“Believe me,” I harrumphed. “She would find a way.
* * * *
On the way to the mess hall, I brushed passed MayVickers. “Sorry, May!” I shouted apologetically.
May kept her eyes on the floor, lost in a trance and didn’t look up. She hadn’t been the same since her daughter, Monica disappeared.
The council had set up some rules for the rest of the colonists to follow. They maintained their importance because it made our new life underground operate smoothly.
Rule number one: You could not steal another colonist’s food.
Our supplies underground were limited and greediness was not tolerated. In fact, if you were caught stealing, the punishment was severe. First, you were kept in solitary confinement in a little room called the hole. You had to stay in that hole, submerged in complete darkness without food or water for three days. The punishment was created to remind the guilty party what life outside of our little world was like.
Second, after you were pulled out of the hole, you were given lashings. One for each item that you stole. Dylan Edwards once stole three eggs from the Baker family. After he received his punishment, he lifted his shirt to show me the deeply rooted lashing marks that stretched horizontally across his back. As I fanned my fingers across his scarred flesh, I shuddered. There was no way in hell I was stealing anyone’s food.
Rule number two: You could not, under any circumstances, leave the colony and venture out into what remained of earth unless instructed.
Monica Vickers disappeared about six months ago. I was told that her curiosity was eating her alive. That she was so desperate to peak outside that she just left our world, never looking back.
Every week, gatherers were sent out in search of supplies. That was different. They were given permission to leave. But if anyone was like Monica and just wanted to see what was out there, well, they should have seriously considered digging themselves an early grave.
A twinge of remorse struck my heart whenever I saw May, wandering around like a lost soul. But these rules were made for a reason. They had to be followed. There could be no exceptions because with exceptions came chaos.
And finally…..
Rule number three: You could not give food to outsiders.
Yes, there were outsiders. Mostly people that traveled from other cities and states in hopes of finding some kind of rescue or refuge. Sometimes, it bothered me that we never invited them in. “You’d better erase that thought from your mind, Georgina Carver!” my mother would say. “Food is scarce and we have too many mouths to feed as it is!”
“But, what if they need help?”
“They could be cannibals. We can’t risk it!”
I didn’t bring up the subject of outsiders too often. It wasn’t a subject my mother or anyone else liked to talk about. And the punishment for feeding an outsider was….
Well, I honestly never knew because no one had ever done it.
The members of the council made it perfectly clear that if we were caught feeding an outsider, the punishment would be more severe than any of us just stealing food. I don’t think anyone needed them to elaborate. Fear was already instilled us after we saw Dylan Edwards being whipped. Nobody wanted to experience a punishment worse than that.
I caught up with my father as he walked down the wide, muddy corridor with Mr. Baker. I reached out, tugging on his arm. “Daddy.”
He waved goodbye to Mr. Baker and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “What is it, Georgie?”
I pulled away from him, lacing my arm through his. “What can you tell me about this meeting?”
He craned his head around, looking behind us. “Where’s Frankie?”
“There’s no point, Dad. Mom already yelled at her.”“I’ve got to start looking out for her and learn to watch what I say when she’s around.”
Frankie was one of those kids that was like a talking parrot. She couldn’t keep a secret. And if she was in hearing range of your conversation, she would repeat whatever you said. She was five years young than me. One time, when I was thirteen and she was eight I accidentally screamed the word “bitch.” She heard me say it and even though I asked her not to say anything, she ran around the house for the next two days shouting the word. Naturally, my parents found out she heard it from me and I was grounded for a week. I learned to keep my lips tight around her from that moment on.
My father and I made a left turn, walking into the mess hall. I unlaced my arm from his and stepped away. “So, are you going to tell me more about this meeting?”He placed both of his hands on my shoulders. “Honey, I wish I could but you know I’ve taken a vow of silence when it comes to the council. I can’t talk about what goes on in the meetings outside of them.”
“Did Mr. Baker put you up to this? Why do you always do everything he says?” It bothered me that my father started this colony and Mr. Baker pretty much ran it. There was something sinister about him that made my insides churn when I thought about his fake, gap-toothed smile. It was a smile that said, “I know something you don’t.”
“Georgina, this has nothing to do with Mark. I’m telling you, I took a vow and I will not break it. You need to learn to respect that.”
I pushed his hands off of my shoulders. “It’s not fair!” I protested. “You people keep us out of the loop for all of this time, now suddenly you want us involved!” I was more confident than ever that this meeting was going to be bad. And more than anything, I felt betrayed. Council or not, my father was my father. And if he knew something awful was going to go down he should have told me.