Running Dry Read online

  "I saw your dad a few days ago down on Washburn Ave," he says.

  "That's nice," I say, knowing it's a trap.

  "Yeah, he was literally ON the street. Lying there. Passed out cold. I think he was even drooling." Laughter erupts around him.

  I don't respond. This just makes him more angry.

  "Did you hear that most of the guys here bet their water ration on Harmond to win tonight?"

  I stay silent. This fact is not shocking to me.

  "So, if you win, you still don't win because you are gonna have a lot of angry squad members on your hands."

  More barks and hollers come from the animals standing behind Fulton. I finally make out Harmond, standing up against the fence. Fulton grabs his arm and pulls him closer to the pack.

  "Harmond here requested specifically to fight with you, did you know that, Brenner?"

  Silence.

  "I'm speaking to you, Brenner!"

  "No, sir. I didn't."

  "Yeah, and you know why?"

  "No, sir. I don't."

  "It's because he's in love with the same girl as you."

  I'm glad for the darkness now because I'm sure I have a very visceral reaction to what he is saying and I'd rather not have it be seen. I know it's still all just lies and taunts, but I don't want this piece of scum to even think about, let alone say, the name I know he's about to speak.

  "That's funny, sir, because I'm not in love," I say as calmly as I can.

  "That's a bunch of horse turds, Brenner, and you know it."

  I say, "Listen, if you want me to fight Harmond, I already said I would, so let's just get it over with."

  "That's good, but I still want you to understand that it's because Harmond is in love with Bekka Tyson, aren't you Harmond?"

  My hands become tight balls as much as I try to force them to relax.

  "Yes, sir," Harmond stutters.

  "Tell him the rest, Harmond."

  "I'd rather not, sir."

  Fulton screams a command. "Tell him!"

  "I love Bekka," Harmond says in a pained voice that is merely more than a whisper.

  "What else? Tell him everything you told me," Fulton says.

  "I've loved her ever since the third grade when she helped me with a project in Water History. She's the only girl who didn't make fun of me when I wet my pants in front of the class giving a speech. She is the only girl who was ever nice to me."

  That's when I know he's being serious. He's actually telling the truth. I know Bekka and I can see why he might actually really love her. She is nice to everyone. She would never treat an ugly, dumb kid bad. She's too good for that. All of the blood I have in my body begins to pool somewhere between my ears and all I can hear all of a sudden is a buzzing sound.

  "But, unfortunately..." I barely hear Fulton say, pushing Harmond to continue.

  Harmond takes a step closer to me and says louder, "She doesn't love me back."

  "That's right," Fulton yells. "She loves this idiot and you know how I know? He snuck off of the grounds yesterday to make it with her in an abandoned pool house. Brenner, you should have seen Harmond's face this morning when I told him that, it was..."

  Before I can even respond, a massive weight slams into the side of my head. Harmond's towering over me and his fists have become possessed. I don't even have time to react. I put my arms up to try to protect myself, but it does nothing to stop the wrath of Harmond's massive strikes. He is a monster, a machine. Before I know it, I'm down on the pavement breathing in dust and blood. I hear the voices of my squad above me cheering Harmond on and I can feel spikes of pain jamming into my body like thunder bolts. Then, it's silent. I don't hear the yelling above me anymore and I no longer feel pain. I wonder what's happening for a second before everything goes black.

  Chapter 5

  Bekka

  As I jog along the far edge of town, like most mornings, I think about Regina. I suppose I should be thinking about Cheryl too. She will be in the same boat as Zane's mother when I leave, but I know she will be okay. She's always been a happy person. She goes out at night after work sometimes with her weird co-workers. They go out to eat or bowling. Sometimes she has them over to the apartment and they play card games or other weird stuff I don't understand.

  Besides, Cheryl had chosen a life without a family before I came along anyway, or maybe she just couldn't find a husband, I don't really know. In truth, I've never asked. We've never been that close. We have a routine and it just plays out. We've always been more like roommates. I can take care of myself. I don't need a fake mom helping me.

  I spy water collectors too, as I run, readying rain barrels. They are perched up on the high rooftops today. There's a chance of rain. It's still hot, but the deep, deep dry heat that sticks to your bones is lessened, if just a touch, and the humidity is up a little, so that means a slight chance of rain. It's funny that we're able to judge the smallest change in weather in our bodies, but that's how important it is to us. It does rain sometimes and when it does, the collectors are ready for it. It also means an extra ration for the month, so it's always a good thing.

  Once a week distributors deliver a container of water to the door of program members. Amounts vary, depending on rainfall, and other equations the scientists in Water figure out. People can use their water allowance how they see fit. Most people fill a bath tub or basin in the bathroom for washing. We were taught in Water History class that toilets used to use water, but now they run on an air compression system. The remaining water goes in the kitchen, in a pitcher, for drinking. Dishwashing is a thing of the past now too as most food is packaged. Water usually goes in plastic, portable bottles. But any dishes that are needed go into a water-free sanitizer, another thing our scientists invented.

  Sunday is a day off from school, so after my run, I head to an abandoned library where I often study. Besides the crumbling facade, the building's infrastructure is still strong. I sit at my usual table and take my backpack off. I sip my drink and look around the room. There are still shelves with books lining them, but most of the information they hold is irrelevant. Still, I love the musty smell of the books and breathe it in deeply.

  Being here makes me sad too because this is where Zane and I would often come after school. I studied and he wrote in his journal. I don't know what he was writing ever, but it never felt right to ask. He is a deeply introverted and internalizing guy. He was always that way too, even before his father left and his brother died.

  I'm not sure what he ever found to write about as this town doesn't do much to spark creative juices. It mostly stifles them. But Zane is a guy who was meant to fly free, like a bird. I think that is what bonded us. I run to escape, he writes. Still, I don't know what he saw in hanging out with me. It was likely the convenience of growing up down the hall from me. We walked to school, played tag in the hall, and did dumb stuff together as kids, like explored the many uninhabited houses and buildings in this rundown city. We've just always been together and it feels empty being here by myself.

  I wonder more about what Zane meant about how runners don't run like I do. Of course they do. He's just trying to scare me out of doing it because he worries about me. Being a runner is dangerous, obviously, but without them, we wouldn't have water.

  I take out my textbooks and notes and open them all up, filling all of the table surface with them. Focus, I tell myself. This test is the most important thing I will ever do in my life. With the motivation of being so close to becoming a runner, I dig in.

  Zane

  It's still too hard to open my eyes, obviously swollen and crusted shut with dried blood and puss. And though my nose is wrapped in gauze, the smell of blood mixed with antiseptic is so overpowering, it makes me more nauseous than being beaten within an inch of my life did. All I can do is lie here and listen to beeping machines and feel a hot light above me. My body doesn't seem like it's attached to my head and I’m not sure which one I'd rather be in; my body or my head. Probably neither one
at the moment.

  Someone comes in and starts walking around the room. I assume it's a nurse. I'm clearly in the hospital after what Harmond did to me. I remember one other time being in a hospital, when I had my appendix out as a kid and I still recall the feel of the cot-like bed and the beeping of the monitors. I'm still tired, but I slowly try to peel my eyes open.

  Instead of a nurse, I see the fuzzy outlines of Officer Fulton pacing the floor of the small room. I close my eyes again quickly, but it's too late. He's seen that I'm awake.

  "Hey, Zane," he says, but I don't respond. I note his voice though, which sounds different than normal. It sounds almost human-like. I guess he's trying to appear concerned for the person he almost killed. It's a little late for my taste.

  I hear him sit down in the chair next to the bed. "Listen, I know you can hear me and I don't have much time, so I'm just gonna talk. Okay? Jesus. I hope you are alert enough to understand what I'm about to tell you." He clears his throat. This doesn't sound like a standard opening for an apology so I force myself to concentrate a little more.

  "I'm sorry about the beating. I had to do it because it was the only way I could think of to get you here, alone...so I could talk to you. Listen carefully. Your brother was my best friend. He didn't die in combat. He died because they found out he was co-conspiring and they needed to put a stop to it. Me and some others are still working to keep things going, but it's dangerous. I know you'd want to continue the work your brother was doing. We are having a meeting next Monday. I'm going to leave a map under the mattress. When you are feeling better and you're alone, take a look at it. Don't let anyone else see it and don’t tell your buddies. Meet us there at 3 a.m. if you're interested."

  I listen to him get up to leave and then I feel him shove something under the thin mattress near my left ankle. I lie there for awhile trying to process what he's just told me. The room is spinning, but not because of how sick I feel. My world has just been turned upside down. Then, as much as I try to fight it, I fall back asleep.

  The next time I wake, it really is a nurse in my room. She's fiddling with the IV that's plugged in to me somewhere on my right arm. Every move she makes causes severe pain to ripple through my whole body. She smiles at me when she finally notices me looking at her. Good thing she can't hear what I'm thinking.

  "How are you feeling Private Brenner?"

  I hear myself make some noise, but my face is so swollen still my mouth doesn't form words that might be discernable to another person.

  The nurse chuckles a little. "Well, you just get some rest. I've got some medicine going into your IV that will help with the pain. You'll be up and back to the base in no time."

  Great. Can't wait for that. I feel the medicine start to take hold, but I fight it off a little so I can think some more about what Fulton said yesterday. At least I think that was yesterday. Co-conspire. My brother was intentionally killed. The words flood back to me. I'm not sure what they mean exactly yet, but I intent to find out.

  Zander and I were very close, though I thought of him in more of a fatherly way. My dad left us when I was very young, right around the time Bekka moved in to the building, and Zander being a few years older, stepped up and took over as someone who I could look up to, and I did. He was patient and loving toward me, even when we didn't agree and when others were so often against me. He was just a really great big brother and I still find it hard to believe he's gone, even if I hadn't seen him much in the last few years.

  I also find it hard to believe he was somehow a rebel. He was as straight and narrow as they come. He was clean-cut and obedient. He did everything my mom told him and never put up a fight. None of this makes sense to me. I remember him being so proud when he tested high enough to be a Staff Sergeant. He loved the military, at least he always said so when he came home on visitations. Then again, I was sure my CO wanted to fillet me with a butterfly knife while the rest of my squad decided who got to cook and eat me.

  Then something hits me. Maybe it's a trap. Maybe Fulton really does want to kill me, so he is luring me away from the base so he doesn't have to do any explaining. He already knows I have been sneaking off base. He would be able to tell the higher ranking Officers that I was trying to flee or something.

  I'm so confused. I figured him for a real scumbag but not the kind that killed for sport. I'm not sure what the motivation would be for it. It's not like I was oppositional to him in any of the training; in fact, I had been doing well, at least according the scores that had been posted thus far. He is the one who singled me out for unknown reasons and it's true, he was friends with my brother. I am sure of that part. That might be the only thing I'm sure of right this second. My head is fuzzy still.

  I try to reach toward my ankle to retrieve the piece of paper Fulton left behind, but it's not gonna happen. My body lets me know it's not ready to move that much yet. I sink back down into my cot. All I have are my thoughts so I wrestle with them for a minute or two more before the drugs take me down and I am back in lala land.

  Chapter 6

  Bekka

  "How did the exam go, sweetie?" Cheryl asks me before I'm even in the door fully.

  "I don't know," I say with worry. "The questions were weird."

  "How so?"

  "They were mostly about me. Like personality questions."

  "Well, if I know you, you did great! I was planning to make your favorite dinner to celebrate, but it's card night at Louie's place tonight."

  "That's okay," I say. "Evy invited me to go to a party with her."

  "Oh, that sounds like fun! I'll see you later then, darling," Cheryl says in her normal cheery way, grabbing her purse and heading out the door.

  Standing in front of my closet, I rifle through stuff quickly and pull out a couple of outfits. I don't have anything party worthy, but I hold a few things up to my body in front of the mirror. I'm not even sure why I'm going. I'm not really a party girl, but it seems like the thing I'm supposed to do after a major event in my life and I have nothing else going on and no one to do it with, so I guess I need to come up with something to wear that doesn't look like I'm going to go running.

  I pull on the one skirt I have and a clean t-shirt and as a final touch, I take my hair out of my ponytail. This will have to do. I have no choice but to put on my worn running shoes, which look ridiculous with the skirt, but it's all I've got and at least it's comfortable. I grab my backpack, then put it back down. I don't need it anymore. I'm no longer a school girl. That's a weird thought. I feel almost naked without it though. Where will I carry my water bottle? I pick it back up, contemplating. It's still weighed down by all of my school books. I'm an adult now, I should start acting like one. I reach into the bag and dig down to the bottom, gathering the small amount of money I have in it and take it, along with my water tickets and ID, and stick them inside my sock.

  It's dark by the time I get on the street and I suddenly feel foolish in the outfit I've chosen. I tug on the bottom of my skirt and yank it down but it continues to hug my thighs and hike up a little each time I take a step. There are a few men hanging out on the corner by Buddy's Convenient Store so I cross the street to go wide around them. Not only do I feel naked in the short skirt and without my backpack, but the realization strikes me hard that I haven't been out at night for a long time on my own, without Zane. I used to run after dark all the time because it wasn't as hot, but the older I got, coupled with the sense that things feel a little more dangerous than they used, I abandoned the routine. Or maybe it was Zane who convinced me it wasn't safe, I don't remember. Anyway, it feels strange being out alone in the dark. The street lights don't do much to help matters, either. They are dirty and dim, like everything else in the city.

  I don't have far to go tonight, but I stay alert nonetheless. Once I've reached the abandoned warehouse, I climb the crumbling steps and find the door number I've been told. Evy and Alex and several other kids from my pod will be here, so I should know plenty of people. I hike my
skirt down one more time before going in.

  The room is just a big concrete rectangular space with some lights strung up and loud music pumping from speakers. A few folding chairs are scattered along the outer edges and a guy behind a makeshift table is clearly monitoring the cans of whatever type of alcohol they were able to scratch together. There is a hallway toward the back of the big room which people are coming in and out of and I spot Evy talking to Greer near the entrance of it.

  As I'm heading toward her I have a second thought that maybe I should leave her and Greer alone, but I look around and don't see any other familiar faces. There are dozens of kids, some younger and a few a little older, mingling around, and some dancing in the middle of the open space, but none that I know, as I pan the crowd. Who am I kidding? I'm not sure who'd I'd be looking for besides Evy. I grab at the hair band around my wrist and pull my hair back into a ponytail.

  Feeling more myself, but still awkward and uncomfortable standing alone at a party, I inch my way toward the wall surrounding the dance floor. I guess this is what I get for always being attached at the hip with Zane my entire childhood. I have no backups. It's starting to feel like people are looking at me too, so I tug at my skirt again and start to head toward Evy. Winding through the crowd, I'm halfway to Evy when someone taps me on the shoulder. I spin around and see Blake Jackson standing in front of me.

  "How's it going, Bek?" he says.

  "Okay,"

  "Excited to be done?"

  "I'll be happier when the results are posted."

  "Why? Then real life starts."

  "Yeah." I shrug. "I guess I'm okay with that. You aren't?"

  "I'd rather keep goofing off for awhile longer." He smiles at me.

  "What job assignment are you trying for?" I ask, trying to keep the conversation going.

  "I dunno if trying is the word I would use. I'll probably get water distribution or something."

  "Ah."