by RaeLynn Fry
I take her place, giving a good yank, rolling the bloated body over to face the lightening sky. His skin is a blue black and swollen. His eyes are rolled back into his head and have a yellow tinge to them. His lips are black. My hand flies up to cover my nose and mouth with the cuff of my jacket. Maute.
“He's dead,” I say.
“Very.” Eta glances around quickly with a twitchiness to her I didn't think she possessed. She presses her lips together and looks around.
“We need to Comm this in, have the Guards take it away. Before something happens.”
“I'll take care of it. You go home.”
“Are you sure? I should wait here. I'll stay out of sight.”
“No,” she snaps. “Go back to the house, you need the rest. I'll take care of it and come straight back. Besides, they can’t find you out past curfew, you’re not authorized.”
I watch her for a moment, something not feeling right. “If you're sure...”
“When am I ever not sure? Stop questioning your elders. Go.”
I wrap my duster tighter around my body and look at her for a second longer. She’s not paying me any attention. Instead, she’s looking over the corpse with something akin to hungered excitement.
I shake off the feeling and hurry back to the house, eager to get away from the sickness and the coming Guards.
Karis
“Where do you want to stop first?” Journey asks with little puffs of air. Her tone is as if we never had our little spat yesterday. Maybe we didn't and I'm just imagining it. That would be nice.
My shins are burning, we’re walking so fast. I shrug, even though I know she can't see the gesture. But then I think about the sudden drop in temperature over the last couple of days. “Let's do firewood.”
“Sounds good.” She tugs my hand again. “Hurry up.”
I'm glad Papa already picked up our ration stamps on his way home from the Mill last night. I had made enough excuses, and it was getting close enough to the deadline that Papa just threw up his hands and got the stamps himself. I counted my blessings, knowing they'll probably be running out very soon.
Ration Stamps are another poor attempt by the Corporation to give us a false sense of freedom and independence. We can trade or sell them as we see fit. The only tracking is done when they're picked up. They're not assigned per person, but rather per family unit. Families are allowed to trade them or keep them however they see fit.
I slip my hand into my pocket and rub the worn pieces of paper together. Two firewoods, two waters, one meat, one grain, one greens, two electricity, and two tactiles. We only get that one twice a year—when there's a substantial shift in the weather.
Ration Day is a hectic and potentially dangerous day. Everyone is trying to get the best place in line to make sure they get the highest quality of whatever it is they're getting—and the quality is spotty to begin with. Tempers are already on edge, so there's an increase in fights between the men. Sometimes women, too. Military Guards have a heavier presence in the Square today. And they also have shorter tempers.
Citizens filter onto the main road with Journey and me from alleys and side streets, buildings and houses. We all give each other shifty glances and quicken our steps, not wanting to run through the streets, but knowing that it isn’t beneath us.
“We'd better hurry,” Journey says again, her curls bouncing against her shoulders as she looks from side to side. I see Ami from my sewing circle. We make eye contact and she picks up her pace. This is the one day no one has friends.
The closer we get to the Square, the more Military Guards there are. They’re posted every few blocks. Then every block. Then every street. At the mouth of the Square, they're form a wall on each side. “There are more of them than normal,” I say to Journey, under my breath.
“I noticed the same thing.”
“It's almost like they expect a riot or something.” It can get bad, but it’s never gotten bad enough to need this many Guards.
All of the citizens get funneled to this one point, like Dhevan's cows in a cattle shoot. We're pressed close and tempers are hot. People shout at each other to stop stepping on toes or to get out of someone else's personal space. One guy looks around to make sure he's not being watched by a Guard and swings at another man. They start to get into it, but citizens watching out for them quickly pull them apart, other people streaming in to fill the space between them. That's the way it goes in Neech on Ration Day, every man for himself.
Journey and I grab hands so that we're not separated. We're pushed and bumped along with everyone else. I'm elbowed in the back, and while it hurts for a little bit, it's all a part of the experience. I dread getting our rations every month, but at the same time, a part of me finds it exhilarating—the hunt to find the shortest line to get the highest quality product, but also the stress of possibly not being able to get everything your family needs for the month.
Like a wave breaking on the shore, citizens explode through the funnel and into the Square. It's a mad rush to the individual stations: firewood, water rights, grains, meats, electricity. Firewood and water rights are always the first to fill up, followed closely by electricity and meats. Journey and I scurry into line and are rewarded by our hustle with a spot only five slots from the front.
Since stamps aren’t monitored once they’re doled out, a number of strategies are implemented. Families will team up to hit different stations to save time, getting rations for each other. Stamps will get traded, different items going for different prices. Journey and I enlisted the help of Dhevan and Ethan. We're getting firewood, water, greens, and grains and they're getting meat, electricity, and textiles. The lines fill up quickly with a few stragglers making their way into the Square and the back of the lines.
That's when I feel it. The stare. It's hot and sharp. I stand completely still and try not to move when I breathe. If I do, I know the person will be there, right next to me, ready to sweep the hair away from my neck or something equally disturbing. A shiver crawls up my spine. I can actually feel the stare moving, the person has shifted. My head snaps around to where I feel it coming from and my eyes search the crowd, greedily. I'm no longer afraid or nervous. I want to find this person, to know what it is they want from me.
There are layers of people, and sorting through them is taking time and tiring my eyes, but I think....do I recognize that man? I push my neck forward a little more and squint my eyes, but the film of faces takes any familiarity away.
“Karis?”
I snap my head back. “What?”
Concern is etched into Journey’s face. “Did you wake up late?
I turn away, searching, but it's useless. “Same time as normal.”
“You look so exhausted. I'm worried about you. What are you looking for?”
“Yeah, well, I don't exactly have the most peaceful of minds lately. And, nothing. I'm fine.” I look straight ahead.
“Still,” she puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. “If you don't have your strength....”
“Journey,” I start. I know where her heart is, but the last thing I need is pity or a mother.
“I care about you, Karis.”
We move up a spot in line. “I know,” I reach up and squeeze her hand before taking it from my shoulder, “and I appreciate it.”
“Next! Hurry up, now!” The firewood vendor is a large, squat man, with two Guards on either side of him, and it looks like they're using him for protection. He eyes them with disgust. All the vendors think the Guards are more of a nuisance than a help.
“You heard the man, next!” the Guard on the right shouts.
The firewood seller spins on the Guard, impressively agile for a man of his size. “This here's my booth, not yours. I didn't ask you to be here and I sure as sin don't need you to interfere.” He turns back with a grunt, taking the vouchers of a citizen and scanning them. The citizen points to two cords of wood and the seller slaps their stamps onto the end of one of the logs with a tack.
> Journey and I are up to the front of the line after a few more minutes. I hand over Eta and my's stamps, point to the four next best looking cords and he slaps my name on them. “They'll be delivered by the end of the day. Next!”
Journey and I peel out of line and hurry to water rights, at least a dozen people are ahead of us. There are only four wells in Neech, one at each corner of the city, and we get to pull once a week. Your ration stamps get you the day and slot you draw. The earlier in the week, the better. The water well is only filled at the beginning of each week, so the closer you are to the end, the less clean it is.
“Hey, beautiful,” a voice says behind us.
Journey's face lights up as she turns around. “Dhevan.” She kisses him on the lips as he grabs behind her head and draws her close. Ethan stands next to him, hands in his pockets, the muscle at this jaw clenching and unclenching in awkwardness.
“Karis,” he says with a nod. No smile.
“Ethan,” I say back with the same nod. Dhevan and Journey stare at us with pinched brows. Then, as a second thought, Ethan and I take a somewhat awkward step towards each other. It's a bit of a stiff hug, and he gives me a dry kiss on the cheek. I can feel a small bit of tenderness behind the coolness of it, but I jerk my face away as soon as I can.
I know that a lot of what we said to each other last night was said out of heat and stress and all the pressure we’re both under, but Papa always said that there’s a seed of truth to every hurtful thing we say, even if it’s just in jest. Do I still have feelings for Ethan? Of course I do. Is it the best time for us to have a relationship? I’m starting to think not. Which is why I don’t reach for him after our brief embrace.
“How's Ration Day going for you two?” he asks.
“Good,” Journey says, her eyebrow raised in a curious expression.
“We've only gotten firewood, so far,” I say.
Dhevan nods. “We were first in line for meats and then headed over for textiles. We're heading over to electricity next.”
“Good planning,” Journey says.
“Yeah, well, we still have a lot to do out in the fields before tonight,” Ethan says.
“Oh, before I forget, I never grabbed your veggie ration stamps from you last night.” Journey holds out her hand.
“Ugh, gross,” Dhevan says with a smile. “No greens for us this month.”
“You can't be serious,” I say. You may not like them, but you don't willingly not get food in the Outer City.
“Serious as can be.” He gives me one of his charming smiles, but I'm not believing it. I glance at Ethan and he nods in agreement. Something’s off.
“How will you ever grow up to be big and strong?” I say, a little forced.
“Oh, ya know.” He smiles again at me, but I think he knows I'm not buying it. He turns his attention to his Pair. “Another heifer calved this morning.”
“Heifer or bull?” Journey asks.
“Bull.”
“Another one?”
“We're bound to get a heifer sometime.” He clears his throat and puts on a bit of a forced smile. “Tomorrow's the big day!” He cracks his knuckles and pulls my best friend closer to his side. The line moves up one.
“I can't tell you how much it means that you guys are helping us set up tomorrow tonight. I know we've all had long weeks.”
“Of course,” I say. We move up another spot.
The rest of our time in line for water is spent going over trivial, boring Pairing details. I try to keep my head in the conversation, but the best I can do is nod when I think it's necessary and hope that Ethan's paying more attention than I am.
We part with the boys after we each get our assigned days and slots for water rights, Ethan leaves without saying goodbye. I look at my water slip. Wednesdays after my work shift. There are worse slots to have.
A commotion breaks out from where we just left, the front of the line. It's two women. “You cut in front of me!” the one with graying hair says.
The other woman, younger and a bit taller ignores her, stepping up to hand over her stamp. Neither vendors nor Guards settle disputes like these, and there are plenty. They only get involved if it gets physical, which is guaranteed almost every time.
“I said,” the first woman says again, pulling the braid of the other woman, “you cut in front of me.” She yanks down, hard.
The other woman screams out in pain, grabbing at her hair as she's forced around and down to the ground. In seconds, the gray haired woman is on top of her, trying to grab the slot the younger woman stole from her.
“I didn't do anything!” she says, fighting for the hold on her stamp. She hits the other woman on the shoulder with her free hand.
The scuffle turns into a brawl pretty quickly and two Guards saunter over, each grabbing the collar of a woman, yanking them apart. In the scuffle, the stamp with the water slot on it gets lost in the mix and floats to the ground. The younger woman reaches for it, protesting to the Guard holding her back, but he's ignoring her, dragging her away. It's too late, anyhow. A small boy has scampered in and snatched up the ticket, running away and getting lost in the throng of people who had gathered to watch. Such is the way of Ration Day.
७
Journey and I part ways after we spend the last of our stamps. It's towards the end of our allotted time to get our rations, so citizens are sparse and Guards are leaving their posts. I'm weaving through the crowd when I catch sight of Dhevan. I shout his name over the crowd. I want to mention to him about easing up on Ethan. He's trying so hard to do everything right and it's only fair that Dhevan is nice in return. It's too loud around me and my friend doesn't hear.
I try to push myself closer, but people keep folding in on me and I'm making no progress. “This is crazy,” I say to myself and start to turn around to go home. Then I see Dhevan's father, Cain, walk up to him and give him a pat on the back. Dhevan leans in and says something in his father's ear. The older man nods and looks around before taking something from Dhevan. I see the worn, bright green flash of a stamp. I stop short. Dhevan already spent the last of his stamps. Journey and I were with him. And it's not possible that Dhevan is trading stamps with his father because they're from the same family unit, there would be nothing to trade. It must be his ration of greens.
The oddity of this has my curiosity piqued, so I follow Cain. It's still busy enough that he won't notice me tailing him, but I'm easily able to keep up. He stops and talks with five other men—all either from the Lumber Mill or the Steel Mill, I can tell by their uniforms. The pattern is the same—he pats them on the back, they say something in his ear, and he's given ration stamps. Then the two part ways.
What are the ration stamps he's being given, and why? No one in Neech has enough that they can afford to just give away their rations for the month. I try to bleed into what remaining crowd is left and follow the lumber worker that currently has six extra stamps.
He stops at a greens booth and hands over his tickets. There's a small stack, and I can see by their color, that they're not all for greens. The vendor thumbs through them all, shoves them in his pocket and nods. They both look around and head to the back of the stall. I don't dare follow them, for risk of being seen, but I don't have to.
In a minute, the worker is pushing a wooden hand cart out into the street. He hastily flings the corner of a covering over the contents of the cart, but not before I get a good glimpse of what's in there: wood, meat, fabrics, greens. A family's worth of rations. And Cain is wheeling it away.
I wouldn't think it odd except we never get to take away our rations when we pay for them. They're always delivered. There is no other option. This is getting very interesting. I have to follow him and tell Ethan what I've found. I’m giving him few dozen feet head start when I think I hear my name being called. I look around, momentarily distracted. But that's all it takes. When I look up again, Dhevan’s dad is lost to the crowd.
७
“Get all the rations?” Papa a
sks as I walk through the door.
“Two cords of wood are being delivered tonight.”
“Ash?”
I nod, heading over to the fireplace. I pick up the poker and stir the embers. Some flare back to life and a burst of faint heat hits my fingers. “Last two.”
“Water rights?”
“Wednesdays at close.”
“That's good. I can help you carry it back. What about electricity?”
“That one was pretty much used up by the time Dhevan and Ethan got a place in line. There was only 1,000 kilowatt hours left for us.”
“Bring home the extra ration stamp?”
“Traded it for some extra food. Figured with that other mouth upstairs and with Sai it would be good. Grain and greens.”
“Good thinking, Karis; we don't go through that much electricity anyhow. We'll make it work.”
“I'm going to go and get ready for the meeting tonight.”
“Another one? Ethan just had one last night.”
“He thinks if we have them nightly, more people will show up. He said he's playing the odds. Whatever that means.”
“Karis?”
“Yeah?” I say, my hand on the banister of the stairs, already knowing what he’s going to bring up.
“There's a bowl of broth on the table for the Untouchable.”
“His name is Gandā.”
He sighs. “Eta's up there, finishing up vitals.”
I grab the bowl and spoon lying next to it and head up the stairs. I sigh as heavily as I can, hoping that the sound carries down to Papa. I know I'm acting like a child, but I don't want to be here doing this. I want to be out there trying to get my brother back.
I kick at the base of the door, swinging it open and knocking it against the wall. I'm not worried about waking him. He's been unconscious for weeks. I doubt that's going to change any time soon.
“Feeling sassy, are we?” Eta says. She doesn't even bother to look up at me. One end of her stethoscope is in her ears, the other is pressed against his chest. Whatever Gandā did wherever he's from, he worked hard at it. His shoulders, arms, chest, stomach, they’re all well-muscled.
