by RaeLynn Fry
“It's time,” Dhevan says.
He takes my place at the head of the cow and lets her lay down. She drops her front legs first, folding them under her chest, then her back end drops. She rolls over to her side, letting her neck and head roll to the ground. The whole process looks like it takes a good amount of effort and strength on the cow's part.
Her side rises and falls with her breaths and she lets out a series of small groans and grunts. I don't know what to do, so I pet her cheek, feeling the dirt and small hairs under the pads of my fingers. Dhevan heads to the back end, to keep an eye on the birth. I see the muscles in her neck and sides contract as she starts to push. She's at it a long time, and I know this isn't how it's supposed to be going.
“Something’s not right,” Dhevan says. The cow groans again.
“What is it?” I look over the cow’s stomach to the farmer. He's doing something, but I don't have a good enough view to tell what. After a few minutes, he answers.
“The calf is breached. I’m going to have to help get it out. I need you to try and keep her calm.”
He doesn’t tell me how he's going to accomplish this, and I don't particularly want to know, so I start to talk. “You're going to be a mom,” I say in a low voice to the cow. Her big brown eye rolls up in my direction, revealing a thick crescent of white in the corners. Her nostrils flare with each breath, spraying mist and steam into the morning air. “I'm sure you'll be great.”
There are more grunts from both Dhevan and the cow. I venture a glance up at the big man. His lips are pressed together and his cheeks are puffed out with air. His face is red and sweat is rolling down from his hairline. “The back legs are in the canal,” he says, “but we need to get it out, fast, before it suffocates. I need you back here to help.” I pat the cow one last time and stand. “Hurry, the hooves are breaking through,” Dhevan says.
I rush to the back. “What do I—?”
“Grab a leg. When I say pull, pull.” I try to keep a clean grip on the exposed slippery foot of the calf, but it's hard. “Ready, pull!”
I drop my shoulders and bend at the knees and pull alongside Dhevan. We're heaving hard, with seemingly no results when all of a sudden the calf gives way and Dhevan and I stumble backwards. There's a sound like wet oatmeal sliding from a pot to a bowl, followed by a light thud. The cow relaxes and lying on the ground in front of us is a brand new calf.
Dhevan hurries and busies himself with the newborn creature, wiping off its nose and eyes. The baby lies there for a moment before it starts to move. Dhevan is quick and efficient as he checks various parts of the cow. He sits back on his heels as we watch the little wet calf get up on its wobbly sticks for legs. The cow strains her neck as she lifts her head and looks back at her baby. Then, she gets up on her feet like nothing’s happened. We watch in silence as they meet each other for the first time, and then as the calf goes for its first meal.
“A bull.” Dhevan sounds disappointed. Then he spins around and throws his towel to the ground.
“That's a bad thing?”
“We haven't had a heifer calf, this season. We can't keep having bulls. No heifers mean no milk and no more cows.”
“Dhevan!” A bouncing voice precedes Kerick as he runs towards us, hopping over various items in his path. Oh, to be young without a care in the world and all the energy there is to possess. He stops short when he sees me. “Oh, hi, Ethan.”
“Oh, hi, Kerick,” I mimic and smile.
He turns his energy and attention back to his sister's Pair. “Sam's gonna cover the first hour of my shift and I'm gonna cover the last hour of his so I can go and help in the tunnels. They said they needed someone small to get back—”
Dhevan's face hardens to fierce granite. “Kerick.”
Journey’s little brother stops short, confusion twisting his face. Then his eyes flit to mine and widen. He seems to realize what he's done wrong. He's mentioned something he's not supposed to, in front of someone he shouldn't have. And it sounds like the exact something I want to know more about. But I can’t help the rub. I came here to help these people, to fight my father, and they still don't trust me. They still don't see that I'm on their side. How can we get anywhere if we're working separately and not together? If they’re keeping secrets from me?
“You shouldn't be here anyway. You need to be at work,” Dhevan says.
“But I just told ya—”
“Go to work,” Dhevan says. Kerick sulks for about thirty seconds as he walks away. Then, he picks his head up and starts to run back across the fields towards the split in the fence.
Forget Déjà, Kerick is where my answers will be at. I need to know what he was talking about. “I should get going too. Find Eta and all that. You're good here without me, right?”
“Yeah, I'll manage. Somehow.”
I ignore the facetiousness, it'll be here when I get back. Before going after Kerick, I head behind the shed to the bales of straw. I look around to make sure Dhevan hasn't followed me and take a firm grip on the cords. I bend my knees and bunch my biceps as I lift. It takes more effort than I'm happy about, but I lift the bale. I drop it back to the dirt and take off at a quick pace after Kerick's figure.
७
By the time I get back into the city, the crowd is picking up. I try to follow Kerick's dark brown mop of hair, but it's too similar to the rest of the people in the crowd and I lose him in a matter of minutes. No matter; I know where he’s going and what route he'll be taking. It’ll be easy enough to get ahead of him.
Out of all the odd jobs I've been doing to fill my time in Neech, I enjoy the ones that involve the fields and animals with Dhevan the most. Sure, he's not my favorite person, and I know I'm not his, but there's something relaxing and fulfilling about working with my hands and actually doing something. Knowing that the effort I put into a certain task affects the people of Neech and Dahn.
I also thought it would be a good place to get some intel about what was going on in the Outer City. But that field of hope has lain barren since I got here. I keep thinking back to the night of my birthday party in Dahn, and what Stephen said to my father about increased production and efforts, but no increased output from wood and steel mills. That’s not just a fluke. Something is going on. Supplies don’t just disappear and the Corporation isn't going to turn a blind eye. I’m frustrated and disappointed that no one has let me in on what's going on.
Karis doesn’t know anything and I've been keeping a close watch on Jeret. He isn't giving anything up. My best bet lies with the Cambrais, but Déjà would be too hard to crack.
At an age where cockiness and slow wit mingle, my best bet lies with the youngest member, Kerick. He’ll be the easiest to trick into giving up information.
Like any true stalker successful at their profession, I've been spending my weeks watching him, his routine, comings and goings; getting to know him as best I can. This is one of the many reasons I don't have as much time for Karis as I would like. I’m surprised with as much watching as I do, that I haven’t seen him sneak off to wherever it is he’s going. He must be craftier than I’d given him credit for—but only a little.
I'm glad for all the alleys and shadows Neech provides; all of its dilapidated buildings and crushed roads; they’re great for lurking and surprising. Or trailing and snooping.
I'm leaning against a building, just inside a walkway that’s pressed up against another rundown structure, waiting for Kerick to make it this way. It’s a steady stream of people that flow through the streets; all of them talking and hurrying to get to their jobs. One can easily blend into the current. One can also be pulled away without too much disturbance.
I tap my foot on the ground, anxious for my target to come into view. I nod as a way of extending a silent hello when one citizen notices me—the sort of thing I would do in the markets of Dahn. She picks up her pace and scurries past.
I crane my neck and search the crowd. Finally, I see Kerick. He's laughing with a couple of other
steel workers, boys a few years older than himself and doesn't notice me when they pass by.
“Kerick, wait up.” I step out and grab his arm.
His body jerks back when I stop his forward movement. “Hey! Whatdoya think you're doin’? Get off me!”
His friends look over their shoulders at us. “Hi,” I say. “You two can go on ahead. I need to talk with Kerick.” His friends look to Kerick. “I won't keep him long, I promise.”
Kerick sighs. “It's okay, it's only Ethan.”
I try not to take offense from that comment, especially the fact that it’s coming from an eight—year—old. It seems like all anyone does in this city is insult me. I give the other boys a tight smile and they turn away after they linger a little longer.
“Don’t be late,” one of them tosses over his shoulder.
“Whatdyawant?” Kerick throws the words together when we’re alone, jerking his arm from my grip.
“I need to talk to you real fast; about what you said earlier at the barn.”
Kerick shifts his weight back and forth between his feet like the heifer did before she dropped her calf. “Dunno what you're talkin’ about.”
“You need to be a better liar than that.”
“Not lyin’.”
“It's okay to lie sometimes, Kerick. As long as it's for the right reasons and to the right people. But right now, this is not the right time and I'm not the right person to be lying to.”
He surveys me with a scowl. “I'm not lyin’,” he finally says. “’Sides, Dhevan says not to trust you.”
“What?!” I keep the sudden rise of anger in check and try to smooth out my voice. “That's preposterous.”
“Don't know what that means.” Kerick crosses his arms and looks annoyed.
“It means your soon-to-be brother-in-law is crazy. Absurd. Ridiculous.”
“You callin’ my sister’s Pair crazy?” His fists are by his side, and I have no doubt he’d take a swing at me if he felt the need. He has no sense of proportion when it comes to defending those he loves. I’ve learned this about him.
I’ve also learned that this little kid can be unpredictable. “Look, Kerick. We started off of the wrong foot. I'm just here to say hi, see what you're up to, and if there's anything I can do to help with the,” I look around and lower my voice, leaning down to his level, “you know...the thing.”
“Why are you talkin’ like that?” He looks at me like I'm crazy.
“Because we can't let anyone else know about the thing.”
“What’s the thing?”
I lean closer still. “The missing supplies. The tunnels you're working on.” He straightens up and his eyes go a bit wide. “If you're helping, just think how much more I can help. I'm so much bigger.”
He scoots past me. “I'm not too small, I'm just right. Papa told me so.” And he takes off to catch up with his friends.
I let out a sigh. I blew it. I was hoping to get more information than I did out of him. Who am I kidding? I didn't get any information. This is going to require even more stealth and deception. I hadn't given Kerick enough credit.
I turn around to get my bearings when a wave of déjà vu so powerful it gives me nausea, slams into my head. I have to brace myself with a hand against the wall so that it doesn't knock me over. My body is suddenly unbearably hot and sweat starts to dampen my lower back and forehead. I can't hold it back; I get sick all over my shoes and the ground.
The tipping sensation fades and my body cools as suddenly as it heated up. I gulp a few deep breaths of the cool air before straightening up.
I open my eyes, slowly, and look around. It's the same alley, but I'm seeing it differently. I've been here before, in this exact spot, and not just from my time here in Neech. I've been here before. I don't know how to explain the feeling coursing through my veins, but this alley is a part of me, somehow.
The realization comes to me like a view through a parting curtain—all at once but with a slow dawning. This is the alley from my dream. I don't know how it’s possible; I've never been here before now. I don't like this feeling of lost control. Of not knowing or being able to control what's going on inside my own head. I turn to go find Eta when a voice makes me stop.
“Ethan?”
Karis
I hurry through the streets in my best attempt to not be late meeting Journey. When I round the corner, I see my best friend standing with her arms folded over her chest and her foot tapping.
“You're—”
“Late, I know,” I say. “I was busy getting harassed by a couple of Guards. One of them only months old.”
Journey’s eyes widen. “Oh, no! Are you okay?” She starts to inspect me, lifting my arms up and turning me around in a circle.
“I'm fine,” I say, gently shaking her off. “They only wanted someone to harass and I was unlucky enough to be in their line of sight.
“I'm glad you're okay.” She gives me a quick hug. “Now let's go. We need to hurry or we’ll be late. Again.” She grabs my hand and starts to tug me through the streets. “Look,” she points through the throng of people. “Even Kerick's going to be on time for work.”
I snort at the point she’s trying to make, but smile. “We're fine. Slow down.” I pull her back so we're walking side by side and she slows her pace only a little. I hook my arm through her elbow. “Working on anything interesting?” I ask, remembering all the rich clothing and costumes I saw and wore when I was in Dahn. I’m one of the many seamstresses that works on the garments for Neech, but Journey is one of the select few who works on the second floor of the Factory; embroidering and making (never mending) dresses and clothes for the citizens of the Inner City.
“Not right now. No fancy parties going on, I guess.”
Suddenly, Kerick darts out in front of us and races through the crowd. I hadn’t noticed that we’d passed him. I look back where he came from, down a dim alleyway.
“Stop,” I say, holding Journey back. “Who's that?” I don’t know why the figure catches my eye, since they’re partially covered by shadows to begin with, but they do. I squint. They’re doubled over, with the palm of their hand against the brick wall. Did Kerick get into a fight? Is that why he was running? But this person is much larger than Journey’s little brother.
“Where?” Journey says, looking over my shoulder.
I weave to the side of the street and peer into the alley. A small gasp escapes my lips. “Ethan?” I pull my head back in an uncomfortable mixture of confusion and surprise. What is he doing in this part of the city this early in the morning? What was he doing with Kerick? He should out with Eta. Or in bed. He was never one to wake up before he had to. I step closer, Journey mimicking my movements.
“What are you doing here?” His voice is dry and forced. His hand is against the dirty brick wall, bracing himself, his feet planted slightly apart; almost like he's widening his base to get better grounding. Like he's getting ready to fight someone off.
My eyes scan the narrow space. He's alone. He looks up at me, confusion clouding the light his eyes normally hold. The space between his eyebrows is pinched together, like he has to think about who I am. I look at him closer. He's chalk white and pasty looking. His pupils are dilated and I can see drops of sweat sliding down his temples.
“Ethan,” I say carefully, “it's me.”
He takes his time straightening up, dragging his hand from the wall, but something about him still seems defensive, wary. His blurry gaze stares at me for so long, I begin to feel uncomfortable. I shift my weight between my feet, glancing at Journey. Her hand comes up to rest on my shoulder.
“Ethan,” Journey says in her soft voice, “It's me, Journey. And Karis.”
“Journey.....Karis....” It's like he's tasting our names, to see if they’re palatable, but he still looks uneasy. He gives his head a quick shake and looks at us again. “Of course, I know who you are. Sorry, I just got a feeling of being sick just now. It just had me confused.”
“You sure?” I ask, still unconvinced. “You don't look so good.” I reach out to take his hand, but I don’t think he sees it, because it remains empty.
“Of course I'm fine,” he snaps. My eyes widen. “I haven't been sleeping very well lately, that’s all. And it’s taking its toll on me.”
“I can see that,” I say. “Shouldn't you be with Eta?”
“Are you my keeper, now?” He gives a forced laugh, but I can’t help feel some part of him means that. It’s been like this between us lately—snappy and a bit mean.
I swallow my hurt feelings. “Just trying to make conversation. I won't make that mistake again.”
He sighs and softens a little. “I'm sorry, I'm just really exhausted and stressed. I feel like I'm being stretched so thin, I might rip from any movement.”
“Are you sure you're okay?” Journey asks.
“Yeah, I'm fine. I'm actually on my way to see Eta. I just had to make a quick stop to talk with someone.”
“With Kerick?” I ask. “Ethan, I'm worried about—”
“Kerick? Oh, yeah. Just something small, no big deal.” Then, almost as an afterthought he adds, “I know you're worried about me, Karis. I promise, this is nothing; but I'll mention it to Eta when I see her.” He steps forward gives me a quick, dry kiss on the forehead. “I'd better get going. See ya, Journey.” He steps through us and out onto the main street.
“Hey!” I call after him.
He turns, a look of mild irritation on his face. “Yeah?”
“Don't you want these?” I take the bag from across my body and hold it out, waiting for him to take it. He stares for a second at the fabric hanging from my open hand. “Take it, Eta's expecting them.”
He reaches out and grabs the straps. “Uh, yeah. Right. Thanks.” He turns and strides through the people, disappearing from my sight. He doesn’t look back or say goodbye.
“Alright,” Journey says, turning on me. “What was that all about?”
“I don't have a clue what you're talking about.”
