Recombination

by Brendan Butts

  I nodded. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties but if what he was saying was true, he could easily be in his forties.

  "So, what kind of work did you do?” I asked.

  “Not sure yous could call it work so to speak. Was a Ganger, I was. You got them in Miami, I’m sure.”

  I nodded.

  “Well, got in a spot of trouble with the boss, and had to get out in a hurry. Guy like me, hard to miss, so I move around.”

  “You think they’ll catch up with you?”

  “Might.”

  “If they did?”

  He just grinned.

  *

  I sat with Zenigra for hours. We played a few more card games and talked a bit about my life in school and how I had met Sasha. At one point, he pulled a squashed protein bar from his pocket and we split it.

  "Ya gotta keep up ya strength, Seven. It's about the only thing that'll keep ya going in a place like this."

  I nodded, chewing the bar. It had the consistency of rubber and didn't taste much better.

  At a little after five, a man in a tank top and khaki shorts carrying a megaphone appeared at the gate. The crowd, most of its occupants lying on the ground chatting lazily, surged to life. All of a sudden, everyone was on their feet facing the gate. Most of the men were pulling off their shirts. The women were rolling up their sleeves.

  "Got to make sure they notice ya. Hope you’re in good shape, kid." Zenigra said as he pulled off his own shirt. His upper body was as toned and muscled as any I had ever seen. He could have been a bodybuilder. He motioned for me to take off my shirt as well and I did.

  Almost eight months on the road and working plantations had trimmed my body of almost all of my baby fat, leaving me with toned, if not large, muscles. This was not something I was used to, being on display like this. I looked around the crowd and saw only dirt-stained faces staring at the man with the megaphone. Every now and then, a girl about my age would cast a furtive glance my way. I smiled. I could get used to this kind of attention. None of the other plantations I'd been to had ever had a queue to get in. Was this just because this was the last operating plantation this far north this time of year or was it the way all plantations to the north would be?

  "We have room for twenty-two," the magnified voice of the man in khakis called. The crowd gave a collective sigh. Twenty-two. There were at least a hundred of us.

  Standing on the tips of my toes, I still couldn't see past the heads of the crowd in front of me. Zenigra noticed and laughed.

  "He's moving through the crowd, picking people he thinks will do the best."

  "Damn, no way I'm getting in."

  "I'll say ya my brother if he wants me, won't go without ya."

  "Thanks, but if it comes down to it, you go in. Don't give up your spot on my account."

  "Shut it. If ya don't get in, I'll have nobody to play cards with."

  "Fair enough." I grinned.

  "Another chummer is coming down from the plantation. A big blond guy wearing a suit."

  "Maybe he's coming to tell us that they need more than twenty-two people?”

  "Maybe. He's talking to the chummer with the megaphone now. I think they're arguing or something. The guy with the megaphone doesn't look too happy."

  "What are they arguing about?"

  "No idea, but the blond guy is pointing over here."

  "At us?"

  "Looks that way. Huh. He’s coming over."

  I looked up at Zenigra, wondering. The blond was probably going to come over here and ask Zenigra to go in tonight. They would be stupid not to take someone of his obvious physical strength. Would Zenigra really push to have me let in too? The crowd in front of us parted a bit and the blond man stepped through. His suit was immaculate. Black pants, black jacket, blue tie, white shirt. His hair was closely cropped to his head and as blond as I have ever seen. He smiled as he approached Zenigra.

  The man in khakis could be heard over the crowd again.

  "That's it folks, we've got our twenty-two. You're welcome to wait until tomorrow to see if you can get in. We've already confirmed that at least three drifters will be moving on."

  The energy of the crowd around us seemed to melt away. Shirts were pulled back on, sleeves unrolled.

  Before the blonde man could reach us, most of the crowd was already sitting down again.

  I could sense Zenigra's puzzlement beside me. The blond man approached and held out his hand to Zenigra.

  "I'm Lucas. I operate out of this plantation." Zenigra took Lucas' hand and shook it slightly.

  "Zenigra."

  "Well, Zenigra, " Lucas looked Zenigra up and down, his eyes traveling over the other's’ muscular physique, "I'd like to hire you for a job this winter."

  "Job? Thought you guys were filled up?"

  Lucas nodded, "We are if you want to spend the winter pulling up Switchgrass. However, that isn't the job I was going to offer you."

  Zenigra frowned, "What's the job then?"

  Lucas spread his hands out from his sides and smiled again, "I need someone to watch over me while I do my business here."

  I looked between Zenigra and Lucas. Zenigra looked somewhat annoyed at the prospect of being Lucas' bodyguard.

  "So ya made sure I wasn't picked, then?"

  Lucas raised his eyebrows and took on an expression of surprise, "I had assumed you would be much happier working for me. Quarters of your own, three meals a day, and some flash in your pocket come spring."

  Zenigra grunted and looked over Lucas' head at the plantation, "What have I got to do?"

  Lucas grinned and then seemed to notice me, "Excuse us, would you? We've got some business to discuss."

  I sighed and lifted a hand to wave at Zenigra but he stopped me.

  "He gets in, or no deal."

  Lucas' eyes narrowed, then looked me up and down for a moment. He seemed about ready to tell Zenigra to forget the whole thing when his face softened slightly and he began smiling again. He turned back to Zenigra.

  "I can arrange that. He'll be in as a drifter, no special privileges, living with the general population. And, he'll have to do a little work for me here and there."

  Zenigra looked down at me and I nodded, "I'll do it."

  *

  We made our way through the crowd toward the closed gate. The man in khakis was standing there. He wasn't much taller than me, but certainly heavier. His pudgy face looked angry as he pushed a button on the gate and it opened again. The three of us stepped through. Voices of outrage could be heard from the crowd.

  "Why do they get to go in?"

  "I thought you said twenty-two?"

  Zenigra silenced them with a look and the man in khakis closed the gate again.

  "What took you so long, Lucas? I don't like waiting," the man in khakis asked hurriedly, glancing from side to side.

  "Calm down. I had to do some convincing." He motioned at Zenigra, "He's going to fill the position. Zenigra, this is Jack, the personnel manager of the plantation."

  Jack nodded and then his gaze fell on me, "What's with the kid? I thought you only needed one?"

  Lucas shrugged, "He's going to be working the fields and doing odd jobs for me."

  Jack looked at Lucas and frowned, "We're full up Lucas. No room for another."

  "Make room," Lucas said evenly.

  Jack gave Lucas a nasty look then turned to me, "What's your name, kid?"

  "John." I lied.

  “Follow me, John."

  Lucas turned to Zenigra and said, "You come with me, I'll show you where you'll be staying."

  Zenigra lifted a meaty hand to wave at me. I waved back and started following Jack down the path. Jack walked ahead of me, his posture radiating anger. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Lucas and Zenigra heading toward a small hut set apart from the plantation’s main buildings. They were hard to make out in the gathering dusk, but I could just barely hear Lucas talking animatedly to Zenigra.

  Jack and I reached the main buil
ding and joined the group of drifters that had been selected earlier.

  "Get in the back of the line. You'll be processed just like the rest. If you're lucky, we'll have an empty bunk for you. Otherwise, you'll be sleeping in a potato sack on the floor."

  I nodded and joined the people queuing up by the entrance.

  "Okay folks, " Jack's magnified voice spoke again, "you know the drill. Line up, this is going to take a bit."

  *

  As I stood in line waiting to be processed, the smell of Switchgrass being refined reached my nose. I had grown accustomed to the somewhat acrid smell that seemed to surround everyone and everything in a Switchgrass plantation, I had even started to enjoy it. It was like coming home after being away for a long time and relishing the smell of your own apartment. It gave me a warm feeling in my chest. I hadn't realized how accustomed to plantations I'd become over the past months.

  Almost every plantation was laid out the same. One large building in the center that served as the operations building, cafeteria, and dormitory, surrounded by Switchgrass on every side, excluding only the vehicle and footpaths leading to the processing factories at strategic points on the outskirts of the fields. If you were to look at the plantation from the sky, the main building would be a large dot in the center of a circle, with Switchgrass surrounding it. Slightly smaller illustrate the factories north, south, east and west of the main building, on the edges of a large circle that was the plantation itself.

  "How'd you get in? You weren't picked with the rest of us," said a man of about fifty with toned muscles that were just starting to sag with age.

  "Changed their minds. Took twenty-three."

  "What about that giant you walked in with?"

  "They hired him for something else, I don't know what."

  "He family?"

  "Yeah, he's my Dad." The lie came smoothly.

  The man nodded, appearing satisfied with my answer.

  "Lucky you got in, don't usually take kids your age in for the winter season. No stamina."

  "I've got plenty of stamina."

  "Hope so. I'm not picking up your slack."

  The line for processing moved forward at a crawl and I kept my attention focused on the meal that would be waiting for us at the end of the line, so as not to die of boredom. It was past eight by the time I reached the front of the line. I stepped up to the counter, barely able to see over it. The counter was scuffed, names and dates carved into the dark synth-wood. Behind the counter sat Jack, his hands on the keyboard of a terminal and an empty cup of coffee next to him. A large digital printer sat next to the terminal. Jack sighed at the sight of me and started asking me the usual questions, entering my information into the terminal. When he finished with his questions, he hit a final button on the term.

  I watched as it slowly expelled a glossy piece of paper with a barcode on it. Jack impatiently ripped the piece of paper out of the printer before it was completely out and started folding it at the edges. A few moments later he was tearing the sides of the paper and slipping it between two sheets of plastic. He tapped a button on the printer and ran the plastic-encased sheet through again, jerking it free as soon as it was visible. Looking up at me he slapped the plastic down on the counter.

  "This is your ID. Keep this on you at all times, if you're asked to produce it and you can't, you'll be ejected from the plantation. No exceptions."

  I took the ID card from the counter and slipped it into my pocket with a nod. Jack motioned to a door to my right.

  "Food through there, I've got to go see about a bunk for you," he said, pushing away from the terminal and standing up. He looked as if he was about to say something nasty, but I looked away and headed toward the cafeteria door as fast as I could. As I pushed through the door I glanced over my shoulder and saw Jack heading through the door directly behind me.

  The lights in the cafeteria were much brighter than that of the admission lobby. I blinked a few times, letting my eyes adjust. Three long tables stretched out in front of me, and after them, a buffet style setup of food. The people remaining in the cafeteria were all sitting down eating. I made my way along the aisle in front of me, passing between two tables. I tried to catch the eye of a few people I recognized from the line, but everyone I looked at seemed to be doing a great job of pretending they didn't notice me.

  I reached the end of the tables and walked to the start of the buffet, grabbing a plate. The food wasn't anything special, the normal plantation stuff. Some potatoes, chicken, vegetables and some sort of soup. It looked like heaven. I took healthy portions of everything except the soup and made my way to the closest of the tables, sitting down at the end. As I placed my tray down, the two workers closest to me made a point of picking up their trays and moving further down the table, casting nasty looks my way.

  I'd never experienced this kind of hostility at a plantation before. Usually, when you’re on a plantation the people you work with are like your family. Even if you're only there for a day. These people were making me feel like an outcast. Very confused, but caring more about my meal, I started eating. About halfway through my stack of food a man stood up from the other end of my table and walked purposefully toward me. I turned slightly and nodded to the man when he reached me.

  "Hey."

  "Don't give me that. My wife had to stay outside because they wouldn't let our son in. He's older than you and built better. So what have you got that he doesn’t?" the man asked angrily. I looked him up and down, taking in the large size of his arms and wondering if he was mad enough to hit me. I hoped he wasn't. He was clean-shaven, about six feet tall with a closely cropped military style haircut and angry brown eyes narrowed to slits.

  "Why don't you ask the guy that picked me? I don't know."

  "That's not what you told him." The man pointed to the guy that had asked me if Zenigra was family, "He says you got in cause your Dad did. That doesn't sound fair. I got in, but my son didn't." The man’s face was turning red with anger as he spoke and I leaned away from him. The other workers in the cafeteria had all stopped eating to watch. I wondered how many of the others had been forced to leave family outside.

  "Look, I'm sorry. He said he wouldn't come in without me, it's not my fault."

  "Yeah? Well, I don't give a damn who's fault you say it is. You're sitting there eating while my son’s outside hungry. You got any idea what that makes me want to do?"

  My heart started pounding fast. I put my fork down and tried to stand up. I got halfway out of my chair when the man grabbed me by my shirt and lifted me half off my feet, holding me out in front of him. I let out a startled cry and started to struggle. I was attempting to look anywhere but at his face when my eyes fell on the ID badge he had pinned to his shirt. 'M. Piner'

  "Listen, Mr. Piner, I don't want any trouble," I said, my voice wavering. I tried to hold my hands up in what I hoped would be seen as a placating gesture.

  Piner shook me roughly as he said, "Look at me, you little punk."

  Spittle went flying from his mouth and got on my face as I turned my head to look at him. His face was twisted with a rage I didn't understand. He snarled, lifted me a bit higher, and threw me backward. I landed on the table and my food. My fork jabbed me painfully in my lower back as I skidded and tried to grab onto the edge of the table to stop myself toppling over the other edge. I managed, but just barely. All the breath was gone from my lungs at the sudden impact and I was having to work very hard to get air back into them.

  A few people at nearby tables looked like they were nearing the point of intervening. A flush of humiliation came to my face at the thought of being saved by them. Who the hell was Piner to pick on me? So what his kid got stuck outside, that's life. Why take it out on me?

  Another quick glance around the room revealed other, less kind faces among the crowd. Some of these people thought Piner was in the right. A fury built up inside of me at the injustice of the situation.

  "Keep out of my way, or you'll wish you never go
t let into this place." He stalked away, walking right by his spot at the table and his unfinished food. Slamming open the door leading back to the admissions lobby he was gone before I managed to roll onto my side. My eyes were blurred with pain, but I was sure I saw a few people nodding and snickering.

  I sat up on the table and instinctively pulled my knees to my chest, my lungs still aching for breath. I just sat there for a few moments, looking down at the table. I'd gotten into fights before, plenty of them. Just never with an adult. Never with someone so much bigger than me that I knew no matter what, I had no chance of winning. What a big tough guy, picking on a teenager half his size. My face continued to burn with embarrassment. I'd been picked on and humiliated by kids at school when I was younger, but then I'd grown up and learned how to fight back. And for what? To have this baka throw me onto a table like I'm nothing, like a non-entity. And who the hell were the rest of these people kidding? Just letting it happen. Enjoying it even. Sick, sadistic bakas, the whole lot of them.

  I slid off the table and felt tears welling up in my eyes. I wouldn't let them out though. I wasn't going to give these bastards the pleasure of seeing me cry. I was to tough for that, at least. I turned, leaving the smashed food on my tray and headed for the door, looking straight ahead. Food fell off the back of my shirt and pants as I walked. The door to the cafeteria opened before I could reach it and Jack stepped through. He didn't seem to notice me approaching.

  "Listen up everyone. All of your ID badges have a bunk number on them. That bunk is yours. No swapping, no complaining if your pillows are more like rocks. Lights out in five, so get a move on."

  I pulled my badge from my pocket and looked down at it, it didn't have a bunk number on it. I stopped short in front of Jack and he looked down.

  "You come with me, John, I'll show you where you'll be sleeping."

  Chapter 5

  I followed Jack out of the cafeteria and into the lobby. I could almost feel the daggers being thrust into my back by the workers still sitting at their tables.

  Jack made his way across the lobby to the door opposite, the one I had figured for the dormitory. He pushed it open and stepped through. It was just like every other plantation dormitory I'd slept in. Except bigger. A lot bigger. The room was more like a warehouse and it slid off into darkness in all directions.