Infraction (7 page)

One of the soldiers jabs his gun toward Lily. “This
worker wasted resources—sugar. She claims it was an accident.”

The agent pulls a small scanner from her pocket and
flicks her fingers for Lily's arm. Lily closes her eyes once and
then extends her arm. The agent waves the scanner, the tracker lump
briefly glows blue, and the agent reads the screen. She folds her
arms and narrows her eyes.

“
Not your first infraction, I see.
Not your first by any stretch of the imagination.”

Lily's eyes are wide, and she looks around wildly.
“It was an accident! The bag is too heavy for me. It's fifty
pounds. I was just trying to open it and pour it in. I didn't mean
to spill some.” She crouches down and runs her hands over the
floor. “Look! Only a little bit spilled. Probably not even a
pound.”

The agent rolls her eyes. I know that look. The look
before the storm. I try to step closer again, but Madge puts a hand
on my chest to stop me and almost imperceptibly shakes her head. I
glare at her. It's not fair. Lily had no business hefting that bag.
Madge mouths, “I know.”

I turn back to Lily in time to see the soldiers
yanking her off the ground, and she yelps with the force of it.

“
I think some time in solitary
should get rid of your clumsiness,” the agent says as she taps on
the screen of her scanner.

“
Please no! I've been down there too
long.”

“
Get rid of her.” The agent jerks
her head to the doors, and the soldiers march Lily out of the
cannery.

My hand slides over to find
Madge's.
What are they doing?

Madge waits until the agent has turned and
disappeared through the steam. “Punishing her for wasting their
excesses.”

She won't say anything more to me. Her eyes are
blazing and she grinds her teeth. She has a temper, and it takes
all her willpower to keep it under control. I don't want to say
anything more to her until we're away from the steam, sweat, and
soldiers.

After working in the cannery, my hands are so red and
raw that I can hardly open and close my fingers. Everyone else who
had cannery work hours looks the same way: red skin—not burned
enough to blister, but still sore—and sweaty clothes. I follow the
stream of workers down the corridors and into the mess hall. I spot
my cellmate at the end of the food line and step behind her.

I'm starving. I haven't eaten since the pathetic
bread in the gas station with Jack, and after working in the heat
for hours, I'm swaying slightly.

My cellmate hasn't spoken to me, but she hasn't
looked like she wants to get rid of me either. She keeps her head
turned just slightly so she can watch me out the corner of her eye.
I'm not sure if it's because she doesn't trust me, or she's just
not willing to put out her hand and say hi. I'm the same way. If
Madge hadn't started talking to me, I might be looking askance at
everyone around me too.

I stand in front of the cafeteria workers—another set
of harried-looking inmates. I'm getting the sense that the work
isn't necessarily the worst part; it's the way the agents and
soldiers treat you like an insect they'd rather squash that can
break you faster.

An agent waits at the beginning of the line and scans
my tracker. She barely looks at me as she nods me down the line.
One of the workers slops some unidentifiable noodley stuff on my
tray. Another dumps a meager pile of canned vegetables. I raise my
eyebrows, and Madge leans in. I hadn't even heard her come up
behind me. For my sake, I hope she's over her anger.

“I think it's supposed to be beef stroganoff.”

I had beef stroganoff in the colony, and it never
looked this colorless or congealed.

“We're on a weekly meal rotation, and after seeing it
every seven days, I'm still not sure. That's what it kind of
resembles though. You get used to the stuff.”

I sniff it, and the smell turns my stomach.

Madge laughs. “But yeah, don't take too big a whiff.
This stuff isn't for the faint-of-heart.”

I get a cardboard carton of milk and follow Madge
between the long tables. The linoleum is a dull gray. I can't tell
if it's dirty or if that's the color it's supposed to be. The whole
room is dingy. The cafeteria is full of women wearing the same
yellow shirts and gray pants that I am. Soldiers with guns patrol
the aisles, and there are some soft conversations, but no general
chatter. I look at Madge.

Talking?
I mouth.

She nods. “Just watch what you say. And don't talk
too quietly or they,” she glances up at an observation booth rimmed
with windows half-way up the wall, “will wonder what you're
saying.”

I hadn't noticed the observation booth before. Two
agents stand inside and survey us, their arms folded and deep
furrows between their eyes.

I steady my tray on one arm and
reach for Madge's hand.
Recording us?

“
Probably. Though I haven't seen any
mics around here. There are watchers up in the corners, but I don't
know how well they can single our voices out.”

The small black boxes loom in each corner, and their
shiny lenses watch our every move. I'm amazed I ever thought of the
watchers in the colony as intrusive. Those were there to archive
our daily lives for posterity—whatever that meant. These are here
just to trap us. There are so many similarities between life in the
colony and life on the Burn, but such different intentions. The
unease spreads from my stomach up my throat.

Madge sits down, and I slide across from her. She
gestures to the woman next to me. “Hey Kai, this is Terra.”

The woman is probably ten years older than I am, and
she smiles tentatively, barely showing the tips of her teeth. Her
skin is the rich color of tree bark and her eyes are green. Her
brown hair falls down her back in a shiny stream. She's beautiful,
and her eyes are so alive she looks out of place here with all
these hollow people.

I wave, and her smile broadens until all her teeth
show.

“
Terra can't talk,” Madge says,
shoveling some noodles in her mouth.

“
I'm sorry.” Kai says it carefully,
her green eyes full of sympathy.

I shrug and try the stroganoff. I gag and choke—it
takes three swallows just to get it all down—and take a swig of
milk. I look up, and I'm shocked to see my cellmate next to Madge.
I hadn't even noticed her sit down; she comes and goes so
quietly.

“
Told you it takes some getting used
to.” Madge takes another bite, and I marvel she can eat it so
quickly.

“
You can eat anything, Madge. I'm
still not used to it, and I've been here two months.” Kai pokes her
fork in her noodles, creating swirls in the sauce.

Madge frowns. “You need to eat something.”

Kai looks away. “I'm not too hungry.”

There's concern in Madge's face, a concern deeper
than I expected to see. I study Kai—her flawless skin, her full
lips, her hair, and down to where her belly swells underneath the
table. I grab her hand before I even think to ask for
permission.

You're pregnant?

Her face twists in a grimace. “Yes.”

I look at Madge, and the concern on her face hasn't
lessened. “She's thirty-two weeks.”

I don't know how far along that
makes her, but it doesn't matter. I drop Kai's hand and grab
Madge's instead.
Why would they bring her here?

“
She didn't register her pregnancy.
You're too young to know, but you have to register a pregnancy
within the first three months.” Instantly the concern morphs into
revulsion. “So the government can keep track of populations. That's
the official face of it anyway.” She glances up as a soldier
marches by. Then she lowers her head without trying to look like
she's whispering. “I've heard that they're going to start giving
newborns trackers.”

My stomach falls. Citizens have to register their
pregnancies? Infants injected with trackers? I push my tray away.
My appetite has completely vanished.

“
It's not like citizens have it any
better, you know.”

I shake my head.

“
You were a nomad your whole
life?”

I nod and push the food around my plate. I don't
want to get into my back story right now.

Madge props her elbows on the table. “You wouldn't
know then. I lived in a sanctioned city as one of those 'loyal'
citizens. There are no wages—you're given a living space and you
have to be sure to make it to the supply drops every month. Or you
don't eat.”

I do know about supply drops. I can still see Red
climbing over the broken glass and twisted metal of old cars to go
claim medical supplies for the settlement. I can still see the
dark-haired man that wanted us all dead. Was he a loyal
citizen?

Madge scoops up a forkful of stroganoff with relish.
“At least here they make us dinner.”

The vibrancy in Kai's eyes is veiled now, and she
doesn't look at anything but her tray. I watch her push mounds of
stroganoff around with her fork. Her vegetables are gone though. I
look at the pathetic pile of carrot bits and grayish peas on my
tray and quickly scoop them up and put them on her tray.

Kai smiles at me. “Thank you.” She wolfs them
down.

I ache for her. She's starving. I have no idea how
many extra calories a pregnant woman needs, but I wonder if these
servings are enough for even me or Madge. There's no way Kai is
getting what she needs. Madge has a sharp look in her eyes but
doesn't say anything, and I try not to squirm under her gaze.

Just as I turn back to my plate to contemplate my
food, the lights dim and a screen lowers below the observation
booth. I turn to Madge. She rolls her eyes.

“
Just watch.”

From the opposite end of the mess hall, a projector
shines a moving image on the screen. It's a picture of a city:
vibrant, green, with no broken windows in the buildings, and people
walking peacefully and freely. They don't cower and they look each
other in the eye. Where is this? Then a voice starts. Male, kind,
and nondescript.

“
Your government works hard for you.
We're restoring your cities to be the kinds of places you would
like to raise a family in.” The film cuts to a picture of a mother,
father, and two children walking hand-in-hand through a park with a
sky scraper in the background.

Several agents have slipped into the mess hall so
quietly I didn't even notice. They dot the room and watch us all
intently. I try not to make eye contact with anyone and quickly
look back to the screen.

“
We've already made astounding
progress on the Atlantic coast in the cities of New York and
Philadelphia. We've provided jobs and housing for every loyal
citizen in both of these cities. This vision of the future will
soon be a reality where you live. Watch for restoration workers in
your city.”

Madge leans over to me. “And how do
they think
we'll
see that? We're not
going anywhere.”

I smirk along with her. I would like to see where
one of these cities is—if it actually exists—and talk to the people
who live there. The whole thing looks set-up.

The male voice continues, the timber in his
inflection increasing, and I can feel him coming to the end of his
message. “And all this is brought to you by your government. Thank
you for being loyal citizens of New America.”

The lights flick on. The room fills
with hisses and whispers, but there's one sound that shocks me:
someone is clapping. My head whips around to find the source of it,
and I'm not the only one. Everyone looks to see who could possibly
be caught up in these lies. It's a middle-aged woman sitting two
tables over from me, and her eyes glisten with tears and her face
is alight with rapture. The agents descend on her, but carefully
this time, with none of their trademark disgust. They gently lift
her from her seat, and rest a hand on each arm as they lead her
down the aisle toward the door. And good grief, are they
actually
chatting
with
her?

What was that?
I mouth to
Madge.

Madge's eyes have gone hard again. “Don't know. They
show these little films just about every night, and every once in a
while there's someone who buys into it. They're taken away, and we
never see them again.”

The door swings closed behind the woman and the
cluster of agents. What in the world just happened here?

I turn back to my tray. I have no appetite for the
mystery meal, not after the lies they've forced us to eat. But I'm
not sure how much work I'll have to do tomorrow, so I make myself
swallow the rest of my stroganoff. I'm actually not sure there will
even be a tomorrow. The faces around me are mostly blank, like no
one lives insides these shells of bodies. Only a few—Kai with her
smile, Madge with the fire in her eyes—show any emotion. My
cellmate is like the rest: empty. I suddenly wonder how long she's
been here. If she had her hair shaved and now it falls half-way
down her back, how long has she endured this?

After dinner we file back to our cells. My cellmate
resumes her post on her bed, arms curled around her legs. I climb
the bunk, lie down, cross my arms over my stomach, and stare at the
ceiling. There's a long, jagged crack reaching from one corner
almost to the window, like it's trying to escape. I follow it with
my eyes to where it points out to the sky beyond. The last glimmers
of sunset fade into violet black.

After several minutes, I hear the springs of the
bunk creak as my cellmate lets go of her legs and slips beneath her
brown blanket. I look over the edge. She hasn't taken her shoes
off. Strange. That was the kind of thing Jack and I did in the
wilderness so we could be up and running in a moment's notice. But
here? What could she need to run from? And even if she could run,
where would she go? She rolls away so she's facing the wall, and
her blond hair spills out behind her and off the bed in limp
waves.