Running Dry (16 page)

                     Fulton stands up now.  "Yeah.  I don't like it.  I have a kid over there," he says pointing back toward the North.  "I'm not willing to risk our water supply.  It's going too far." 

                     "We need to do something risky, Dev," Frankie says, "in order for anything to change."

                     "I dunno," he says.  "I'd like to try something else first."

                     "Well," Pete says, "we can revisit these idea next meeting.  Everyone be thinking of things.  Maybe give us some specifics on this spy thing you mentioned, Devin."

                     Everyone starts talking all at once.

                     "Hey!" Frankie yells to be heard over the group.  "I want to take the sand initiative to the council."

                     The entire group goes silent and they turn toward her.  You could hear a pin drop. 

                     "Are you sure, Frankie?" Pete asks.

                     "Yes," she says confidently.

                     "What is the council?" I say.

                     "The head members of the Resistance.  They vote on the big stuff."

                     "There are others?" I had no idea.

                     "There are plenty of others," Pete says.

                     Fulton kicks at some rocks next to him.  "Damn it, Frankie.  Let's be serious."

                     She stands up now and looks at Fulton, "I'm sorry, Devin.  I know you have a lot at stake, but that's why we should start pushing things.  No risk, no reward.  I'm not taking this lightly.  I've given it a lot of thought.  I’ve already lost a lot."  It sounds like she might cry.

                     “I know,” Fulton says.  Awkward silence follows.

                     "Okay, let's vote then.  Everybody sit back down," Pete says.  "Let's start here.  Should we take it to the council?  Johnson, what do you vote?"

                     "No."

                     "Stewart?"

                     "Yes."

                     "Frankie?"

                     "Yes."

                     "Eddie?"

                     "Yes."

                     "Fulton?"

                     "No."

That continues on around the circle as all of the members cast their vote and since I’m sitting next to Pete, I go last. 

"So, we have five Nos and six Yes votes," Pete says, "My vote is No, which leaves our newbie to break the tie.  What do you vote, Zane?"

I am torn in half.  I have Fulton next to me, someone who I have come to know and like, trying to protect his family; a family I have also come to know and like.  Then, I have this woman Frankie, who I just met, but somehow feel connected to, saying we need to take a risk.  This is also something I've been thinking about and feel strongly about as well. 

"Well, before I answer, can I just clarify...the plan is to sand the water lines to deem them inoperable, forcing people to go without water?  Why will that help the cause exactly?"

"Yes," Frankie says, "The thought is, they will likely have them fixed within a few days, but in that time, people will be without, causing them to panic, thinking the war is to blame, question the government's abilities to handle the water supply, maybe wonder if the war is really worth it.  Could spark some protesting and some discussions to start happening."

"Or, maybe they won't be able to fix it quickly and people will get sick or worse," Fulton counters.

"Alright, Zane.  What's your decision?" Pete says.

"I'm not sure what the best thing to do is, so I guess maybe we should take it to the council and see what they say," I decide.

"So, you vote yes?" Pete clarifies.

"Yes," I say quietly.

Fulton doesn't look at me, he just turns and disappears back through the rock maze that led him here. 

"Okay," Pete says.  "I will arrange a time for us to see the council.  Our next meeting will be there."

Everyone stands and gathers themselves, dispersing in all directions.  Except Frankie who heads toward me. 

"Hey.  Thanks.  I know it was a tough decision," she says.

"Yeah.  Fulton isn't happy.  I don't know if I made the right choice."

"I think you did."

"He brought me in to this though and now I've voted against him."

Unexpectedly, Frankie grabs my hand and squeezes it.  "You did what you needed to do," she says.  Then she pulls me toward her a little and whispers, "I enjoyed our chat earlier.  I'd like to meet again."

I'm a little stunned, but say, "Okay," and pull away. 

"When is your next night off?"

"Uh.  Tuesday."

"Great.  Here?  Same time?"

"Sure," I say and turn to leave.

Chapter 22

Bekka

The next day is almost an exact repeat of the day before, except I have found out from Frankie how and where to use the restroom.  It's only day two, but I've already got the groove of the belt and the packing down, which is good for my nerves but bad for my shoulders and arms and hands, which are still sore from yesterday's work. 

The clock ticks even slower than the previous day and I'm starting to realize that it's gonna be tricky getting to know anybody when I'm stuck in one spot with nobody near me except people who are all wearing earplugs to drown out the factory noises.  I have lunch with Frankie again in the yard, but everyone else seems to keep to themselves.

On my walk home, I'm miserable and tired.  I walk slowly and try to figure out a way to come up with something for my next meeting with my agent knowing it won't come from the factory and wondering what the point is of working this job at all.

                     "Hey, Legs!"

                      I look up and see the bum seated back in his spot against the crumbling building. 

                     "You're back," I say, without thinking.

                     "You miss me?"  He smiles which causes his unruly facial hair to dance and sway and his deep, defined wrinkles to pucker. 

                     "No, I just..."

                     "You got some water in that bag?" he says squarely.

Protectively, I clasp my backpack tight.  "Uh, I..."  Asking someone for water is like asking for a person's first child.  It's big, especially from a stranger, but then I see his chapped face pleading with me.  He looks so innocent and scared in the broad daylight and I wonder when he's last had anything to drink.  I loosen my pack and lower it. 

                     "Sure," I say.  I unzip the bag and hand him the remains of what's in my bottle from the day.

                     He grabs at it like a wild animal.  "I knew you were a good girl," he says wildly and drinks from the bottle more neatly than I expect of someone so unkempt.  It seems rude to keep standing and staring, so I say, "K...well, bye."

                     "LeRoy."

                     "What?"

                     "My name is LeRoy."

                     "Alright. See ya, LeRoy."

                     "Bye, Legs."

Back at my apartment, I contemplate going out and trying to collect some data for Jameson, but I'm too tired from packing foodbars all day.  I collapse on the couch and see the notebook on the table in front of me.  I open to a page I haven't read yet and immerse myself in it.

                     Shallow yet cool

                     It placates the lips

                     I hike the path to salvation

                     Gentle yet wet

                     It glides and slips

                     Down to green pastures

                     Flowing much faster

                     It opens up wide

                     For all to sea

                     An amazing beauty

Zane

The drink worked so well for me the last time, I decide to risk the possibility of seeing Alex again and head to The Tap before my shift.  I sit near the back of the bar this time and sip the drink slowly as I write in my journal.  It feels good to be out of my apartment and writing again.

"Hey, mind if I join you?"

                     I look up to see Harlow in front of me, drink in hand. 

                     Closing the book, I reply, "Sure."

                     "Didn't mean to disrupt your work."  She sits across from me and sets her drink down.  It's the first time I've really gotten to look closely at her, in the daylight.  She has very striking features and I'd be lying if I didn’t say she was attractive.  Her dark hair is shiny and smoothed into a perfectly manicured bob.  Her skin is olive and her lips are full and mysterious.

"It's fine.  It's not work," I say.

                     "It's just that if I sit alone I usually have to fend off about ten horrendously corny come ons, so I appreciate it."

                     "You get hit on?" I question.

                     She laughs.  "Sure.  I'm not that ugly."

                     "Oh. No!  I didn't mean...I just.  You know, you're a runner and all.  I just assumed..."

                      "Well, we may not be able to marry, but we aren't robots."

                     I blush.  "Right.  Sorry.  I just always thought that was off limits too."

                     "It's not in the rules.  But, sometimes I just like to come and get my pre-run medicine in peace," she says, holding up her drink.  "So, what were you writing?"

                     "Just stupid stuff."

                     "Like a journal?"

                     "I guess you could call it that."

                     "Interesting," she says, looking at me strangely.

                      "What?  Why is that so interesting?"

                     "Because you don't look like a sensitive type, that's all."

                      "Well, you don't look like a player, but it sounds like you are one."  I immediately regret the words once they are out of my mouth.

                     "Wow! Nice shot," she says, but she's smiling.

                     "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean that."

                     "No, you're fine.  I judged you first."

                     "I guess, but I still apologize.  I had no right. That is your own private business.  Besides, it's actually kind of refreshing, to think that you can live within the rules and still make it work.  That just seems like it would be hard."

                     "Yeah, well," she smiles, but I see her blushing a little. "I was never the marrying type to begin with, so..."

                     "No?"

                     "Sounds kinda boring to me.  You sensitive types wouldn't understand." 

                     "I dunno.  I guess I haven't really formulated my opinion yet."

                     "Really?  I would've bet my water allowance that you had a girl."

                     "Nah.  Besides, marriage didn't work out for my own parents so I'm not sure why it would work for me."

                     "Well, maybe that whole sensitive, writer-guy thing is just your clever method for picking up girls..." she says in a sly tone.

                     "Hasn't worked for me yet," I say dejectedly.

                     "What?  Am I invisible now too?" she says, looking behind her.  She laughs then gulps down the rest of her drink.             

I don't know how to respond to that, so I just look at my watch awkwardly and say, "I gotta get going.  Which tunnel are you working tonight?"             

"Three.  You?"

                     "I'm on seven," I say, getting up.

                     "Bummer.  Well," she pauses, also getting up, "would you like to come to my place after our shifts?"

                     "Oh, I don’t know.  I'm not sure it's a good idea, Harlow."

                     "You do think I'm ugly," she says, but still with a joking tone.

                     "No.  I don't.  I just don't think it would be professional.  A guard and a runner, you know?"

                     "K...well, let me know if you change your mind."  She starts to walk away.

                     "I will."

Chapter 23

Bekka

I wake with the notebook on my chest, like all of the other mornings this week.  As I get ready for work, I find myself packing an extra bottle of water with my lunch.  The sun is already blazing this morning and I'm not excited about standing in the towering packing inferno for the next eight hours.  The walk to the factory has started to replace my morning runs, but it's hardly as enjoyable and doesn't do much to alleviate my stress.