The Ashen Wrath (Watty's SHORTLIST recipient 2018) CHAPTERED VERSION

*27

I sprinted home after snapping out of my stupor—there was no time to worry if anyone was watching me dive into the tent. Through the plastic window of my partition, I saw the blue lights of the stilt striders shining across the encampment as they approached. My pulse raced, but after a couple of minutes it became clear my high crime had gone unnoticed. I let a laugh slip, my head spinning with possibilities as I collapsed on my bed roll. The Factory Trill sounded five minutes later. Time for work.

Granddad seemed to be in good spirits as we trudged to the factory. I was exhausted and overwhelmed, running solely on leftover adrenaline. I prayed for a short shift before remembering how hard my grandfather worked. If he could do it every day, I could make it through a few more hours. It was nearly impossible to keep quiet about my visit to Marta's plot or my encounter beyond the hills, but it wasn't the right time. Maybe after work. Maybe during my lessons.

My fear of being grabbed by the stilt striders eventually waned as the minutes wore on—I figured if they were going to take me, they would have done so the moment they arrived back in the village. Still, I walked a little faster as we passed beneath the blue light shining from each mechanical beast's unblinking eye.

I was back at the press, punching more fish fins. Hundreds upon hundreds of them. My arms ached and a sharp pain was radiating through my back, but I kept pace with my comrades. Thankfully, granddad had been put on maintenance duty for the evening—a task he performed quickly and accurately, even with a double quota. I saw him pass by my station a few times while he tightened bolts, fixed leaks and checked the tangle of tubes connecting each machine.

Our shift ended after four hours. Once again, Granddad looked beat but in high spirits. "You remind me of a smashed beetle," he said, patting me on the back. "Rough shift?"

I winced as his hand slapped against my bruises. "Yeah, I guess. I'm just feeling a little under the weather," I told him.

"If I were you, I'd stay healthy. No one wants to a scan from the med-drone."

I shuddered remembering my last "exam." The med-drones were 6-foot-high white cylinders—more arms and legs than anything else. So many pinchers, needles and clamps. "Yeah, no thanks."

Binjin walked up, looking chipper as usual. Sometimes it annoyed me to see how unaffected he was by life's trials. "Danth, you were lagging behind in there. I was surprised you made quota."

"What do you care?" I snapped. "Try minding your own business some time."

Binjin was taken aback. "Take it easy!"

"Sorry," I said with a sigh. "I'm just a little beat tonight. I feel raw."

"I get it, but I have a big nose...I can't help sticking it where it doesn't belong."

I laughed. "It's a respectable honker, for sure."

"Shut up!" Binjin punched my shoulder and I winced, feeling the throb of another bruise. "Hey, I've been keeping a look out for Sams. I figured you'd want to talk with him, but I never see him around."

"Granddad reminded me new lifemates don't receive factory shifts until their second year. Probably so they can get their crops established."

"I guess that makes sense," said Binjin—as if anything made sense. "Are you worried about Marta and Annie?"

"Yeah, of course...but what can I do?" I still didn't know how to feel about Marta's pairing with Sams, but I felt better after observing them share a peaceful moment.

"True. Do you think they'll have kids?"

I nodded. "They'll have to, unless they get a medical exemption."

Binjin sighed. "After mom had me, she couldn't have any more babies. Small families get smaller rations. I think Dad blames me for all our family's troubles."

My Granddad put his hand on Binjin's shoulder. "I'm sure that's not true, and you're certainly not to blame."

"Thanks," said Binjin, lifting a weak smile.