Unworthy: Marked to die. Raised to survive. Read Free Page A

that he seems to have grown older in the last few months. How could I have missed this? Once so tall and straight, he has become stooped. He has brought his walking stick out today, and I realise that recently I’ve rarely seen him without it. His hair is almost completely white, and thinning across the top of his bare head. White too is the hair he allows to grow, carefully and tidily trimmed, on his chin.
    When he reaches me by the cliff he is out of breath, but he is smiling and his pale blue eyes are shining.
    “There’s nothing like the sea air!” he manages, leaning on his stick and trying to hide his heavy breathing. He pulls at the collar of his shirt. I want to chastise him for exerting himself, but I hold my tongue. Being told what he can and can’t do isn’t something Grandad accepts gracefully. Even Auntie Marama has learned to tread carefully when she has advice to give him.
    Grandad is the one who raised me. He was from another hub, in Sector Two, but when my parents and brother died, he relocated us here to Sector Four. I was only tiny and remember nothing of my family; it has always been just the two of us. He’s my father and my teacher - he has taught me everything I know, from the movement of the moon and how to tie my shoelaces to rewiring a motion sensor. Around town he’s known for his knowledge of plants and their useful properties, although many of these we keep to ourselves. It’s thanks to his herbal skill that I’m able to mask my scent when camouflaged, and incapacitate any wild beast with a poisoned dart.
    I motion to the deep blue nothingness in front of us.
    “What do you think is out there?”
    “Oh, continents, oceans… probably a fair few whales, porpoises, fish…” I hear the hint of a smile in his voice.
    “ Who do you think is out there? Do you think there is anyone left?”
    Grandad is silent for a while, which I have grown used to.
    “I’m not sure, Arcadia. But does it matter?”
    “Of course it matters! Other people – other countries – other possibilities – of course it matters!” I lift my hands in irritation. I can’t believe how dismissive he is.
    “I know how you feel, and I understand your frustration. But just remember, Dia. There are other mountains to climb which are much closer to home.”
    I sigh. I’m not in the mood for his riddles today, so I change tack. “What about the Sickness?” I ask more calmly, turning back to the wide ocean and squinting, as though I can see particles of disease like pollen in the air. “Is it still out there?”
    He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Now that is a more interesting question.” It’s clear he doesn’t know the answer, but looks at me speculatively. “If you assumed it was still out there, circulating, what would you do?”
    “I suppose I would do everything I could to prepare myself to fight it.”
    He nods thoughtfully. “Preparation is always a good thing.”
    We stand for a moment in silence, looking out to sea. I’m imagining a black cloud approaching, like a swarm of locusts, and wondering how I would prepare myself to fight a disease. My Grandad is all theory and no action.
    As I turn away from the desert, he catches my wrist and his voice is soft when he says, “I thought you might come here when I heard that Chloe had her baby.”
    I have nothing to say to that. Intuitive as always.
    He knows better than to ask me if I’m okay. But he squeezes my wrist before letting it go, and says, “It will be alright. Be strong. There is nothing wrong with you.” When I sigh, he puts his hand on my cheek, gently, but makes me look at him. “I mean it. You have the ability to change the world, Arcadia.”
    I nod and carry on down towards the water.
    “Don’t go out too far,” he calls after me.
    Grandad has always talked to me like this, but recently I’ve started to wonder if he is living in my universe. You have the ability to change the world, Arcadia . Everything I do is dictated by the