The Reaping

by Annie Oldham

  “Neverland?”

  “Never mind.” He rocks back and lies down in the furrow, just like I did once. His hands are over his visor, and I can’t see his face. “It’s like they forgot what it means to really live.” He’s quiet for a moment, and all I can hear is the fan whirring in my suit. “I wonder if she would still be alive if we hadn’t come down here. She wouldn’t have liked it here anyway.”

  “Do you want to go back?”

  His hands drop away and he looks at me more earnestly than he ever has—here or on the Burn. “Yes.”

  There’s something in his eyes that bothers me. Some scorching hunger that looks like it could burn him to ash. “Why?”

  He won’t meet my gaze. “I feel useless here.”

  “But you’re important here.”

  He snorts again. “You of all people shouldn’t buy that crap about everyone’s important. They tried to put three people on this field with me until I convinced them it only took one—”

  “Yeah because heaven forbid you had someone else here to talk—”

  “—So don’t give me that spiel about how essential everyone is. They just say that so no one goes insane with nothing to do. Trust me.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. He looks a little unhinged—it could just be the reflection of the solar lamps on his visor—but I’m not entirely sure it’s over not having enough to do. I want to choose my next words carefully, but there isn’t a nice way to say it.

  “How are you doing since Mary?”

  And those words completely cut him off from me. His expression goes stony and he rolls back to his feet and walks down the row.

  “Dave?” I get nothing but his back. “Dave!”

  I jump up and run after him, the swish of the legs of my radiation suit rubbing together too loudly in my ears. I touch his shoulder, but he shrugs me off and keeps walking. I let him walk away. I want to cry, but with the air blowing in my suit, my eyes feel far too dry for that.

  Does Dave blame me for her death? Well, of course he does. I still blame myself for her death, so why shouldn’t he?

  I want to rake my hands through my hair and scream a little, but my gloved hands find nothing but slippery fabric. I close my eyes to take a breath, to do anything to collect my thoughts, but when I close them all I see is Mary with her hand pressed to her stomach as blood like rubies drips between her fingers. I limp back to the pod.

  “He talked to you?” Jack asks as I shrug out of the suit.

  I nod. I won’t use the voice box right now. I don’t want to hear that phony voice with those words that drove Dave away.

  “I told you he changed.”

  I just didn’t realize how much. I turn to Jack, and my eyes well with tears.

  “Oh, Terra.” He takes me in his arms and I let him. I lean against him, burying my head in his chest, smelling the fabric, and his soap, and just him underneath it all. His heart beats out a gentle, lulling rhythm in my ears. “He’s been that way ever since they took her body away. I’m amazed he even talked to you.”

  I trace my fingers against his shoulder. He’s so angry. It scared me.

  “I know. There’s something boiling inside of him, and I’m worried one of these days he’s going to explode.”

  What can we do?

  Jack’s shoulders shrug. “I don’t know. He refuses to see his counselor. He refuses to talk to just about everyone. He works double shifts and lives by himself and never goes out.”

  Would he go with me when I go back?

  Jack puts me at arms’ length and searches my eyes. “You’re going back for sure?”

  And there’s the conversation we’ve been avoiding for several days now. I nod. I can’t stay here much longer with the recycled air and the ocean looming just through the window and the people running in circles around this place every day. Each day I’m here just reconfirms why I left in the first place. I look up at Jack, and I search his hazel eyes. His eyes burn back into mine.

  “Yes, I think he’d come with us when we go back.”

  My tears spill over. Yes, Jack will come with me. My heart swells and feels like it might burst through my chest.

  Thank you.

  “I’m done leaving you.”

  I know. But it still surprises me.

  “It shouldn’t.” He cups my face in his hands and leans his forehead against mine. “You should know how I feel by now.”

  I do. I just don’t understand why.

  Jack sighs and pulls me in against him again. Then he turns us and we step through the pod door. A few people walking by glance at us. Jack smiles and waves and holds me tighter.

  “There are too many reasons to even begin. But one of the most important ones is because you are good.”

  I turn away from him, but he cups my chin and looks me in the eyes.

  “You may not think so now. You’ve seen too many things. But I know you, Terra. I know your heart. And you are good. Come on, let’s go back to our quarters.” He takes my hand and leads me away from the field. As we step onto the transport, I look through the glass of the field and glimpse Dave at the opposite end, pounding the soil with every ounce of force he can muster.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Things with Gram are better today. Gram actually smiles at me when Jack and I walk through the door. She’s sitting on the couch in front of the screen, reviewing messages.

  “Welcome back, Terra.” She pats the cushion next to her and I sit down. “You’ll be happy to know they’ve scheduled your meeting with the council for tomorrow at 0900.”

  My stomach clenches. So soon. It would have to be soon—I can’t stay here for weeks procrastinating this—but I can’t help the dread that fingers its way into my gut.

  Gram studies my face. “I forget how different from your sister you are. Every day I look at Jessa—see her figuring out her vocation, see her with Brant, see her with her clothes strewn on the floor because she can’t decide what to wear—and I see the seventeen-year-old girl there. You’re different.” Gram touches my cheek with her wrinkled, crepe fingers. Her hand is soft and warm as it trails down the side of my face. “You’ve done so much and helped so many people. But you’re still just a seventeen-year-old girl.”

  I want to crawl onto her lap the way I did when I was little. I want her to wrap her arms around me and sing me lullabies and shush my worries away. I want her to hold my hand as we go into the council chamber and tell me it will be okay. But that would just make me look weak. I need to put on a brave front before the council. I need them to see the value of these people who come to them for refuge, and I need them to see the value of the people still left on the Burn. I need to be convincing, and a seventeen-year-old girl holding her grandmother’s hand and shaking in her boots will not do the job.

  “I wish it didn’t have to be so hard,” I say.

  Gram laughs wryly. “The important things always are.”

  Jack squeezes my shoulder and goes into the kitchen to start making dinner.

  “Did you want to read the message?” Gram asks.

  “Might as well.”

  Gram uses the remote to open the message Re: Council Meeting.

  Terra, the Council has agreed to offer you fifteen minutes during tomorrow’s council meeting. Be prepared to discuss your business within that fifteen-minute time frame. Please arrive at 0900. Thank you, and we look forward to meeting with you.

  Nice and impersonal. I sink deeper into the couch, letting my head fall back into the cushions.

  The door hisses open.

  “You look terrible,” Jessa says as she plops on the couch by me and sinks in just about as low with a huge sigh of her own. Her hand falls next to mine and I take it. I’m done with the voice box for today.

  Rough day?

  “The worst. I’ve been working on a new fertilizer for the fields, and the council rejected my latest proposal. Red tape to the max.”

  I smile.

  “What?”

  I don’t miss
much of this on the Burn. But I miss you.

  She turns to look at me. “I miss you too, Terra. So much.”

  I turn away and stare at the screen with the time for my own meeting with the council blazing back at me.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do when you’re gone and I have to keep going with my life.”

  You’ll manage.

  “I’m serious.” She’s suddenly playing with her hands. She glances over her shoulder. Gram and Jack are busy with dinner. Jessa’s voice drops. “Things like Brant and I talking about getting married in a few years. You’re one of the only people that I care is there or not. And you won’t be.”

  A pang goes through my heart. No, I won’t be there. Or if they do get married and then they have kids, I won’t see them either. I’ll be Aunt Terra, the one who left for the Burn and will never come back. I frown. There will be so much I miss out on. But even as I think about all that, I can’t imagine doing it differently.

  Jessa touches my arm. There are tears in her eyes. “I didn’t tell you that to give you a guilt trip. I told you that just so you know how much I miss you.”

  Miss you too.

  Jessa swipes at her eyes and manages to eke out a smile. “Come on. Let’s go have some dinner.”

  I share Jessa’s bed. Jessa is already asleep—she was as soon as her head hit the pillow—and I’m staring at the black of the ocean through the small window on the opposite wall. The faint hum of the climate regulator and Jessa’s soft breathing are the only sounds. I already long to sleep in the woods with the sounds of insects, the fall of rain, the whisper of wind, and the creak of tree branches. The whole world was alive up there. Down here, only the people are. It’s only metal, plastic, and glass.

  I turn on my side and close my eyes, trying to push all thoughts away, but my mind keeps veering back to the loyalty serum and the government and my meeting with the council. It’s going to be a long night.

  “Relax.”

  Jessa’s staring at me, her spoon half-raised to her mouth. I stop my fingers from thrumming on the table and take a bite of my oatmeal, but my stomach twists as soon as it hits my mouth. Jack watches me with the corners of his mouth turned down in concern, but he doesn’t say anything. Gram bustles around the kitchen, and she looks at me out the corner of her eye now and then, but she doesn’t slow down.

  Jessa stands and slings her bag over her shoulder and swigs down her juice. She pecks Gram on the cheek. “I need to be going. I’m going to the lab to work on the new formula some more. Good luck, Terra.”

  I try to smile, but it comes out like a grimace. She sweeps me into a hug.

  “It’ll be okay. You’ll be great.”

  She has so little idea what’s at stake here. I feel like the whole world may very well be in my hands. I drop my head to the table. I’m going to be sick.

  “She’s right, Terra.” Gram stands with her hand propped on one hip, clinging to a dishrag. “I think you of all people are the best choice to help those poor souls on the Burn. If anyone can get them some help, it’s you.”

  I had no idea she even knew what was going on. But I should know better. Her intelligent eyes focus so intently on me that I want to turn aside.

  “Now listen to me closely,” she says as she pulls out a chair and sits down next to me. “Some of those council members make your father look like a teddy bear. Some of them are downright nasty. Not in a mean way, but they’re prideful and can’t imagine anything done differently than it has been for the past hundred years. Ignore them. Try to convince those that will listen. I know your father told you he wanted you to try public service as your next vocation before you left. You were angry about it, but there was a reason he said it. Look how good you are for people and how much you help people. You put those skills to work up on the Burn, and you would have also been brilliant at it here. Just do your best. Just help your people.”

  I hug her harder than I’ve ever hugged her in my life. Then I stand up and take a deep breath.

  “Ready?” Jack asks. I nod.

  I feel Gram’s eyes on me as we step through the door.

  Jack holds my hand as we walk down the corridor. His hand is the only thing keeping me steady. My heart races and my palms sweat. Jack laughs.

  “Nervous?”

  I nod. How?

  “How could I tell?” He pulls his hand away from mine and wipes his palm on his pants. “You’re a little slippery right now.”

  My cheeks redden. Jack laces his fingers into mine.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. I would start to worry if you weren’t nervous.”

  We climb onto the transport, and I squeeze his hand harder. We’re surrounded by people, and the murmur of voices and the glances at me press me into the corner. I look at my feet.

  “Can you loosen it just a little?” Jack whispers.

  I realize I’ve been crushing his hand. Sorry.

  Jack kisses my forehead. “You’ll be fine.”

  When we get off, a few public servants get off with us. I recognize most of them, and one of them even gives me a sympathetic smile. They’ll all know why I’m getting off here. They might not know exactly why I’m talking to the council today, but the looks on their faces make me feel even more nervous. They look like I’m headed for the lions’ den.

  The double sliding doors that open into the council’s chamber stand before us. The chrome gleams in the bright lights. I fasten the voice box to my throat. I have fifteen minutes with the council. There’s no time for spelling things out. The council’s aide stands up when he notices us. He’s dressed in gray, just like all the other council members do. Its neutral color signifies that the council loses itself in the service of the colony.

  “Welcome, Terra. I remember the last time you came to a council meeting.” His voice is almost squeaky, and I can’t suppress a smirk. Finally something I can smile about. “You were only this high.” He holds his hand about two feet off the ground. His voice was just as squeaky back then as well.

  “And you used to give me grapes.”

  He beams. “You remember. It’s been a long time since you’ve been down this corridor. A shame you couldn’t come back more.”

  If he only knew the half of it.

  He shakes his head and puts on his official face. “The council is expecting you. If you’ll wait just a moment while I record the details of your visit.” He gestures to two seats beside the door. Jack sits down and pulls me down with him.

  “Relax,” he whispers.

  Yeah, right.

  The aide presses a few buttons on his tablet then looks up at us and smiles. His gray hair sticks up in every direction and the light illuminates it so it looks like a silver halo. With his wide smile, crinkly eyes, and squeaky voice, I can’t help but like the guy.

  A plaque on the wall reads Vox Populi.

  “The voice of the people,” Jack says.

  I nod. Learned that lesson when I was a toddler.

  Jack picks up on the sarcasm. “You don’t believe it?”

  You know how I feel.

  He does. I’ve told him more in the past few weeks than I told him in months of roaming the forest together. Yes, it is the voice of the people—definitely more than the government on the Burn is ruled by the voice of the people. I just didn’t want what the voice of the people wanted. That’s what my dad had such a hard time understanding. If the voice of the people wants it, why shouldn’t I want it too?

  Jack squeezes my hand. “You can do this.”

  “All finished,” the aide says, gesturing toward the door. I take a deep breath as the door slips open.

  The council chamber is dominated by a huge circular table. Ten council members sit around it, and my dad sits on the far side—the spot reserved for the speaker. There are two empty seats at the table for visitors. My father’s hands are folded together on the table, and he’s watching me casually, his eyes guarded. Is he trying to appear impartial? The warmest greeting I get is a hint of a smi
le from a woman two seats down from my father whose daughter I played with when I was five. So much for not being nervous.

  The council aide steps in behind us and guides us to the empty seats. My knees are shaking so badly I’m sure the council member next to me will give me a dirty look, but her eyes are trained straight on my father. I sit down.

  My father looks at the tablet in front of him, clears his throat, and then looks up at me.

  “The council acknowledges you, Terra, and you’re invited to speak when you’re ready.”

  No “Hi, honey.” Of course I wasn’t expecting something quite that personal from him, but I could be any other colonist sitting across from him. Equity for all, I guess. His motto.

  “As you know, I’ve lived on the Burn for almost a year now.” My eyes flick from council member to council member, but I can’t bring myself to look at them for long. Why am I so intimidated by them? “You also know that I’ve been helping nomads—those who live outside the designated cities as a means of escaping the government—find their way to the colonies.”

  One of the council members clears his throat and raises his hand. The movement catches me off guard and I stutter. I thought I would have a few minutes at least to make my case until the questions started. Maybe not.

  “Yes?”

  “And how do you know these ‘nomads’ you bring here aren’t spies for New America’s government?”

  His tone spikes my anger, and that cuts through my nervousness better than anything could. I take a breath. I’m ready to fling a response at him, but I pause. Something he said doesn’t line up with everything I’ve been taught in the colony. My eyes narrow at him.

  “And how do you know it’s called New America up there?”

  His face pales and his eyes flick to my father and back to me. My father nods almost imperceptibly. The council member steeples his hands, but doesn’t speak anymore. I take that as a sign that I’m free to continue, and I’m guessing I won’t have any more interruptions. But I file the past few seconds away to bring up later. Something’s going on here.