Tears welled up in her eyes, and Brian’s scared face flashed through her mind. She opened her mouth, preparing to speak, when a sudden realization dawned on her. The man had said someone. Not Brian—someone. He didn’t know.
“Answer me!” Executive Smith shouted, spraying spittle from his mouth. “Admit it!”
“I…I don’t understand!” Amber finally choked out, wincing as his fingernails dug into her cheeks. “I didn’t see anything like that, I swear!”
“Don’t lie to me!”
“I’m not!” she cried. “Please, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Why was your escort with you? Paul told me what happened, you insisted that Brian Johnson stay with you during the tour! You’re in this together, admit it!”
“In what?” Amber gasped. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Why was he with you? Tell me!”
“I like him! I just…I just…”
Her voice trailed off as she dissolved into tears. She should have just kept to herself, she never should have gotten involved.
Executive Smith’s body trembled as he glared at her, studying her face. She shuddered between sobs; each second that passed felt like an eternity, then finally, she felt his grip relax. He let go of her face and stepped back, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest.
“And was Brian with you the whole time?”
She could feel him staring at her, and she nodded quickly, swallowing against her tears.
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re sure?”
She nodded again, and Executive Smith fell silent for a long moment before sighing heavily.
“Go back to your room,” he dismissed her, his voice growing suddenly calm as he gestured at the door. “Have a good day, Ms. Ordell.”
Amber stood up; her knees felt weak, and she grabbed the back of the chair for a moment to steady herself before moving to leave. Executive Smith followed her to the door, calling for the next person.
“Johnson!”
Brian’s eyes locked with hers as he stood up; Amber glanced away, doing her best to maintain a calm façade as she hurried towards the exit. She stepped out onto the walkway and paused for a moment. A flood of emotions coursed through her, and her throat burned against the aching lump of fear and misery that was lodged there. She hated this place with every shred of her being.
A quiet sob escaped her lips, drawing the attention of a few people that were passing by, and she quickly clenched her teeth as she fought to control herself. She headed for the stairs and grabbed hold of the railing, struggling to see through the tears that were welling up in her eyes as she stumbled down. With the exception of losing Ayn, she had never felt so scared in her life.
Amber reached the bottom of the last set of stairs and broke into a run; she burst into her room, sagging down onto the floor the moment the door shut behind her and burying her face in her arms.
“To hell with this place,” she whispered to herself through clenched teeth. “To hell with all of it!”
“I agree,” a voice quietly answered. Amber’s eyes instantly snapped forward; across from her, she saw Darren step out of the bathroom.
“How did you get in here?” she gasped.
Darren shrugged as he walked towards her.
“My job. I work in security, so I can see all the access codes.”
Amber scowled as he sat down beside her.
“Get out. I don’t want to talk to you or Brian ever again.”
“What happened?” he asked, eyeing her. “Are you okay?”
A sudden flash of anger surged through her heart, and she cursed under her breath.
“You mean are you okay!” she hissed. “That’s really what you want to know, isn’t it? You don’t care about me, you care about yourself!”
“That’s not true,” Darren told her. “You’re part of the reason we’re doing all this.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
He pursed his lips and leaned back against the wall, resting his elbows on his knees.
“This place isn’t good, Amber.”
“Tell me about it,” she muttered, her anger instantly dissolving as fresh tears welled up in her eyes. Darren sighed and reached over to take her hand.
“The breeding programs―they’re bad, especially for the women.”
Amber gave a slight nod as she swallowed hard.
“Brian already told me, he said most of the women stay in their rooms all the time. That’s why there are more men here than women.”
“He didn’t tell you everything,” Darren replied. “He probably didn’t want to scare you.”
She glanced up at him.
“Scare me?”
His face was grave, and he sighed again.
“Most of the women do stay in their rooms, but only the ones that are still alive. They end up dead within a few years because of the fertility drugs they take—there’s medical treatment that could keep them alive, but the facility only uses it on women who have really important genetic traits. That’s rare, though, almost all of them are just left to die.”
Amber felt a sudden wave of uncontrollable laughter threaten to overwhelm her―as startling as the revelation should have been, she wasn’t the least bit surprised. After all this time spent thinking that placement at the resource center would offer some kind of salvation, of course the opposite would prove true in this miserable world.
“The ration program isn’t really necessary, not anymore,” Darren continued. “There’s more than enough algae to feed everyone, but the administration won’t consider harvesting it. They’re content with leaving things the way they are.”
“Why?” Amber scoffed. “That doesn’t make any sense, why would they keep growing rations if there was an easier way?”
“I’m not exactly sure why they’re so against it, but I think it’s about control. If the algae becomes our main food source, everyone will move to the coasts and the administration won’t have anything to hold over our heads. They won’t be able to force us to work for them anymore, and everyone will learn that the supplements are really meant to—”
“Yes, I know about the damn supplements,” she hissed. She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to look at him. “So all of this is because they want to keep us from having any freedom, that’s what you’re saying? All of this is because they want us to work?”
“It has to be,” Darren said. “They’re using us, and me and Brian want to stop them.”
Amber lifted her gaze long enough to roll her eyes.
“Right, and you two are somehow going to save us all?”
“It’s not just us,” he told her. “There’s a whole network of people who are trying to make this happen. Sympathizers, that’s what they—we—call ourselves. We want to force them to harvest the algae so the breeding programs aren’t needed anymore, so we can all stop living under the thumb of the administration.”
Amber raised a brow.
“And yesterday? What was that about, how is that supposed to change things?”
Darren sighed.
“The technology here is limited,” he explained. “When something breaks, depending on what it is, the facility can’t fix it. Eventually, everything that makes the ration program possible will fail, and when that happens, we’ll have to start harvesting the algae. Brian’s job was to hurry things along.”
“What do you mean?”
“Each facility has to make a certain number of rations per cycle to feed the population,” Darren answered. “They obviously can’t do that if the piers are broken―”
“So that’s what Brian was trying to do?” Amber asked. “Break all the piers?”
Darren shook his head.
“Only twelve of them, just enough to keep the facility from meeting their production quota. One slot on each of the piers houses all of the
wiring and stuff, and Brian was supposed to sneak in and destroy the main control chip. Without it, there’s no way to deliver food and water to the slots, and it’s too complicated for the staff to just care for the rations by hand. No one can fix the chip, it’s too advanced, so breaking it breaks the whole pier.”
“But what about the rations?” Amber gasped, her eyes growing wide as a sudden thought occurred to her. “What happens to them?”
Darren gave her a strange look.
“No more are grown, at least not in the units that don’t work. The facility can’t use broken piers―”
“No, I mean the rations that are already in there right now! Are they going to die in the slots? Are they going to starve to death in there?”
He seemed unsure of how to react to her concern.
“I…I don’t know,” he stammered, shifting uncomfortably. “I mean, they all die, so it doesn’t really matter―”
“It does matter!”
He frowned.
“Well, I guess it depends on how big they are. If they’re full-grown, the facility will probably assign them to families immediately―”
“And if they’re not?” she demanded, cringing as she remembered the small ration Paul had shown to the group. “What happens if they’re not big enough to be assigned? Will they be left in the slots to die?”
“They’ll probably get processed early for use here,” Darren shrugged. “Why do you care?”
Amber glanced away. All of the rations were going to die eventually, he was right about that, but the thought of them being trapped inside the slots with no food or water was even worse than the thought of the harvest knife.
“So what now?” she finally asked. “Brian broke the chip, does that mean the program is going to end?”
Darren sighed.
“Brian couldn’t get to enough of them,” he said. “The program will be definitely be affected, but Smith is going to make sure we can’t ever try this again. We’ll need to think of something else if we want to end it.”
He hesitated, giving her a long look.
“We could always use more people, Amber. If it’s something you’re interested in, that is. You’ve already proven that we can trust you.”
She made a face.
“There’s no way in hell I’m going to do the stuff you and Brian are doing. I just want to keep my head down and live whatever life I have left.”
Darren shrugged and glanced up at the clock.
“You should think about it,” he told her, standing to his feet and reaching out to help her up. “It’s almost nine, the breakfast delay should be over soon. We should get in line.”
Amber rolled her eyes, grimacing with dread, when she saw a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye near the bottom of the door. She turned to look; a folded page had been passed underneath the edge just like the job assignment card the night before, and she reached down to pick it up.
Breeding Program Temporarily Delayed.
Authorized—Researcher #19213
“What does this mean?” Amber asked, furrowing her brow in confusion. “Am I in trouble? Is there a problem?”
Darren stepped close, quickly reading the page over her shoulder.
“It’s nothing,” he told her. “One of the researchers wants to delay your hormone injections for some reason.”
“But why?”
“Who knows with them. Don’t worry about it, though, it’s not a big deal. If anything, it means you get a little extra time before the program starts slowly killing you.”
She shot him a withering glare, and he rolled his eyes.
“It’s the truth,” he said. “Until you’re told otherwise, just report straight to work in the mornings. We should go.”
Amber set the note aside and reached for the job assignment card, then moved to follow him out. They walked in silence, quickly climbing the stairs that led to the cafeteria, but her mind wouldn’t stop turning as she thought about what he had said. If he was telling the truth, her days were numbered, and the start of the hormone injections would mark the start of the countdown. Tears of despair stung her eyes. Certain death was the only mercy she could expect in a world like this, the only luck she could rely on.
She glanced up, studying Darren as he walked in front of her. At least these people—these sympathizers—were trying to change things, and she pursed her lips as she considered what he had said. Death was inevitable, but in the meantime, maybe helping them wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
†‡†
CHAPTER NINETEEN
John scuffed his foot in the dirt outside his house and glanced up at the sun. It was barely nine in the morning by his estimate, but it felt like an eternity had passed since his father and Richard had disappeared into the council room on the other side of the settlement’s center. He cursed impatiently, wincing as he shifted his weight on his bare feet. His toes left impressions in the dust, and he grimaced. He still had no idea how he was going to explain why the ration was wearing his shoes.
He heard footsteps, and his heart instantly leaped into his throat as his father’s figure approached.
“That’s taken care of,” Terry announced. John swallowed hard, raising a brow as he studied his father’s expression. He didn’t look upset at all.
“What’s going on?” John asked. His voice trembled slightly, and he clenched his teeth, forcing it to steady. “What did they say?”
“We’ll be just fine,” Terry grinned. “They said this fits the criteria for accidental loss, and they’ll compensate us for whatever can’t be used!”
“What do you mean?”
“We have to pull the ration out of the mine to see how damaged it is,” Terry answered happily. “Then we’ll weigh what we manage to salvage, and they’ll send for however much meat is needed to make up the difference. They’re treating it like a guaranteed strain, they’re basing it on 250 pounds of raw weight! That’s twenty pounds more than what I expected to get from the harvest, my boy, this was pure luck for us!”
His voice lowered into a hushed whisper.
“Richard was terrified!” he sang, his eyes sparkling gleefully. “He thought I was going to exercise my right to demand that he provides compensation since it happened at his grid!”
John shrugged.
“Why would he be worried about that? He has more than enough salt to pay you a half-quota like the rule says―”
“But you forget, I can demand half of anything that’s considered reasonable,” Terry said. “Amber was taken to the resource center, which means Richard is getting an extra ration this cycle! He thought I was going to demand half of that!”
He laughed quietly.
“We’re going to be working in the actual mine, now,” he beamed. “He and I straightened it out before we talked to the council―I don’t demand compensation from him and in exchange, we aren’t hauling buckets anymore!”
“That’s great news!”
John’s attempt to muster excitement ended up sounding flat and hollow, and Terry smiled reassuringly.
“Don’t worry, son, this isn’t going to affect you. You’re still going to be a keeper this cycle.”
“Good,” John breathed. Luckily, his feigned relief was more convincing than the fake excitement.
A group of people began gathering in the center of the settlement, and Terry gave a quick wave.
“Let’s get to the mine,” he said, putting his hand on John’s shoulder. “We need to pull the ration out and get it processed before nightfall.”
John nodded and moved to obey despite the fact that everything in him wanted to run. He fell into step behind the group, doing his best to ignore the pain in his feet as he gingerly navigated around the rocks and pebbles that littered the scorched, sunbaked ground. Heat radiated up through his bare soles, and he knew that once the sun reached full-strength, he wouldn’t be able to tolerate walking for very long.
Hi
s thoughts turned to the bag of supplies in his family’s grid, dread rising in his throat. There were still other families working nearby, and all it would take to prompt a closer look was someone catching a single glimpse of the strange bundle. If he were lucky, anyone who found it would just steal it, but he wasn’t foolish enough to believe that would happen. The penalty for being caught stealing food was too severe for anyone to take advantage of that.
They reached the salt mine, and John stepped aside as the group began discussing how to get the ration out.
“It’s probably pulverized,” Terry said, pursing his lips. “We’ll need buckets.”
“Amber survived the fall, remember?” Richard pointed out. “It’s going to be a little smashed up, but not like that. Grab a sheet of plastic, though, we’ll definitely need it.”
They began preparing ropes for the descent into the mine pit, and John gulped. Grabbing the shoes while the ration’s body was being loaded up would be his best chance.
“I’ll go, too,” he said, stepping to his father’s side. “I’ll help.”
Terry shook his head.
“Stay here, John. You’ve been up since dawn and I can tell you’re tired, just let us handle this.”
“I’m fine, dad, I want to help―”
“Stay,” Terry repeated. “You can help with the harvest if you want to be useful.”
John clenched his teeth in frustration as three other men stepped forward, and a moment later, they vanished into the darkness below. He held his breath, listening as he waited, then he heard one of them cry out.
“It’s not that bad!” the voice echoed. “At least half should still be good!”
John’s stomach turned. The mine fell silent while the ration was loaded onto the plastic, then the group called for it to be pulled up.
“Ready!”
The people on the surface hauled back on the ropes, grunting with effort as they strained, and John felt his muscles tense up like a winding spring with every inch they retrieved. A loose corner of the plastic sheet came into view, rustling in the breeze as it slowly emerged from the mine.
CENTER 82 (RATION) Page 18