major Zungu snaps. “Red-haired bitch.” He pulls me away from Jaco and Shameema.

      “No!” I screech, digging my heels into the floor.

      Major Zungu takes me by the shoulders and shoves me to the edge of the tunnel. I cling to the metal rim. I’m teetering on the edge. Below are rocks. Bare rocks and two blood-splattered, white-robed bodies. I clutch the rim, resisting him with everything I have.

      Suddenly