16. Recycled

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Do not question what you need not know.

The Manuals of the Bunker, Vol. 2, Verse 7


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Amy stopped and looked back at me. "What?"

I gestured at the shed of piled-up stones. "I know this place." My father had pointed it out to me during one of our garbage hauls. We had passed it on its other side, walking on the concourse. He had stopped and told me what kind of trees these were.

"These are apple trees," I said.

For a moment, I hesitated. Not only was theft punished, it was wrong as well.

But then, theft would probably be the least of my crimes. And I had to survive to save my father and the craner.

Discarding caution, I clambered over the garden's stone wall—it wasn't higher than my chest. Plants covered the ground on the other side. Their delicate fronds barely reached my calves and couldn't stop me as I crossed them. I approached the trunk, squinting up into the branches, looking for the tempting, round shapes of the fruits, my mouth watering in anticipation.

But all I saw were the ragged, rough outlines of wood and leaves.

"And where are the apples, pray tell?" Amy appeared at my side.

I shrugged as a wave of fatigue washed over me. It felt like somewhere between midnight and dawn, and I yearned for sleep.

"I'm sorry!" I sat down, not caring if I crushed the plants under me. "I guess they're all plucked."

She followed suit, sitting against the tree's stem. "Great. Some apple tree!"

I seized one of the fronds sprouting at my side and pulled. Throwing the plant at the nagging brat might bring some satisfaction. It came out of the ground easily but felt unexpectedly heavy in my hand. I lifted it against the light to have a better look. A single, fat root hung from the bushel of delicate leaves.

A carrot!

I rubbed it against the leg of my trousers, and then I tossed it at her.

It hit her face before she could catch it. "Dammit, dickbrain! What do ye think ye're doing?"

"I'm feeding you." I grinned.

"Feeding me?" She scrunched her nose at the projectile. "What's this shite?"

"It's a carrot." I pulled out another one and shook it to remove the dirt. "You can eat the root." I took a bite.

She brought hers up to her face and sniffed it. "Fer sure?"

"Sure!" I bit into mine and chewed, savoring the juice wetting my gums.

She took a bite of hers. "Oh, it's... good," she said, with her mouth full.

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