Dwindle: Populations Crumble: Book 1

by K. A. Gandy

  “I’m sorry, Miss, your next date is already here picking a horse. I thought you might like to take Twinkie out next, so I’ve already got him saddled for you,” he says before leading away Hercules. I guess I’ll have to visit him for one last scratch after my next ride. I look awkwardly at Grant, not sure how to end this and just ride off with my next date.

  He saves me from my floundering, “I had a great time riding with you today, Sadie, and I hope we can do it again real soon. I know you have a few other fellas to attend to, but I’d love to join you for any meals you are willing to share in the meantime.”

  I smile at him, “I enjoyed it very much, too, and I’d love to share a meal with you! I’ll see what we can schedule.” I feel like I should at least try to give him a side hug or something, so I take a step forward. Before I make contact, he’s already taking a step back. He tips his hat, seeming oblivious to my attempted hug, and heads off down the path.

  I watch him go, but I’m confused. It’s nice to know that he isn’t going to push the physical intimacy, but I didn’t think a hug would hurt. That’s something I can worry about later. I blow out a breath. I guess it’s time for round two. I head into the barn, and see Asher standing next to Michael and Doc, who’s saddled up and ready to go.

  “Hi, Asher. Thank you for agreeing to come riding with me today.” I shove my hands in my back pockets.

  He steps towards me, but stops as Doc follows him. “Of course. Thank you for thinking of me. I don’t get to do a lot of riding, but I always enjoy it when I have the opportunity.”

  That’s interesting. I wonder if he works a lot? “Well, we’ve got some time now at least. The trails are very nice here.”

  Michael walks up, leading Twinkie. “I saw you guys head down the green trail. If you’re up for a little longer ride, blue takes about fifteen minutes more but leads to a lake with a picnic area. I could call and have lunch waiting for you, if you’d like.”

  “That sounds great, Michael, thank you!” Asher sounds pleased. He turns to me, “Ready to go?”

  “Yes, let’s go find this lake!” We lead the horses out and mount up. I give Michael a wave, and we head off towards the blue trail marker.

  “So, how was your morning?” Asher asks once we’re on the trail, riding side by side.

  “It was good. This has been my first chance to make it to the barn and go riding. Well, in the daylight, anyways,” I add.

  “What do you mean, in the daylight?” He looks confused.

  “Uh, well, when the attack happened, Patrick and Teddy escorted us out the back, and we hid briefly In the barn before heading to the staff quarters where we waited it out for the night.” I explain. It hits me that I haven’t spoken to him since, and I didn’t even ask him what happened to them. Or Grant, for that matter, although he’d seemed fine. “What happened to all of you? You weren’t hurt, were you?”

  “No, we’re all fine. The guards swarmed us so quickly, we didn’t see where you’d gone. They split us into two groups, and took most of the men to our dormitory. After that it was just waiting to hear they’d cleared the grounds, and that you were safe.”

  I feel a sting of guilt. I hadn’t asked if all of my matches were safe, and to be honest it hadn’t even crossed my mind until now. I feel like an awful person; one of these men is supposed to be my husband, and I didn’t even care if they were shot at. This cannot be a good start to a marriage. Keeping those thoughts to myself, I respond as honestly as I can, “Well, I’m glad that you’re all safe and everyone’s in one piece. It was a scary night for all of us, I think.”

  We fall silent, and the horses walk along happily, unaware of the human drama going on around them. Twinkie keeps trying to steal nibbles off the plants we pass, but I keep him in line for the most part. It’s not uncomfortable silence, but eventually he breaks it again.

  “Do you have any questions about me, or my day to day life that I can answer?” he asks.

  My face heats. He really shouldn’t have to ask me; I should know to ask him. “Of course! Yes. I know you’re a veterinarian. What kind of animals do you treat?”

  “I treat a little bit of everything. The fewer veterinarians there are, the more we see. I am the only vet for several hundred miles in my territory, so I stay busy and I never know what will come through my door.” He looks relaxed on Doc’s back, one hand resting on the saddle horn with the reins. There’s a slight breeze playing with his dark hair.

  “That’s so cool! I used to want to be a veterinarian when I was a little girl. One of my favorite calves got sick, and didn’t make it. And I thought that a veterinarian was like a superhero—if I’d been one I could have swooped in and saved that little calf.” I trail off.

  He gives me a warm smile, “That’s cute. I bet you’d be a great vet. You have an excellent way with the horses.”

  It’s nice that he noticed. “What about family? Who is waiting for you up north?” He didn’t mention any family, although we hadn’t had much time to talk before.

  “No one, really. My mother moved further south several years back, when the winters got too hard on her, and my father died several years ago. I don’t have any siblings,” he states flatly.

  “I’m sorry. That must be lonely. Do you at least have some good friends in Saskerta?” I can’t imagine having so little family around. Who does he eat with on the holidays?

  He shrugs, “It can be lonely, especially in the winter when people aren’t out much. But I stay so busy, I don’t have much time for a social life. Plus, my clients are great people, and I get to see them every day.” The trail we’re following opens to a pretty clearing, and I see the sparkling blue lake beyond it. This place could be on a postcard.

  Over to the left, a brightly striped, yellow blanket is laid out under an oak tree, and I see a basket and two place settings. There’s even a wooden hitching post, and a water trough for the horses a few paces away. It seems they’ve thought of everything. “This looks really nice!” I compliment the setup.

  We tie off the horses so they can reach the water if they get thirsty, and then make our way across to the picnic that’s been set for us. Asher starts distributing napkins and silverware from where they were set neatly to the side, and I open the basket to see what they’ve brought us for lunch. Inside I find fresh yeast rolls, a paper bag full of fried chicken that’s still steaming hot, as well as pasta salad, fresh cut fruit, and an assortment of cheeses. There’s even a bottle of wine, but I just set that to the side. We each choose from the abundant selection, and then get settled next to each other, facing the lake.

  “Sadie, I hate to ruin a perfect day, but I need to be frank with you,” Asher says after a moment.

  That sounds ominous. “Uhm, okay. Is something wrong?” I ask tentatively.

  “No, nothing’s wrong. In fact, it’s the opposite. You seem very genuine, and you’re obviously beautiful, and we’re a genetic match. Everything is right. It’s just, you have six other suitors. As I was telling you earlier on our ride, I’m the only veterinarian in my area of Saskerta for hundreds of miles. I have to get back as quickly as possible or call my stand-in and let him know he’s going to be staying for the long haul. So, I need to know, Sadie, if you would still consider choosing me and moving to Saskerta Territories. I know that you have family here, and some of your matches are local.” He pauses, and looks down at his plate. “If you can’t see yourself choosing someone who lives so far away, I completely understand. But if that’s the case, I just ask that you let me know now, so that I can get back where I’m needed.” At that, he looks up and it’s my turn to stare at my plate.

  I feel a sense of rising panic because I wasn’t expecting this at all, especially after how laid-back Grant was this morning. It makes sense that each man would have his own timeline, but I didn’t expect to be deciding about someone on the very first date. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but I think I owe him the same honesty he’s shown me. I look up to meet his eyes, so warm and open
. He is clearly a good man, and someone I could potentially build a life with. I take a deep breath, “Asher, you’re so genuine, and I appreciate that about you in the middle of all of this craziness I’ve been thrown into. Of all the matches I got, you are one that I could see myself being comfortable with and maybe choosing. But you’re right,” I swallow, “my entire family lives here. Saskerta is such a long way away, that it is not my first choice to move there. I hope you can understand that.”

  He reaches for my hand and gives me a reassuring squeeze. “I understand completely. When we get back, you can release me from the app. For now, why don’t we just enjoy this lunch as two friends, having one perfect day together. Deal?”

  I return his squeeze, “Deal.” And to my surprise, he doesn’t let go of my hand. We finish our lunches there, and talk and make each other laugh, and he never lets go of my hand. It truly is a golden afternoon.

  Go Fish

  Releasing Asher back into the eligibility pool was remarkably simple. A few clicks, an “Are you sure?” message, and that was it. An hour later, I saw a shuttle leaving with him in it. I am surprisingly sad to see him go, but I know it was the right decision. I shake my head. There are still six men I need to focus on and narrow down. As soon as I have the thought, my tablet chimes at me. I look down, and see I have a scheduling notification. Three of my matches have requested to join me for dinner, and I have the choice to say yes to all, or yes to each individually. James, Antonio, Matthew. Well, I have to talk to them all at some point, so, yes to all, it is.

  For the first time since I’ve been here, I find myself with a few hours to kill. I’ve already ridden today, I don’t have any meaningful work to do, and all of the other girls are off on dates of their own, so I’m alone in this huge, echoing house. If I were home, I would probably go into the kitchen and bake up a big batch of cookies for my brothers or my parents. Or if it was nearly dinner time, a nice batch of cornbread. Brent especially loves my cornbread. It’s sweet, and light, and he drowns it in honey every time. The thought sends a pang of sadness straight to my heart. What I wouldn’t give for a hug right now.

  I try to push the sadness away, as I know none of my family would want me to feel that way. Maybe I’ll use the time to write to them, let them know how I am. I grab a notebook from my room, and a pen I brought from home. We have a lovely balcony that I’ve barely walked on, let alone sat on and enjoyed the cooling weather, so that is where I head to pen some letters. I choose a swing at the end, and try to think of words to describe how it feels to be here. I know I could tell them anything, but it just doesn’t feel good to put it down in ink. Once it’s there, once I tell them how this is, how can I pull it back? I let out a frustrated groan, and take in the scenery instead. It’s really lovely here, and under different circumstances I wouldn’t mind coming back here. The lawn rolls gently away to the tree line where the leaves are beginning to color as the weather cools at night. The first hint of orange and yellow is a promise of the beauty that will unfold here in the months before winter takes hold. I’ll probably be married by then. The thought leaves me feeling sour.

  I give up my plans to write letters home, and instead circle back to baking. Maybe I’ll go see what they have in the kitchen, and whip something up. It can’t hurt, right? With new purpose, I head to my room to put back the notepad and pen. I’m halfway down the length of the porch, when I hear angry voices coming through one of the curtained glass doors. I freeze, unsure whose room it is. Wait, is that Eric’s voice?

  “I get that you don’t like your match—he’s a pompous prick—but could we please forget about him for now and just try to enjoy our afternoon? We have the place to ourselves—surely you can think of something better to do with our few minutes alone than whine about the inevitable.” I can hear the sneer in his normally enthused voice.

  I scurry back to my room, slip in, and pull the door to. I’m not sure whose room that was, but it’s pretty clear that someone is breaking the “no illegal relationships” rule with Eric. My mind is blown. Who fell for that guy? I mean, he’s handsome if you can get past his whole attitude and general over-the-top behavior. But who would be willing to risk getting punished for a relationship with him? The only one who has been remotely close to him is Margaret, and she’s frosty to everyone. Surely it’s not them. Could it be them? I shake that image from my mind and head down to see what baking supplies are available in our kitchen downstairs.

  The kitchen, like the rest of the house, is large and well appointed. The white cabinets and flecked beige countertops are sparkling, as if just cleaned. There is a large ranch-style sink, and plenty of room to work. I go over to check out the six burner stainless stove and get excited as I turn it on to preheat. I start opening cabinets, looking for baking supplies. I’m sure they’re around here somewhere if they’ve provided us an entire kitchen. I find a mixing bowl, whisk, and measuring utensils. Now I just need something to put in them. Across from the large island I see a corner door, which I suspect is a small pantry.

  It turns out I’m right and wrong, because it is a pantry, but, wow, it’s enormous. I quickly walk in and find an entire shelving unit of dry goods. I grab up the corn meal, sugar, flour, and leavening. I drop off my haul and head to the refrigerator, which lights up with a large screen as I approach. I see a message scrawled across the screen.

  For any additional food needs, feel free to place an order below:

  The message is followed by a large open space for writing in requests. I open the door, and see everything I need, except buttermilk. That’s okay, I can make do with some lemon juice. I quickly get to work prepping my cornbread, and find myself humming as I work on the familiar task. This is probably the fanciest kitchen I’ve ever seen; I wonder if anyone has ever made cornbread in it before? They certainly don’t serve it at the dining hall, but the menu is kind of generic, clearly meant to please their guests from all over the NAA. Once my cornmeal is soaking in some make-shift buttermilk, I prep a round baking dish, and start measuring up my other ingredients. I methodically finish putting together my corn bread, and slide it into the piping hot oven.

  Once the timer is set, I get to work washing up the bowls and utensils. I’m sure there’s a dishwasher around here, but I like the repetitive task—it helps clear my head. While I’m washing, I think about my remaining matches, and who I’ll see tonight. Now that I know that most of my matches paid to be matched with me, considering any of them feels icky. I’m like a modern-day mail order bride, and I don’t know how to feel about that. At least with Patrick, he’s not cheating the system to be matched; he truly is my best chance to have kids and get out of this program as quickly as possible. He’s also local to Georada, although with his career here at the NLC, there wouldn’t be much opportunity for him back home. Jackson Flats is primarily a food production town nowadays, filled with ranchers and farmers. Supposedly the site we’re on used to be a major metropolitan city that was home to millions. The thought of millions of people living in any one place boggles my mind; I can’t remember when I last saw even two hundred people in one place.

  I think that no matter what, Patrick has to be one of my top contenders. He’s treated me with respect and kindness during the few interactions we’ve had, and if I wasn’t some sort of genetic unicorn, he might be my only match. However, I can’t ignore that, for whatever reason, fate has given me options. I told my family I’d do my best to choose wisely, and I will. My ultimate goal is to bring home a man who can truly be a partner and fit into our lives. Someone who will be respectful to my parents and make dumb jokes with my brothers. Someone I can see holding a tiny baby on his shoulder and kissing me on the cheek.

  Is that too much to ask, given the state of things? Maybe. Can I bring myself to truly settle for less? I don’t know. I guess the worst-case scenario is that in three years, I pack up one or two kids, and head home with a divorce certificate instead of a husband. I think my family will understand if that’s how it ends up, and I know
they’ll adore my kids no matter who their father is. But of the remaining six, who is worth considering? Would any of them help me build the future I want? A partnership, with the chance for love to bloom.

  I rinse the last dish and set it on a pristine white towel to dry next to the sink right as the timer goes off. I hurriedly search the drawers for a pot holder—no surprise, it’s white—and pull out my perfectly-golden cornbread. The smell of fresh baking washes over me, and I let out a happy sigh. No matter where you are, home cooking can really ground you. I set it aside to cool and check the time. I’ve got less than an hour until my dinner date, so I’d better go get ready.

  I choose a clean pair of jeans, sandals, and a flowy shirt from my closet, before applying some mascara and straightening my hair. I feel a little silly, but if I’m going to be dating these men, I have to give it my all. I am not the kind of person who does anything half-way. Plus, if any of them don’t have a spark with me, that will be an easy way to narrow it down.

  I head back down the stairs and hear voices coming from the kitchen, so I make my way in there. Nell and Beth-Ann are standing next to my pan of cornbread, debating.

  “Well, it didn’t appear here out of thin air. We shouldn’t cut it without finding out who made it first. What if someone made it for their match? If we cut it, she’ll be upset,” Nell reasons.

  “I don’t care who made it, it smells amazing and I’m going to die if I don’t have a piece,” Beth-Ann argues. Clearly the pregnancy cravings are hitting her early, I think with amusement.

  I chuckle and they look up. Nell asks, “Do you have any idea where this came from?”

  “Yeah, it was me. I had some free time, and I wanted some home cooking. Y’all want a slice?” I offer.