He was obviously willing to eat the same food she ate, and if she could hide some away for him, that would solve the problem of food. She could probably spare a third of her water allotment, too, provided she could find something to put it in. Half would be too much, which is why the settlement’s council used it as a punishment, but a third was more doable. If she succeeded, she would have one full day’s worth of food and water for every three days that passed. Where he would go was still a problem, but this was the first hurdle to overcome.
The work day came to an end, and the ration studied Amber’s face as they walked home. She seemed lost in thought and distracted, and he wondered if she was still being stubborn about eating. He sat down in the shade, waiting for her to get the book as usual, but when she got back, she seemed unable to focus on the words. Her voice kept trailing off and she lost her place several times, and he felt himself growing worried as he listened.
The sun sank below the horizon, and the ration quietly slipped into the house to get the blanket, searching underneath her folded sleep clothing to see if she had hidden her food again. He was relieved to find that it wasn’t there, but that meant something else was bothering her.
He sat down beside her, staring at her in concern, and she flashed a smile as if reading his thoughts.
“I think I have a plan,” Amber told him, her eyes bright with excitement. “For how you can get away.”
He cocked his head, listening as she spoke.
“I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I’m pretty sure it could work. The ocean is your best bet if you can get there. You’ll have food as long as there’s still algae growing in the water, and it’s easy to make a distiller so you can separate the salt out for drinking water. I’ll show you how to do it, you just need a piece of plastic, a weight, and two different-sized containers. And some string to hold the plastic, it’s easy.”
She paused, taking a breath.
“I don’t think there are any map books in this rotation, but I remember one from a few years ago. The closest saltwater shore is about 600 miles from here. That’s a really long way to go on foot, but I think you could do it. I don’t know how much time you would need, though, that’s the problem. The most I’ve ever heard of anyone walking in one day is thirty miles, but that was on flat ground. You’re probably a lot stronger than that guy, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever seen. As long as you don’t hit any problems along the way, I think you could make it in about two weeks.”
The ration tried his best not to smile in amusement. She was so sure of herself, so confident, and he couldn’t help feeling a little impressed that she had come up with it on her own. Two weeks was a stretch, though; he had considered the same plan before, and he knew it would take closer to three.
It didn’t matter either way, the ocean wasn’t an option. He had heard enough people talking about it at the resource center to know that much; every inch of saltwater shoreline was heavily guarded to prevent desperate people from trying to harvest the algae. It had been that way for over a hundred years, but people in the settlements weren’t given those details. Distance alone served as an adequate means of isolation from the coasts, as the strict limitations on daily food and water allotments prevented anyone from amassing enough to attempt the journey.
The same restrictions didn’t apply to the resource centers themselves, but that was an entirely different story. The rules that governed the centers weren’t the same as the ones the settlements adhered to, which was yet another fact kept from the general population. Keeping the peace depended on separation of knowledge between the two groups of people, and the resource centers took precautions to ensure that such separation was maintained.
A cry sounded from inside as Alex stirred in his sleep, and the ration felt Amber’s body tense. He glanced down at her, seeing a shadow of despair appear in her eyes.
“I don’t know what my family will do if you manage to escape,” she said quietly. “Well, I do know, but it’s not good. We’ll all starve to death, unless the resource center replaces you.”
Amber winced as the words left her mouth. Hearing herself speak about this felt unbelievable in a way—she never once would have imagined herself discussing the loss of a food source with the actual food source. It defied all reason, and if it weren’t so serious, she would probably be dissolving into uncontrollable laughter at how ridiculous the thought was. She sighed and shook her head. Ridiculous as it may be, it was no laughing matter.
“The resource center will only replace a ration for three reasons,” she went on. “One, death by natural cause, which never happens. Two, theft, which also never happens because no one is stupid enough to steal a ration. And three, accidental loss. That one happens a couple times a year, but you have to turn in the body to get a replacement. It’s not enough for me to just admit that I lost track of you. That also means our salt quota would double next cycle, but at least we wouldn’t starve.”
She bit her lip, shuddering. It seemed wrong to so openly talk about murdering one person to save another, but there was no escaping it. A ration would have to die no matter what, that part was unavoidable, but she wanted to do everything she could to make sure it wasn’t him.
“That’s pretty much the only chance we would have,” Amber said, shrugging with defeat. “And I don’t think we can get around not having a body to prove…”
Her voice trailed off as her eyes grew wide. There was a way around it, but it wouldn’t be easy.
“The waste pits!” she breathed, sitting up straight and turning to look at him. “A few years ago, a ration fell into one of the waste pits! Those pits are almost twenty feet deep and filled with sludge, and no one would retrieve the body! A bunch of people witnessed it, though, so the resource center did the replacement!”
He gave her an incredulous look, and she laughed.
“Believe me, I’m not suggesting that you go anywhere near those things,” she told him. “But if we could find a way to make people think that you’ve fallen in, maybe we could convince the resource center to issue us a replacement. Like me rallying a search party for you one morning and leaving your flask by one of the pits or something. Or even floating it on the surface, that would be even better!”
She grinned happily, resting her head against the ration’s shoulder.
“I think it will work. It has to work.”
She fell silent, contemplating whether or not to tell him about her plan for setting aside part of her own allotments. Given his reaction yesterday, he would likely try to interfere if he knew. She would have to keep that detail to herself, at least until she had most of it saved up. Six weeks would be enough time if she didn’t skip any days; their group’s harvest would occur in March, and December was halfway over.
The ration put his arm around her as he looked up at the sky. The last two days had been full of surprises, and they didn’t seem to stop coming. He couldn’t understand why she cared so much, why she would be willing to risk everything to help him. He knew she considered him a friend, but it didn’t make sense to him how she could be this dedicated after only a few short months.
The compassion of another person was not something he had ever experienced before, and the feeling confused him. Perhaps it was because of how lonely she had been, maybe that’s what was driving her. He appreciated it, but it still seemed strange.
A shooting star streaked across the horizon, and he closed his eyes, whispering in his heart. For the first time ever, his wish seemed like it might actually come true.
“Did you see it?” Amber breathed, glancing up at him. He nodded, and she smiled happily before standing up.
“We should go in,” she said, gathering up the blanket. The plastic that covered her food crinkled in her pocket, and she saw his eyes widen. She made a face.
“I know, I know.”
She dug into her pocket, fumbling as she separated out two of the three pieces. She held her breath, shoving th
em into her mouth and chewing quickly.
“Come on.”
Amber went inside, feeling the one strip of meat that remained in the plastic. She would have to figure out where to hide it from him, and as he turned his back for her to change, she quickly slipped it underneath the mattress. That would have to work for tonight; tomorrow, she would need to find a better place for it.
The water would be a bit more difficult to figure out, and she wasn’t sure what to save it in. There were old flasks at the plastic collection station near the huts, but most of them had been crushed. Bags would probably be better and they were easy to make, provided they would hold without leaking.
She settled into the ration’s arms, smiling to herself as she closed her eyes. The plan would work, she was sure of it. It had to.
†‡†
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Don’t forget to take the ration for its weight check today, my dear,” Richard called as he climbed out of the grid.
“I won’t,” Amber answered, trying to force an even tone. She had been dreading this day, and they wouldn’t have much time to prepare between getting home and heading to the scales. Being late would draw Jeff Thompson’s ire, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. She darted up the steps, shielding her eyes as she waited impatiently for the ration to return from hauling the last load of the day.
The past two weeks had been difficult, but Amber had managed to stick to her plan for saving food and water for the ration. She had three and a half days’ worth so far and only four more weeks to go. She was starting to feel the effects of shorting herself, though: she was exhausted during the day and her mouth was even drier than normal, something she never would have thought possible. Still, she had survived the first leg of the process, and that’s all that mattered to her.
The weight check, on the other hand, had been a lot more difficult of a problem to work out. The ration looked no different now than he had at the last check, which meant he was likely close to the same size. If his weight hadn’t increased, there was no chance that it wouldn’t be reported to the resource center this time. Jeff Thompson would get in trouble if he let it slide again.
The rations were expected to gain at least twenty pounds per month, and anything more than two pounds under the target weight for a guaranteed strain was supposed to result in notifying the resource center. By the fourth weight check, their ration should be at least 300 pounds, and by the fifth, anything over 320 pounds was considered harvest weight. Not only would they have to make up for the seven pounds he was short a month ago, but also the twenty pounds he should have gained on top of it. It would be a difficult calculation to make, and she could only hope their estimation was correct.
The ration arrived at the grid, and Amber snatched the hauling sacks from his hand. She didn’t bother folding them, quickly tossing them in a heap at the bottom of the steps.
“Hurry,” she breathed, grabbing his arm, and the ration couldn’t help feeling an instant wave of nervousness wash over him as they set out for home.
He had spent the last few days contemplating whether or not he should just leave early, but no matter how many times he did the math, he couldn’t make it work. He needed more time; otherwise, his odds of survival were even slimmer than the chances of their insane plan succeeding. His fate would be determined in the next hour, and while he did his best to hide his fear, he was terrified.
He followed Amber into her room, checking behind him to make sure the curtain that blocked the doorway was in place. Her mother was playing with the children in the shade outside; she could come back in at any moment, which meant they needed to hurry. Trying to find an explanation for what they were about to do would be impossible if they were caught.
“Quick, take your shirt off,” Amber whispered, lifting her mattress. On the ground beneath it was the solution she had been working on for the last week.
She had cut a piece of plastic into a makeshift vest, and on the inside were dozens of tiny bags filled with dirt. The ends of each bag had been laced through the vest to hold them in place, but she wasn’t sure if she had added the right number of them.
Overshooting the weight target by more than ten pounds would be almost as bad as being under, since excessive gains were considered a valuable trait. Instead of being taken away as defective, the ration would be taken away for research. It was a gut-wrenching guessing game, and she whispered a prayer as she bent down to retrieve the vest.
The ration could see the worry on Amber’s face as she carefully lifted her creation from its hiding place, her arms flexing as he watched her try to gauge its weight one last time as she had a hundred times over the last week. It was impossible to tell, and he knew she would blame herself if it was off. He forced a smile, trying to reassure her as she helped him put the vest on, but his own heart mirrored the doubt on her face.
If this didn’t work, he would have little more than a day before being taken back to the resource center to trade for a different ration, and that time would be spent in the settlement’s in-ground holding cell. He would be weighed again without the vest upon arrival, which he knew would prompt an even bigger investigation. There would be no way to blame the scales, either; the resource center would quickly discover that his weight was the only one with a discrepancy, and they wouldn’t stop asking questions until they found out why.
The vest settled on the ration’s shoulders, and Amber’s fingers flew as she threaded strips of plastic through the front opening to hold the whole thing in place.
“Lift your arms,” she breathed, grabbing his shirt and carefully guiding it on over the vest. The fabric hung loosely enough to hide the odd bulges from the bundles of dirt, but only as long as he was careful how he positioned himself. She swallowed hard, glancing up to meet his gaze. She could see the fear in his eyes, and she tried to force a confident smile.
“It will be okay,” she whispered, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat. “It’ll work, don’t worry.”
The ration nodded, hoping that she was right. He turned to go, but she stopped him, standing on her tiptoes as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He closed his eyes, returning the embrace, then he quickly let go when he heard the sound of Mica coming back inside with the children.
“Here goes nothing,” Amber breathed, setting her jaw as she walked out the door. The ration followed behind her, his heartbeat pounding in his ears as they made their way into the settlement.
Jeff Thompson eyed them as they approached.
“Just in time,” he said, jerking his head towards the scale. Amber gulped as she beckoned to the ration, guiding him onto the platform as she began to load the bags of dirt onto the other side. She counted them in her mind, feeling faint with dread as she picked up each one. Seven of the forty-pound bags, that was the goal.
Five.
She cringed as she glanced up at the rod that spanned both sides of the scale. It was still tilted towards the platform, and she lifted the next one.
Six.
Her heart stopped as the rod balanced itself out. Six wasn’t anywhere near enough. She felt panic race through her veins, only to fade a moment later as the rod tilted off-center again. It was close, but there was still room for more.
She glanced at the smaller bags, each marked with increments of one, two, five, and ten. Forty more pounds. She held her breath and lifted one of the ten pound bags.
The rod barely moved, and she whispered yet another prayer as she added two more.
“I think that’s it,” Jeff told her. Her stomach knotted up; it was still ten pounds short. The rod held its balance for a moment, then nudged just a hair to the side.
“There’s still a bit more to go,” Amber said, trying to keep her voice steady. She grabbed a five pound bag, quickly adding it to the scale and glancing up. The dark line that marked a perfect balance was still a little off, and she reached for the one-pound bags, her heart racing as she began gently setting
them in place.
One.
Two.
“That’s it,” Jeff announced. She ignored him, quickly tossing two more bags onto the scale. She stared up at the rod’s mark, begging it to hold.
“Strain 27680, weight 279 pounds.”
Tears of relief welled up in Amber’s eyes, and she met the ration’s gaze for a moment as she began unloading the bags.
They had done it, but only just.
“Looks like you were right about the last weight,” Jeff told her as she turned to leave. “Next check is in four weeks.”
“See you then,” she said, grabbing the ration’s arm.
They made their way through the alleys between the houses as they headed home, but after only a few minutes, Amber felt her knees suddenly go weak. She stumbled, losing her balance, and the ration’s hand flashed out. He caught her and quickly pulled her upright, and she shot him a warning look.
“Let go!” she hissed, her eyes darting around fearfully. He instantly obeyed, and she leaned against a wall, her heart pounding as a cold sweat broke out across her forehead. She felt sick to her stomach, and her vision blurred as she tried to regain her balance.
The ration stared at her, his eyes wide with concern. She was pale and her lips had gone blue, but as he watched, her color slowly returned.
“I’m okay,” Amber breathed, beckoning to him as she began walking again. “Just relieved after too much worry.”
Her heart was still pounding, and she tried to ignore the new kind of worry that washed over her. She was shorting her food and water too much, and she knew the effects would get worse. Her clothes were already a bit looser than before even after only a couple weeks, and it would just be a matter of time before one of her parents took notice.
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