by Unknown
I sighed as I stared up at the ceiling of my small room, wondering what tomorrow would bring. To be honest with myself, I was a bit nervous about being sent into the reservation. Would the werewolves resent me for being an outsider? Would they detest their confinement? Surely, the government wouldn't have agreed to send me in if it wasn't safe.
Knowing that I wouldn't sleep if left to my own devices, I took two sleeping pills to knock myself out. My alarm seemed to go off too soon in the morning, and I arose groggy, hoping that it would be an easy day. With a whole month inside of the reservation, I would have plenty of time to interview everyone without feeling rushed.
There were only a handful of my belongings that I was allowed to take inside of the reservation with me. My toothbrush, my hairbrush, my camera, and a notebook and pen. Everything else would be provided to me once inside.
John escorted me to a small shack outside of the reservation where I was given a hideous yellow jumpsuit to wear. I was also issued three additional jumpsuits, seven pairs of underwear, three bras, eight pairs of plain white socks, and a pair of slip on sneakers. He said that the clothes that weren't on my body would be delivered to my room inside of the reservation.
“We limit the provisions that the werewolves are given for safety reasons,” John explained, forgetting to mention what those reasons were before continuing. “Male werewolves are assigned blue jumpsuits. Females are assigned red jumpsuits. Medical personnel wear purple. Compound staff wear gray. And we've ordered this yellow one especially for you.” He smiled as if he thought I would fall in love with my new attire.
That seems a bit prisonesque, I wanted to say, but I dare not insult their work. Perhaps this would be something else to go into my report. It felt like not allowing the werewolves to wear normal clothing would strip them of their sense of individuality and freedom.
After I was dressed, John led me to the gate that stood as entryway into the reservation. From the corner of my eye, I could see two more personnel escorting someone in a blue jumpsuit towards us. It was Chris Abbot, scowling as he walked up to meet us.
“Resident alpha Emmett will take you on a tour of the reservation. Then Devon, resident omega, will be your guide for the rest of your time inside of the reservation,” John said, and I wasn't sure if he was talking to both of us or just me. “Open the gates,” he called to the guard who controlled the gate.
The gate squeaked on its wheels as it rolled open, revealing an athletic man in a blue jumpsuit on the other side. He stood with an inviting smile, and I felt a sense of relief wash over me at the genuine appearance of it.
Chris's displeased expression didn't waver. Then again, the situation was quite different for him. While I was only going to be locked in with the werewolves for a month, this was a life sentence for him. Once he stepped inside those gates, he'd never be able to leave. I couldn't even imagine what that must feel like.
“This is Emmett Kennedy, resident alpha,” John introduced us. Like a perfect gentleman, Emmett extended his hand in greeting. “Emmett has been part of the Blackfoot Werewolf Reservation project since he was eighteen. How old are you now, Emmett?”
“Thirty seven,” he replied without hesitation, his perfect teeth gleaming in the sun. It was obvious that the werewolves did not lack dental care.
“This is Taya Raveen,” John told Emmet, “journalist for the National News Network. She'll be staying with you guys for the month. And this is Chris Abbot.” He turned his attention to Chris. “He's the new addition to your pack. Please make him feel as welcome as possible in his new home.”
“Will do,” Emmett replied, motioning for us to follow him.
I noticed that it wasn't until Chris was inside of the reservation that the guards backed away from him, allowing the gates to close behind us. This was it; my true journey into the lives of the werewolves was about to begin.
Emmett was quick to regain our attention, drawing it away from the ominous gate behind us. “First, I'll show you guys all the common areas.”
His pace was faster than I would have liked, but Chris and I did our best to keep up. For the most part, the buildings looked the same as they had in the compound, tan and plain on the outside. Plaques near the doors distinguished them from one another.
“We'll start with the less exciting stuff,” Emmett said with amusement in his voice. “This building is the laundry facility.” He opened the door to allow us entry. Instead of the standard washing machines lining the walls, there was a female attendant in a red jumpsuit standing at a counter, much like you would see at the cleaners. “The laundry facility is open seven days a week from eight in the morning until four thirty in the afternoon. The facility is closed on holidays. You'll be assigned a specified day of the week to bring your laundry in. You'll drop it off that day and pick it up the next. If you miss your specified day, you'll be forced to wear dirty clothing until the next week.”
I hardly listened as Emmett introduced us to the woman, too busy jotting down notes to pay much attention to her. This would be important for me to remember, not only for my report but for my own cleanliness.
“Why aren't detainees allowed to wash their own clothing?” I asked, glancing up just in time to see Emmett's mouth dip into a scowl.
“I would appreciate if you didn't refer to us as detainees,” he rebuked me.
“Apologies. I wasn't thinking,” I replied quickly, understanding the error of my words. Still, this place looked a lot like a prison, both on the inside and outside. It was hard not to think of the residents in such a way.
“We actually used to have a full laundromat,” Emmett continued, though the tension didn't leave his voice. “But there were issues with some people using too much soap and washing their clothing too frequently, so the compound officials decided to start regulating laundry.”
I hummed in reply, too intimidated by Emmett to ask any further questions until I was certain he had cooled off from my last one. It was obvious to me why he was the alpha of the group. Tall and broad, Emmett emitted a sense of power. His dark features helped him look the part, with shoulder length wavy black hair, large brown eyes, and a smattering of ebony chest hair peaking out from the collar of his jumpsuit.
The next building that Emmett took us to was a small recreation facility. Tables and chairs were set up inside, with a ping-pong table and an air hockey table the main attractions. There was also a basket full of various balls in one of the corners. Volleyballs, basketballs, tennis balls, and those large round inflatable bouncing balls for children. It looked a bit underwhelming, but better than nothing. I took note of the surveillance cameras lining all four corners of the room. The compound didn't seem to trust the werewolves with anything.
“This is our rec. room,” Emmett told us. “We hold a ping-pong tournament every Thursday night and an air hockey tournament on Friday nights. It's a good way to wind down and socialize. Once a month, the compound throws us a pizza party in here. They even provide alcohol, a rare treat. Otherwise, alcohol and tobacco products aren't allowed inside of the reservation. The Rec Room is open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, for our enjoyment,” Emmett informed us before ushering us out of the door and to our next destination.
One of the larger buildings in the reservation, the cafeteria was filled with rows of wooden picnic tables, large enough to accommodate at least seventy-five people, though I knew the reservation only had fifty-three residents, not including myself. About half of the tables were occupied with werewolves, taking a break from their breakfast to stare at us while Emmett continued the tour as if they weren't even there. It was a bit nerve-wracking to feel so many eyes upon me, and I imagined that it probably made Chris just as uncomfortable, even though these would be his people soon enough.
“This is the cafeteria. It's open seven days a week. Breakfast is served from eight to nine in the morning. The cafeteria closes at ten to prepare for lunch service. Then it's open from noon to two and again from five to seven. If you miss a
meal time, you'll be forced to wait for the next.” Emmett walked us to the food line, where a woman behind the counter came to greet us. After a quick introduction, Emmett continued his speech. “All the food served here is grown inside of the reservation. I'll take you to the garden and the animal barn after this.
“If you'll notice, there's a case behind the counter with various imported products. Candy bars, sodas, chips, and a few other things that come from the outside world. You can purchase them with job points, which you earn by working various jobs around the reservation. Each item in the case is worth one point. Chris, you won't be able to earn job points until you've been here for a week. Taya, you've already been assigned thirty job points to accommodate for your stay with us, since we won't be expecting you to take on any jobs. You earn one job point for every hour that you work, no matter which job you're working on. A list of all available jobs has been provided in each of your rooms. Some jobs are obviously more sought after than others. For those jobs, people are rotated in and out based on their place in the pack hierarchy. For less favorable jobs, the ones that no one wants, pack members are sometimes force assigned jobs. Usually, forced assignment only happens to those who don't typically take on jobs, so it pays to be an active worker in our community if you don't want to spend your days mucking stables.” Emmett grinned, obviously thinking of some familiar incident that was lost on us.
“So, not everyone has to work?” I questioned.
He thought for a moment. “Well, not exactly. At some point or another, everyone works. If you want privileges and a better life, you work for it, the same as you would on the outside world. But if you're fine with the basics, you can get away with not working until you get a forced assignment. You'll still have a roof over your head and three square meals a day.”
“And how are job points kept? I mean, how do they monitor that you've actually done the work?"
“In case you haven't noticed, there are security cameras everywhere,” Emmett replied in a tone that was borderline mocking. I was liking his arrogance less and less. “We log our job points in at the various computer stations around the reservation. Then, someone in the compound reviews the video tapes to make sure that the job time logged is accurate. Like on the outside world, job points are held back a week so that they can be verified before they are paid out.”
Chris's scowl deepened in realization that it would be at least two more weeks before he was allowed any of the comforts he had been afforded in his life before being captured. Then again, he had been without most of them for a month already. What was another two weeks?
Emmett led us out of the cafeteria and down a dirt path towards a large barn. Behind it was a fenced in pasture where cows roamed, eating grass and mooing happily. I could hear chickens clucking as well, though I couldn't see them.
After a brief tour of the barn, Emmett took us to the garden, which spanned at least an acre on its own. It seemed that every vegetable under the sun was being grown there. Plenty for everyone.
When our tour was finally over, Emmett led us to the residential area. It looked like a small apartment complex, with units stacked on top of one another. We went to Chris's room first, a second-floor efficiency that wasn't impressive in the least. Fully furnished, it was only slightly bigger than the cell he had been staying in during his detainment inside of the compound, with a full-size bed in the living room, a loveseat with a coffee table, a thirty-two-inch plasma TV mounted into the wall, and a small bathroom. There wasn't even a kitchen.
I glanced at Chris to see his reaction, but he didn't look surprised, holding onto the same scowl he had worn all day. His blue eyes flitted to a small stack of papers on the coffee table, and he sat down on the loveseat to take them in hand.
“This is the basic efficiency unit,” Emmett explained. “As you can see, it has everything that you'd need to survive, though it is a bit cramped. There isn't a kitchen because the compound prefers all meals to be eaten in the cafeteria. There are two larger rooms that you can purchase with job points. There's a one-bedroom suite, which Ms. Raveen will be staying in. That one costs sixty-six job points per month. Then there's also a two-bedroom suite that costs eighty-one job points a month. Needless to say, they're both very affordable for those willing to put in the work time.”
It was a good incentive to get people to work. I certainly couldn't see living out the rest of my life in a room so small.
We moved on to my suite with Chris reluctantly dragged behind. If not for his curiosity, I think he would have preferred to stay in his own room and settle in, but I was sure he was wondering what a larger suite would offer, just as much as I was.
In terms of size, my suite was about twice that of his room. In fact, his entire room could fit in my living room alone. My suite was lavishly furnished with a fifty-inch plasma television, a DVD player, a mini fridge, a sturdy looking oak coffee table, a black leather loveseat and a matching rocking chair with ottoman. The bedroom was the same size as the living room, with a queen-size bed instead of a full-size, two bedside tables, a dresser for storing clothes, and a desk and chair in one corner of the room. Even the bathroom was twice the size as the one in the efficiency. Where Chris's bathroom was cramped and only had a shower, mine had a big bathtub and plenty of room to move around.
“Now you can see how working pays off, huh?” Emmett jabbed Chris in the ribs with his elbow, trying to get a reaction. When his efforts fell flat, he continued, “Now, not all of these things come with the larger room. A lot of them are upgrades, like the big-screen TV, the leather sofa, and the paintings on the walls. Each luxury item costs additional job points per month. All in all, this room's set up is worth seventy-eight points a month. Still very affordable, if you ask me.”
Chris nodded, and I could see the wheels turning in his head. He wanted a room like this one.
To be honest, it did seem affordable enough. For less than two weeks of full-time labor, the larger suites were pretty cheap by all accounts. On the outside, people had to worry about paying for food and other various bills. That wasn't the case in the reservation. All the job points were completely expendable.
“Well, that's about it for the tour. Tonight we're going to let you guys settle in and wander around on your own. Tomorrow night there's a feast being held to welcome Chris into the pack. Then, in a week, we'll have hierarchy trials to see where he fits in. It's an exciting event for most, and one of the few chances you'll get to dethrone the alphas and betas.”
“Are there any benefits to being an alpha?” I questioned.
“Some,” Emmett replied thoughtfully. “I think the biggest perk is the house. Alphas get their own free standing home filled with all the luxury items, and they get a monthly ration of job points so that they don't have to work the regular jobs. An alpha's job is to keep the peace, to report any strange findings or disobedience to the compound personnel, to respond to emergencies, and enforce the rules.”
“So, basically, you're like the reservation police.”
“Pretty much. And you can think of betas as the deputies. They do the same thing, but report to the alphas. The two resident betas live in a duplex. It's a two bedroom with its own backyard and all the luxury items. Betas are given half of the allowance of job points that alphas are given. Betas are also responsible for helping with monthly livestock pickup.”
“Monthly live stock pickup?” I cocked an eyebrow.
“Yes.” There was a twinge of discomfort in his explanation. “Before the full moon, all the livestock has to be removed from the reservation.”
“Oh.” I completely understood without having to question it further. During the shift, the werewolves lost control of themselves. Keeping to their wolf-like instincts, it only made sense that they would harm the livestock. “And what about omegas? John told me that I would have an omega as my guide for the rest of the month.”
“Ahh yes.” Emmett's lips creased in amusement. “You do not want to be an omega,” he told Chris. “Om
egas stay in the basic efficiency unit with no chance of upgrading because they don't earn job points. Therefore, they're also not entitled to luxury items or items from the case in the cafeteria. Plus, they're force assigned a forty hour a week workweek, and they're given the most unfavorable jobs.”
“That sounds horrible.” I screwed my face in disbelief.
Emmett shrugged. “That's just how we do things here, and why it's best not to be an omega. Luckily, the omegas get a chance to redeem themselves each time a new member is brought on. Through hard work and discipline, most omegas work harder than anyone else to come up in the ranks. It's very rare that the same person stays an omega for more than one term.”
“And how does one become an omega?” Chris asked, obviously wanting to avoid such a fate.
“It's determined during the hierarchy trials. The hierarchy trials are a test of strength, skill, and intelligence. A pack member can earn up to ten points in each category. The man and woman with the most points are given position of alpha. The man and women with the second most points are given the position of beta. And the man and woman with the least amount of points are given the position of omega. In case of a tie, the winner is determined through a memory challenge.” Emmett looked at me with a smile. “For the fun of it, we're allowing you to participate in the hierarchy trials.”
“Sounds exciting,” I replied. To be honest, I would much rather be documenting the trials than participating in them, though when in Rome. . .
Emmett and Chris said their brief farewells and left me to my thoughts. I decided to document as much of the tour as I could remember before going to lunch. Afterward, I'd go back and take pictures of all the various facilities I had been shown. While I could have done it during the tour, I didn't want to interrupt Emmett or put him behind schedule.
