Inside, I scaled the wall about four feet in. The footsteps were still carrying down the hall so I knew I still had time. Crouching down, I winced out in pain as my knees cracked.
The multiple, loud cracking sound echoed throughout the mess hall and I heard another voice, “What was that?” Another man said.
“Don’t worry,” said the first voice. “It was probably nothing.”
Throwing my hands over my mouth, I took small, short breaths. It was so quiet that I thought any sound I made might give me away. And as far as I knew, I was in the middle of a dangerous situation and it was best for me not to take any chances.
Cocking my head to the side, I watched the two men who were meeting in secret. Finally, I was able to put faces to the footsteps and voices. Mr. Baker and Colin’s father, Mr. Martin. Come to think of it, what I was doing was actually kind of thrilling. I could see why Frankie found snooping around and eavesdropping appealing.
Mr. Martin spun around warily. I stared at him intently, picturing Colin as an adult. Their resemblance to one another was uncanny. The only difference was Mr. Martin was a few pounds overweight and had grey streaks through his midnight hair. “Are you sure everyone is asleep?” he asked.
“Positive,” Mr. Baker replied. “I checked everyone’s quarters myself.”
“So,” Mr. Martin began, raising his voice slightly. “Has it been decided, then? Are we going to rig the results of the lottery again?”
Rig the results of the lottery again? My breath caught in my lungs. I felt myself getting dizzy. They had complete control over the lottery the first time. They planted my name and Colin’s in there on purpose. Those jerks!
And Colin…. Colin knew about it all along! I couldn’t believe it. He seemed so sincere when spoke about protecting me and he was behind this whole plan from the beginning. But why? Were his advances toward me fake too? Was it just an act to get me to trust him? So I wouldn’t suspect what was going on?
Mr. Baker nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
“So who is going in for the boys?”
Mr. Baker brushed his forefinger against his lips.
“How about Dylan Edwards?”
Mr. Martin considered that. “The Edwards boy is a good choice.”
“I would rather your son go in again. I think she might have a fondness for him.”
They were talking about me! During that moment I thanked God for Frankie. If it wasn’t for her this would have been a complete blind side. I assumed it was coming, but I never expected to feel so betrayed, by Colin especially.
“We can’t send Colin in twice. Then the colonists will definitely know that it’s been rigged,” Mr. Martin commented.
“How will we explain the Carver girl being selected again?”
Mr. Martin shrugged. “We’ll call it a fluke.”
As I took in their conversation, I mentally bantered with myself on whether or not I should tell somebody. Oh, when my mother found out, she was going to blow a gasket. How could my parents have been so naïve? I didn’t think that either one of them had a clue about what Mr. Baker and Mr. Martin were up to.
Me, I was like my mother. Neither one of us liked or trusted Mr. Baker. But, my father, he went on confiding in him like he was God’s gift to this colony. My father needed to have his head examined.
Mr. Baker propped himself against the wall. “Georgina Carver is too smart for her own good. You better believe she’ll wreak havoc when her name is selected a second time. She’s got that strong-willed nature about her. Just like her mother. It’s important that nobody, I repeat nobody speaks of this outside our circle. If the Carver girl catches wind of it, she might plot something and we can’t have that before she’s eliminated.”
Eliminated. What did he mean eliminated?
“She’ll never find out,” Mr. Martin promised. “The only people who know anything about it are you, me, Colin, and Hank Edwards. I know for certain that none of them will talk.”
“It’s a shame it has to be this way, but we are running low on food and supplies. We have too many mouths to feed and aren’t producing enough to keep the whole colony fed.”
“Sometimes, you need to destroy things in order to rebuild them.”
“Or wipe them out entirely.”
“So it’s done, then,” Mr. Martin stated. “Do you want me to handle rigging the names or do you want to do it this time?”
Mr. Baker straightened himself out. “I’ll do it this time. There is a secret doorway in my room. It’s covered by an old rug. Place the box in there and I’ll configure everything sometime tomorrow.”