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

*34

Once again, adrenaline staved off my weariness as Granddad and I hurried to the factory.

"You're full of pep tonight," said Granddad, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Just excited to go back to work," I told him.

Granddad groaned. "Oh, of course."

We abruptly stopped in our tracks. The rest of the workers bunched up behind us, murmuring and mumbling. Three stilt striders were blocking the path.

I tensed up. "What's going on?"

Granddad grabbed my shoulder. "Be ready for anything, boy...I've never seen anything like this before."

A blaring, heavy note ejected from the stilt striders, instructing us to remain still and quiet. Red Xs flashed on their dark faces.

"ATTENTION THRALL WORKFORCE," boomed a disembodied voice. A public announcement from the Privus was unusual. They preferred to say little while expecting much.

"Pay attention. The following statement will not be repeated," pumped a new voice from the stilstries, sounding male and vaguely disinterested. "For the next two nights, the Factory Trill will not sound. This is intentional. Do not assemble for your shifts. Remain in your partitions after Meal Period and stay there until Cultivation Period begins."

I could hear a few happy whispers behind me.

"Production will resume in 48 hours, but only for Thrall still assigned to Zone 28."

Still assigned? I was already confused.

"For those who remain in Zone 28, your daily schedule will proceed as follows: Cultivation Period will begin at dawn and end with the Meal Trill at noon. The Factory Trill will sound at 2 pm. The Sleep Trill will sound at 2 am, indicating the end of the shift. All Factory Quotas will be extended. Single quotas will be doubled. Double quotas will be quadrupled. This new schedule will be strictly enforced."

My blood ran cold. There was no way Granddad would survive daily 12-hour shifts.

"That's not fair!" someone shouted behind me. "You can't—"

A plume of steam ejected from one of the stilt striders. I felt a rush of air whiz by my cheek and heard a wet thunk. Behind me, I saw Anz Caln—our neighbor from Plot B2—gurgling a steady stream of blood from his mouth. A three-meter-long steel pole was jabbing through his sternum into the ground, keeping him upright as he died.

All of us fell to our knees in terror.

"Obviously," boomed the voice, "complaints will not be taken at this time."

I clenched my fists and gritted my teeth. Granddad pushed me lower to the ground.

"Before the next work shift begins in approximately 48 hours, the stilt striders will unassign 100 Thrall workers from Zone 28 and escort them several miles to the east on foot. After relocating in Zone 29, these selected workers will be assigned to single-occupancy tents. Their familial status in Zone 28 will be permanently dissolved."

Daun's village? I held my hands over my mouth as my anxiety peaked.

"Thrall relocated to Zone 29 will assist in the construction of a new manufacturing plant as soon as the land has been cleared. Once construction is complete, the workers will begin 16-hour shifts inside the factory. There will be no Field Quotas assigned to these workers."

Panic was overtaking me. They're clearing Zone 29? What about the people already living there?

"End of announcement. Return to your tents in an orderly fashion. Glory to the Privus, Defenders of All Who Remain."

"Glory," said the workers in unison, their voices wavering.

The Sleep Trill sounded. The workers turned away from the stilt striders and began silently trudging back to the village. I helped Robert Caln unpin his father from the ground then threw the bloody steel pole into the ditch. Robert gave me a nod of appreciation before hoisting Aln's body over his shoulders to carry him back to their plot. Tears streamed down the young man's cheeks, defying the stoic look on his face. I remained quiet, but my insides were screaming as Granddad pulled me away.