CENTER 82 (RATION)

by Christina J Thompson

  “Brenda…please…”

  She frowned, kneeling down beside him and brushing his hair off of his forehead.

  “Shhhhh,” she whispered. “Only a few more seconds, my friend, just hold on.”

  Brenda watched his chest sink as he exhaled his last breath, and she sighed as she stood back up, grabbing his flask before letting herself out of the room. Both Noah and Smith were dealt with, but she wasn’t done yet.

  “You haven’t won this, Andreas,” she hissed as she headed towards the stairs. “Not by a long shot.”

  ≈

  Darren sat on the floor inside the feed storage room, his heart pounding as he swallowed hard.

  “Maybe she’s not coming,” Brian whispered. “Maybe she saw that I was with you and decided to bail.”

  Brian was sitting on the other side of the door; a narrow shaft of light from the footlights in the hall outside shone through the crack between the door’s edge and the hinges, painting a dim streak across half of his face, and Darren could see the worry in his one visible eye.

  “It must be important if she’s called a meeting this close to the delivery time,” Darren answered quietly. “I have less than an hour.”

  “Do you think it has to do with that ration?”

  Darren shrugged.

  “Who knows.”

  “I heard it actually talked!” Brian said. “It yelled at the guards in TPM!”

  “Yeah, right,” Darren scoffed. “They’re crazy, rations can’t talk―”

  “Not as crazy as you think, Mr. Yale,” Em’s voice called out, interrupting him. He jumped, startled by the sudden sound, then he cringed.

  “Why do you always sneak up on us like that?” he demanded indignantly. “You could knock on the wall or something, give us a little warning!”

  “There isn’t supposed to be an ‘us’ to sneak up on,” Em shot back. “I thought I told you that Brian isn’t included in our current situation.”

  “Yeah, well, I also told you that our current situation is impossible,” Darren snapped. “I can’t do it without help, so I had no choice. If you don’t like it, I guess you’ll have to find someone else.”

  Em sighed in annoyance.

  “You know I don’t have that option, which is a calculation I’m sure you’ve already made.”

  Darren met Brian’s gaze for a moment and smiled triumphantly.

  “I’m not an idiot, Em.”

  “That remains to be seen,” she mused. She paused for a moment before continuing. “From what I overheard of your conversation, you two are aware of the ration incident that occurred this evening?”

  “Yes,” Brian answered. “People are saying all kinds of stuff.”

  “Well, Mr. Johnson, most of it is true. The ration did escape, and it did speak. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only exhibition of its rather interesting ability—it also did quite a bit of speaking earlier this morning at a conference held by the researchers.”

  “The rations can talk?” Darren gasped in surprise. “How?”

  “Apparently one of them can,” Em corrected him. “As for the how—well, that’s part of why I’ve called you here. The ration revealed some information to one of the researchers that will cause significant problems in our plan, and you need to relay that to the couriers you’re meeting shortly.”

  “Okay, what information?”

  “The ration told one of the researchers how to isolate a defect that causes a resistance to the supplements. I’m sure you’ve heard how dangerous unmedicated rations are―this poses a significant threat to everyone, so the presiding scientist here is planning to initiate physical lobotomy for any ration strains that may possess this defect as a temporary solution.”

  Darren shrugged.

  “Sounds like they have it under control, then.”

  “How does this involve us?” Brian asked. “It’s not like we can do anything―”

  “As I said, Mr. Yale,” Em snapped, ignoring Brian’s question. “You need to relay this information to the couriers.”

  Darren cocked his head.

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes. You don’t have much time until the delivery arrives, so I would suggest you head that way now. I wouldn’t attempt to bring Brian with you, the couriers are expecting one person and we don’t need any extra attention drawn to our endeavor.”

  Darren gulped, exchanging a glance with Brian.

  “Understood.”

  Em’s footsteps departed, and Brian stood up.

  “Well, I guess I’ll wait for you in my room,” he said, preparing to leave. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks,” Darren muttered. He headed in the opposite direction towards the service entrance, hurrying down the stairs and out into the hallway.

  The facility was eerily quiet, and he cringed as his footsteps echoed out in the dark. The intake cargo bay for the researcher training unit wasn’t far from where he now was; the bay was almost never used, and he couldn’t help feeling a wave of anxiety rise up in his heart as he stopped to open the door that led into the receiving room. He read the time on the keypad before entering his code—five minutes to midnight, he was right on schedule.

  The lock clicked and Darren stepped inside. Only a few lights were on, illuminating several old freezers and storage lockers haphazardly staggered across the floor of the massive room. They were covered in a thick layer of dust, marking the many years they had lain forgotten, and the shadows they cast hovered in place like monstrous, petrified creatures. He clenched his teeth; the door that led to the actual training unit lay to his left, and he shuddered as he remembered Amber’s reaction to seeing recycling. Dread twisted his stomach—recycling was practically guaranteed to be a sympathizer’s final destination, it was only a matter of when. He just hoped that for him, it wouldn’t end up being tonight.

  He stared down at his feet as he crossed towards the main cargo door; each step left an impression on the dirt-covered floor, and he couldn’t help noticing that his footprints were the only set he could see. It had likely been years since anyone else had visited the area, making his presence there that much more questionable, and the realization added to the sickening nervousness that coursed through his veins. He braced himself, moving closer to the smaller entry door that was set in the middle of the bay’s towering entrance and sliding the viewport open.

  The viewport’s glass revealed nothing; everything outside was pitch black, and Darren pursed his lips as he stepped back and leaned against the wall. Any minute now.

  A quiet knock sounded at the door only a moment later; his heart leaped into his throat and he snapped alert, quickly reaching for the intercom button beside the door.

  “Delivery authorization code?” he asked, pressing his face to the viewport. He thought he could see a light, and he squinted as he tried to make out what lay on the other side.

  “It’s al— sixteen ―o from Base One,” a barely-audible voice answered. “Open up!”

  “Wipe the glass,” Darren responded. “I can’t see you.”

  A palm appeared, quickly swiping back and forth, and now Darren could see a pair of eyes peering in at him.

  “Give me the code again,” he said. “What’s your designation?”

  “Alpha-sixteen-echo from Base One. Come on, it’s not like you’re expecting anyone else!”

  Darren entered his code and opened the door; three figures burst inside, their faces covered with pieces of cloth.

  “Are you Yale?” a woman asked, unwrapping her face as she glanced around. “You’re alone?”

  Darren nodded.

  “Just like Em said.”

  “Shhhhh!” the second person hissed; he tore the cloth from his face, his eyes flashing in warning. “You’re not supposed to give names!”

  Darren rolled his eyes.

  “She obviously didn’t have any problem with giving you mine,” he told the man. “Besides, that’s not her name. That�
��s just what I call her, she’s a mystery contact.”

  The woman shook out her long, dark hair, sending a cloud of dust cascading down from her shoulders.

  “I get it—Em for mystery, right?”

  “No, Em for moron, because that’s what I am for getting involved with her,” Darren shot back. “So you know who I am, who are you?”

  “Leaving in two hours, that’s who,” the man curtly replied. “We’re supposed to drop off our delivery, refresh our supplies, and go. Any message?”

  Darren eyed the third figure. It was a ration, and as it removed the cloth from its face, its piercing, black eyes focused in on him. A shiver raced up his spine and he quickly glanced away.

  “Em said to let you know that a talking ration told the researchers how to locate some kind of defect,” Darren answered. “Yes, it sounds crazy, but that’s really what she said. The defect keeps the supplements from working, so the presiding scientist is planning on starting lobotomy on any defective strains they identify.”

  The woman gasped.

  “That changes everything,” she breathed, her eyes wide with alarm as she glanced at her companion. “We need to get back!”

  “So where’s this delivery?” Darren asked impatiently. “I don’t want to hang out here any longer than I have to.”

  “This is it,” the woman shrugged, gesturing at the ration. “We need to go to the ration dome.”

  Darren scoffed in disbelief.

  “Are you serious? How the hell is that going to get rid of the rations? How is that going to end the goddamn program?”

  The woman raised a brow as a mysterious glimmer awakened in her eyes. She smiled.

  †‡†

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Day Nine

  Ayn glanced at the sky as dawn approached, taking mental note of the time. He had been running for a full day and a half now; he was exhausted, but the thought of finding Amber drove him forward, commanding all of his focus.

  The tendon behind his ankle burned, sending waves of pain radiating into his calf, and he winced as he stopped long enough to stretch his muscles. The doses of serum he had taken were struggling to work against the constant stress of running, but so far, they were just enough to help him keep going. He sighed, turning to look behind him.

  The sun began to rise for the second time since his escape from the facility, and he squinted against the bright light, searching the eastern horizon yet again for any sign of being followed. The morning air shimmered and danced across the ground, marking the approach of the oncoming wave of heat, but no figures appeared in the midst of the mirages. He smiled to himself as he began running again. A little over thirty-six hours of distance now separated him from the facility, and even if a search party had left immediately after he had, the chances of anyone catching up were slim.

  The hours passed as the day wore on, and by the time the sun reached its peak, Ayn was finally forced to slow. The pain in his foot had given way to tingling numbness, and each step he took sent nauseating spasms ripping through his stomach. He groaned, clenching his teeth as he limped forward. As much as he wanted to keep going, he knew it would be foolish to try.

  He moved from the road, finding a shaded spot in the footprint of an old house. Layers of dirt had accumulated along the inside edges of the concrete foundation, making an uneven but smooth surface, and he opened his bag to retrieve a vial of serum. With a few hours’ rest, the pain in his legs would completely fade and he would be ready to continue, and he felt a twinge of gratitude towards Andreas for her willingness to help at the end. Maybe she had just done it out of spite for Brenda, maybe she hadn’t really changed her mind about him, but part of him hoped otherwise.

  Ayn sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the wall to try to sleep. The shade moved with the sun, and the dust turned to mud on his skin as it mixed with his sweat. He was uncomfortable, but as the afternoon passed, he could feel the serum beginning to work on his muscles.

  Evening approached, signaling that it was time to move on, and Ayn ignored his exhaustion as he dragged himself to his feet. He picked up his bags and turned to leave, when he caught sight of something on the wall. Curiosity filled his heart, and he stepped forward, squinting in the fading light.

  The concrete was marred with etched lines that looked as if hands had placed them there. He focused, trying to make out the words.

  Holly and Barrett Nichols.

  Sam and Susan Wayne.

  Going to Base One. Find us there.

  The messages were old and faded, the lines scratched in the concrete barely visible on the wind-beaten surface, but they were still there. Almost every inch of the walls was covered with similar messages, and as Ayn turned to look behind him, his throat closed up.

  Day 3, 12pm. Love, A.

  The fresh lines were white against the weathered concrete, and his mind raced with excitement. That was just yesterday afternoon. He spun on his heel, stumbling and falling in the loose dirt as he clawed his way back to the road. Amber wasn’t as far ahead of him as he had thought.

  * * *

  Amber pulled her blanket tight around her shoulders, her heart heavy with sorrow as she made her way through the dark. The bones she had seen tormented her thoughts; her fourth day of walking was coming to an end as midnight approached, and with each passing minute, the loneliness she felt seemed to grow that much stronger. She sighed, clutching the end of the fabric against her face.

  The cold, night wind was stronger than usual, sending ghostly whorls of dust whipping past to sting her eyes and throat, and she coughed as she glanced up. The stars were barely visible through the clouded air―the solar light’s battery only held a ninety-minute charge, making it useless to help her navigate, so for the past hour, she had been trying to gauge her direction from the sliver of moon that hung in the sky. She hoped she was still going the right way.

  Amber whispered an exasperated curse as she stumbled on a rock, the blanket snapping in the wind as she tried to keep from falling. The path had turned downhill right after nightfall, its steep, rough surface threatening to trip her up, but it finally seemed to be levelling out even as the number of rocks she encountered increased. That’s what she wanted to believe, anyway, and she frowned in annoyance as she took another step.

  Her foot was met with sickening emptiness.

  Panicked instinct scorched through every nerve in her body within a split second; she reacted instantly, throwing her arms out and reeling back as she tried to adjust her weight. The heavy bags she was carrying helped pull her backwards, and she let out a quiet shriek as she landed on the ground mere feet away from where the road had suddenly vanished. Her heart pounded as she tried to collect herself, and she gulped, swallowing against the wave of adrenaline that surged through her veins. The wind died down for a moment, allowing the dust to settle slightly, and now she could see the darker shade of black that marked a void in the path. She pushed her bags from her shoulders and dug for the solar light.

  The remains of a bridge jutted out through the air, and Amber moved to her knees, crawling forward on the short section that remained until she reached the end. She shone her light back and forth as she peered down over the edge; twisted steel marked where the concrete surface had sheared away from the side of the ravine it had once spanned, but when she turned the beam downward, the light was almost instantly swallowed up by the deep, yawning blackness below. Her heart sank as she aimed the light straight ahead—the other side was too far away to see.

  Amber stood to her feet and retrieved her bags, leaving the road as she moved along the edge of the ravine to search for a place to climb down. It didn’t take long for her to find a narrow path cut into the dirt and rock that formed the side of the embankment, and she pursed her lips, tracing its route with the light. It seemed to lead to the bottom.

  She carefully began making her way down. The ground was brittle and unstable, and clouds of dust billowed u
p from underneath her feet as gravity pulled her along. She dug her heels in, pausing for a moment to shine her light ahead, when she felt the rocks shift below her.

  Amber screamed, the weight of her bags dragging her forward as she clawed at the ground for a handhold. She tried to turn onto her stomach just as her body caught the edge of a boulder; the momentum spun her around, sending her into an uncontrollable roll as she careened down into the darkness.

  White-hot pain stabbed through her leg as she landed; she shrieked with agony, her body instantly coming to a stop. Something had grabbed hold of her, and she gasped as she frantically reached for her light. The beam was facing away from her, illuminating a field of dark, claw-like shadows that littered the ground before her, and fear tore through her heart as she stretched her arm out as far as she could.

  Her leg burned as she struggled against the unseen force that held her in place; her fingertips brushed against the light’s plastic strap, and she clenched her teeth, straining until she finally managed to take hold of it. She whimpered in pain as she turned the beam towards her leg, only to feel nausea instantly surge through her stomach as realization set in―the dark shapes were the long-dead branches of trees that had been buried in the ground, their desiccated tips reaching up towards the sky like desperate, dying hands. Their slender, crooked fingers were as sharp as knifepoints, and two of them were now protruding through her leg, one through her thigh and one through the side of her calf.

  The light’s beam dimmed slightly, warning her to hurry; the second light she had taken from the facility was still fully charged, but as she looked around, she couldn’t see where her bags had fallen. Tears of panic stung her eyes as she focused on her leg. Each branch was nearly the diameter of her thumb.

  She forced herself to sit up, her hands trembling as she reached for the top half of the first one. The surface was slick with blood, and she placed her other hand right where the branch met her skin, locking her elbow for leverage. She braced herself.