by Ellie Aiden
I came within feet of her before she looked over, making eye contact, and smiling. The most perfect little smile, as far as I was concerned. She didn’t even hesitate, just walked over, took my hand, and we headed toward where the Elders waited, slightly impatiently.
And that, is how I made a BFF for life.
***
Storming out the last set of bathrooms, I chunk my supplies in the cart for the next poor soul, and head straight to my room. It isn’t that far, but I am not in the mood for assholes today, so I try my best to avoid absolutely everyone, and therefore, it does take a little longer than normal. Ducking and rolling is hard work folks.
I arrive outside my premier penthouse. Listen, it’s a coping mechanism. Lying to myself gets me through the day. I barrel through the main door, do not stop to explain myself, and head straight for my en suite. Again, coping mechanism.
I am taking no less than eighteen showers before dinner. I don’t even want to know the amount of fecal matter and piss on my person right now. Forcing latrine duty on children is wrong on so many levels. I read somewhere, there use to be child labor laws. Clearly, no one cares about that anymore. I don’t even get paid to clean up shit.
Food, clothes, roof, safety. Food, clothes, roof, safety. This is my mantra. I know I should be more grateful, because I am about to step into a shower with hot water, but it’s just so hard.
I take off my dress along with the rest of my clothes, and go to toss them in the laundry basket, and think better of it. These must be burned. I turn the knob for hot water, and then punch in my code on the timer. We’re allowed exactly five minutes of hot water each day. It really is sophisticated equipment, considering the world kind of ended. Even if I took a shower in the girl’s locker room, I would have to enter my code, and it would know if I had already used my five minutes for the day. Cold-water showers suck, and I have taken my fair share of them. Let’s just say, I have a lot of accidents.
As I let the warm water wash away my sins, it’s hard not to think about everything that’s going on. Yes, the Church provides basic necessities, along with safety from violent gangs, but I just know there is more to this. So many red flags.
Boys and girls are kept completely separate, which I sort of understand. Kids are stupid, and modern methods of birth control haven’t been available in more than a decade, but in school, we aren’t even taught in the same room. The boys have their classroom, us girls have ours. Boys also get a better education than the girls. They are even encouraged to continue their education into their twenty’s. Girls receive typical things like; reading, writing, math, history, but those things stop as soon as we have our first menstrual cycle. No, that is not a joke. Not only do we have to stop going to classes, but we have to notify the council as soon as it starts. Notifying the council isn’t just a letter dropped in the mail box outside Vater Henry’s office. Nope, each girl stands before the council in all her, red wave glory, and announces it. Out loud. Twelve elders, all men by the way, their wives, and of course Vater Henry, and his wife Mutter Vera. That’s the day the girls receive their brand, but I can’t think about that right now.
Even outside of school, we aren’t allowed to speak to boys or men. The only exception being our Father, the Elders, and siblings. When you pass a boy in the hall, we were taught to keep our head down, no eye contact, and never speak, unless of course directed to do so by an Elder. Seems like a whole lot of overkill. Puberty sucks bad enough on its own, throw in having to avoid boys like the plague…
What? Too Soon? Fine.
On top of all that, there’s this whole, “The Placement” situation. Standing in front of a room full of elders to be judged by God, and not knowing what happens when you come out on the other side, is a little much to deal with.
God is real. He created the Heavens and the Earth. He said, let there be light. He created man. Then he watched him destroy it all. Not just man, women did a damn good job screwing shit up too.
My mother would tell me to have faith, to look to God and pray, and I do. Every single day.
Lord, please protect my family, my friend, and honestly the people of Earth. And maybe, if you have time, a little sign, or a nudge in the right direction would be super helpful right now.
When my five minutes is up, the water turns frigid, and my prayer is interrupted. A little warning would have been great. I turn the knob, and step out of the shower onto the cold tile floor, reaching for the My Little Pony towel. It seems kind of silly that when my parents said we need to leave our home, and you can pick two things that you absolutely cannot live without, this towel was one of those things. The other being a Malibu Barbie my dad had found in an abandoned house at the bottom of the mountain, and given to me that year for my birthday.
Where is that Barbie anyway? Not because I would actually play with it or anything. I’m seventeen. Practically a woman. I only wondered for sentimental reasons. Yeah, right.
The mirror above the sink is fogged over, so I smear away the water with my towel, and get a better look at what I’m working with today. My emerald green eyes, which happen to be my favorite asset, are looking a little dreary. Seventeen year olds should not have dark circles under their eyes, and they most definitely should not be puffy, but that is exactly what is staring back at me. It’s not like I can just go to the mall and pick up some miracle cream. I wonder how difficult it would be to steal a cucumber from the old hag in the kitchen?
My skin is naturally pale, but years of working out in the sun have left my skin a beautiful tan, and my cheeks and shoulders are, as my mother would say, “Kissed by God.” That’s how she refers to the peppering of freckles across my cheeks, the bridge of my nose, and the tops of my shoulders. My lips are round and plump, the perfect shade of pink, given that we aren’t allow to wear any lipstick, or make-up of any kind. I like to imagine, whoever my husband is, he’ll look down at my lips and think, damn, those are some kissable lips. With my Placement coming up, that could be a reality sooner rather than later.
Oh my God. Is that a pimple?
I practically climb into the sink to get a better look, and confirm it is, in fact, a pimple. A zit the size of Mars, shining bright just below my hair line on my forehead. Maybe I can cover it up with bangs. I don’t have bangs, but should I do bangs?
“Anna Mae, five-minute warning,” Mother yells from the main room.
Crap, no time for bangs.
I rush, towel drying my hair just slightly, before plaiting it in two perfectly even pigtails on either side of my face. I’ll be so glad when I finally marry and don’t have to wear these stupid pigtails anymore. My strawberry blonde hair is naturally wavy, and hits about mid-back, so each night when I take out the braids, my hair falls down my back in cascading waves. I love it. I just wish I could wear it that way outside this room, but rules.
Rushing out of the bathroom into my room, I rummage through the tiny closet in the corner. I’m not really sure why this is such an ordeal for me, I only own 6 dresses. All made by my Mother, as is the rule, each a solid color, again rules, and hit me mid-knee. If I had one more I could make a schedule, one for each day of the week, but sadly I’m one short, leaving me with the anxiety I’m currently experiencing.
Screw it. I close my eyes, spin around in a circle, nearly bust my ass, and my hand lands on the choice for the night. Eyes open, I see its pink. Nope, never mind, I’m wearing the green one. Green is my color.
***
The Mess Hall is a huge room with concrete walls painted an unfortunate beige, row after row of old wood folding tables, the kind with bench seating attached, and massive picture windows lining the south wall. With the exception of the windows the room isn’t my favorite, but it does serve its purpose. With twenty-five hundred members living in the compound, the Hall can accommodate about half that, leaving us with assigned meal times. My family is assigned the earlier of the two dinner times, given that my Father is one of the physicians for the Church, and typically works the early s
hift going into the Infirmity at five each morning.
The food itself is served buffet style. Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner. I would really like to tell you it’s nasty, unfit for human consumption, because there is nothing I hate more than complimenting Elder Hag, but the woman really can cook. Especially considering the World ended, and it’s not like she can just run to the store to pick up whatever she needs.
The first few years we lived here, traders would still bring around massive cases and pallets of manufactured food items. Things they had scavenged from all over the country, transporting it in box trucks, and then trading it for various other supplies, before moving on to the next compound or town. But soon, the stockpiles in abandoned warehouses and grocery stores ran out, not to mention fuel. I haven’t seen a running car, or truck in nearly a decade. Now they mostly trade with farmers in the former United States, and occasionally you’ll see one from what use to be Mexico.
Traded food and supplies certainly helps supplement the people of the Compound, but we really could be self-sufficient if we had to. The men assigned to farming, raise livestock like cows, pigs, sheep, goats, and chickens mostly. Once a week Elder Jack, who heads up the Compounds Agriculture Department, takes a group of men to the woods south of here to hunt. The last couple of years hunting hasn’t been very successful, but occasionally they’ll come back with rabbits, or even deer. Last month they came back with dozens of squirrels, and let me just say, gross. Never again. I would rather starve.
Elder Jack also oversees the men that work in the fields. Hundreds of acres of land, growing dozens of vegetables; potatoes, tomatoes, greens, beans, corn, onions, and carrots, to name a few. A few months out of the year we get things like, strawberries, watermelons, and cantaloupe. In the orchard we have peach, fig, pear, and plum trees, plus last year they finally got purple grape vines to take. We used to have apple trees, but we had an especially hard winter a few years back losing them all, and we haven’t been able to get the new ones sent to us by the New York Compound to produce. We even have wheat growing now in the back lot. We don’t have a way to process it though, so after harvest its sent on wagons to the Compound north of us, a territory formerly known as Kansas. They process the wheat, keeping half as payment, and send the other half back to us.
All in all, the Church really has done something amazing here. Most of the people inside these walls would probably be dead if not for them. See, I can be grateful.
Tonight for dinner we’re having my favorite, brown beans and rice, served with a side of buttered corn. After I make it to the end of the line and grab a glass of water, I make my way to my families assigned seating. I would care more about the controlling a-holes who decided we needed assigned seating, if my bestie didn’t have the seat right next to mine.
Plopping down and setting my tray on the table, I let out the most dramatic sigh possible. Ash is already in her seat to my left, shoveling heaping spoonful’s of beans into her mouth. Did she not hear my dramatic sigh? I thought it was a pretty good one. Let me try this again.
I let out a good long one, followed by a moan for good measure, and just to make sure it’s clear, I drop my shoulders and stomp my foot not once, but twice.
“Clearly you have something to say, Madame Drama Queen.” Did she just call me a Drama Queen? Oh, hell no.
“I’m not a Drama Queen, I’m passionate.” Even I know that sounded whiney. “Anyway,” I drag out. “I just want it on the record, that I had to toss my blue dress in the incinerator on the way to dinner tonight. There was no saving it, after I so graciously offered to take your latrine duty today.”
Ash snorts mid-drink, nearly choking on her water. She turns an evil eye my direction and takes a deep breath. “That’s not the way I remember it.” Setting her glass down, I can tell she’s about to remind me exactly how it happened, “You brought that on yourself. Next time don’t bail on your best friend.” She takes another deep breath before continuing, “But, I think I have some extra blue fabric. It’s a darker blue, but I think it will be cute.”
“Cute?” Oh Ash, she is just too funny.
“Okay, cute for we live in a compound ran by a religious cult.”
My Mother hisses from my other side and leans over to reprimand us both, “Girls. You know better. Not here.”
She’s right. The Church of The Way heavily frowns on the word Cult, and anyone heard using that kind of language is punished. Vater Henry never doles out punishment, that’s left to the Enforcer. That’s what everyone calls Elder Jacobs, in private at least. Not to his face, we aren’t stupid. The Enforcer is the head of the Security Department, and he might be a little crazy. Okay, he is a lot crazy, bat-shit even. Punishments vary widely, and it’s a known fact it depends on his mood, and if you happen to be someone regularly on his naughty list.
Ash’s punishment for cutting off Emily Lee’s pigtail was cleaning out the grease traps in the kitchen, but when I was twelve and said shit in front of one of the Elder-Wives I got 6 lashes. The word had just slipped out when I stubbed my toe, and everyone knows that doesn’t count. Granted, it didn’t even hurt that bad, but still. It only serves to prove my point; he is totally random.
Ash starts playing footsie with me under the table and I admit, I’m not really sure how to feel about it. Of course I love her, but I’m not in love with her. Why in the hell is she rubbing her flats up the side of my calf? Turning slightly in my seat, I see she is doing some serious brow lifts.
“What?” I whisper-hiss.
She juts her chin toward the back of the room, raising her eyebrows playfully. Of course now I’m in a situation where I’m not sure if I’m actually supposed to look. You know those sceneries where your friend is like, “Don’t look now.” And so of course you immediately look, but she didn’t say that, so now what?
I take a chance and flash a look in that direction, but it was too fast, and now I’m just kind of dizzy. Second attempt goes better, but I immediately regret it, because I am now making direct awkward eye contact with Chase Hurst. The kind of eye contact where it’s obvious you are both looking, but neither of you can look away first.
Ash saves me by grabbing both our trays and yanking me up by the elbow. The two of us make our way to the tray depository, before leaving the Mess Hall.
“He always stares at you. I can’t decide if its creepy or hot.” Ash links our arms, and begins skipping toward our hall.
“He doesn’t always stare at me. That was just a fluke.” Right?
I’m pretty sure she just snorted, but she isn’t wrong. It is kind of weird the number of times we have caught him staring. In general, Chase isn’t an odd guy. In fact, he’s interning under my Father in the Infirmary. Father even talks about him sometimes to my Mother. He says he has a great bed side manner and will be an excellent doctor. Outside of that, he’s also hot. Like, ridiculous hot.
Chase Hurst is a couple inches past six feet, and is totally ripped, but in the good way, not in the veins popping out everywhere way. His olive complexion, chocolate hair he usually wears slicked back on the top and shaved short on the sides, along with his deep blue eyes and those damn dimples, make him a yummy morsel. Plus, I really need to not be creeped out by him, considering he is one of eight possible guys that I could end up marrying.
Men aren’t assigned a wife until they are at least twenty. Of course, there are older couples who have gotten permission to marry, those that were well past eighteen and twenty when they arrived at the compound, and then there are those that were already married when they got here, but any boy who turns twenty inside the Compound is eligible for a wife. Some of them will be assigned a wife not long after their twentieth birthday, but unfortunately there are more boys than girls. So some will have to wait a little longer, but even those who have to wait will still typically marry by the time they are twenty-two.
Chase wouldn’t be the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.
CHAPTER 3 — BON HAM
Vater Henry always
says, “God created the Sun as a gift to his children.” I actually always really like that thought and the fact that each bedroom in the compound has a window, allowing everyone regardless of their rank in the Church the gift of a good view. Of course, not everyone is as lucky as me, considering my room is on the east side of the compound. I do love a good sunrise.
This morning the sun seems especially bright, and I needed it. I am one day closer to my Placement, and no closer to figuring out why I’m not ready to commit. T-minus twenty-seven days. Ya know what, no, I am not gonna do this today. It’s Saturday, one of only two days with no lessons, and a minimal amount of work. The only thing on my schedule today is two hours of practice with the seamstresses, and then I have the entire rest of the day to do whatever I want, within reason.
There’s a knock at our front door, but someone else can get that. I’m taking five more minutes for me.
I’m daydreaming about what my life would be like outside the Compound, when my bedroom door bursts open and Ash barrels in. There goes my me time.
“What the hell, why aren’t you dressed? Get up!”
Yanking the pillow out from under my head, I do the most adult thing ever and chunk it at her, rolling to my side and giving her my back. The bed dips and then her grubby little paws are tickling me. I will not laugh. I won’t.
Shit, I bust out laughing, “Ash stop, I’m gonna pee.”
She gives me a few extra tickles for good measure, before sitting back and pulling her knees to her chest. Looking her over from head to toe, it’s pretty obvious something is up. Nothing bad, I’m pretty good at reading this girl. No, this is the look she gets when something crazy is about to happen.
“Out with it.” I scoot to the end of the bed and mimic her, pulling my knees to my chest and cocking my head to the side.