“Almost there!” Richard bellowed, straining against the weight as he and the others lifted. The wrapped body reached the mine’s edge and began rolling up and over, only to catch on the lip of the opening.
“John, push it off! Use your feet, just get it unstuck!”
John ran forward and sat down on the ground, leaning back on his hands and bracing his feet on the ration’s body. He pushed forward as the men lifted again, and this time, the ration came free. His heart leaped into his throat; the body tumbled down the slight slope of the opening, rolling straight towards him, and he scrambled back in horror as the plastic that covered the body was unwrapped by the momentum. He was too slow, and before he could blink, he found himself staring straight into the bulging, lifeless orbs that protruded from the ration’s eye sockets.
A scream rose up in his chest, but thankfully, his mouth wouldn’t open to release it. The men laughed and stepped towards him, quickly lifting the ration’s dead form and setting it aside before moving to help Terry and the others climb out of the mine. John barely noticed, unable to tear his gaze away from the look of horror that was frozen on the ration’s bloodied, open-mouthed face.
“Looks like its eyes were damn near knocked out by the fall,” Richard mused, leaning over and roughly straightening the twisted, broken limbs. “Probably won’t be able to use anything from the neck up.”
Terry sighed heavily as he bent down to inspect the rest of the body.
“Organs are probably all mixed together, so the whole midsection is likely no good…”
Pulsing light began flashing in John’s mind, drowning out the sound of the men’s conversation. He was going to throw up, he was sure of it, and he felt faint as he stumbled to his feet.
“Where are you going?” Terry called after him. “We’re about to head back to the settlement, you aren’t going to wait?”
John couldn’t force himself to respond; he staggered up the stairs and out of the grid, almost completely numb to the searing pain that burned his bare feet the moment he reached the ground.
“John!”
He glanced back over his shoulder to see his father’s concerned face.
“What’s wrong?” Terry demanded, and John closed his eyes.
“I…I forgot to eat,” he managed to say. “I feel a little sick.”
“Where’s your allotment?”
“At home.”
“Hurry up and get it, then!” Terry said, his voice filled with worry. “Last thing we need is you going into toxosis!”
John nodded and moved to leave, when he felt his father grab him.
“You might already be sick,” Terry frowned, shaking his head. “You didn’t even think to tell me about your shoes.”
John glanced down to see his shoes clutched in his father’s hands; some distant part of him felt a shiver of fear, but he was still in too much shock to process it.
“They were on the ground next to the ration,” Terry continued, handing them to John. “You must have lost them when you tried keeping it from falling.”
John nodded absently and took the shoes, quickly bending down to put them on. The fall must have knocked them from the ration’s feet.
“I was too worried about the ration,” he mumbled as he turned to leave. “I’ll go get my food.”
“Get some rest, too,” Terry called after him. “I’ll handle the harvest.”
John trudged back to the settlement, fighting against tears as the image of the ration’s face burned through his mind. Renewed guilt washed over him; he could only imagine the terror the creature had felt in those last few moments, blind and alone as it suffered in the darkness.
He reached his house and disappeared into his room, drawing a shuddering breath as he sank down onto the floor and buried his face in his hands. This was all his fault, this was all because of his own stupidity.
He heard the voices of people gathering in the center of the settlement a short while later, and he stood up to peek through the door. His father was standing near the harvest tables with Richard, happily starting the butchering process, and John’s stomach turned yet again. Part of him almost wished he had been given some fault in the ration’s demise, that way he wouldn’t be allowed to serve as a keeper.
John closed his eyes. He would have to face it eventually, they would get their new ration in twelve days. He sighed, focusing his attention on the bundle of food. That was a more immediate concern, and he glanced towards the harvest tables again. Waiting until nightfall was his best chance, but there were still hours until then—hours that would provide a greater chance of the bundle being noticed. Everyone was preoccupied with seeing the damaged ration right now, so if there was any other time for him to get away with a quick trip to the grid, this was it. John pursed his lips, contemplating for a moment longer, then he stepped outside.
It didn’t take long for him to reach his family’s grid. He shielded his eyes as he approached, pausing at the edge and giving a cautious look around. The tarp that covered the pit snapped in the breeze, rising and falling almost as if breathing, and as it lifted again, John could see the sack of food still sitting on the ground inside. Relief flooded over him, and he quickly darted down the steps, picking it up and checking it over. It seemed untouched.
John fell to his knees and began digging. Hiding the bundle here would work for now; as long as Richard continued employing them at the salt mine, there would be no reason for anyone to disturb the grid. He stopped once the hole was deep enough and pushed the bundle inside, moving to bury it, then he hesitated. If someone did discover the cache, the hand-drawn map inside would make denying that it belonged to him impossible. He untied the top of the sack and reached in, only to feel his heart stop. The map was gone.
“Hi, John.”
He inhaled sharply and closed his eyes. Of course.
“What are you doing here, Sydney?” he asked, his voice filled with despair as he stared down at the bag of food.
“Just coming to play with you. I saw you leave.”
He turned around; Sydney was hopping down one step at a time, a lighthearted, unconcerned look on her face. In her hand, he recognized the scrap of fabric he had used to draw the map. He pointed.
“I need that back, Sydney.”
The little girl shot him an annoyed scowl.
“You were drawing without me, John,” she told him accusingly. “That’s not fair.”
“I’m sorry,” he answered, quickly standing to his feet. “Please, I need it back.”
Sydney eyed him warily for a long moment, then she broke into a grin and shrugged.
“Okay.”
John took the map from her and shoved it into his pocket, his mind racing as he tried to think of what to do. There was nothing he could do short of convincing her to stay quiet, and reasoning with an eight-year-old was not something he expected to go in his favor. He studied her face, trying to gather the nerve to speak, but there was a knowing look in her eye that gave him pause.
“You have a secret,” she finally said, her voice quiet as she put her hands on her hips. “But don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone.”
His eyes widened in surprise.
“Why wouldn’t you tell?” he managed to ask. “You know I’m not supposed to have extra food.”
“I’m not stupid like Aunt Kendra thinks I am,” Sydney scoffed, her little nose wrinkling. “I know what happens to people who have secrets.”
John gulped.
“What…what happens to them?”
“They die,” she answered simply. “And I don’t want you to die.”
He frowned, looking down at the food again.
“Do you…do you want some of it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Sydney rolled her eyes dramatically.
“Because I’m not stupid,” she repeated. “I know what happens if they check, I saw that Sarah girl get killed. Even th
ough you tried to stop me,” she added, lifting her chin smugly. “That’s why I didn’t eat any when I found it in your room.”
Her eyes darkened with sudden concern, and she took a step closer, reaching out and taking his hand.
“You’re not going to get caught, are you?”
John shook his head and forced a smile.
“Not unless you get mad at me and tell.”
Sydney gasped.
“I’ll never do that!” she cried in horror. She opened her arms and threw herself forward, squeezing him in a hug. “You’re my best friend ever, John. Don’t tell anyone, but I love you a lot.”
“I…I love you, too,” he whispered. His throat began to ache, and she stepped back, beaming proudly.
“See? Now you know one of my secrets, so we’re even. If I tell on you, you can tell on me. Then we’ll both die.”
She whispered the last word with wide-eyed severity, and John couldn’t help laughing. He turned and knelt down beside the hole; the pile of loose dirt blurred before his eyes for a moment, and he reached up, wiping his face as he took a deep breath.
“Let’s hurry up and get back before my mom notices you’re missing,” he said, quickly pushing dirt over the bag. “If she finds us, she’ll tell on us both.”
He patted the area flat and took Sydney’s hand. Surprisingly, despite everything, having her with him made him feel a little better.
†‡†
CHAPTER TWENTY
Ayn tore through the pages sitting on Andreas’ desk, squinting in the darkened room as he scanned each one for anything that might tell him where Amber was. He could barely see, but he couldn’t risk turning on the main lights. Instead, he was forced to rely on the faint glow cast by the lab’s equipment displays, and his eyes ached from the nearly seven hours he had spent combing through every record he could find.
In the corner of the room, the door of the cage that had been brought to the lab stood open, the frame quietly creaking on its hinges as if warning him to hurry. The keypad affixed to the lock flashed incessantly, marking each passing second, and he glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was almost eleven in the morning, and he was surprised that Andreas hadn’t shown up yet. He frowned, resuming his search. Perhaps her lateness had something to do with the alarm that had gone off at dawn.
He had escaped from the cage within minutes of Andreas leaving for the night; Noah hadn’t bothered to hide the code he had used to secure the lock, and Ayn had memorized it instantly. He had spent every moment since then frantically searching the notes that littered every surface of the desks inside the lab and adjoining office, but so far, he had come up empty. Amber’s file seemed to be missing, and he whispered a curse, reaching for another pile of folders and opening the first one.
Ayn caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye, and his head snapped around. There were two one-way glass windows in the lab—the first provided a view to the hallway outside, and the second was set into the wall that separated the lab from the small room that served as its reception and entryway. It was the second that had drawn his attention, and his heart leaped into his throat as he saw Andreas’ figure appear in the entryway.
He threw the folders down and bolted for the cage, ducking inside as he heard the first beep from the keypad for the lab’s main door. He pulled the cage shut and collapsed to the floor just as Andreas walked in with Noah at her heels.
“This is a disaster!” Noah moaned, shaking his head. “Eight piers, almost a thousand rations! What the hell are we going to do?”
Andreas scowled; despite the dim, Ayn could see her piercing, impatient glare.
“I swear, Noah, I’m going cut out your tongue if I hear you say that again.”
The lights turned on, and Ayn’s eyes focused on Andreas’ hands. He cringed; she was clutching a file, and even from across the room, he could see Amber’s name scrawled across the top.
“What else am I supposed to say?” Noah cried. “It’s a disaster, a complete and total―”
“Shut your whining mouth, already! It’s not the end of the world, we have other options!”
Noah’s eyes grew wide.
“You’re not talking about the algae harvest, are you?” he gasped. “You didn’t suggest that at the board meeting, did you?”
Ayn could hear the eagerness in the man’s voice, and he fought the urge to scoff. Nothing had changed in the months since Project Nine, Noah was still up to the same old tricks.
“And hand myself to Brenda on a silver platter?” Andreas snapped. “Of course not, I’m not stupid!”
“So then what happened at the meeting?” Noah quickly asked. “What other options do we have?”
Andreas rolled her eyes, tossing the folder on her desk.
“The board voted to eradicate one of the settlements in the next few months, so that will make up for the current shortage. The piers that were broken held rations that are queued for assignment this cycle, which bought us a little time.”
“Just one of the settlements? That’s not going to be enough―”
“You don’t say,” Andreas scoffed. “Dr. Trent also announced a new ration strain, they only take around five months to reach full-size. He’s still in the process of perfecting a trial batch, but it won’t be long. That means we could lose over half of our piers and still make the production quota.”
“Five months?” Noah whistled in surprise. “How?”
“None of your business, that’s how. We need to focus on this ration, we need definitive results today.”
“I thought we had five more days. You said Smith gave you a full week of extra power to the lab―”
“Yeah, well, that’s changed. All of our extra resources are going to Dr. Trent’s project now, so I only have until five this evening. We lost hours because of that stupid board meeting, we have to hurry.”
Ayn watched Andreas lean down and open Amber’s file; she reached for a page, sighing as she walked towards the cage.
“I need to talk to Ordell,” she said. “Send someone to go get her from her room, she’s in unit―”
“Lockdown is over, she won’t be in her room anymore,” Noah interrupted. “She’s likely still at breakfast, it was delayed until about half an hour ago.”
Ayn wanted to scream with frustration. Just another second more and he would have had the room number.
“Just find her,” Andreas snapped impatiently. “If she’s not at breakfast, she’ll be reporting to her job assignment. TPM Unit 34.”
Noah nodded and turned to leave.
“I’ll hurry,” he called over his shoulder.
Ayn stared at the page in Andreas’ hand, trying to make out the faint outline of the printed words through the back of the thin, plastic sheet. She stepped away a moment later, and he clenched his teeth.
Nothing.
≈
Amber scowled as Brian and Darren sat down at her table.
“Go eat somewhere else,” she hissed, glaring at them over her trays of food. “I’ve had enough of being around you two.”
“We can’t, they’re watching us,” Brian whispered. He had a smile pasted on his face, but his eyes were serious as he gave a meaningful look at the guards that were milling around the cafeteria. “Smith thinks you and I like each other, he’s going to be paying attention to how we act.”
“I don’t like either one of you!” Amber huffed angrily. “I hate you and this place!”
Darren frowned.
“I can understand you hating Brian, but what did I do? None of this is my fault.”
“You’re with him!”
“Guilty by association yet again,” Darren mused, making a face. “Well, it’s too late to do anything about it now. What’s done is done, and until this blows over, we’re stuck together.”
Amber breathed a curse and shoved a bite of food into her mouth. Brian sighed.
“I’m sorry, Amber. I didn’t
mean to get you involved, I never expected you to ask me to stay during the tour.”
“No, you just used me as an excuse to be there in the first place,” she shot back. “Even if I hadn’t seen anything, you had to know everyone would be questioned!”
“Keep your voices down,” Darren sang under his breath, his eyes flashing with warning. “Not a good place to have this conversation―”
“I did know, you’re right,” Brian admitted. “It was a mistake, Amber, and I’m sorry.”
“Which means nothing, because it doesn’t change anything!”
“Guys, you made it through this morning, okay?” Darren quietly pointed out. “It’s over, so please just try pretend to be happy around each other for now.”
The guards began moving towards the table as they completed a lap around the cafeteria, and Amber swallowed her anger, tossing her head as she forced a playful laugh.
“Yeah, well, I’m not going to like it,” she giggled through clenched teeth. She could see one of the guards staring at them, and she quickly took Brian’s hand as she batted her eyes flirtatiously.
He forced a grin.
“Believe me, neither do I.”
Darren raised a brow as he watched them, shaking his head as he lifted his fork.
“If this is the best you two can do, we’re all going to be dead in a week,” he muttered. He took a bite, chewing slowly, then he cocked his head as he gave Amber a curious look. “So are you going to think about what I said?”
Amber let go of Brian’s hand as the guards moved away.
“No,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I already told you, I don’t want to get involved.”
“Wait, what did you say?” Brian asked. Darren shrugged.
“I suggested that she…hang out with us.”
Brian frowned.
“That’s not a good idea,” he said, giving Darren a long look. “I don’t think a certain someone would be very thrilled about that.”
CENTER 82 (RATION) Page 19