The Feeding Season

by Stoyan Stoyanov

Once he saw the space in front of him, Bars jumped outside, without looking back. The door closed behind him and the elevator took off going back up with a deafening screeching. The weak light kept him from noticing the silhouette standing next to the side beam, so when he heard her voice, he bounced surprised.

  “Serial number and name?” asked the Descent official. In her rough hands, she held a clipboard with some sheets of paper and a pen, which she was tapping nervously. Bars recognized by her uniform, that she was an ordinary technician, but the red band on her sleeve told him, that today she was responsible for something more important than her usual duties required.

  Women, who couldn't give birth or had passed the childbearing age, were responsible for the primary duties in the Fortress including the most difficult ones. While they were doing all the work because of the lack of men, the rest of the women and young girls were isolated in the highest and most secure part of the Fortress, which everyone called the Hive. Bars had a vague remembrance of one of those girls. He had grown up with her in the sector for little children. He remembered her because she stood out from the rest, but when they turned 3 years old, he was moved to the boys' living quarters and he never saw her again.

  “28791403, Bars Ibis,” answered Bars in a distracted manner. His head always got dizzy in the presence of a female. The joy of the extraordinarily rare meeting quickly vanished.

  “You’re late!” said the official scolding him, without lifting her eyes from the papers and filling in some information. Then she looked at the clock on the wall opposite her and recorded the time. Bars had accomplished a record tardiness!

  “Yes, I know...,” said Bars. “The elevator got stuck between floors. I was lucky that it started going again...” He realized that he had miraculously gotten out of that one. Right now, he could have been wandering around somewhere in the pipes, but the old elevator had started moving, just a short time after Thirteen had climbed out. How unlikely was that! Could it have just been a coincidence?

  “It happens.” The official didn't seem very interested. “Step here on the scale, so we can weigh you.” After he had obeyed the command, Bars looked around and asked, “Aren't you going to measure my height?”

  “No, we don't need to,” replied the official, striving to write down the numbers between the narrows rows on the form. “Only your weight is important....”

  “Why?” asked Bars puzzled. “Earlier, during our medical exams, they measured everything you could think of...”

  “That's how the forms are organized! I only fill them in.”

  “And are there any more boys that are late, besides me?” he asked deciding to change the subject.

  The official looked through her papers counting something in her head and replied, “Three boys haven't arrived yet.”

  “Only three?” Bars was surprised. “That means that everyone else is here... but, this has to be a mistake...there should be four missing boys, not three.”

  The official quickly looked through her folder of papers, but didn't show any sign of agreement with Bars.

  “No. We are waiting for only three more for the Descent.”

  “But how is that possible?” Bars said still disagreeing with her. “During the elevator ride down, we met the three boys at one of the floors, but they didn't get on. When you add Thirteen, the boy who came with me, that makes four missing boys.”

  “I didn't see anyone else coming out of the elevator with you?!” said the official doubtfully.

  “Yes, because the other boy got out of the elevator between floors. At the moment, he is wandering around in some pipes somewhere...”

  “What? What pipes are you talking about?”

  “Up there, between the floors was an old ventilation system. He entered it and started climbing through the pipes...”

  “Unbelievable!” said the official amazed. “That system has been forgotten and unused for years! No one even remembers where you can enter it, and even if someone did get into it, I don't believe that he would be able to get out again. It's a complete labyrinth of old pipes that passes through several levels. If you get lost in there, you could be wandering around for weeks on end. You have to be crazy to go in there.”

  “Thirteen, went in,” stated Bars in a muted tone, while realizing that he had just about done the same thing. Where was that tiny boy now? And why did he try to come on the Descent, when he wasn't even among those listed?

  “Alright, look, don't bother me anymore with these concoctions of your imagination!” said the official with an agitated look. Then she gave him a piece of paper. “Here. Look over your Conclusion.”

  Bars quickly read the whole page including the results from his preliminary training and got to the last line. There with capital letters was written - “HUNTER”.

  “I knew it!” exhaled Bars.

  Suddenly, Bar's ears registered an unpleasant but familiar noise. The screeching of the ancient metal cables could be heard even more clearly – the elevator was coming. When it reached the bottom, the doors opened and from inside exiting one after the other, were the three boys that had refused to get on earlier.

  Bars grimaced.

  “Here you are, all of you!” noted the official. “Quickly tell me your serial numbers and names, and then – get on the scale!”

  “28790206, Leegan Sova,” answered the first boy that got off the elevator, and then he turned to look at Bars with a scowl on his face. He suddenly made fists that caused a muscular tsunami going all the way up his huge arms, passing his even more massive shoulders and ending with an audible grinding from his animal-like jaw caused by the tension in his muscles. This human example of hammered steel regularly went around with no sleeves and Bars hated that. Leegan was one of those people that you didn't want as an enemy, but Bars had succeeded in winning his hate a long time ago.

  “28790228, Vestule Kaira,” added quickly the next boy, who was extremely tall for his age. His long weak arms bent strangely when he tried to put his hands in the pockets of his pants. Vestule adroitly stepped aside in order to make a space for the third member of their group.

  “28790911, Rogar Yad,” rumbled the last boy. His short and stocky silhouette had a primal nature to it. He stood still and looked completely devoid of feeling, as if nothing that was happening around him was worthy of his attention.

  After writing down the information, the official gave them each a paper.

  “Here! These are your Conclusions. You can look them over later. Now you need to quickly go to hangar number 3. They've all been waiting for you for more than an hour and a half!”

  “We wouldn't have been late, if this guy here hadn't held up the elevator!” said Rogar out of a sudden.

  “What?!” exclaimed Bars not backing down. “I didn't intentionally slow down the elevator! It just got stuck between floors!”

  “And what did you expect would happen?” joined in Vestule. “You shouldn't have allowed that little insane in the elevator with you...” With folded arms, Leegan listened displeased with Bars' excuses.

  “Hey, all of you!” interrupted the contentious official. “Time is running out and that's not good for you! Continue your thoughtless arguments another time, but now, get over to the hangar immediately.”

  Without waiting, Leegan took off immediately, and his friends, Vestule and Rogar, followed him.

  “What a luck!” sighed Bars, who wasn't burning with desire to have to follow after them, regretting that they were in his group for the Descent. Having in mind his unfortunate past with Leegan, Bars expected to have a lot of trouble with him and that added even more to his worries.

  “Get going, boy,” the official prompted him. “Go, I have to lock up after you leave.”

  Bars took her advice and quickly started walking. After he passed through the wide hatch, the locking mechanism activated with a rattle – no one was allowed to return this way anymore.

  Before Bars was a com
partment that divided into several corridors and on each of the walls were big signs, half-missing from the passing of time, showing directions to every hangar. After staring at it for several seconds, he finally understood the written numbers and headed down one of the corridors. Everywhere around him, thrown on the floor and covered in dust were all kinds of forgotten parts from various machines that had stopped being used years ago.

  “Only if I had the time! I would be able to find something to....Damn it!” yelled Bars painfully, after tripping over something, since the light was quite weak here because there were no windows just like everywhere else in the Fortress.

  The end of the corridor ended at a stairway that he took in seconds and there before him was the door to the hangar. Upon entering his serial number into the keypad by the door, it smoothly slid open and Bars stepped inside. Then the door closed and the locking mechanism was activated – it was now impossible to enter or exit the hangar.

  Hangar 3 was the largest room that Bars had ever seen in his life. Solid beams supported the ceiling, from which hung floodlights that were trying to light the whole area. The ventilation system was working at its highest setting but even then the air still smelled of fresh paint and machine oil. In the center of the hangar, an exhibit of a survival suit was secured on top of a special platform. The access hatches to the life-support system were open and 30 or so boys that were there for the Descent were excitedly looking it over. When they took notice of the newcomer, some of them interrupted their inspection of the life-support system and started to express their disapproval.

  “Hey, what took you so long!!”

  “All of us have been waiting for you for more than an hour!”

  “We've lost precious time!” they complained.

  “If you only knew what happened to me!” said Bars waving with his hand. “You wouldn't believe it....” The agitated boys, however, had no desire to listen to Bars' unbelievable stories, so they just scowled at him.

  “There's only one survival suit left! Over there at the other end,” said one of them pointing with his hand as he turned his back on him.

  Everyone participating in the Descent needed a survival suit, in order to survive outside. They were all the same model – last generation, the most reliable of all the models till now. The only difference in the survival suits was the color and number. After arriving in the hangar, each boy had the right to choose the suit he liked the most. Bars wasn't going to have that choice since he arrived last, and now he would get the one that nobody else wanted.

  “It's over there!” said one of the boys trying to be helpful, upon seeing Bars' puzzled look. The boy opposite Bars was calmly admiring his black colored survival suit with a satisfied grin.

  “What color is it?” asked Bars.

  “Brownish, ... or something like that!”

  “Brownish?! Bars soured. His favorite color was quite another.

  The survival suits, lined up along the wall, were such wonderful colors – there were blue, white, green and orange ones, even yellow ones that didn't look all that bad. Although they weren't on a par with the red or black ones, or even the purple ones. It was something that was rarely seen in the colorless world of the Fortress. Dazed, Bars walked past them taking in deep breaths of the air that was filled with the smell of fresh paint.

  “This one?!” said Bars sighing disappointedly, upon finding his survival suit, covered in something resembling brown. “What kind of color is this anyway?! Even my training survival suit looked better than this one!”

  Not believing his eyes, Bars walked around it several times, looking it over from top to bottom totally disgusted and shaking his head. The metal survival suit hung suspended on chains that came down from rails in the ceiling. The floodlight above the suit threw too much light on the dubious color and that irritated its new owner even more. The number, stamped in several places on its surface, was 31.

  “Once you get in it, the color won't matter anymore!” said Opatar, who was standing next to Bars and by his yellow survival suit. His hands were still bandaged after his last mishap two weeks ago, but that didn't prevent him from digging in his ears.

  “Yes, but everyone else will see it! That's important!” said Yazo joining them, his survival suit was painted an impressive red color. Grinning from ear to ear, he kept circling his suit and knocking on different parts of it with a little pipe that he had found somewhere. Then he got to the number 32 and cleaned it with his sleeve. “It's great, isn't it?!”

  “Yes, it is,” replied Bars. “How did you get your hands on it?”

  “Easy! I had to fight two boys for it and a third ran away!” said Yazo grinning again. That explained his missing tooth.

  Suddenly, everyone became quiet. Bars watched as the platform with the survival suit example moved a few meters to the side. When the mechanism stopped, the wide compartment filled with a loud announcement coming over the loudspeakers.

  “Attention! Everyone, clear the central platform!”

  The boys quickly scattered and stood behind the safety line marked out on the floor. Then the voice from the loudspeaker continued.

  “You have less than 22 hours to prepare for the Descent! In that time, you must install your defensive Shell over the main survival suit. You will be given additional materials for this task shortly. Each one of you using your own judgment can use whatever you think is necessary for building your Shell. It is forbidden to use any of the parts from the survival suit model. Any improvement or modifications made to the survival suits themselves are allowed, but keep in mind that every careless change could seriously damage them. There are no replacement parts!”

  There was a pause during which could only be heard the distant booming of the Fortress' systems.

  “Every survival suit has all the needed systems for survival,” continued the voice from the loudspeaker, and the boys again turned their attention to it.

  “All of you have learned while taking your preparatory tests the parts of your suits and how they function. The inner cocoon adjusts to your body according to your proportions so that you are completely comfortable. Keeping in mind the amount of time that you will be wearing the survival suits, give a little more attention to these calibrations.”

  This was really an important part of the preparation for the Descent and Bars knew it well. The Shell that protected the survival suit was important, but if one didn't calibrate his cocoon correctly, real pain was waiting for him.

  “Attention! Everyone stand next to your survival suit, until the additional materials are unloaded.”

  After several seconds, the ceiling above the central square opened and out of it poured a noisy flood of pieces of trash. A big cloud of dust and filth billowed up, and when it cleared, the boys saw a huge pile right in the middle of the hangar. One on top of another were piled different pieces of all kinds of materials. Unlike the survival suits, they weren't brand new, but even so they looked in good condition and completely usable.

  “Begin the building of your Shell!” suddenly announced the loudspeaker and then fell silent.

  Filled with adrenalin the boys rushed to the center of the hangar. As the first boys reached the pile, they jumped on top of it and immediately started digging into it. Once the rest of them reached the target – a real melee began. Every one of them was burning with a desire to find the piece of material that was in the best of condition, before the others got it. Soon the stronger boys had taken the best places, while the weaker and less confident little ones desperately tried to squeeze through the wall of pushing and sweating bodies.

  Bars was successful in climbing higher up the trash heap and for now no one was challenging his position. As far as he could determine, the hard materials were the scarcest. That's the reason that he decided to search first for them, while there were still some left. As he dug through the pile in front of him, he found two plates that were big enough to be used for a frontal armor. They
were heavy and so cold that his fingers immediately became numb. Bars rubbed his hands together quickly and after several hard tugs succeeded in getting the pieces of metal to the surface of the pile. Once he got them on his shoulder, he had to dive again into the crowd of searching boys. This proved to be quite difficult, because those who had been farther back immediately rushed in to take his place. As his hands were busy, Bars had to use several kicks of his knee to get clear of the ring of pushing bodies. Once he made it out, he took a deep breath. After carrying the pieces of metal to his survival suit, he dropped them on the floor by it. Then he stopped for a little to rest before returning again to the pyramid of trash.

  When he had returned to the crowd, Bars saw what the boys had turned into – they were like savages. Every one of them was fighting with all his strength to protect his parcel of the big pile of trash. Their bodies were intertwined, creating the illusion of a formless organism, as together they writhed and pushed in every direction. Of the many shouts, screams and swears, nothing could be understood except that none of them was going to withdraw. Even the weaker ones, who were in the worst positions, didn't give up and did everything possible to get to some of the materials. Some of them succeeded in climbing on top of the stronger boys sneaking their thin hands down to grab whatever they could get their hands on. Then they would run with their spoils as fast as they could before the others realized what had happened. Those that worked in groups were the most successful. Bars saw that Leegan had climbed to the very top. From there, he threw his finds to Vestule, who caught them and then passed them on to Rogar farther down. In that way, they succeeded in quickly piling up quite a massive hill of metal parts. There were other boys, who had also combined their strength and skills in order to collect materials.

  Bars started to panic when he understood that he was seriously falling behind. He dove head first back into the melee. Because he had arrived late, he hadn't succeeded in joining a group of boys that were working together. Gathering materials for the Shell was very important. No matter how well you built your Shell, it wouldn't last long, if you hadn't chosen quality materials or enough of them. Bars pushed his way forward through the weaker boys, often in a very rough way, but that was the only way he was going to get to his goal. This was no place for politeness and excuses, everyone knew the dangers ahead and they also were just as rough in trying to get the parts for their own pile.

  After digging for a time, Bars found some more metal pieces that he quickly carried to his survival suit. He made a few more raids on the pyramid of trash. About an hour had passed, and his pile of metal parts had grown into a quite a heap.

  That's when he noticed that several of the smaller boys were circling around close by. They had apparently changed their tactics and weren't digging in the big pile of trash anymore. Instead they were going around the survival suits and trying to steal away material that had already been gathered, while the owner was over in the crowd of pushing boys. Right at that moment Yazo arrived dragging a long metal pipe and after leaving it by his survival suit, he howled spraying saliva.

  “Hey, you bastards! One of you has been digging in my pile!”

  That only confirmed Bars' suspicions. The little ones were weak, but compensated for it by being sly.

  “Bars? Did you see who did it?!” asked Yazo as his shaved head began to turn red.

  “I just got here, but I think I know what happened,” replied Bars, without taking his eyes off of the thieving group. The group realized where this was leading so they decided to leave the scene of the crime. “We'll have to protect our metal.”

  Yazo angrily chased down the last of the little ones. Although the little one quickly squeezed in between the survival suits and disappeared from his pursuer's sight.

  “What do you suggest?” asked Yazo, still grimacing with rage, after having given up the pursuit.

  “We'll take turns,” suggested Bars. “Whenever I am at the junk pile, you stay here and that way no one will even think about stealing our parts. When I return, I'll keep watch while you collect material.”

  “It'll slow us down,” said Yazo thinking out loud. “But you're right, at least that way we'll be able to protect what we've already collected.”

  “If we also team up with Opatar, we'll be able to go to the junk pile more often.”

  “Yes. That's even better,” said Yazo. “Now, I'll stand watch, and you go. When Opatar comes, I'll tell him our plan.”

  Pleased, Bars nodded his head. Together, they would be able to gather enough material, without worrying about someone stealing it away from them behind their backs.