Gray (Book 2) (14 page)

She helped clean up after dinner and met the last female member of the group, a sad-faced woman named Ellie who looked ten years older than the twenty-eight Mondra had said she was. Coral helped her upend the water from cooking the vegetables into a crock. It was to be saved to make the next batch of beans or rice, Ellie explained. “There are vitamins in there,” she said, and again Coral had the sense that she was being spoken to like a child.

“Do you have beans every dinner?”

“Beans, or lentils, or sometimes brown rice. That’s four days each week. Carved meat once a week, with boiled or roasted potatoes, and stew or soup with the leftover meat the two days after that.”

“Wow. You must have stored up a lot of food. Fifteen people, for all these months.”

“More at the start.” She looked even sadder than before.

“I’m sorry,” Coral said. “You lost someone?”

“We all did.” She glanced quickly at Brynn. “But we’ll meet them again.” And then she excused herself and left to dump wash water.

She’d have to get to know Ellie better, if she were allowed. Joli was unfriendly, Mondra was married to the leader, Brynn also was in power here, and Polly was a child, but maybe this woman could be an ally—or at least a source of information.

The day was still light when the women emerged from the big cabin. Brynn waved Coral to go with her and Polly, and they returned to the cabin. The others moved off toward another cabin. The men were nowhere to be seen.

Inside the cabin, Brynn lit two candles and handed Coral a small shirt, too small for anyone she’d seen here. “Know how to tear out a seam?”

“I’m sure I can manage.” She took the needle Brynn offered and held up the shirt. It was woven cotton, light blue, small. The buttons were on the right, so a boy’s shirt. “Do you want me to take off the buttons?”

“I’ll do that. You just get the seams.”

Coral set to work. As she did, her thoughts turned to Benjamin. He had been in her thoughts all day, of course, but interacting with the other women had kept her from dwelling on him. Now, in the quiet of the cabin, she began to fret. Was he being treated okay? Was he worried about her? At least he’d seen her in the dining room, so he knew she was alive and wasn’t being mistreated.

Merely kept against her will and robbed of her survival gear, same as him.

She grimaced, feeling a twinge in her jaw where she’d been punched. It wasn’t broken—she had been able to chew her food—but she could still feel the punch. Nor had she heard the promised apology from Pratt, the man who had hit her. Not that it was important to her to hear one. Forced by the leader, it wouldn’t be sincere, and what good did an apology ever do anyway? It didn’t erase the act or the bruise or the memory of the violence.

Thinking about getting hit was bringing her headache on stronger. She’d felt only a mild throbbing through dinner. Now the pain was coming back.

“You don’t have any aspirin, do you?” she asked Brynn, who was working at sewing.

“For emergencies. Fevers and the like.”

“Makes sense,” said Coral. She could bear the headache.

“Do you need one?” Brynn asked. Her tone was resentful, and it was clear she didn’t want to hand one over.

Coral wondered where they were kept. Was one of the cabins a supply cabin? Or were drugs in the pantry area? In the cave? There wasn’t a lot of storage in here. One metal trunk was shoved against a wall, and a crate held the clothing they were working on. She’d like to know where the first-aid supplies were so that, when she and Benjamin escaped, she could take whatever she needed. “I can get it, if you tell me where it is.” Coral would like to get a look at the medical supplies.

But it was not to be. “Polly can get it.” Brynn looked to the girl, who put down her sewing and slipped from the cabin.

“Thanks,” said Coral. “I’ll sleep better for it.”

“We rise at dawn around here,” Brynn said.

“So do we,” Coral said, as pleasantly as she could manage. “Though we haven’t had the luxury of candles or lamps in a long while.”

“You should have prepared better.” She sounded smug.

“Maybe so,” said Coral.

They sewed in silence until Polly returned with one aspirin and a metal cup. “She’ll need a cup, right?” she said, and showed it to Brynn, who nodded. Polly gave Coral the cup and aspirin and pointed to the pitcher she had brought in earlier.

Coral rose, poured herself water from the pitcher, and glanced at Brynn, who was staring at her. She thought to pocket the aspirin, but she couldn’t while she was being watched. She swallowed it and drained the cup of water. “I guess I’ll need to use the facilities soon.”

Brynn said, “I’ll go over with you. Before we go to bed.”

“Thank you for the aspirin,” Coral said, sitting and tucking the cup under her cot. She picked up the sewing and finished ripping out the second sleeve.

Light was nearly gone by the time they walked to the outhouse, further from the cabins than Coral might have placed it, were this her home. The freezing weather kept the smell down. She took in all of the compound she could see as she trailed Brynn. But there wasn’t much to see, just the four cabins, the barbecue pit, and three paths. One, they had been brought in on, past the animals. This path went to the outhouse. The last path must go to the cave.

“Where do the married people sleep?” she asked Brynn.

“In the couple-house.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, three couples now.”

How awkward. “And that furthest one is the men’s cabin?”

“The brotherhouse, yes.”

Benjamin must be there. “That must be crowded.”

“It is. But it’s temporary.”

“Oh?” Another stab of worry for Benjamin pierced her.

But Brynn didn’t say any more on that subject, or any other. They walked back to the cabin and Polly took a trip to the outhouse alone. When she returned, Brynn told Coral to climb into her sleeping bag. The candles were put out, and Coral lay back in the dark and thought. Tomorrow, she’d pay stricter attention to everything around her. She needed to make an escape plan, so she needed to know where their gear was, the group’s other supplies, where any weapons were. She’d seen three rifles and suspected there were more. But where were they kept? Either she’d have to take them, hide them, or disable them.

Tomorrow, she’d see if the work they assigned her left her any chance to talk privately with Benjamin. She’d have to coordinate any escape plan with him, too. And he might have seen things she wouldn’t be allowed access to as a woman.

She hated to admit it to herself, but it might take a few days to make this happen. At least she’d get fed while she made her plans. If she were fed enough, she’d be stronger, better able to run, and better able to fight when she left. Shivering in the cabin, far colder than their snug snow caves, and missing the warmth of Benjamin’s body next to hers, she curled up tighter and managed to fall asleep.

The next morning, she was woken at first light to help Joli haul water. The woman led her silently away from the camp. Coral, carrying two empty pitchers, tried to take in everything, the worn paths, the terrain, big rocks she might duck behind to hide. They passed the animals and came to a flat spot covered with ice, and Joli took up a four-foot long chunk of metal pipe—which could be used as a weapon during their escape, Coral thought—and smashed at the ice.

Water spilled out of the cracked spot. It was another natural spring. Something must keep it warm enough underground to keep it flowing. Were these mountains volcanic? Benjamin had said something about animals and springs. What was it? Right, that you might not want to drink what the animals did. “Is this safe?”

Joli smashed more ice then set the pipe aside. “We’ve been drinking it for years. It’s like fancy bottled water you people in the cities pay five dollars for.”

Coral had never paid five dollars for a bottle of water in her life. She watched as Joli smashed more ice, and then did as instructed and filled two pitchers. Joli had a pair of galvanized buckets. She filled those and they walked back to the center of the compound.

There was a fire going, and when Coral walked up with the water pitchers, Brynn told her to empty them into the same two big cast iron pots used last night. Coral stood shivering next to Polly, watching the pots until they finally began to steam. Polly hurried inside. Moments later, Ellie and Polly brought out big bowls of dry oatmeal, studded with raisins. Coral’s job was to scrape the mixture from the bowls into the pots and then watch over them, stirring the oatmeal as it cooked.

“There’s powdered milk in it,” said Ellie, who stayed to make sure Coral knew what to do, though a five-year-old kid could have handled the job. “For more protein.”

“You’ve planned well,” said Coral.

“And sunflower seeds to sprinkle on at the table. But we’re running low on sugar, so no more of that, I’m afraid. Or honey.”

“I’m hungry enough to eat anything.” Unsweetened oatmeal was fine. Her body craved the calories, and as the pots began to give off the musty odor of oatmeal, her stomach twisted, demanding to be filled. “I was trying to figure out how much you had stored away, trying to work out the calorie content, but I don’t know the calories in beans.”

“Pound of beans or rice per person per day, was what we base it on.”

“And you stored supplies for how long?”

“Six months.”

Coral was surprised Ellie was so forthcoming. “Getting close to that now.”

Ellie seemed unconcerned. “It’s enough food.”

“What happens at six months?”

“Tithing can tell you. He explains it better.”

“Okay,” said Coral. She didn’t really care, except she wanted to understand their beliefs—either to pretend to share them, to manipulate them, or to find some side of them that would let her convince them to let her and Benjamin move on, unharmed. Some Seeds surely had to blow away. Or Flowers had to pollinate, or — well, hell, she didn’t know, but if it won her freedom, she’d latch on to any possible rationale from their mythology to get free.

Again, the morning meal was eaten in shifts, men first, then women. As the day wore on and she was given more chores—always with a partner, so she couldn’t wander off and do any exploring on her own—she could see that there was a pretty strict gender segregation going on in the group.

Except for the married couples at night. She helped clean that cabin, along with Ellie. Blue tarps hung from the ceiling, turning the small cabin into four sections. One section was unused. As with the women’s cabin, there was little furniture beyond the cots and a couple crates that held clothing.

“You don’t have any books here, do you?” she asked Ellie. “I’ve been missing reading.”

“Not many,” said Ellie. “And nothing like a novel, if you were thinking of that.”

“I was.” She cleared her throat. “I was wondering about the sleeping arrangements, too.”

“Mmm?” Ellie dragged a cot away from the wall.

Coral swept the space she’d exposed. “I mean, here. You have three couples in the cabin, and no privacy. These tarps aren’t going to cut a bit of sound.”

“Oh.” Ellie smiled briefly, then her lips turned back down. “We don’t get bothered by things like that. Human sexuality is normal and, within the bond of marriage, healthy. When Indians ruled this land, they did the same thing. Family huts and all. It wasn’t an issue for them, and it’s not an issue for us.”

“Okay.” Coral wondered if she was creeped out about this meant that she was the weird one or they were. Well, they were
weird
, no doubt about that, but she knew Ellie was right about the last half of what she’d said. Probably for most of human history, privacy about sex was not a priority. But it wasn’t the year 800, and today, the communal marriage cabin, along with Tithing’s child bride, felt creepy to Coral.

“I’ve shocked you.”

Coral didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry if I did.”

“No, don’t be. None of my business anyway.”

“But you were curious.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Ellie thought about it. “No, it makes sense. Of course I don’t find myself curious about the way you lived before the Reaping.”

“No?” Coral watched her move another cot, swept beneath it, and watched her move it back. “How long have you lived here? With these people.”

“Since I was six.”

“And your parents? Are they here? Close by?”

“They joined in California. They’re still there. But when this group sprouted off, I came along.”

“You miss them?”

“We kept in touch. Until the Reaping.”

“Are they okay?”

“I don’t know. There’s been no contact with them since then.”

“I don’t know about my family, either,” said Coral. “I’m worried.”

“Tithing says there’s no reason to be,” said Ellie. She glanced over her shoulder.

To make sure she wasn’t overheard? “But you think there is?”

“It’s hard not to be. I’m weak sometimes.”

“You don’t seem weak to me,” Coral said

“You don’t know me very well. Being anxious is my controlling fault, as Tithing says.”

“Does he?” said Coral.

“Like anger is Pratt’s.”

“Yeah, my face can attest to that one.” She touched her still-sore jaw.

Ellie turned to her, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Afraid, and pissed off at being a prisoner, but physically fine.”

“There’s no reason to be afraid. We’re nice people. And you’re our guest, not a prisoner.”

“
You
seem nice, Ellie,” said Coral. “But don’t fool yourself—I
am
your prisoner. And no matter what Tithing told you, you are not weak.”

Ellie frowned, said nothing in answer, and they finished cleaning the cabin in silence.

* * *

Over the next twenty-four hours, Coral had no chance to talk to Benjamin, and though she worked in every building but the men’s cabin, she saw no weapons. They must be in with the men. If so, that meant Benjamin could get to them. She needed to coordinate with him when they would escape. Maybe he could grab a couple of rifles and improve their chances.

For now, her only weapon was the pocket knife. She’d had a moment alone in the cabin to check it. It was still hidden in Polly’s cot, and Coral thought it best to let it stay there. They might search her cot, upend it, shake out her sleeping bag, or maybe do a full-body search. But there’d be no reason to search Polly’s cot. Let the knife stay there until she had a solid escape plan.

They ate two meals a day, and the men took granola with them for a noon meal. She assumed they were out hunting every day, but they never came back with game. The men were probably getting a couple thousand calories, or twenty-five hundred, while the women got perhaps two-thirds of that. There was less protein than Coral had become used to, but it was enough food to keep them on their feet, and better than she and Benjamin had been doing most days. The food was always hot, which was a comfort in the frigid weather.

But food wasn’t enough to make Coral want to stay. The place was creepy, and the people were creepy. She didn’t trust them or their odd religion.

None of the cabins were heated, and they were always cold. The stones seemed to leach the cold back in—or the warmth out—and Coral missed the snug snow caves and the heat of Benjamin’s body merging with hers every night. The warmest she felt here was when bending over the cook fire to stir a pot.

She missed Benjamin at night, more than she could have guessed. It often felt as if one of her limbs was missing. Working around five other females at once in the kitchen didn’t replace the partnership she had with him. Polly, Mondra, and Ellie were friendly enough, but Joli never warmed up. Brynn treated her like a burden, or a necessary chore, outwardly stoic about taking it on, but with a long-suffering air underneath that. All in all, Coral preferred Joli’s outright rudeness to that. At least it was honest.

Coral was never left alone for more than a few seconds, and she had no doubt she was being watched all the time. She had to assume the same was true of Benjamin. By the end of the third night, she was revising her estimate of the time she’d need to escape. Was there a clock ticking, counting down the time she had left to reveal her—her “Seediness” or not—to Tithing? He hadn’t spoken to her directly, but she suspected Brynn was reporting to him.

The next morning, there was no breakfast. Polly slept in, and Brynn told Coral to sleep, or wait, whichever she preferred.

“For what?” Coral said, nervously.

“Just wait,” said Brynn.

When she was gone, Coral crept to the blanket doorway, pulled the blanket an inch away from the door frame, and peered out. There was no activity that she could see. She dared to stick her head out further and looked around.

No one.

The silence, the sense of anticipation, was spooking her. She stepped from the cabin and edged around the wall, sneaking a peek around the corner. Still no one. She edged to the other side of the cabin and looked the other way. The group’s one black man, Jim, was coming back from the direction of the outhouse, walking at a good clip. Coral drew her head back and went inside.

Polly was stirring. “Is it meeting yet?”

So that’s why the morning routine was off. “I don’t know. Is it usually this time?”

She yawned, hugely, and a cloud of vapor formed in front of her face. “Yeah. And I could sleep all day.”

“I know what you mean,” said Coral.

The girl stood and pulled her dress of the stone peg, took off her jacket, and slipped the dress over her head. They let her sleep in soft pants, men’s pajama bottoms, which Coral was glad to see. Coral’s own jeans were still on her legs under the burlap shift, not yet confiscated. She hoped they’d given in on that point.

Polly wiggled her pajama pants down from under the dress and pulled on an extra pair of socks. Then she straightened the blankets on her cot, shook out her pillow, and put it squarely at the head of the cot. She sat on the cot and yawned again.

“Stop. You’re making me yawn, too,” said Coral.

Polly gave her a tiny smile. “Sorry.”

“Where are your parents, Polly?”

“Farm in Nevada.”

Coral counted up the others she’d heard mentioned. “So there are four of them?”

“Oh, no, a hundred or so, all around the world. And people in mundane life, too, who can’t be on Farms yet. They earn money to help.” She frowned. “Or they did.”

“Really?” Coral wondered if the girl was exaggerating, or hopeful, or mistaken about the hundred Farms. Coral had certainly never heard of the cult. “In other countries?”

She said, “Belgium, Germany, Canada, New Zealand, Japan.” It sounded rote, as if she had memorized it.

Did that make it any more likely to be true? “And in the U.S.”

“We started here.”

“Is there a name for the—the organization?”

“The Seed,” Polly said. “We’re The Seed.” Brynn’s whistle blew, and Polly jumped up, motioning Coral to go ahead of her. “We can’t be late.”

The men were headed toward the cabin in a long single file, and the last couple was emerging from their cabin, Ellie and her husband. Twelve adult members, plus Polly, and the two prisoners. Coral hadn’t heard the name of Ellie’s husband, or two other of the men, because of the gender segregation.

She tried to maneuver herself closer to Benjamin, hoping to exchange at least a word or two with him, but Mondra split off and approached to wish her a good morning—or to block her path to Benjamin, Coral suspected. As she entered the cabin, she saw the dining table had been pushed to the back of the room. The chairs were lined up as for a church service. The men sat in them, and Brynn and Joli, the two oldest women, which perhaps conferred that privilege on them, sat on a pair of crates, pulled back from the male seating, leaving a space of four feet between the two groups. Polly, Ellie, and Mondra stood in back, and Mondra motioned Coral to stand by her. It was interesting that being married to Tithing didn’t afford Mondra any special seat.