Gasoline

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After a month, Norman and Emma had finished recruiting kids and were telling Phil the secret.  When they were done, Phil had a look of understanding on his face, shocking everyone in the room.

"I see.  So that's what's been going on..."  He whispered softly.  At their confused looks, Phil explained himself.  "Since that day, I've been wondering about the "harvest" that the sister mentioned... And that time that she was digging around in Ray's dresser... And I was so scared of what was happening with Mama and you on the day Sparrow left..." He choked a little on Sparrow's name.  Emma and Norman looked at him in shock, not knowing what to do.

"I see... So Sparrow was harvested... And Connie... And everyone else... And that's why you were so..." Phil started sobbing, and Emma called his name, running up and hugged him.  "She lied!  She said... Sparrow said we'd see each other again one day!  She lied!"  He yelled in a broken voice.  Norman and Emma had pained expressions on their faces as Phil sobbed into Emma's shoulder.  After cooling down, Norman spoke.

"Right now, we have two options.  Taking everyone when we leave, even the babies, or leaving the youngest kids behind."  Norman explained.

"Huh?" 

"We start being shipped out from the age of six.  Even for Manja, whose birthday comes the soonest, she's got a year and a half left at the worst.  On top of that, fifteen of us older kids will be gone.  For this farm, the Grace Field House, that values quality over quantity, they must surely decrease the pace of their shipments.  In order to once again raise and present high-quality goods, they won't kill off any more of the young ones who show potential for the future.  On that point, the six four-year-olds, starting with you,  all have pretty good scores.  Even with our most conservative estimates, we think you have at least two years left."

"Norman, that's-" Gilda started, only to be cut off by Phil.

"I'll wait for you guys.  So just leave me here." Phil stated with conviction.

.

.

.

Days had turned into weeks, and weeks had turned into months.  And finally, it was the night of January 14th.  

Norman and Emma were in front of the door to the dining hall, where they could hear Ray humming Isabella's lullaby.  Norman turned to Emma, whose hands were trembling.  Norman grabbed it and smiled at her, something he hadn't done for a long time.  

"We can do it," Norman encouraged.  Emma smiled back and nodded.  The two opened the door and walked into the dining hall.

"What are you doing up this late, Ray?" Norman asked. He stopped humming and looked at the two of us. 

"It's my last night, so I'm saying goodbye to the house," he responded, looking up at the ceiling.

"Ray, it's your birthday tomorrow, right?" Emma pointed out.

"Yeah.  Tonight's the last night." He looked down.  Emma and Norman walked forward to get closer to Ray, and Emma's crutches creaked when they made contact with the wooden floor.

"Hey, Emma, Norman.  Did you two really give up?  You haven't actually given up, have you?" Ray asked suddenly, looking at the two of us at an angle.  Emma and Norman smirked.

"I've been thinking this whole time, what should I do for Sparrow's sake?  The answer is to do nothing," Emma stated.  "Mama told me to give up and free myself from the pain.  But... I will never, ever give up," she claimed, glaring at the thought. 

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