Ration

by Christina J Thompson

  The bottom and sides of the well and cistern were made of several feet of thick mud that acted like quicksand, and the hot temperatures of the water would cause heatstroke and burns if it took too long to fix the problem. Her father was smaller than most of the other men and skilled enough to quickly clear the blockage to restore water flow, so he was always called upon when this happened. He was lucky; the job was dangerous, but it would earn him almost five pounds of salt from the council as payment for the risk.

  “Keep going, Amber,” her father said as he stood up and prepared to leave. “I’ll be back soon.”

  “Be careful,” she called after him, watching him go. She hoped it wouldn’t take long.

  The ration paused in its work, taking a sip of water as it pulled out one of its cakes. Its eyes bored holes into hers, and Amber felt herself growing flustered under its gaze. She turned away, trying to pretend that she couldn’t feel it staring at her, until she finally lost her patience. She glanced over her shoulder, glaring daggers at it.

  “Hurry up!” she snapped. “I don’t want to work late because you’re wasting time!”

  It didn’t move, its eyes still locked onto hers as it chewed. It almost seemed amused, and she looked away, her face turning red. She didn’t understand how it could still embarrass her the way it did.

  The hours wore on but her father didn’t return, and Amber shielded her eyes as she looked up at the sun. It was getting late, it was time to call it a day. She tried to ignore the worry that burned in her stomach as she piled the shovels in a corner of the grid, beckoning to the ration when it returned from its final trip.

  “Let’s go,” she said, darting up the steps and hurrying home.

  Brent met her halfway, and panic seized her heart at the look on his face.

  “Where’s my father?”

  Brent’s voice was strained.

  “He’s in the cistern, Amber. He sank in the mud, we’ve been trying to get him out but―”

  Amber didn’t wait to hear the rest. Her feet flew as she raced towards the center of the settlement, leaving the ration behind. Losing the head of their household would destroy her family; filling their quota would be impossible without him.

  She could hear her father’s cries echoing out of the cistern as she approached, relief instantly washing over her. If he was still making noise, he was still alive. She pushed through the crowd that had gathered around the open pit, the plastic that usually covered it sitting off to the side. She fell to her knees next to the edge and her heart stopped.

  The side of the wall that had the water inlet pipe had collapsed to create an overhang, and her father was underneath it. Tossing a rope would be impossible, the only solution would be for someone to bring it to him. Even if they managed to get a rope to him, though, it was clear that the angle was going to make it difficult to pull him free.

  His face was barely above the surface of the water, his eyes wild as he tried to call out instructions for how to free him. Amber could instantly see another problem: if anyone went down to help, the water would displace even more and the level would rise to cover his face. He was frozen in place, his arms outstretched, and she could tell that he was trying to avoid sinking any deeper in the mud.

  “Dad! Tell me what to do!”

  Richard’s eyes locked onto hers.

  “Amber! You’re small enough, I need you to get―”

  His words were choked off as he sucked in a mouthful of water, and she fought the urge to scream as she watched him struggle.

  “Amber, get the rope. You have to pass the loop over my head―”

  Richard sputtered again, gagging as his face disappeared below the surface for a moment, and Amber realized that he must have already unblocked the water inlet. The cistern was slowing filling as water was pumped in from the well, and she leaped into action. She grabbed the rope from one of the men standing near the cistern, quickly tying it around her waist, then she motioned for a second rope.

  “Lower me down!”

  The people obeyed, and she placed her feet on the top edge of the cistern, leaning back as she let her weight settle against the rope that held her. She would have to walk down the overhang and lean in to drop the rope over him, a risk she knew no one else would take. If the rope snapped or she got stuck herself, their efforts to rescue her would be minimal just as they were for her father. It was easier to retrieve a dead body than to save a living one.

  The plastic strained and she whispered a prayer, begging it to hold her as they slowly let her down. Her feet sank into the wall as she descended, and she turned her body, trying to brace herself enough to toss the rope over her father’s head. She missed.

  “It’s okay, just try again!” Richard called, and Amber held her breath as she tossed it a second time.

  A cheer rang out as the rope hit its mark, and she called out for them to raise her up. Now came the more difficult task of trying to pull him out against the angle.

  Amber grabbed hold of the rope, leaning back against it.

  “Help me!” she shouted at the crowd that had gathered, pulling with all her strength. No one moved, and she cried out in pain, quickly realizing why. She glanced down at her now-bleeding hands, her heart sinking. The rope she had given her father was older than the one that had been used to lower her down, and the twisted plastic that formed it was shedding thick, brittle splinters. No one wanted to risk damaging their hands; medical treatment was expensive, and a hand injury would make working impossible.

  Amber cursed, her mind racing. She needed to get a different rope to him, but as her father’s gurgling gasp for breath rang out again, she knew she didn’t have time to find one.

  “Tie it to your waist and set your feet!” Richard yelled. “I have a good grip, I might be able to free myself from the mud if you can hold my weight!”

  “It’s too short!” Amber cried, turning to the crowd. “Please, someone help me!”

  No one moved, and she frantically looked for John. He would help her, she was sure of it, but she didn’t see him or his father anywhere. They must still be working at their grid.

  Amber opened her mouth, preparing to plead for help again, when she felt another set of hands move into place beside hers. She looked up, her eyes growing wide when she realized that it was the ration. It had followed her back from the grid, and she searched its face, silently begging it to do what she couldn’t. She let go of the rope, making room for its wide fists.

  The ration set its feet, wrapping the rope around its hands. Its arms flexed, and thick bands of muscle rippled under its skin as it pulled.

  “It’s working!” her father’s voice cried, and she glanced down to see him slowly inching forward as the mud released him. He was free.

  The ration kept pulling, and her father appeared above the edge of the cistern. He was covered in a layer of brown mud and his suntanned face had turned a sickly white, but he was smiling as he collapsed onto the ground.

  “I knew you could do it,” he beamed, gasping for breath as he rolled onto his back. “I told Brent to get you, I knew you’d do it.”

  “Nicely done!” Brent congratulated her, slapping her on the back.

  Amber looked up. The ration had moved off to the side of the crowd that surrounded her father, and it stood there, watching her. She met its gaze, giving it a slight smile before turning her attention back to her father.

  “Let’s get home,” she said, reaching down to grab his hands. She helped him to his feet, and he pulled her into a muddy hug.

  “Thank you, my dear,” he said as he walked home at her side. “None of them would have done what you did, not even Brent. They were all just waiting for me to drown.”

  She frowned, knowing full well that he was right. Brent, like everyone else, would have let her father die before putting himself at risk.

  Mica was waiting outside when they arrived, and Amber could see the relief on her face despite the angry glare she
greeted them with.

  “You’re a fool, Richard Ordell!” she hissed, her eyes flashing. “Where would we be if something happened to you? How many times have I told you to let someone else take care of that damn well?”

  “Glad to see you, too,” Richard smiled, then he turned his attention to Amber. He took her hands in his, the concern on his face disappearing as he inspected the few thick shards of plastic that were embedded in her bleeding palms.

  “You’re lucky,” he said. “I only see four, and the cuts aren’t deep. I don’t think you’ll have to miss any work, but we may need to have them removed.”

  “I can do it myself. I’ll be fine, I wasn’t pulling for very long.”

  He nodded, giving her a quick hug before turning to go inside, and Amber looked at the ration. Her heart swelled with gratitude; if not for its efforts, things could have gone much differently. Without thinking, she threw her arms around it.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, squeezing it tight.

  The ration froze, stiffening in her embrace, and her mouth dropped open when she realized what she had done. She let go and backed away, averting her eyes in embarrassment. She gave a quick glance around, hoping no one had seen, then she reached for the ration’s hands. To her surprise, they appeared almost completely uninjured; its grip must have been strong enough to keep the rope from slipping and cutting its palms.

  “There are a few little pieces,” she said, using her fingernails to grasp the thin bits of plastic. “The cuts will heal in a couple days.”

  It didn’t take long to remove them, and the ration turned away when she was done, preparing to go inside as usual. Her heart wavered, and she grabbed its arm, stopping it.

  “I’m going to read for a bit. You…you can sit with me.”

  Amber ran inside to get her book and her mother’s needle. The ration followed her to the shade, sitting down beside her as she began to remove the plastic splinters from her hands. She opened her book when she was finished, and a wave of happiness instantly washed over her as she started to read.

  The sun set, and Amber shivered against the cold wind that blew in with the night. She heard her parents go to bed, and just like always, the ration stood to get her blanket. Regret stabbed through her heart. This creature was the closest thing to a friend she had ever had no matter how much she tried to deny it, a companion she didn’t need to hide herself from like she did with John, and she was more grateful than ever for its presence.

  She stared up at the stars in silence, lost in her thoughts. She had already spent so much of her life feeling alone, and the ration would be harvested in a few months, anyway. No one would ever know.

  She sighed, her heart finally giving in. She put her hand on the ration’s shoulder, and it glanced down at her.

  “I’ll read to you tomorrow night, too,” Amber promised. An odd sense of excitement washed over her the moment she spoke the words, and she smiled to herself as she leaned against its arm.

  †‡†

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  For the next two days, Amber and the ration worked alone at the grid while her father recovered. There was an unexpected bounce to her step as she filled the allotments each morning, and as they worked, she found that for the first time, she almost didn’t mind the labor. Instead, she was looking forward to the evening when she would be able to read to the ration again.

  On the third morning, her father felt well enough to return to work. He was gone before Amber awoke, and after doling out the supplements and filling the flasks, she and the ration set out for the grid to join him.

  Richard’s face was grave when they arrived.

  “We’re too far behind,” he said, shaking his head in despair. “We haven’t found anything new in months. I thought our luck had changed with that last vein, but I think I have to admit that I was wrong.”

  The salt quota schedule was staggered one month behind their ration cycle to give time for the resource center to record it and approve them for a normal-sized ration. If they didn’t make the deadline, even if they brought the rest later, they would still be penalized with a smaller ration next cycle. She could see the worry in his eyes; they needed to find at least 55 more pounds of salt, and they only had a little more than three months before it was due.

  “It’s okay, dad,” Amber said, trying to reassure him. “We’ll find it, we still have time.”

  “That’s the kind of thinking we have to avoid, my dear.”

  He reached down, picking up another shovel.

  “We need to dig as much as we can as quickly as we can. The ration needs to help instead of hauling today.”

  Her heart sank with dismay as she took the shovel from him. This is exactly what John had predicted.

  “Okay, but that will put us pretty far behind on removing the dirt.”

  They were always behind on dirt removal, and her father’s plan would make things even worse. Just one day’s worth of normal digging produced too much discard to move in the same amount of time, especially because of how far away the dumping ground was, but her father didn’t seem put off by the extra work.

  “That’s a sacrifice we’re going to have to make, my dear. The ration can stay behind this afternoon and get some of it done, it can do something that simple on its own. We’ll have to do the rest at the end of the week.”

  Amber frowned; she knew she should be worried about their quota, but all she could think about was how much less reading time she would have at the end of the day.

  “It’ll get sick, dad, it can’t do that much in one day.”

  Richard pursed his lips.

  “A few extra hours should be fine, at least until it starts getting colder. Its weight is high enough, I think it’ll be okay.”

  “Then I’ll stay, too,” she said, beckoning to the ration. “I’ll help it haul.”

  Amber moved quickly, working around the perimeter of the wall with the ration one measure behind her. Between them, they were able to dig a double-wide trench almost six inches deep, with the piles of dirt accumulating in the center of the grid.

  “Keep going while I sort,” she quietly told the ration, setting her shovel down and crawling over to the fresh dirt. She strained through the piles with her fingers, hoping to find something, but one by one, they each came up empty.

  The ration finished its course and backtracked to where she had left off on hers. She watched it out of the corner of her eye as she worked; it was strong, each of its movements confident and precise. She couldn’t help being impressed, and she wished all of their previous rations had been this competent. Their grid would be much deeper, perhaps even deep enough to break through the backfill and reach the fresh salt far below. She rolled her eyes. If there even was any fresh salt.

  Before long, the ration had finished Amber’s course as well, and it moved to her side, watching what she was doing.

  “We’re looking for rocks,” she whispered. “Not like these, though.” She held up a dark colored stone, then tossed it aside. “White rocks.”

  The ration began helping her, its hands joining hers as they sifted through the pile.

  The hours passed, until finally Richard set his shovel down.

  “Let’s call it a day, Amber,” he said, walking over to her. “We don’t have enough calories to do any more.”

  The center of the grid was littered with piles of discard, and Amber sighed. It would take forever to carry it all out.

  “Are you sure you want to help the ration haul?” her father asked. “You can just supervise, you don’t have to keep working. I don’t want you overdoing it.”

  “If I help, we’ll have less to do tomorrow,” she said, standing to her feet and dusting herself off.

  “Just don’t push yourself too far. I know you want to do everything you can, but you can’t risk making yourself sick. Two hours, okay?”

  “Okay, dad.”

  “Good girl,” he said, smiling as he
turned to leave. She watched him climb the steps and disappear, and she glanced at the ration.

  “If we hurry, I’ll still have time to read,” Amber told it, pointing at the hauling sacks. It retrieved a few of them, laying the first one flat and picking up its shovel.

  There was only a little over an hour of daylight left by the time they got home, and Amber sighed with frustration as she sat down in the shade. She opened the book, flipping to where she had left off the night before and clearing her throat.

  “Chapter Seven: Guiding Light. The stars were the earliest maps ever used by man…”

  * * *

  In the weeks that followed, Amber’s whole purpose for existence seemed to shift, revolving around the hours after the workday ended. For the first time since her sister had died, she actually had something to look forward to, something to break up the depressing, empty repetition of simple survival she had experienced all her life up until now. She was content—happy, even.

  The nights grew even colder as winter arrived. The sun began to set earlier and earlier, relinquishing its reign over the earth a little sooner each day as if it were growing increasingly weary of its never-ending battle to stave off the freezing night winds. Before long, it became too unbearably cold to sit outside for more than a few minutes after the sun went down, but Amber would wait until the last possible moment, refusing to go inside until her chattering teeth made talking to the ration impossible.

  She had finished the book about the stars and was now halfway through a new book. This one was about a young girl’s search for family and friendship, and as she rushed to finish the chapter she was on before the light disappeared, Amber couldn’t help wondering if the feeling she had when she was with the ration was anything like what the character in the book felt. She had certainly never felt anything like it before, and the more she read, the more she realized that she didn’t know what true friendship actually meant.

  Interactions with people within the settlement were limited, and everyone regarded each other with a certain element of mistrust. People did whatever they could to obtain extra salt or supplies, and the most common way of accomplishing that was through making reports. This was the reason for her wariness around John—no matter how heartfelt he seemed, she couldn’t ever allow herself to ignore the possibility that he was just looking out for himself.