CENTER 82 (RATION)

by Christina J Thompson

“I already said no,” Amber told him as she inhaled the last bite of her food. She stood to her feet. “I have to go to work.”

  “See you around,” Darren said, and she made a face.

  “Yeah. Unfortunately.”

  Amber dropped her tray at the wash station, drawing a deep breath as she left Brian and Darren behind. She fully expected work to be just as miserable as every other part of the facility she had experienced so far, but at least it would offer a break from the two of them. She reached into her pocket and withdrew the map she had been given, pursing her lips as she studied the layout. From what she could tell, her job assignment wasn’t that far from the cafeteria, and she carefully began following the hand-drawn line that marked the route.

  The main corridor for the ground floor led directly to a series of halls, and she paused for a moment, quickly referencing the map before turning left. Her destination looked like it was in the very corner of the outer edge of the facility, and before long, she found herself standing in front of a door that read ‘TPM’. Amber took a deep breath, trying to brace herself for whatever fresh nightmare awaited her, then she reached for the handle and marched inside.

  The room was huge, nearly twice the size of the cafeteria; its low ceiling was covered with panels of bright bulbs, but the unpainted, concrete walls seemed to suck in the light to cast the space in a perpetual, headache-inducing dim. She lifted her gaze, focusing her eyes on the red words that had been painted along the wide edge of the thick, steel beam above her.

  TRAVEL PREPARATION MODULE―UNIT 34.

  No one else was there, and Amber took a step forward as she looked around. There were waist-high partitions made of plastic bars erected in grids on one half of the room, creating dozens of separated areas, and inside each one was a table covered with green, leathery masses. Large bins were positioned alongside a narrow conveyor belt in an open area to her left; the belt zig-zagged back and forth to form a rectangular maze, then it turned vertically at the end to disappear up through a hole in the ceiling. To the right of that was a row of taps protruding from the wall, and beside each spigot were metal frames hung with empty plastic sacks.

  On the far wall were two doors, one marked ‘exit’ and the other marked ‘intake’, and plastic rails created two separate paths that led to cordoned-off areas. Amber’s eyes were drawn towards the exit―shelves with compartments had been lined up along the wall leading up to it, and each compartment was labeled with numbers. She furrowed her brow, moving closer to get a better look.

  Sacks of water and food were tucked into the spaces, and beside them were smaller bags that contained blankets and solar lights. Amber sighed, a wave of sorrowful bitterness rising up in her heart as she thought of the plans she and Ayn had made.

  “Would’ve been nice to have this back home,” she muttered under her breath. “We would be halfway to the mountains by now…”

  Her voice trailed off, a sudden glimmer of hope awakening in her heart. She glanced at the exit door; there was a keypad next it, the display flashing as if waiting for a code, and she instantly made a face as she tried to dismiss the ridiculous thought that was forcing itself up in her mind. The idea was too foolish to consider—it was impossible enough to think about running away from the settlement, but only an idiot would try to pull the same stunt here.

  Amber turned on her heel, preparing to walk back towards the room’s main door, when she hesitated for a moment. She looked over her shoulder at the flashing keypad, her eyes focusing on the door handle beside it as a nagging voice began whispering in the back of her mind. No one wanted to leave the facility, they all loved it here. Maybe, just maybe…

  Amber’s hand shot out before she could second-guess herself again; she took hold of the exit door’s handle, holding her breath as she tightened her grip. She closed her eyes and begged for a miracle, but the handle stopped after a quarter-turn.

  Her heart sank as her shoulders sagged. It was too much to hope for. She heaved a sigh and hung her head, resting her forehead against the door, only to feel a sudden blast of hot air hit the side of her face. Her eyes grew wide; a thin sliver of sunlight had appeared along the edge, and when she pushed a little harder, the door swung open. It wasn’t locked.

  A split-second flash of panic surged through her veins as she quickly pulled the door shut and whirled around. Her eyes scanned the room for any sign that she had been seen, but she was still alone. Her thoughts churned into a frenzy, an uncontrollable wave of giddy excitement welling up inside of her. Nothing was standing in the way of her walking out right now.

  Amber hurriedly began searching through the supplies; the sacks of water were marked by volume, but she had no idea what the numbers on the bundles of food meant. She paused when she found a compartment that held a five-gallon bag of water, eyeing the small sack of dried ration meat that accompanied it. It would make sense that the food supply corresponded with the bag of water it was placed with, and it certainly looked like it held the right amount. Thanks to the metabolic inhibitor, this should be more than enough to make the three-week trip she and Ayn had anticipated.

  She grabbed hold of the plastic rope attached to the bag of water, bracing herself as she began to pull, when a thought occurred to her. It was early in the day and the area around the facility was almost completely flat; she would be spotted the instant they noticed that she was gone. She argued with herself for a moment, weighing her options, but she knew better. Lugging the supplies would make her an easy target no matter how fast she ran.

  “Tonight,” Amber whispered to herself. Happiness washed over her for the first time since Ayn had died, mingling with the dark cloud of sorrow that had taken up residence in her heart. Even if she didn’t make it to the mountains, even if she died along the way, at least she wouldn’t be trapped in this horrible place.

  Amber heard voices approaching, and she darted back from the exit door, forcing a relaxed demeanor as she leaned against the wall beside the main entry. She stared down at her feet as people began entering the room, and it didn’t take long for one of them to notice her.

  “You’re new,” a short, black-haired woman said, smiling in greeting as she approached. “I’m Teresa Shutton, I run TPM. Who are you?”

  “Amber Ordell. I was assigned here yesterday.”

  “The mine girl!” Teresa gasped, her blue eyes lighting up, and Amber cringed.

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “It’s great to meet you! You saved us all, you know that?”

  “I do now,” Amber muttered, forcing a smile.

  “Everyone’s going to be so excited to work with you!” Teresa beamed. “Come with me and we’ll get you started, I’ll show you around before everyone else gets here.”

  Amber followed the woman towards the other side of the room.

  “There are two shifts for TPM,” Teresa called over her shoulder, gesturing around. “One in the morning and one in the evening. We only handle travel to and from Coastal One and the other resource centers, people going to the settlements are processed through Unit 29. Arrivals come in around dawn, and the groups going out leave at dusk. It’s our job to catalog everything that gets brought back and to prepare travel packages for those leaving.”

  Amber pursed her lips. She had stopped listening after the first sentence.

  “You said there are two shifts?”

  Teresa nodded, then paused mid-stride and snapped her fingers.

  “That reminds me, do you have your job assignment card?”

  “Right here,” Amber answered, digging it out of her pocket. She handed it over, and Teresa grinned.

  “Shift one, lucky you! You’ll spend most of your time processing algae, which is much easier than the evening shift. They do all the heavy lifting to prepare travel packages, but it means I won’t see you very often. I’m usually on the evening shift, but that whole lockdown thing screwed everything up. Welcome to Center 82, right? You just get thrown into the middle of
everything right off the bat, you know? I mean, I guess you don’t really know because you haven’t been here long enough to see what normal is, but that probably makes it seem even crazier!”

  Amber raised a brow; she wasn’t sure if the woman had so much as drawn a single breath between words.

  “Is there any way to switch shifts?” Amber asked. “I prefer hard work, and it would make me feel more useful.”

  Teresa’s eyes grew wide.

  “Are you sure? The evening shift isn’t easy, the bigger bags of water weigh almost a hundred pounds and we have to lift them all the way―”

  “I’m sure,” Amber interrupted, flashing a smile. “I haven’t met many women here, so it’d be nice to work with you.”

  “The unfortunate side effect of the hormones,” Teresa sighed. “Most of them have to stay in their rooms all day. I got lucky, they don’t seem to bother me the same way. Hopefully you’ll be the same, but it will take a few weeks to find out. Usually you know within the first month, that’s when the problems start if you’re going to have any.”

  Amber swallowed back her impatience.

  “So…do you think I could switch?”

  “It’s fine with me,” Teresa answered. “Normally second shift starts around two, but we’re running a few hours behind. Be here around, say…four. Four should do it, you can either stay here and hang out with me until then or go back to your room. I wouldn’t mind the company, just so you know, I get sick and tired of dealing with―”

  “Teresa Shutton?” an annoyed voice called out, and Amber turned to see a man walking towards them. It was Noah, the lab assistant from the tour. He refused to look at her as he stepped closer; he crossed his arms over his chest, his thin face twisting into a lofty scowl almost as if being in their presence disgusted him.

  Teresa put her hands on her hips.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Dr. Andreas is requesting one of your workers at the special project lab.”

  “Which one?”

  “That one,” Noah barked, pointing at Amber. Her heart skipped a beat; she hoped it wasn’t for more tests.

  Teresa rolled her eyes.

  “Well, it looks like the evening shift will be perfect, Amber. Be back here at four, and it was nice meeting you.”

  “You too,” Amber said. “Thank you.”

  She moved to follow Noah, her heart racing with dread. Part of her wanted to ask him what was going on, but something about him made her skin crawl just at the thought of speaking to him. She clenched her teeth, staring down at her feet as she began climbing the stairs. Only a few more hours to go and this place would be nothing but a terrible memory.

  †‡†

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Darren trudged down the stairs that led away from Lab Seventeen, muttering under his breath in frustration. He hated the morning injections. He reached up, rubbing his shoulder. The researcher had given him two shots this time, and the spot was already sore.

  An overwhelming lethargy was slowly creeping through his body with every step he took, and despite the fact that he was used to it by now, it still made him angry. He heaved a sigh, glancing over the railing at the guards that patrolled the walkways below. Sabotaging the ration dome was supposed to mark the end of this misery, but thanks to Brian’s stupid idea, it was just another failed plan. He frowned, rolling his eyes. At least the idiot hadn’t followed through with throwing Amber over the railing that morning.

  Darren paused when he reached the ground level. This was the moment of the day when he usually checked for a signal from Em, and a wave of bitterness rose up in his heart. Being cut out of the sympathizers’ future plans was almost as bad as the ration dome failure itself, but despite his disappointment, he couldn’t help bending down to look.

  His eyes widened in surprise—two crumpled-up pages lay on the floor behind the staircase. This was the emergency signal, and relieved excitement instantly surged through his veins. Maybe Em wasn’t as upset as she had acted the night before.

  He pursed his lips, contemplating for a moment. Usually the signal came at night, which gave him enough time to get Brian, but it was too early in the day for that. Brian was all the way on the other side of the facility, and there wasn’t enough time to make it there and back before his own shift would start.

  Darren quickly grabbed the pages and put them in his pocket before hurrying towards the corridor that led to the manufacturing wing. It split apart into two hallways about halfway through; the one on the left continued on to manufacturing, but the other veered off to the animal preservation wing. He glanced over his shoulder, making sure he was alone, then he turned right.

  The hallway was never used; its lights had died years ago, and because of the facility’s limited supply of replacement bulbs, it remained in perpetual darkness. A service entrance was located near the opposite end, and Darren reached for the handle, carefully easing the door open before slipping inside. He kept his hand in place as the door shut behind him to make sure the lock didn’t catch―this service stairwell was obsolete, and any log showing activity here would be noticed immediately. As long as he didn’t close the door all the way when he came and went, he wouldn’t have to risk drawing unwanted attention by using an access code to get back out.

  Darren ran up the stairs as fast as he could, stopping at the eleventh floor and pushing the service door open. The old feed storage room wasn’t far, and he ducked inside, sitting down on the floor and nervously tapping his fingers against his leg. He had no idea when Em had left the signal, but it usually didn’t take long for her to arrive.

  Sure enough, he heard footsteps approaching a few moments later.

  “Hello, Mr. Yale,” Em’s voice called from outside the open door. “Congratulations, you and your friend survived the morning.”

  “And so did Amber,” Darren replied, his voice swelling with sudden pride. “She kept our secret, you were wrong about her.”

  “So I gathered, which begs the question why. Is she one of us?”

  He shrugged.

  “No, although I offered. I think she just wants to keep to herself, that’s all. She doesn’t want to get involved.”

  “That was quite a gamble,” Em mused. “But luckily for you and Mr. Johnson, it seems to have paid off. Smith has eliminated everyone who attended yesterday’s tour from his list of suspects, so it would appear that you and Brian are safe. For now, anyway.”

  “So that means we’re still involved in everything?” Darren asked. “I mean, that’s why you signaled for us, right?”

  “I signaled for you, that’s why I chose to do it this early in the day. I owe you an apology for my rudeness when we spoke last night, Mr. Yale. I never intended to cut you out, but he can’t know that detail. The matter I have to discuss needs to stay between us.”

  “Why? Brian made a mistake, sure, but it all worked out. We didn’t get caught―”

  “He didn’t follow the plan,” the woman interrupted, her words strained with impatience. “He risked us all in an unacceptable way, but that fact aside, his involvement simply isn’t necessary for what I need from you.”

  Darren frowned with dismay. He didn’t like what she was saying, but it was better than nothing.

  “Okay, fine. What do you need?”

  Em drew a deep breath.

  “I received a message from Base One this morning,” she began, her voice hushed. “Something extremely important will be arriving here in a few days, something that will change everything. According to my contact, this new development will guarantee the end of the ration program, and you, unfortunately, are the key to our facility’s role in that plan.”

  “How?”

  “This is a serious situation, Mr. Yale,” Em warned. “I need to know that you’re willing to keep the details to yourself, no one else can find out.”

  Darren sighed, leaning back to rest his head against the wall.

  “I won’t say
anything.”

  Em fell silent for a long moment, then she cleared her throat.

  “You need to get the main facility lockdown code.”

  Darren scoffed.

  “But that’s easy,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You made it sound like it was a big deal―”

  “I don’t mean the external code, the one that keeps people out. I need the system-wide internal lockdown code that will prevent every exit door in this facility from opening from the inside.”

  He froze as his eyes grew wide. That code, from what he understood, was meant to act as an emergency quarantine. Everyone would be trapped inside the building until an administrative override code from Base One was entered on the main entry keypad―but only from the outside.

  “Why?” he breathed. “What’s going to happen to us?”

  “We’ll all be fine,” Em quickly reassured him. “No harm will come to anyone, that’s why I need the code.”

  “I…I’m not sure if I can get it,” Darren stammered. “It’s held in a physical folder inside the strongroom, the door won’t open unless Executive Smith’s code is entered right after a supervisor’s code. And it’s in the middle of the security room, in front of everyone.”

  “Perhaps now you can grasp why this is such a serious request, but there’s more. I also need the containment code for the ration dome and the lockout sequence to prevent anyone from overriding that code.”

  His eyes bulged. What she wanted didn’t make any sense.

  “Why would you want to open the―”

  “I’m just relaying what I was told, Mr. Yale,” she said. “I don’t know how it all fits together, but I trust my source. You’re going to have to do the same.”

  “When…when do you need this?”

  “The sooner, the better. The board of scientists called a meeting this morning, and it would appear that our attempt on the ration dome was for nothing. One of the researchers announced a new strain that develops in less than half the time as the current rations, and according to him, incubation of the first batch should be ready to start in three months.”