Sixteen-year-old Justin Ross stormed past the crowd demanding their daily rations and made his way to the infirmary. They ran alongside and beside him, some slapping on his arms to get his attention.
"Victoria is in charge of rations and supplies, now. You got a complaint, take it to her," Justin grumbled over the crowd, ignoring their demands and excuses.
"My family didn't get their share of rations this morning, Ross. I had to send my kids to the Academy this morning without breakfast!" An older gentleman declared, grabbing Justin by the elbow and bringing him to an abrupt stop.
Justin yanked his arm away from the man. "Our runs have been slim lately and we don't have much to spare. So, not every family is going to get daily rations and supplies anymore." He bit out with a snarl.
A chorus of complaints started back up, but one voice purposely drowned out the others. "So who does get rations?"
Justin sighed, "The Academy and the Forces are getting a hearty portion to help feed students, soldiers, and staff and those that are sick or wounded get another portion. Distribution is being managed by Victoria and she's teamed up with Dr. Ross to get a tally of his patients."
Justin turned to leave as another wave of frantic demands grew louder and followed him. Each body pressed in closer, desperate for their cries to be heard.
"What about my grandmother? She's 90 years old!" One woman cried.
"My boys are 2 and 7, how do you expect me to feed them?" One father snapped with a voice that sounded like rocks in a blender.
One voice rung out amongst the others, capturing Justin's full attention. "Isn't that just like you people! All you care about is yourselves, never paying attention to the little man!"
Justin stopped and turned around, easily finding the owner of the voice. He easily towered over Justin's five-foot-six frame. He wore an old ball cap and the bill of it shadowed his crystal blue eyes. He easily had a whopping two hundred pounds against Justin, but he wasn't trained like Justin was.
"You best watch yourself, Mitchell," Justin warned arching a brow. He knew this man well; he was notorious for causing trouble in the workplace lately. He wasn't known to play well with others.
Mitchell sneered down at him. "I don't take orders from children, Ross," he mocked as he jabbed a thick finger in Justin's chest.
In one swift move, Justin smacked his finger away from his chest and his available hand punched him in the stomach, sending the intimidating man stumbling backward. The crowd around them all jumped back two or three steps in hopes of avoiding the angry man's retaliation.
Mitchell held his stomach and tried not to show how much the assault affected him. His lip curled in white-hot anger and he lunged for the teenager.
"Mr. Jacoby!" Someone hollered and threw themselves in between the brawlers.
Mitchell dug his heels into the ground, forcing himself to halt, and scowled at the distraction. "You oughta teach your boy to respect his elders, Doc," Mitchell ground out around a locked jaw.
Nicholas stood in front of the man, arms raised at his sides, and puffed out his chest. "You talk big about loyalty but you're quick to turn on your own kind. My son's not the only one who needs a lesson about respect, Mr. Jacoby."
Mitchell clenched his jaw, shot a nasty look at Justin, and stomped away. Nicholas let his chest fall and huffed out a breath of relief before turning to the large crowd standing on edge as they parted to let Mitchell exit.
YOU ARE READING
Seven Clues Trilogy: Reflection
Science FictionScheia is a planet much like Earth, but is inhabited by very different people. They look human, act human, and even have human needs, but they are far from it. The people of Scheia have lived in peace for over sixty years, but that all changed when...
