Nature Rules - 2022 WATTY'S SHORTLIST

Who Do We Trust?

There's no mid-day meal and I'm hungry. My stomach joins in the chorus of growls coming from all over the room. Although I'm famished, I don't want to tell Crinae about Dad. When the light dims enough that we can't see at all, we're allowed to put down the garments we've been stitching and we're herded like chickens back up the hill to the meal tents.

I never did see Elody being released from the closet. Maybe it happened when I wasn't watching? I hope so because I can't bear the thought that she's still in there. Alone and with the memory of Dad screaming to his death.

Sitting down at the table with Crinae, Hyla, Chuck and Tal, I see everyone is tired. Crinae can barely keep her eyes open and Hyla isn't fussing over Chuck. I don't dare talk here in case the Motos spot me. I can put off the bad news for a few moments and besides, I've had enough punishment for one day.

We chew in silence. Whatever we have been served is hard and tough and not edible unless worked over many many times. We swallow the grey rock-type stuff with generous gulps of water.

The Motos appear well fed. None of them are boney or have dark circles under their eyes. Like us. The Moto are healthy species of the human Reg race while we Aeternians are shrivelling away. Greg is on duty and I catch him staring at me from the far end of the tent. He looks away quickly. "Don't gawk at me, you Reg," I tell him in my head.

Crap. He's coming over to our table. I duck my head down and pray he walks by. Ignores us. Please, please, please ignore us.

"3324, come with me," he orders.

"I've done nothing wrong," I say.

"Obey my command or your sister won't get fed tomorrow."

Little does he know that that is no threat to Crinae.

"No. I've done nothing wrong," I repeat and fold my arms on my chest.

Greg grabs me underneath my shoulders and pulls me into a standing position. I fight with every molecule in my body but he is much, much stronger than me.

"I'm helping you," he whispers into my ear.

Yeah, right. No Moto has ever helped me or my family.

He drags me out of the dining tent kicking and screaming. Other Motos cheer Greg on while another throws dirt into my face.

"Take her to the bench," someone yells. "She'll learn."

"That's where we're going," laughs Greg, taking me out of view of the guards.

The pressure on my arms is more than I can bear. It stings so much.

"You're hurting me!" I spit.

"Then stop fighting," says Greg. "Calm down."

Never. I try and bite him on any part of his body I can. I lunge for his ear. For his shoulder. For his neck. But it's no use. We enter a clearing with a long green metal bench in the middle of a brown field with tufts of dead grass here and there. Greg forces me to sit on the iron bench and then handcuffs me to it.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I shout. Then I realize I might be in trouble. Big trouble. The bench is where they leave Aeternians to get infected by the sun.

Greg kneels beside me. His face is so close to mine that I can see his pores.

"I'm sorry I had to take you away in the manner that I did," he says. "But I need to talk to you. I need to tell you that I'm not what you think I am."

"You're a Moto who is helping Sebastian kill my people," I snarl.

Greg stands up and throws his hands in the air.