Minho rubbed his head in frustration. After a two weeks of organising all the essentials - food, fresh water, temporary shelter - his head felt like it was going to burst. The system was simple enough, like the one in the glade really but with different names. There were the Builders, Hunters, Woodcutters, Gatherers, Makers, Growers, Cooks and (Minho had decided to use this one from the Glade) Sloppers.
The Builders were in charge of shelters, with supplies from the Woodcutters. The Hunters were experimenting with different techniques, but so far none of them caught more than a couple of rabbits per day, with the occasional wild bird. They didn't want to go too far into the forest and Minho had to agree with them. Something about the trees all packed closely together made him feel trapped, and whenever he entered the forest, he knew someone was watching him. Once he had caught a glimpse of a dark shape in his peripheral vision, but when he'd turned round it had been gone. When he'd mentioned this to Thomas (who was currently working as a Maker) he'd laughed in Minho's face and said he was just being paranoid.
The big problem at the moment was the food. With two hundred people to feed and the Hunters being unsuccessful, they were living mainly on any sea food that the Gatherers could find. Personally, Minho didn't mind, but when the complaints started coming in he'd started looking for other foods. Unfortunately, since the Growers had only planted the first vegetables about a week ago, it was going to be a while before they were ready. Minho's stomach grumbled and he wished for some fresh meat. "Doesn't everyone" he thought bitterly to himself. He groaned mentally as he heard a polite cough behind him. He'd come to the beach to get away from the complaints. "Insufficient shelter, not enough food, you expect me to work for how long?!" He was tired of it all.
Minho only had what had been in the maintenance shed that WICKED had sent them to. Most of the space had been taken up by basic tools and some girly stuff which he had handed over to Brenda, blushing. The only food that the shed had contained was some seasoning, rice and tinned refried beans. He wasn't a fussy eater, but others were and many had refused the beans and rice on the first day. Now they would come begging for rice and other foods that he no longer owned. Now here was someone else, ready to complain to him. Why didn't they understand that he was in exactly the same position they were? He had tried to tell them this before but it was always somehow still his fault. He sighed, turned around and waited for it to begin.
