CENTER 82 (RATION)

by Christina J Thompson

  “John!”

  Sydney launched herself forward, knocking the wind from his lungs as she grabbed him in a hug.

  “It’s my little flower!” he croaked as he sucked in a breath.

  She scoffed as she leaned back to look up at him.

  “Flowers aren’t real, anymore, John. They’re all gone.”

  He grinned; it was the same exchange every single day, and he knelt down beside her.

  “No, they aren’t, and you know why?”

  “Why?” she smirked, tossing her short, brown curls out of her face as she cocked her head expectantly.

  “Because you’re here!” he sang, snatching her into his arms and tickling her.

  Sydney dissolved into giggles, then she grabbed his hand.

  “Come play with me,” she begged, pulling at him. “We can sit in the shade and draw in the dirt!”

  “Your father is almost home, Sydney,” Kendra said. “You’ll be leaving soon.”

  “But I live right next door,” the little girl retorted, rolling her eyes. “John can still play―”

  “We talked about this, young lady,” Kendra snapped sternly. “You need to learn to control yourself, that tone isn’t acceptable.”

  Sydney opened her mouth, preparing to answer, when a voice called out through the door.

  “I’m back!”

  “Daddy!”

  Just like that, John was forgotten as Sydney raced outside.

  “You need to stop encouraging her,” Kendra chastised, shaking her head. “She’s too old for these games now, you’re going to get her reported.”

  “She’s not like this when she’s around other people,” John answered. “And I’m definitely not going to tell the council anything.”

  “That’s not the point, John. They’re paying more attention to her since her mother died.”

  “That was years ago―”

  “It doesn’t matter, they’ll keep a close eye on her until she’s an adult. I know she was a cute distraction when she was little, but she’s older now. Old enough.”

  John frowned. He knew his mother was right, but it was hard not to spoil the girl with attention. Sydney was more like a little sister to him than a cousin; she had been an infant when his aunt died, and for the first few years after, she had practically lived with them. She still annoyed him to no end, and she had a certain way of getting him to lose his temper despite his best efforts, but in his heart, he loved her.

  A cool breeze wafted in through the plastic sheet that covered the door, and he shivered, his thoughts turning back to the ration. He glanced at the bag of supplements again as he shrugged.

  “I’ll do better,” he promised, moving towards his room.

  “See that you do,” Kendra called after him.

  John didn’t answer, retrieving his own bag of supplements and digging out a handful. He dropped the pills onto his bed and pursed his lips as he studied them. His were smaller than the ration’s, but the concept was the same. Holding his breath, he slowly began pulling the two halves apart, only to feel the brittle casing fracture in his grip.

  “Dammit!” he breathed, tossing the capsule aside and reaching for another one. He focused, his hands shaking as he concentrated, but the same thing happened. He cursed again, clenching his fists as his mind raced. They had to open somehow.

  He grabbed a third one, but this time, instead of pulling, he gave a slight twist. To his amazement, the capsule easily separated, and a tiny bit of relief washed over him. He quickly emptied the powder onto the ground and rubbed his foot over the spot before bending down to scoop up a handful of dirt. Now, he just had to figure out how to refill it.

  The last of the sunlight was fading from the plastic-covered skylight above his bed by the time John decided he was finished. It had taken almost two dozen attempts, but after a little practice, he was confident that he could empty and refill the capsules quickly enough for his plan to work. He heard his parents return from their evening trip to the waste huts, and he swallowed hard. It was almost time.

  “You did well today, son,” Terry beamed, pushing the ration into John’s room. “I don’t think it will take long to convince that bastard Richard to let us work the mine.”

  “I hope not,” John answered. “Good night, dad.”

  He waited for his father to leave before motioning for the ration to lie down, but John remained sitting on the edge of the bed. He shivered as he began counting the seconds in his mind. It shouldn’t take long for his parents to fall asleep, at least he hoped it wouldn’t. He wasn’t sure how many capsules he would need to fill.

  Thirty minutes ticked by, and he finally stood to his feet and peered out into the darkness of the main room. Silence. It was now or never.

  John slowly stepped out of his room and towards the shelf in the corner, feeling his way around the small table in the center of the room. He couldn’t see anything, and he stretched his arms out, blindly searching for the bag of supplements. His heart caught in his throat―it wasn’t there.

  He went back to his room to retrieve his small solar light, frowning as he turned it on. It was too bright to go unnoticed if he took it out of his room, and he held it against his hand, trying to dim the bulb. The beam cut through the cracks between his fingers; it was still too much, and he grabbed the edge of his shirt, doubling it up and placing the light underneath it. A faint, barely-visible glow shone through the plastic threads of the fabric, and he gulped. It would have to work.

  John tiptoed through the main room, pausing to double-check the shelves now that he had the light. The bag definitely wasn’t there, and he steeled his nerves as he crossed the threshold into his parents’ room. He had absolutely no excuse for being in there; if either of them woke up, they would instantly think he was trying to steal food. No amount of hard work he provided to the family would stop them from reporting him for that.

  He squinted in the dark, bending down as he checked each shelf on his mother’s side of the bed. She groaned, stirring in her sleep, and his stomach turned as he froze. His blood pounded in his ears; she fell silent again a moment later, and he quickly finished his search, darting out of the room as quietly as he could. The bag wasn’t in there, either.

  Now what?

  John closed his eyes, leaning against the edge of the table, when he felt the side of his foot brush up against something soft. He glanced down, relief instantly washing over him―the bag must have fallen from its place on the shelf, coming to rest just behind one of the plastic table legs. He snatched it up and bolted for the door, darting through the empty, darkened streets as he headed towards the outskirts of the settlement.

  The abandoned house next door to Amber’s was the best location he could think of for what he needed to do, and he ducked inside, disappearing into the far room. A lone beam of moonlight shone bright through the gaping hole in the cracked ceiling, giving him just enough light to see, and he quickly dumped the bag of supplements onto the ground. He gave a low whistle as his eyes grew wide; there were more capsules than he had expected, likely over a hundred. He hadn’t realized just how many the ration had to take in each dose.

  “It’s too late to back out now,” John muttered to himself, shaking his head as he crossed his legs beneath him. He reached for the first capsule.

  He lost the moonlight only a few hours later as the sky rotated above him, but by then, he already knew what he was doing just by feel. The cold was the most difficult part to deal with; he did his best to ignore the numbness in his fingers, pausing only long enough to blow on them when they got bad enough to stop working. It was lucky for him that the capsules were big, and his hands flew as he twisted them apart, barely missing a beat as he emptied them on one side before leaning over to scoop up a tiny bit of dust on the other. They snapped back together easily, and as he finished the last one, John knew he had made good time.

  He pulled his light from his pocket, using the last bit of battery to in
spect his work. The capsules looked passable to him, and he quickly gathered them up, dusting them off the best he could before dumping them back into their bag. His cold muscles ached as he stood to his feet; he groaned as he stretched, yawning as he shuffled towards the door. He sighed. The sky had gone nearly black, signaling that dawn was approaching. He wouldn’t get any sleep tonight.

  Amber’s house was quiet, and John paused for a moment as he passed by, his heart aching as he thought of her. She would be surprised by what he was trying to do, and he wished she was there to help him. Another thought occurred to him, and his eyes grew wide: the food he would need to give to the ration was still buried in her room, and he hadn’t considered how he would get it. Richard was planning to move the family to one of the settlement’s inner homes, but not until next week. That would be too late to save his ration.

  Anxiety filled John’s stomach as he gathered enough nerve to peek inside the house. He could hear Richard snoring quietly in the other room, and fear instantly gripped his heart as he weighed his options. The ration’s harvest would happen in little more than thirty-six hours, and unless he wanted to venture out again before then, he knew he needed to do something now. He tucked the bag of supplements into his pocket and stepped forward.

  To his relief, Amber’s room was still empty―her family hadn’t received their new ration yet, and her little brother must be sleeping in the other bedroom with Richard and Mica. John remembered what Amber had told him about the hidden cache, falling to his knees in the corner and frantically digging at the dirt. He couldn’t see anything, but within moments, he felt the squishy shape of a small balloon of water appear beneath his hand. He pulled his shirt off and quickly tied the sleeves together, hoping beyond hope that the makeshift sack would be big enough to hold everything he needed to carry.

  He tried keeping count of each bundle he retrieved as he dug; it was easy to tell the difference between the soft bags of water and the slender packets of dried meat or ration cakes, but he was too exhausted to remember the numbers. He almost felt like he was dreaming, his mind drifting off to sleep despite his body being awake, and he fought to maintain his focus. Almost done.

  John blinked his dry eyes, stifling a yawn, only to feel his face strike the cold ground a moment later. He gasped, bolting upright in confusion as he glanced down at his hands, and his heart stopped―he could clearly see his fingers. The sun was coming up, and a different kind of fear faced up his spine when he realized something else.

  He couldn’t hear the sound of snoring anymore.

  “Hurry up,” Mica’s voice rang out a moment later, breaking the stillness of the morning. “Alex is going to have an accident if we don’t get to the waste huts, and I’m going to have my own if I carry him.”

  “I’m coming,” Richard replied, and John quickly scooted back, huddling against the wall as he heard footsteps approaching.

  “Did you go into Amber’s room?” Richard asked, his voice growing louder as he drew closer to the doorway.

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Did Alex?”

  “No, dear, no one went into her room.”

  “Someone must have,” Richard said, his voice edged with sudden suspicion. “The sheet covering her door, see? The bottom is pulled out from under the rock I put there to keep it from blowing around.”

  John heard rustling as the plastic was pulled aside, and he closed his eyes. He was finished. He gulped, imagining the look of horror that would be on Sydney’s face when the settlement gathered to watch his execution.

  He heard Amber’s little brother let out a wail of discomfort, and Mica scoffed impatiently.

  “Then get a bigger rock, Richard, and it won’t blow around. Come on, I don’t want to wait in line and I need you to carry Alex!”

  The plastic rustled again as it was dropped back into place, their voices fading with their footsteps, and John managed to force himself to move. He glanced at the hole; there were still bundles of food and water left, but he wasn’t about to try to take them. As quickly as he could, he shoved the loose dirt back in place, only to instantly realize that the surface was no longer level.

  Panic rose up in his throat as he snatched Amber’s blanket from her bed and balled it up, shoving it down into the empty space created by what he had removed from the cache. Hopefully, her parents wouldn’t notice a single missing blanket—they had bought several with their newfound wealth, one should be nothing. He patted the dirt down and scuffed it with his foot; it looked like it blended in with the rest of the floor well enough, and he grabbed his shirt, carefully cradling the makeshift sack in his arms as he ran for the door.

  People were waking up in the houses that lined the streets, and John ducked through the alleyways that led into the settlement, doing his best to remain unseen. He reached his house and ran inside, disappearing into his bedroom only a moment before he heard his mother get up.

  The supplements!

  He dropped the sack of food and shoved his hand into his pocket, launching himself through his doorway.

  “What are you doing?” Kendra asked, giving him a confused look. John froze; he hadn’t heard her step out into the main room. His heart seized in his throat, and as he watched her eyes drift down to the bag of pills he was holding, there was no denying that he was caught.

  “They…um, they were on the floor last night,” John managed to say. His muscles were stiff from the cold, perfectly mimicking the lethargy of just waking up, but his exhausted, burning eyes were refusing to focus long enough to read her reaction.

  “And you took them into your room?”

  “I…I guess I put them in my pocket and forgot about them,” he muttered sheepishly, yawning as he held out his hand. “I fell asleep.”

  Kendra crossed her arms, eyeing him for a long moment, then she chuckled.

  “Already thinking you’re a keeper,” she said, and John could barely hide his relief. “Go put on a shirt, your father’s almost ready.”

  The shirt.

  John obediently trudged back to his room, feigning bleariness, only to explode into a frenzy the moment he was out of sight. He hauled the bundle over to the shelves in the corner of his room and fell to his knees, preparing to shove it under the bottom shelf, when he saw the rough outline of a crudely-drawn sun etched in the dirt next to him.

  Sydney. She had been in his room.

  His teeth grated in his ears as he gripped his head in his hands, trying to think, then he heard his father’s voice. He leaped to his feet.

  “Get up!” John hissed, reaching for the sleeping ration’s arm and dragging him from the bed. John threw the bulging shirt under the blanket just as his father appeared.

  “Let’s go,” Terry beckoned. “We need to get our allotments.”

  “I’ll be right there,” John said, trying to position himself to block the odd shape behind him. “Just…just getting dressed.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  John scoffed, waving dismissively.

  “No, go on ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Terry frowned.

  “Just grab your shirt―”

  “I haven’t been to the huts yet,” John interrupted. “I’ll meet you at the taps.”

  “Suit yourself,” his father answered, shrugging as he turned to leave. “Oh, good morning, Sydney. John’s in his room.”

  Of course Sydney would show up now. John yanked his thin mattress back and shoved the bundle down between the wall and the edge, using his blanket to cover it the best he could. He grabbed his work clothes and began to change just as Sydney appeared at the door.

  “Hey, little flower,” he managed to say. Her murmured response was barely audible; she looked nearly as exhausted as he felt. He stepped towards her.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m just glad I don’t have to work at the grid anymore like you,” Sydney sighed, yawning dramatically.

  He grimaced. If only he
could be that lucky; her father’s job at the mine meant that she could stay home since Richard would never agree to let her work there.

  “I’ll see you when I get back,” John said, giving her a quick hug as he reached for his flask. “And Sydney, stay out of my room today.”

  He sighed as he headed towards the taps, his mind reeling as he tried to process the night he had just had. A tiny flicker of hope surged through his heart when he caught sight of the ration standing in line; the boy would be receiving the first dose of emptied supplements soon, which meant his life was that much closer to being saved. John smiled to himself. Despite how tired he was, he felt almost happy.

  †‡†

  DAY THREE

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Amber cupped her hands under the thin stream of water that poured from the tap in her bathroom, her eyes unfocused as she watched the clear liquid begin spilling over the edges of her fingers to run down the drain. She sighed, quickly splashing her face and shivering as she stared at her reflection in the small mirror. Droplets of water clung to her skin, mingling with the fresh tears that trickled down her cheeks, and she gulped against the lump that was lodged in her throat.

  She bent down to refill her hands a second time, but she knew it was pointless―no amount of cold water could rinse away the misery that stung her swollen face. She turned the water off and reached for her towel. The sticky edges of the bandage that covered the wound on the back of her neck from yesterday’s assessment caught on the threads, and she winced as she reached up to pull at the first piece of tape. She felt her skin lift as the strip separated from her flesh, and she quickly stepped back towards the mirror and turned her head, relieved to see that a faint, pink scar had already formed over the round biopsy site. Her hair, on the other hand, was still shaved around the area, but at least the pain had faded.

  She slipped her flask into her pocket and moved towards the door. Brian would be there to get her soon, and sure enough, she heard his quiet knock a moment later.