Dissidence

by Jamie Canosa

  “How is it possible I didn’t know about this?” I’m shaking my head again, and unsurprisingly, it’s still not helping.

  “No one does.” Connor’s irritation is clear in his voice. “It’s not difficult to cover up in a world where people are routinely moved away from everyone they know, and left with limited means of communication. Where does everyone think you are right now?”

  “They think I went to meet my mate,” I confess.

  “The same goes for most people here, or other viable excuses were made for our disappearances. Not that complicated when the only people actually asking questions are the ones being locked up.”

  I still can’t wrap my head around all of this, but how can I deny it when I’m staring it in the face?

  “Brain sufficiently fried?” Lori lays a hand on my shoulder as she rejoins the table, but she doesn’t bother taking a seat.

  “Yeah, I’d say so.”

  “Good, because it’s time to get some sleep.”

  Everyone is starting to get to their feet, clearing their eating areas, and making their way toward the exit where the guards are waiting to escort us back to the dorms. Now I understand why everyone passed out so quickly last night. My body doesn’t want to wait until I’ve found a section of floor to sleep on before it starts shutting down. I literally have to drag my feet as I follow Connor and Lori to one of the wooden structures. I don’t think it’s the same one I was tossed into yesterday, but I doubt it makes a difference or that anyone will notice. My best bet is probably to stick as close to these two as I can for now. It couldn’t hurt to have a giant for a friend.

  Inside, I’m not surprised to find Connor has procured a permanent bunk. I mean, who’s going to argue with him? I am surprised to find Lori also has a bed waiting for her. She’s older than most people here, and she’s been around longer, so I chalk it up to some kind of seniority. Great, in twenty years maybe I’ll be able to sleep on a bed again.

  “Here.” Connor slaps the mattress he’s sitting on.

  “What?”

  “The first few days in the mines are always the worst, and you’re going to be completely useless down there if you’re sore from sleeping on that floor.”

  If he thinks I am sharing that bed with him, he’s got another thing coming, but then he slides off the bed and stretches out on the floor. I don’t understand him at all. He’s offering me his bed when all I’ve managed to do for him is effectively double his workload. But, what’s that saying, never look a gift horse in the mouth? I’ve never really understood that, but I am more than happy to implement the concept, especially when every one of my muscles is already screaming. I collapse on the mattress and grunt something that resembles a ‘thanks’ before exhaustion claims me.

  Chapter 8

  “How are you doing?” Lori asks me as I ease my aching body down onto Connor’s bunk for the second night in a row.

  If it’s possible, I think I got even less work done today than yesterday. I woke up feeling like one giant bruise, and things only went downhill from there. I tried to refuse Connor’s offer of the use of his bunk again, but he insisted he would be sleeping on the floor whether or not I used the bed. Men can be so thick-headed sometimes.

  “Fine.”

  “Really?” She arches an eyebrow, looking thoroughly unconvinced. Not surprising, since I’m not even convinced myself.

  “I don’t know. I’m trying not to think about it, really.” If I contemplate my future here, day after day in that damn mine, I think my head may explode. I never thought I could actually miss my old job, but I do. Give me a register over a pick any day.

  “Where are you from?”

  “Colony D.”

  “D? You’re not so far from home after all then.”

  “I’m not?” It feels like another planet.

  “No, D is only about a hundred miles east of here.”

  So close to home, and yet, so far. I can’t decide if that makes me feel better or worse.

  “What about you? Where are you from, Lori?”

  “Oh, I grew up in colony M, but that was a long, long time ago, Kiddo.”

  “How did you end up here?”

  The look on her face makes me regret asking almost before I finish getting the words out. What business is it of mine? She didn’t go prying into my indiscretions. Of course, we probably would have been here all night if she wanted a list of them.

  “I was an apprentice in supplies. I was responsible for inventorying everything that came into the colony on the supply trains and making sure it was all dispersed to the right places. After a while, I started wondering where it all came from, where the train went when it left our colony. Mostly, I was just a kid, curious about the outside world. They probably could have given me any answer, and I would have been satisfied, but when everyone refused to tell me anything at all, I started to get more suspicious. I even tried flirting with the guards on the train for information. The guards. Boy, was I young and stupid. When I turned sixteen, I was paired and went to live in my mate’s colony, just like I was supposed to. He turned out to be a forty-year-old drunk with a real mean streak, liked pushing people around and starting trouble. A harsh punishment for all of my impertinent inquires over the years. Anyway, I didn’t trust him. I refused to marry him. Flat-out refused. They said they were taking me home, and we would each be re-paired. That’s not the way things work though, is it? Two days later, I was introduced to the camps. At least I finally got my answers, right?” She releases a pathetic laugh that makes me cringe. “Questions are dangerous, Kiddo. Don’t ask ‘em unless you’re sure you want the answers.”

  A small part of me is amused to finally be able to tell Peter that I do know someone who didn’t marry the person they were paired with. Then again, it didn’t exactly end well for her, so I’m not sure whose point I would be making. The rest of me is completely disgusted by the entire story. To use pairing as a punishment. It’s appalling.

  “I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. I have a few choice words concerning the whole situation, but this is probably not the time and definitely not the place for them. Words have already gotten all of us into enough trouble.

  “Everyone’s got a story.” She sounds almost casual. “Now get some sleep, Kiddo, tomorrow’s going to be another long day.”

  ***

  They continue to roll on, one long day after another. Two straight weeks’ worth of them. Each one exactly the same as the one before. It’s almost mind numbing in its redundancy, and I think that’s the point, because if you don’t think about it, then you just accept things the way they are. Acceptance, however, has never been one of my strong suits. In fact, that’s sort of what landed me here in the first place. How ironic then that it will also be what gets me out.

  As days continue to tick by, I start watching the guards. I watch them all day, every day, every chance I get. I note their schedules, their routines, their socializations, their habits—all of it. After a few days, one thing starts to become abundantly clear. They’re way too comfortable in their own skins. For all of their weapons and patrols, none of them really believes for a second that anyone would be brazen enough to actually try and escape. And that peeves me to no end.

  “I don’t understand why they’re so damn confident. It’s not like we’re all sticking around because of their A-plus personalities.”

  “Maybe it’s the food. I, for one, would hate to turn my back on such fine cuisine.” Connor grimaces into his bowl of green mush that tastes somewhere between what I imagine earwax and paste taste like.

  A very unladylike snort escapes me and Connor grins from ear to ear, clearly amused with his own comedic abilities.

  “Somehow, I don’t think that’s it.” Lori dangles her spoon over her bowl and we all watch with rapt, morbid fascination as the green sludge drips off the tip and falls back into the dish with an audible plop. “I think the real deterrent they’re counting on to keep us in this place is . . . what would w
e do if we did get out? Where do we go then? It’s not like we’re rolling in options here.”

  The three of us are sitting away from the others along an open edge of the pavilion in the dark shadows of the night. It’s always dark here. I haven’t seen the sun in weeks. We’re up before it rises and working the mines until long after it sets. We don’t have much time left before the guards chase us back to the dorms for the night, and then any hope of privacy will be lost. Before that happens, I need to get Connor and Lori up to speed with a plan that’s begun to take root in my vitamin D deprived brain.

  “We could disappear into the woods.”

  “Okay, let’s say that doesn’t sound completely insane. When would you make this great escape? The dorms are locked, and you can’t be considering trying to sneak out of the mines while everyone’s down there working.”

  “I’m not. I would go during mealtime.”

  “Mealtime?” That got her attention.

  “It’s when we’re the least guarded by far. Look around. What’s to stop us from slipping away right now? All we would need is a distraction.”

  “What kind of distraction?” I’ve got Connor’s attention too.

  With a slight nod toward the back corner of the pavilion, I indicate the queen of Sheba, as I’ve come to call her. She’s the only female guard positioned in the camp and I’ve noticed all of the others falling all over themselves to talk to her. Even now they’re fawning over her. Psssh . . . men.

  The guards monitor mealtimes on a rotating schedule, and I’ve seen her in here every third night. Good to know because I’m counting on her. Connor seems to catch my drift pretty quickly, but he’s just as quick to shake his head.

  “Girlie, even if we could make it out of the pavilion, how far do you think we’ll really make it with the patrols? And, that’s not mentioning the twenty foot fence that’ll basically skin us alive if we even think about climbing it.”

  “I’m not that dumb, Connor.”

  “What then? You plannin’ on walkin’ right out the front gate?”

  It’s not a bad idea, but in all honesty, I haven’t quite gotten that far in my plans.

  “I’m still working on the details.”

  “Details?” he huffs. “Some pretty big details. Let me know when you have them figured out, Girlie.”

  They both look disappointed with my spotty plan, but at least now I know they’re on board the crazy train with me. There’s no way I can pull this off on my own.

  ***

  I keep waiting and watching and listening. It’s that last one that ends up paying off. I’m eaves dropping on two guards as I make lame attempts to swing my pick. Now that I’m making at least a little progress on my own, Connor has agreed to share the bunk with me, taking turns instead of insisting I sleep in it every night like he did for the first few weeks.

  “The kitchen’s been nearly empty for the past week. If the next supply train doesn’t get here soon, we’ll be eating what the workers eat,” one guard complains.

  The second makes a disgusted face, and I can’t really blame him. “It’s a good thing the next train is coming in tomorrow night, then.”

  “Will it be here by dinner time?”

  “It’s scheduled around seven, so if you eat late, sure.”

  “I’m not on grub duty tomorrow, so that works for me—”

  They move on down the tunnel, but I’ve heard all I need to hear. The supply train will be here tomorrow night at seven p.m. That’s meal time, and tomorrow everyone’s favorite little female guard will be in the pavilion. Everything is falling into place. Another thing I’ve observed from my espionage efforts is that when deliveries arrive, they suddenly get very lax with gate security—too many people moving too many things into the camp to bother locking it between every single load. Gotta love laziness.

  ***

  The next day, I barely get any work done at all. Poor Connor is dripping sweat by the time we start making our way back outside. All I’ve been able to think about since I pitched my idea to Lori and Connor last night are the million and one things that could go wrong. It’s too late to turn back now, though. Stage one of my brilliant plan starts at dinner.

  Part of me can’t wait to get things rolling, just so we can get it over with, but another part of me doesn’t want to take another step closer to the dining hall. That part must be bigger because I come to a sudden halt, and Connor slams into me from behind, which is a little like being hit by a locomotive. I stumble forward and most definitely would have face planted in the dirt if he hadn’t grabbed my arm to steady me.

  “It’s all right, Girlie.” His deep chuckle stabilizes me, and I take a deep breathe of the cool night air. “It’s just one foot in front of the other.”

  That doesn’t sound too hard. He gives me a little push to get me moving again, which is good since I don’t think my feet are listening to my brain anymore, and we’re on our way.

  Inside the pavilion, we take our food and search out seats near the exit to wait for the right moment. I haven’t got the slightest clue what the ‘right moment’ will be, I just pray I’ll know it when I see it. What could possibly go wrong? We all agreed to finish eating before we leave because we’re not sure how long it will be before we see anything edible again. Not that what we’re eating now would necessarily qualify under the category of edible either. Bowl, mouth, bowl, mouth—just keep my hand moving. Feet, now hand . . . baby steps.

  The spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl, and when I bring it back to my mouth, I taste nothing but metal. I keep my hand moving anyway, though, because I’m not sure what the next step is yet. Meal time is reaching an end, and I still haven’t seen the moment we were looking for. Connor has to literally pry the spoon from my tense fingers when he takes our dishes. But instead of heading for the receptacle, he makes a wide arc around the room, intentionally passing the guards corner. Nerves cramp my stomach as I watch him. This was definitely not part of the plan. Just as he passes the guards, he ‘trips’ sending brown gravy splashing all over the queen’s uniform.

  She cries out in disgust, and Connor is rewarded with a stiff jab to his jaw which sends him the rest of the way to the floor. I’m on my feet with no idea how I got there, or what I intend to do about it now that I am. All I can do is watch him peel himself back off the floor. Is he smiling? Sometimes I’m not entirely convinced of his sanity.

  Behind him, every other guard in the room is fussing over the large brown stain on the woman’s uniform, blotting it and offering her napkins. Not one of them is looking at the rest of us. Even the workers are thoroughly distracted. Suddenly Connor’s grin becomes infectious, and I find myself smiling too, or maybe I’m just as crazy as he is.

  It’s do-or-die time, and I’m not entirely sure that’s not literal. I have no idea what the punishment is for attempting to escape, but making an example from our deaths doesn’t seem outside the realm of possibility. That cheerful thought makes it much easier to convince my feet to work.

  During the commotion, Connor rejoins Lori and I, and the three of us slip out of the pavilion. We use the deep shadows cast by the dorm buildings in the moonlight to cover our progress toward the gate. I glance behind us so often that I get a crick in my neck, but no one is following us. Connor’s distraction did the job perfectly. Now, if only the front gate would be so easy.

  From the front of the dormitories, we can see the gate and, just as I expected, the lock is hanging loose. A couple of guards are already standing there, but a minute later, there’s a shift rotation. The next group arrives within seconds. We’re not going to have much of a window, and we’re only going to get one shot at this.

  We wait anxiously for the next rotation for several minutes until the guards step away from the gate, and we make our move. ‘Our move’ is really more like a mad dash across open space, hoping and praying no one happens to notice us. My brilliant plan in action.

  The metal is cold in my hand as I swing the gate open a couple of fee
t, just wide enough for us to slip out. With a soft clank, Connor pulls it shut again behind us. We actually did it. We’re out. That was almost too easy, and then—

  Chapter 9

  “Come on. Let’s get this thing to the dining hall, so we can eat some time tonight.”

  “I’m going as fast as I can.”

  Damn karma. I freeze, like literally freeze. It feels like there’s ice water in my veins. The only thing that penetrates my panic-stricken mind is the creak of the gate. I spin around, fully expecting to find us surrounded, but it’s only Lori. She’s slipped back inside the fence.

  “Where are you going?” Would have been nice of her to include us in her little retreat. The voices are drawing closer.

  “Hide,” Lori whispers urgently.

  Easy for her to say. There is absolutely nothing at all out here to hide us, just several straight yards of well-maintained grass in front of us, and a fence at our backs. Whose idea was this, anyway? We can’t move forward, and even if the guards coming back from the train somehow miss us, no way the patrols won’t notice us this close to the fence. We are entirely screwed. Pulling Connor along with me, I duck into the shadows further along the fence line. Now we’ve got about ninety seconds, give or take, to come up with a better plan before the next rotation of guards leave their post and stroll right past us. No problem.

  I scan the area, frantically searching for anywhere to hide, but this place is a work camp and a prison. It was designed with escapes in mind. There’s no way they won’t notice us racing across at least fifteen yards of open space, unless . . .

  “Hey!” Lori calls out from just inside the gate. “Over here!”

  There’s a dull thud as whatever the guards were carrying is abandoned, and then shouts as they come running right at her. Well, that worked, except . . . they’re running right at her.

  “Don’t move! Get down!”

  The next set of patrols has arrived on the scene, and, along with the two from outside the gate, have her surrounded.