I entered the building and wearily climbed the stairs to my modest room. Each drudge was assigned their own cramped space. The accommodation contained a stiff cot and wooden chest for clothes. It also held what little personal belongings we owned. For me this was a simple comb, toothbrush, and string to tie my hair up. With these items wedged into the tiny area, there was hardly enough room to move around. A drudge’s miniature living quarters had less space than a firstling’s closet. This observation irked me like it never did before and I squeezed through to my scanty wooden chest.
I grabbed a fresh pair of clothes and glanced at my cot. I fantasized sleeping underneath a blanket, enveloped in the warmth and safety of my drudge house. I beheld the supplied security and comfort and recognized Old Jake might have been right all along. Despite my new unsettled perception, we were provided for in Starosa. Ultimately, we were lucky to be drudges. We were kept alive and protected from the outside world of bitter weather, crippling hunger, and eerie flesheaters.
The hot water was welcoming and refreshing. It cleared two days of dirt and grime. We were allowed a limited dollop of liquid soap for our hair and bodies. It dispensed from a nozzle attached to the wall. It was programmed to release an allotted amount and nothing more.
Each drudge enjoyed five designated minutes of running water a day. Cleaning time was a short piece of indulgence for every drudge. There were two cleaning stalls, two sinks, and two toilets in both the women’s and men’s bathrooms. Brenna was in the other stall and we were separated by a cloth hanging between us.
She inquired, “What did you do to upset Chief Meadows?”
Even with the noise of the flowing water, she could not mask the slight quiver in her voice. She could not hide she was scared for me. The same question had been eating at my insides. I could not surmise which of my actions, resulted in an impending death sentence.
I nervously answered, “Honestly, I do not know. I am always sure to do my best work. I follow the rules. Old Jake ensures I stay out of trouble. I don’t know, Brenna. I truly don’t know.”
My mood was foreboding and dreading something horrible lurking in my future. Brenna decidedly spoke the obvious. She had never been one to keep words to herself.
“Obviously Chief Meadows assumes you will secretly fall in love with Zander, giving him reason to kill you both. The one thing in your favor is the decision to fall for Zander is yours to make. If you do not find yourself in love, you will never be tempted to have a secret affair against Starosa laws. His conniving motive for killing you will become void.”
Brenna briefly paused before she resumed, “I must say though...Zander is handsome…and strong. Chief Meadows chose the best-looking drudge in Starosa, didn’t he? Oh, won’t it be difficult, Ana!? I can only imagine myself able to spend so much time with a good-looking drudge like him. I am far too weak. I am afraid I could never handle such a situation.”
I could picture her blushing face on the other side of the cloth. She had always been quick to point out good looking drudges. She noticed far more things about the opposite sex than I ever would. What she was hinting at infuriated me though and I lashed at her.
“I will never fall in love, Brenna! Don’t you worry. Falling in love will not be a problem. The crisis is I am now on Chief Meadows’s bad side and I have no idea what I have done to venture there.”
I shuddered with rising anxiety and attempted to focus on the task at hand, methodically washing my body. Our discussion ceased for the moment as we enjoyed the warmth of the water. We were both undeniably drinking as much water as we possibly could. All drudges gulped the pouring liquid during their shower. We never spoke of it openly, but how else were we to pacify relentless thirst and constant need for more drink? Our allocated drinking water never seemed to be enough.
Brenna broke the silence, “Alright, Ana! Okay, you won’t fall in love.”
I could picture her hands raised in mocked defense as she continued, “And you are right. You have always been one of the best drudges in Starosa. You are known for being a hard worker, unlike some of us ...”
Brenna’s utterance trailed off. She was most likely referring to herself and self-awareness cut her short. In the past, she endured beatings from the elite tens for not finishing her duties on time. Brenna tended to daydream and had found herself in trouble countless times over the years. I felt horrible for her on those dark days. She would limp home to our drudge house with bruises forming on her arms, back, or face. She would look at me and shrug, as if to say, “I can’t help myself.” But she was right. I had never been beaten for not finishing work. I completed my duties. I followed all Starosa rules...well apart from shamefully sneaking restaurant crumbs into my wanting mouth.
Insufficiency on my part could not be the reason for Chief Meadows’s new lack of concern for my life. What could be the reason for his sudden interest in my existence? He did not usually bother with ordinary, young cleaning drudges like myself. But he was aware of me and evidently desired my termination.
Much to our dismay, the cleaning room water turned off too soon. I grabbed my towel and dried my body speedily. Brenna and I exited and quickly put on fresh, clean, green shirts, and brown pants. The same attire we had worn since we were in our tenth year. All drudges wore dark brown pants, leather shoes, and the colored shirt indicating their drudge line.
I admitted, “After evening meal, I am going to talk to Old Jake. I need to figure out this predicament.”
She motioned agreement with my plan of action. We headed for the eatery wrapped in our own thoughts about my new dilemma. I confronted the reality with despair. If fell in love with Zander or if I didn’t, it mattered not. The inexcusable deed would only speed the process. The undeniable truth was my death would be ensured. If his current plan for my destruction did not work, Chief Meadows would never tire of discovering a reason to end my life. I gravely accepted the dreadful certainty and it momentarily knocked me listless. The recent, dull, and constant ache intensified.
During wintertide season, soup and crackers were the evening meal. In summertide we were given a piece of bread with a portion of meat...but of course, never pig. It was usually a tough and dry piece of cow meat. Each drudge was given the amount of food and drink needed to survive. My scant frame resulted in extremely meager rations. Did Chief Meadows keep us slightly malnourished on purpose? His regulations did cultivate a weakened and humbled people under his power. This enlightened acknowledgement did not settle well.
Persistent apprehension gnawed at my growing concern. I ate the tomato soup and white crackers with difficulty. Being sick with worry and rendered almost unable to eat never happened in my past. After forcing food into my upset stomach, I made my way to the sick room of our drudge house. If we were ill, we were given one to two days of sick leave. A drudge had to literally be on the brink of death to secure the two days of approved reprieve. Anymore release time would be inexcusable no matter the circumstances. We were accustomed to working ill and exhausted. I anticipated Old Jake being the only drudge in our building’s sick room. I was hopeful he would be the balm for my tormented soul.
Chapter 6
When I entered the room, delight spread across Old Jake’s grayish, gaunt features. He attempted to sit with infirm and unsteady movements and struggled to smooth his untamed hair. His white hair was surprisingly thick for his old age and it capped his head like the snow-covered peaks of the surrounding mountains. His sickly skin matched the white sheet of his bed. Unwell drudges were given the luxury of a soft spongy bed instead of the firm, solid cots encumbering our dinky rooms.
Upon seeing his frail attempt to sit, I pleaded, “No, please continue to lie down. Do not move for my sake.”
Old Jake’s sweet old voice responded, “But you are my favorite young lady in all of Starosa. Of course, I will sit for your sake.”
He winked at me and his wrinkly face displayed cheerfulness. He was in his eightieth year and every line on his face showed the laborious l
ife he had led. The greater part which was spent as a drudge. I released a sigh of affliction.
In a defeated tone I muttered, “I am afraid your favorite girl is in trouble.”
A knowing shadow crossed over Old Jake’s face. His changing features did not go unnoticed and piqued my interest. Did he suspect something I was not aware of until Remembrance Duty? Why not share vital information about my obvious offense? His reaction rendered me off balance. He already knew something was awry!
Without reservation, I unloaded all of my demoralizing concerns. The weight of Starosa lifted from my heart and chest and into the cluttered room. Speech flew from my mouth at a rapid pace and I relentlessly fired questions at him. He sat and listened with the practiced patience of old age. My nerves splintered restraint to await his responses.
“Do you know what I have done? Are you aware of who was placed as my Remembrance Duty companion? The Chief obviously has a plan to eventually destroy me, to rid of me. But it will not work for now. I am not so weak or dumb. I will never fall in love.”
As I was rambling and pacing the floor my body convulsed. Tears formed in my eyes, overwhelmed pools of moisture and worry. Old Jake’s response was soothing.
“Calm down, honey. Please, come here.”
I pulled the only chair in the room next to the bed and trembled the entire time. As soon as I sat, Old Jake grabbed my smooth small hand into his large, faded, and calloused one. He grasped it comfortingly. He was the only drudge to ever show me infrequent, but amiable acts of emotion. He was breaking laws to hold my hand. But he held on and so did I.
“Don’t worry, everything will be okay.”
His consoling assurance spread over me in an indescribable warmth. Heavy burdens became lighter on my fragile frame.
“However, you are right my young one. You cannot fall in love.”
Irritation for the two people I held most dear seeped into my emotions. Brenna and Old Jake were no better than Chief Meadows in their unjustified judgments and assumptions. Entertaining the foolish notion proved they assumed my nature to be silly, ridiculous, and without strong-minded resolve. Although it did not happen often, engaging in secret and romantic devotion had always been a death sentence in Starosa. Even in my sheltered existence, I was aware of this guarantee. I was resolute to never fall victim.
I hastily confirmed, “I would never!”
I conveyed defiance and my features were set with pure determination.
“What could I have done to bring this upon myself? I always do what I am supposed to. Always. You have made sure I do. I know I am blessed to lead the life of a drudge. I’ve always worked tirelessly, been obedient, and meticulously stayed out of trouble. I have never questioned Chief Meadows’s rules and consistently endeavor to follow them.”
It seemed futile to mention I was experiencing unease and simmering opposition...for the first time in my existence. The many injustices present in my life and the lives of all drudges were coming to light through unclouded vision. I failed to reveal my heart stirred at the idea of liberty. Freedom of life and choice echoed through my mind as fiercely as newfound dread surfaced regarding my safety in the community. A contentment once easily enjoyed was shattering like icicles crashing to the ground on cold, crisp wintertide mornings.
Before answering my questions, Old Jake took in a deep, raspy breath. He was debating how much he should tell me, if anything at all. Upon seeing him waver, I became weary of his sheltering. How much had Old Jake refused to tell me throughout my life? How much had he hidden from my knowledge? For years, I embraced the comfort and protection of his careful watch. As a result, I was as naive as a newborn babe. Zander accused me of no falsehood and it infuriated me. Zander’s brash accusations were right.
I demanded, “Please tell everything and refrain from keeping me in the shadows in the present and future. I have the right to honest insight regarding my sure fate. It is my life. It is the breath of my lungs and the beat of my heart at the brink of execution. I am aged enough to be spoken to with open directness. I am in my seventeenth year after all, no longer a child.”
Old Jake strained to subdue his inward turmoil. He decided to reveal what he knew, if not reluctantly.
“Ana, I am not of a surety. But I have an idea as to why Chief Meadows wishes your death.”
He paused. My impatience could not take even a moment of silence.
I urged, “Please, go on!”
I was at the edge of my seat with anticipation. I wanted to hear what I could not piece together on my own.
Old Jake explained, “Ana, you may not be aware of it, but you have grown into a beautiful young woman. You are right, you are no longer a child and it shows. You turn many heads in Starosa. The firstlings even steal a guarded, but obvious second turn of the eye when they encounter you in the community. You are truly unaware of the sincerest and purest beauty you possess. You have long, flowing, dark brown hair. Your skin is like…what we used to call in the Previous Sphere…porcelain and it is flawless. You have the rare color of green eyes. They are most animated when you speak, especially when you are happy. Most of Starosa reflects a dull and lifeless, grayish brown.”
His compliments brought on embarrassment and flushed cheeks.
I awkwardly interrupted with an amused expression, “Your eyes are blue.”
With an acknowledging grin he stated, “We are both a bit rare, aren’t we?”
I beamed back and affirmed, “Yes, I guess we are.”
His talk of being what people considered “beautiful” made me uncomfortable. I was a plain and skinny cleaning drudge. I longed for the appealing curves of the firstlings. I was shaped more like a flat board. Was I more appealing than I realized? I shuddered as my mind traced back to Rykeir’s disgusting, lingering glances. Old Jake disrupted my musing with a vexing question.
“Have you ever noticed how a certain firstling treats you? An important one?”
I retrieved encounters with firstlings from my memories. I had been treated well and never beaten, but I assumed it was because I worked hard and followed the rules. Was there more to it? What about Rykeir’s repulsive behavior? Old Jake was not with me though and Rykeir had never been so bold in the past. Old Jake gently interrupted my struggling contemplation.
“I am especially talking about Jude Meadows, Ana. Have you noticed how kind Jude Meadows treats you?”
Jude Meadows? The one and only son of Chief Meadows. He was in his eighteenth year of life. He was tall and tan with speckled blonde hair. His eyes were the common, grayish brown of the community, but they had a sparkle to them. I summoned an image of his slight crooked smile...boyish, simple, and happy. I could not remember him extending kindness, but was aware of his presence unhinging me.
It was a strange and different sentiment for me, but I was nervous around all firstlings. It made complete sense. I would be even more so in front of the future leader of Starosa. Jude Meadows would one day replace his father in superiority and rank. Did he treat me with extra civility? Had he even voiced a word in my direction?
“No, I cannot think of a time he was particularly courteous. What do you mean?”
Old Jake softly scolded, “Ana, you are not aware of the world around you, are you?”
He expressed exasperation, but instantly winked to indicate he was teasing. I gave it right back to him with a spirited jest.
“If I am not, it is because of your over protective sheltering.”
I playfully jabbed him in his frail arm. The truthfulness of my words made him wide eyed.
He teased, “Is that right young lady?”
After the past two days there was not an utterance with more surety. I could not mask my weighty graveness.
“Yes.”
I gave his hand a gentle squeeze. I put on a comforting visage so he would know I meant no harm. I appreciated his sheltering all these years, but I did not want it anymore. I intended to shake it completely if I could manage. Old Jake rubbed his chin and squinted
his eyes in concentrated study of my demeanor.
He announced, “Let’s talk about Jude Meadows. Let me inform you of what has failed your notice.”
He fingered the stubble on his face. Would the constant touch of his sprouting, coarse hairs magically bring forth what he was searching for in his thoughts?
“A few months ago, who do you think put a hard piece of candy on top of your cleaning supplies?”
An image of the discovered candy resurfaced. The sweet taste it procured was mouthwatering. It was one of two pieces of candy I ever tasted in my lifetime. The first piece was given to me when I graduated from the nursery and became an official cleaning drudge. The second piece was discovered a few months ago on top of my cleaning supplies after a day of scrubbing at the School for the Firstlings. Did Jude Meadows leave me a piece of candy, a delicacy even for him? Astonishment filled all voids of thought and feeling.
I demanded, “What!? But why would he of all people, leave a piece of candy for me? Why do you suspect it was him?”
In an honest admission I added, “I had supposed you left it there for me.”
After closer speculation, there was not ample logic in Old Jake being the one who left the delicious treat for me. He would have no way of getting candy. We were drudges and therefore negated of the privilege.
Old Jake answered immediately, “I don’t suspect it was him, I know it was him! I saw him place it there. He was attempting to be unseen, but nothing gets past these sharp old eyes.”
Old Jake pointed a weathered finger near his faded blue eyes. He pushed for an admission.
The Forbidden Plan Page 4