Unable to mask the wretchedness or shame in my voice I retorted, “I don’t know, Zander. I am positive I am not treated any different than you.”
I could not hide the pain in my eyes as I mentally relived the open mockery by a group of boys as Chief Meadows stood by laughing. Zander was quiet and let me wrestle with my thoughts. He could sense something was wrong, but I did not want to say more. He did not push the subject.
In a hushed tone he said, “Analysse, it is our lot for now, but maybe one day you and I can change it.”
His comment took me by surprise but also did little to comfort. I could not perceive how two young drudges would ever possess the capabilities or have the proper capacity to change anything in Starosa.
I countered, “Yeah right, it has been this way for years. Things are never going to change.”
Zander shrugged and proclaimed, “I refuse to deal with it much longer.”
I questioned, “What!? What do you mean?”
Zander’s cheeks colored at my pressing, which was not normal for him. Yet, there was no mistaking the reddening upon his dark complexion. His bold statement was followed by a hesitancy to continue afterward. This reaction caused curious suspicion.
He acted as if he said too much and regretted it immediately. It was obviously a matter he did not want to discuss further. It was intriguing, but I kindly dropped the subject. Zander would never be able to do anything on his own. One drudge, no matter how strong, would be able to contend with Chief Meadows, his elite tens, and the rest of the firstlings.
He mumbled, “So uhh umm, I am so thirsty right now. How about you?”
My mouth turned in amusement because Zander never stumbled over words. He was generally overfilled with confidence. It was endearing and pleasant for a change.
I politely went along with his attempted change of conversation and stated, “Yeah, I guess the extra energy it takes to kill two flesheaters will do you in. But all you can do is dream about the next glass of water you will drink. You won’t have the means for quenching thirst for a few more hours at least.”
Zander replied sarcastically, “Yes, I can hardly wait to drink my supplied miniature glass of water with tomorrow’s morning meal.”
He moved angrily and added, “After Remembrance Duty it hardly seems enough.”
My mouth was so dry I could only agree. The adrenaline rush and use of vital energy from the attack, left us both with excess hunger and thirst. I tried to change the subject to something other than our desperate need of nourishment.
“By the way, how in Starosa did you learn to throw a knife so well? No amount of basic training could have been enough preparation.”
Zander seemed startled and staggered at my question, but he speedily collected himself. He became pensive and serious before answering like he always did.
“I am a creator drudge. Maybe after creating weapons, I might have snuck off with a knife or two and practiced here and there.”
My eyes flew open in surprise, unbelieving Zander’s frank admittance to breaking major laws. Chief Meadows would put him to death immediately, if he knew of his many crimes.
I demanded, “Are you serious?!”
Zander scoffed, “What? I always returned them. I simply made sure I put them to good use first.”
“Yeah, but that’s horrible. If you were caught…”
He was not shaken at all and asserted, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve never been caught and because of my rule breaking I’ve now saved your life…twice.”
“Twice?! I’m pretty sure the first time you saved me was today.”
Responding in open mockery and exaggerated vigor, Zander reminded me of our last Remembrance Duty.
He dramatically stuttered, “Hhhiii mmmyy nnaamme iiss Anaallysse anddd III willll freezzee to ddeeathh toooniiight.”
I shot him a disapproving glare.
Zander laughed out loud. It was the first time I ever heard him laugh. It was hearty and deep. I liked the sound of it.
He boomed, “You would have frozen to death without my smuggled fire starters.”
I responded sarcastically, “True, although it was pretty disgusting to see you pull them from your pants. How did it feel to have those wedged in your underwear?”
He looked at me and grinned.
“Hmm, well I guess it felt…warm.”
“Ha, very funny, Zander.”
We were quiet for a moment, warmly basking in our banter as the winter night was still and silent around us. Only the buzzing of the electric fence could be heard, strong and powerful in the background.
Zander asked, “So do you know what you did to be put on Remembrance Duty with me?”
Old Jake told me about Jude Meadows and his suspicions for why the Chief wanted me dead. But I did not want to share this theory with Zander. Especially because after the way Jude treated me, I was pretty sure Old Jake was wrong.
I warily offered, “No, I’m not sure. I am a sheltered cleaning drudge, remember? I always follow the rules and stay out of trouble. I am at a loss for why he desires my demise.”
I was curious to know if Zander was aware of his blunder and asked, “What about you?”
His dark eyes flickered with hostility and I immediately regretted asking.
His deep voice moodily answered, “It is ridiculous. A firstling’s little one fell on the ground and was crying. I went to help her. She seemed like such a sweet, delightful girl...around her fifth year. As soon as I helped her, her woman creator rushed over to us and made an announcement to everyone who would listen. She claimed I harmed her daughter. She blatantly accused me of knocking the youngling to the ground. I attempted my best effort to explain I was trying to help her, but the woman would not hear it. She gave me one last disapproving glance and left, cradling her child as she went.”
Zander moved with furious actions.
“Chief Meadows was within listening distance of the entire affair. He glared at me and shook his head in disapproval. His fiery gaze flickered with irritation. I knew trouble was heading my way and soon.”
I could not believe Zander’s potential fate for helping a young child.
In a hushed tone I spoke, “I’m sorry, Zander. What a preposterous situation.”
“Yep. Thank goodness the woman walked away and did not press the matter. Or I would surely be dead already. But you know how Chief Meadows is, he self-righteously announces he only puts drudges who break the law to death. Sure, whatever he says right? If he wants us dead, he finds a way. He sabotages drudges through quiet power to break Starosa laws, crafting his public reason. He can kill as a fair delivery of punishment, even if the law breaking has been deceitfully constructed. I know he suspects my acts of disobedience, but because he can never prove them, this incident provided him with a perfect opportunity. The punishment for what I was accused...was an extra Remembrance Duty last month. The incident must have also served as the last straw in his disregard for me. It inspired him to send us together in hopes of obtaining a valid reason for our termination...if we succumb to what he assumes is inevitable. At least we have both been kept alive for now. There isn’t much we can do about our situation. I suppose other than strive to stay alive…and not fall in love.”
He smirked in my direction. We stared at each other for a few seconds. He laughed and so did I. We kept the evident knowledge to ourselves, not wanting to destroy the moment. Even if we never fell in love, we would eventually die through some other devised method.
We spent the rest of the night talking and taking turns sleeping while the other kept watch. We did not have to fend off any more flesheaters. I was thankful the weather was not the extreme conditions of our previous time together. In the drowsy stirrings of my sleep, I woke a few times to discover I was comfortably resting my head and body against Zander’s arm and shoulder. If I am not mistaken, he may have rested his head on top of mine a few times in the night.
Chapter 10
I reported to Cornelia Fadflair for my da
ily duty, but did not get an assignment until well after Report Time. Cornelia entered the main floor of our drudge house fashionably late as usual. She recently had her hair fixed and her customary bright yellow strands had been speckled with pink coloring, sparkling pink coloring. Changing hair color was a new trend of some of the women firstlings.
Heavily guarded and protected, Chief Meadows would occasionally leave Starosa and return with boxes bearing various items. His most recent delivery included hair dyes, nail color, and extravagant clothes. I did not understand the outlandishness of it all, but the firstlings seemed to love it. Cornelia’s nails were painted in the same sparkling pink color as her hair and she wore sparkling pink boots to match. Her face was painted in what the firstlings called improve- up. The improve-up on her eyes and lips, was also sparkly pink.
Brenna whispered to me, “She looks like a glittery pig creature.”
We both stifled a giggle as we approached her in line. Upon seeing my drab appearance Cornelia Fadflair wrinkled her nose. Or as Brenna would have said if we were not so close, she lifted her snout. I could not blame her for looking disgusted. I threw my blood covered coat into the laundry room, but did not have time to change my clothes. I attempted to wash my face with the minuscule amount of water I could retrieve from the bathroom, but my hair was filthy and contained traces of dried blood. My pants were grimy and spotted with the gruesome liquid as well. I agreed with the distasteful acknowledgement of my appearance. It was repulsive, but it was a persistent part of a drudge’s life.
Cornelia addressed me in her high pitched, mousy voice, “Analysse, you will report to the School for the Firstlings today and for the next four days.”
She did not mask the distaste twisted on her features.
“I grant you a few extra minutes to wash yourself better and change your clothes. We can’t have you scaring the children with your awful appearance. Be off now.”
She motioned me away as if I were nothing but an annoying fly. I followed her orders to better clean my appearance and change my clothes. I hurried through the motions as fast as I could. I was behind schedule and I wanted to get to the school as soon as possible.
I was delighted because I thoroughly enjoyed cleaning the school…with the exception of the primary children’s bathrooms. I adored the desks, chalkboards, paper, and books. I loved being there and admittedly longed to be a firstling mainly so I could attend school. When I was younger, at the end of a day of labor, I would sit at a desk and pretend I was learning. I thumbed through the pages of books I would never be able to read. I treasured drawing pictures on the chalkboard and quickly erasing them. Duty at the School for the Firstlings was a secretly sought after and pleasing experience.
Brenna waited for me to change my dreadful appearance and attire so we could walk together. She risked extreme trouble for this, but never seemed to care about the possibility of discipline as much as I did. Brenna mocked the snorting sound of a pig creature as we walked. It was no wonder she found herself reprimanded often. We chatted and chuckled until we parted ways for labor.
A few cleaning duty assignments required the help of another drudge. Sometimes cleaning drudges had company while working at the School for the Firstlings, but not always. I looked forward to being alone this time. The school house building was insignificant in size. It included two classrooms for two teachers, two bathrooms, and one eatery. The younger children, who were in their fifth to eleventh years of life went to one teacher. The older children, who were in their twelfth to eighteenth years of life went to the other teacher.
As I neared the school house, it was apparent instruction recently commenced. The windows revealed students settled at their desks and I experienced a jolt of relief. I would have hated to run into Jude Meadows and his circle of friends again. I made a mental note to avoid them at all costs. I could see into both classrooms as each had a window facing the front of the school. A few of the students were watching me through the window. I was unable to distinguish who was staring, because I avoided lingering eye contact with their faces.
I was merely a few feet from the door…when Rykeir walked out. My disposition instantly became taciturn. His lips curved in greeting, stretching the scar across his cheek. His dull, beady eyes inspected me from head to toe.
Rykeir sneered, “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the cleaning drudge, Analyssse.”
He drew out the sss sound of my name. It was unusual for firstlings to know drudges by name, and it was disturbing he took the time to find out mine.
I glanced at him and forced myself to feign respect.
“Hello, sir.”
He circled me like a predator and I was the prey. He was clearly contemplating something as he stalked. I had an overpowering notion I did not want to know what he was gleaning.
Rykeir grunted, “I keep forgetting to ask Chief Meadows if you can transfer to a ssservant drudge one day. I guarantee your life would be much more rewarding, cleaning and cooking for the firstlings’ families. Rather than being a plain ol' cleaning drudge.”
I did not answer, but strived to move closer to the entrance of the school. I wanted to begin my day of labor and escape this slithering elite ten. Rykeir grabbed me by the arm and forced me to face him.
Spit escaped his mouth as he screeched in my face, “Did I dismisss you, girl?”
I tensely answered, “Sorry, sir. I am anxious to work.
Rykeir pushed me from him and his hardened face relaxed.
“Yes, yes, you better get started. I do hope to see you soon, Analyssse.”
He grabbed a piece of my hair and muttered, “Especially after you have cleaned this blood from your hair. It is so much lovelier without the remnants of death.”
I asserted, “In my haste to wash this morning, I must have missed a spot, sir.”
Rykeir dropped his grungy fingers to my shoulder and gave it an intimidating squeeze.
He stated, “It appears you experienced a meaningful Remembrance Duty. I’m sure you are thrilled to be under our protection, my protection again.”
“Yes, sir.”
I tried to bite back the nasty taste Rykeir was creating in my mouth.
“Well, Analysse, until I make you my ssservant drudge, I guess I will see you around the community. I do look forward to our future encounters. You may be dismisssed now.”
Once more, he lingered on the sss sound of some of his words. This made him sound like a dirty, rotten, snake.
I announced, “Thank you, sir.”
I thanked him cautiously while simultaneously entering the schoolhouse. As the door slammed shut, I secretly wished something terrible would happen to that elite ten. The one with the scar, evil grin, and two menacing, grayish brown stones on his face.
I remained by the entryway and listened as one of the teachers taught the primary aged children. I did not recognize anything on the large pieces of paper on display. The words she used to describe unknown figures were foreign to me, but the young students answered her questions with ease. A tinge of envy festered for these junior firstlings who were learning how to read. They would be able to read books, notes, and many other amazing things. I never would.
Other students in the classroom were writing. Another accomplishment I would never achieve. I was fated to doodle and draw silly pictures, when they would soon write pages of worthwhile words. A hint of animosity simmered for these little firstlings, but I rapidly brushed it aside. It was not their fault their ancestors arrived at Starosa before mine.
I immediately ceased peeking into the room and busied myself with the day’s work. First, I would clean the bathrooms and hallway. After the students ate, I would clean the eatery. After they left for the day, I would clean their classrooms.
Around midday the students piled out of their classrooms for their meal. I promptly hid in the cleaning supply closet. I assumed they would walk by and leave me alone if I made myself as scarce as possible. I watched as girls my age, around their seventeenth year of lif
e, bounced through the hallway. They were chatting and giggling in their circle of friends. They wore attractive clothes and their hair was perfectly set, with improve-up on their faces. Everything seemed to enhance their beauty. They were gorgeous. A group of boys my age sauntered by, and I noticed Jude Meadows. He focused his attention at the closet I was concealed in. He peered in my direction. I moved further into the shadows of the room and waited for the commotion and footsteps to vanish from the hallway.
Once they were all in the eatery, I relaxed enough to eat my supplied midday meal of bread and meat. I relished the water from my issued canteen. I savored the diminutive amount of drink it contained. Drudges were always in desperate need of more liquid and nourishment. We would only have what we were allotted though, which was exactly enough to exist. I struggled to not envision what the firstlings were eating and drinking. I endeavored to not dwell on the delicious smells from positively delectable foods, I would never taste nor eat.
I swiftly ran to use the bathroom before the students assembled into their classrooms again. I hid in a stall until I was sure everyone was back in their seats. It was miserable. I never used to hide and shriek away, but I did not want to be humiliated in front of a crowd ever again. When I returned to the cleaning supply closet, I turned on the light and prepared my bucket of supplies.
I saw it immediately. It was a conspicuous, folded piece of paper on top of my equipment. Was it meant to be left for me? Maybe it was garbage accidently thrown on my bucket instead of in the trash basket? How else would it have made it there? Did somebody drop it off when I was in the bathroom? I listened for footsteps in the hall to no avail. The students had all returned to their classrooms.
I slowly unfolded the creased piece of paper. It was hastily torn from one of the tablets the firstlings carried and used for their writing assignments. Written on the paper was a word I obviously could not read, but underneath the word was a picture. The image was clear in its message, but I wished to read the writing! Disappointment and anger filled my emotions. I was becoming accustomed to these surging sentiments. I was mad I could not read a simple word on a page. A task one of the firstlings, barely in their fifth and sixth years of life, could perform effortlessly.
The Forbidden Plan Page 7