Running Dry Read online

  "Well, I know you are going for runner, so good luck. I'm sure you are a shoe in. Do you know what you want if you don't get runner?"

  The question isn't one I've ever even considered and it causes me a moment of panic, but Blake waves it off, "Ah, you will. Everyone knows it!"

  "Thanks, Blake."

  "Maybe we can dance later, or something," he says casually as he walks away.

  I'm left alone again in the awkward position of trying to figure out what to do with myself. I back up against the wall again and stand there for awhile, trying to act casual, though I'd rather melt into it and disappear at this point. I guess there's a reason I'm not a party girl. I look over again at where Evy was a few minutes ago and see she's no longer there. My eyes scan the room and I still don't see her but I do see Alex dancing wildly in the middle of a pack of younger girls who are ogling at his every move.

  He catches my eye and pulls himself away from his groupies and heads in my direction.

  "Hey! You made it!"

  "Yeah."

  "Evy said you would come, but I didn't believe her."

  "Where is she anyway?" I ask.

  "I dunno. Come on. Let's get a drink," he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the table.

  "Two of those please," Alex says, handing the guy with a huge liberty spike mohawk two water tickets and nodding at the cans of alcohol.

  "Oh, no. Alex, I'm good. Besides, I have my own ticket."

  He makes the transaction anyway and I reluctantly follow him to a couple of empty folding chairs near one of the big speakers with music kicking out. We pass a couple of classmates who smile at us but keep walking. Once we're seated, I look around one more time for Evy, but still don't see her.

  Alex hands me a can after he cracks it open and smiles at me before chugging half of his in one gulp. Because water is so scarce, the alcohol content of one can is often very, very high. I sip my drink slowly and try not to gag too much after the burn runs down my throat. I'm sweating a little and I have a fleeting feeling of wishing someone would rescue me from this scenario. I'm not sure why. It's better than standing in the corner alone. I love Alex and this shouldn't feel strange. We've been friends forever, but we've always hung out in groups and Zane or Evy have always been there with us. This is probably the first time I've been alone with Alex and even though he knows my position on our relationship and has always respected it in the past, something tells me he's throwing logic out the window tonight.

  "Doesn't it feel awesome to be done with school?" he yells, bobbing his head to the beat of the music.

  "It hasn't really hit me yet," I shout back, trying to relax.

  His eyes linger on my naked calves a little too long and even though I'm proud of them, I tug at my skirt, which is just stupid because it doesn't even clear my knees. The music is too loud to talk much, so I sip my drink and look around at the crowd of people. After a few additional sips, I'm already starting to feel the effects of whatever is in the can. I guess I've earned it. School is over, the exam is behind me. There's nothing left to do but wait. I can and should chill out. I take another drink.

  "Can I ask you something?" Alex hollers at me.

  "What?"

  He is bobbing his right knee up and down swiftly and looks a little strange. I'm guessing his can is empty. He yells again, "I want to talk to you about something."

  "I can't hear you!"

  "Come on." He grabs my hand again and we head toward the mysterious back exit.

  As we go through it, we enter a long hallway with several small rooms which each open to the hall. I see Evy and Greer standing against the wall entwined in each other, connected by their mouths. Evy opens her eyes long enough to wave at me as we pass. Alex pulls me into one of the rooms, which is empty except for an old mattress on the floor. I have no choice but to sit on it. Alex sits down next to me. I'm feeling pretty good from the drink by this point, but I also feel a moment of guilt wash over me, which I don't understand. I'm not doing anything wrong; I'm celebrating a milestone, just like the rest of my classmates. They seem to be having no trouble letting loose, that much is apparent.

  "So, what did you want to ask me?" I say.

  "I was just wondering..."

  Something hits me right at that moment that whatever he wants to talk about is probably better off avoided, so I pull him toward me and I kiss him. He relaxes and we sink into the mattress together, exploring each other's mouths for awhile. As we do, I have another battle with myself. I'm almost eighteen and Alex likes me and I don't see what's wrong with having some fun. Except then his hand start to move around my thigh and before I know it my skirt is inching even higher up my leg and I realize that it does feel all wrong. I avoided talking because I didn't want it to lead to something else, but here I was doing the something else I was trying to avoid. I spring up off the mattress.

  "I'm sorry Alex. I can't..." I said, bursting from the room. I didn't even look back at him. I just keep running, back down the hall, now devoid of Evy and Greer, and push past several people huddled near the drink table. I hear Alex calling after me, but I bolt out the door and take the dangerous steps at full sprint. Once I'm out on the street, I unleash all the speed I have and keep running, past my apartment, and all the way to the high fence on the upper flats and I slump down, letting my breathing slow down. I'm suddenly overwhelmed with everything and I want to cry. Change is funny. I thought I was prepared for this. I thought I wanted to be an adult. It's something I've been waiting for with so much anticipation but now it's really here and I just kinda want things to go back to normal. I'm not sure I'm ready for all of this. Everything feels wrong and strange. But mostly, I just want Zane back.

  Zane

  I'm given my discharge paperwork and a bottle of pills and left alone with a pile of folded clean clothes. I inch out of the bed for the first time and every section of my body screams for me to stop, but I know I need to get it over with, and in some ways it feels good to stretch things out, so I stand up and put all of my weigh down on myself. Wow. I had no idea how quickly one person could induce so much bodily harm to another and how slow it would be to repair the damage done. I change out of the hospital gown at the pace of an old man, which is probably how I look dressing, and exactly how I feel. I fold up the paperwork and grab the pills.

  Before I leave the room, I listen for people outside of the door then yank the map out from under the mattress finally. I want to study it, but now isn't the time. I tuck it with the discharge papers and shove them both in my pocket. Bent and broken, with one hand on the wall for support, I hobble out.

  I would prefer to head far, far away, but at this rate it would take me hours to do so. I'm sure the military will be expecting me to return to base, but I'm not inclined to care at the moment, so I head for an old playground I know about which isn't too far.

  Lowering myself slowly down onto a swing, I pull the map from my pocket. I know right away from my training that it's a map of one of the tunnels. Number twelve. I know where the access point to this tunnel is too. It's on base, near the outskirts. On the map, scratched in pen, which I can only assume is Fulton's handwriting, is a six digit number. That must be the code which opens the large metal grate sealing the tunnel's entry. They change the codes periodically and each separate access point has its own pin, so only those with clearance are able to enter the tunnels.

  I still haven't fully decided if I should go, but it's best to be prepared if I lean that way. I feel the urge to set up another meeting with Bekka so I can discuss it with her, but that's probably a bad idea. I don't want her to worry or get involved. On the other hand, if my body ends up being pulled from a water collection drain somewhere, I'd want her to know why. I could do it now, before going back through the barrack's security, but just the thought of trying to track her down makes me tired. At the speed I'm capable of moving right now, it'd take me till next week to do it. Instead, I get up off the swing, which creaks loudly, or maybe I actually produce the
bizarre noise. I check my watch, and start back toward the base hoping to make it sometime in this century, but I'm not really in any rush.

  As soon as I enter the dorms I pick up speed a little, only because I need to collapse, so I head for my bunk. I start to feel extreme exhaustion set in, so it doesn't bother me as much as I thought it might when I see James standing, digging in his foot locker, at the end of our bunks. He looks up at me, lowers the locker and says, "Hey, Zane..." His voice is that of a sad puppy.

  I give him a look, but he continues, "I just wanted to say...I mean, I..."

  "Listen, Harmond," I interrupt, "if you want to apologize, you can do it by letting me use your bunk. There's no way I can climb up to mine right now and I just need to sleep."

  "Sure. Okay," he stammers. "Gotta get to my next session anyway."

  Once he's gone and it's quiet, I sit on his bed and pull the bottle of pills from my pocket. I pop one in my mouth and ease myself down as slowly as I can without making too many strange grunting sounds as I do so.

  I close my eyes and moan. I want to sleep but this decision is weighing on me. To go down the tunnel or not, that is the choice I need to make, and it has to be done within a few days.

  "Private!"

  I blink and try to remember where I am. I look around. The dorm is empty and quiet, except for the person yelling.

  "You awake?" I hear Officer Fulton ask me. I slowly roll over and look at him. He is standing in front of the bunk in full uniform with a clipboard in his hand.

  "Yes, sir." I try to sit up.

  "You don't have to get up. I will make this fast." He clears his throat. "I've made arrangements for you to be excused from your training sessions through Friday." I look at him closer, studying his face, his eyes.

  He continues, "Next week, check the board. Your assignment will be posted."

  I sit up fast, which hurts like hell, "But, sir. I've missed several days of training. I..." Is that what this is all about? Me missing crucial days of scores, losing my chances at the position I want?

  "Don't worry, Private. I think your scores are good enough to get you a good job." He pauses and grabs his pen from his front pocket, readying his clipboard. "What was that position again?"

  I hesitate. This could be another set up. I'm not sure, but I don't have time to figure it out so I hear myself blurt out, "Tunnel guard."

  He scribbles something down, saying, "Right, well. You can check the board after eight o’clock on Friday. As you were, soldier." He salutes, then turns and walks out of the dormitory.

  I lie back down and analyze the conversation. One thing sticks out. He never called me Brenner once. That's very uncharacteristic of him. Maybe he was trying to tell me something, or maybe I'm playing right into his trap.

  Chapter 7

  Bekka

  The days waiting until the exam results are posted crawl by, especially since I've been trying to avoid Alex. I've taken to running twice a day in order to keep myself busy, and expel my nervous energy. I go out once in the morning and again in early evening. In the morning, I still run in the upper flats in the neighborhood full of abandoned single homes. It's my favorite part of the entire city because not only is it deserted and quiet, but since it sits high along the fences, I have the best views of the ridge.

  Just to spice things up, I've chosen a different area of the city for my second run of the day, one where a lot of people tend to be out and about so I'm not as isolated, in case I run into trouble. It seems like as the city goes dark, the freaks tend to come out. Now, as I make my way through the area called the City Center, I jog passed the tattoo shop where Zane got his first tattoo. I remember going along and watching. The design is a bold black band which runs along his upper left bicep, except I was surprised when he wanted the artist to add some small purple flowers weaving through the solid line. When I asked him what it meant, he just shrugged it off. I've always loved that tattoo, even if I have no idea why.

  I run past a few stores and a couple of restaurants. I have to pay attention to the doors and the people on the sidewalk so I don't slam into anyone or anything but it doesn't stop me from glancing at the big board in the courtyard which runs the width of the busy street. It's easily the prettiest area of the entire city. There's some fake grass and a tree, a real one, which is supposed to be symbolic for something, so it's the only thing that actually gets watered in all of North Sacto.

  I usually focus on the tree when I'm in the area, but today I stare at the board. Tomorrow by this time I will know my fate because it will be tacked up there for the whole world to see. Just the thought of it is dizzying. The wait has been hard and I'm to the point where I'm beyond ready; I just want to get it over with and start the new phase of my life. I think about what Blake Jackson said to me at the party. What would I want to do if I didn't get assigned as a runner? It's funny that I've had eighteen years to decide that, yet I had no answer for Blake. It's like the thought had never even crossed my mind until that moment he asked it. There has never been a backup choice and I didn't select one on the exam in the space that called for it. I simply left it blank. I. am. a. runner. Period.

  But, what if? Could I live with being a collector or a researcher? Since I've never even pondered it before, I think I know the answer. Usually kids in the program are given priority toward what their parents do, especially if that is what they request, but there are other factors, scores and such. Nobody knows the exact equation or algorithm they use to assign positions, but I've never really heard of anyone being very disappointed, so they must have a method figured out which works to satisfy the majority of residents.

  Something else that's been bothering me is the fact that legally my parent is Cheryl, a cafeteria worker in the research labs. Could that work against me? I shiver at the thought of working in a cafeteria. I pick up my pace, trying to run the stress out, but my legs begin revolting and I'm forced to slow to a walk. I turn down the street Chuggers is on and I peek in the big front window as I pass. I see Evy sitting alone at a table toward the front of the place. I look around and don't see Alex anywhere so I decide to turn around and go in.

  "Hey!"

  Evy looks up at me. "Hi, Bek. Have a seat."

  "Whatcha doing?" I ask as I sit.

  "I was waiting for Greer, but it seems he's not showing," she says trying to not let the disappointment seep out, but I catch it anyway.

  "So Greer, huh?"

  She shrugs, "Yeah, well. Sorry about the party."

  "It's fine. But, you and...a researcher?" Evy is wild and crazy, and I love her, but smart isn't a word I'd use to describe her.

  She blushes and takes a sip from her water bottle. "I know. Weird, right? I suppose it doesn't matter anyway. He's clearly stood me up," she says, but checks her watch again for the second time since I arrived.

  "Sorry, hon," I touch her hand.

  "It's no big deal. Anyway, what happened with Alex?"

  Now it's my turn to blush. "What did he say?"

  "Just that you are a confusing chick."

  "I feel bad that I sent him a mixed message. It's just that...I can't, you know? I wasn't thinking clearly at the time. I had a drink and I shouldn't have...I dunno. I thought for a second I could, but, I don't know why I thought that. Ugh. Now I've messed things up."

  "Eh, he'll get over it."

  "I hope so. Could you tell him I'm sorry?"

  "You should do that yourself."

  "I know. You're right. But, in case I don't see him."

  Evy laughs, "In case, huh?"

  "I'm scared, okay?" I admit

  "Speaking of scared, tomorrow is the big day, huh?"

  "Yeah. Are you nervous?"

  "I've felt like puking all day," Evy says. "You?"

  "Same."

  "At least you know what to expect. You know what I put down as my first choice?"

  "No. What?" It surprised me we'd never discussed this before now.

  "Food."

  "Food wouldn't be so
bad," I lie.

  She laughs at my attempt, "Food would be weird and you know it."

  "Then why'd you write it?"

  "Because I couldn't think of anything else."

  "Well, there must be something to it then. Besides, we could use some new options. You can invent something with flavor. I'm sick of SoyBars."

  I look up and see Greer come in and start for our table. I nudge Evy and nod toward the door and when she sees him, her face lights up.

  "Well, I'll leave you two alone," I say, getting up.

  "K. See you at the results tomorrow," she says, still watching Greer approach.

  I nod to him as I leave Chuggers. On my way home, I think about stopping at Alex's apartment to talk to him, but I'd rather jump off the ridge, so I keep walking.

  When I get in the door of my apartment, it's dark, which means Cheryl isn't home. I see something on the kitchen table with a note.

  "Happy Birthday, Bekkaroo!

  Wish I could celebrate with you but it's bowling night.

  Love, Muma"

  A cake. I cut a large slice and take it to the couch. Cake is a big deal. It's something we don't get, ever. Most food is dry packed, in the shape of a brick and tastes like one too. Protein bars processed in the food factories, produced by plants they grow there, given chemically altered flavors. Cheryl went out of her way, and spent more than her job at the cafeteria can afford, for me to have this cake. I feel bad, but not bad enough to not eat it. I kick my shoes off, put my feet up, and eat my eighteenth birthday cake alone in a dark apartment.

  Zane

  "Zane?"

  "Yeah?"

  "You awake?"

  "No."

  "Oh. Okay."

  "I'm kidding, Harmond," I say quietly from the darkness of the bottom bunk.

  "Can I ask you something?"

  "Go ahead."

  "Did you?"

  "Did I what?"

  "You know...with Bekka Tyson."

  "No."

  "Oh. Sorry about, you know..."