Chapter 12
Training was relatively uneventful for the rest of the week, and I'm thankful.
We've had a few run-ins with other crews.
I knew the peace would be short-lived. At some point crews would start competing for higher positions, and favour from the legionaries, in hopes of better assignments.
They had yet to give us our work duties, allowing us to focus on physical training for the most part.
I'm slowly gaining stamina during our morning runs. Leo and Farra somehow barely break sweats now despite increasing their time. I've kept my distance from Tarius. He's hard to read. My gut says he has good enough intentions, it's just I haven't been able to figure out what those are yet.
Berkley's taken on a reluctant leadership role among our group.
Leo teasingly calls him daddy, which Berkley despises.
I've questioned why they made Berk come back through training at all, considering his previous experience, but he didn't have many answers for me.
He was told it was because of his advanced age, and because when he had last served the structures and expectations were vastly different.
They'd thought he wouldn't be able to integrate into the active units efficiently.
Despite the grumbling, I suspect he doesn't mind.
At nights my mind wanders home. All the worry that I can suppress during our busy days creeps in when it's quiet. I am often thankful for Farra's heavy breathing next to me, grounding me in the here and now.
Our schedule is intensive, training every day, but we were told we'd get the odd Sunday off. Which, as it happens, is today.
Leo announced we're going on a tour of the city, led by himself, which is ridiculous considering he's never been here either. He even got Farra to agree to come. When she originally said no, he threatened he would stay with her in the dorm, the entire day, to which she sighed and got ready.
We walk down the slight hill towards the town. It's warm. I can see dust clouds over the wall, forming on the empty rolling hills, but they don't seem to come this way, or if so they don't make it over the walls.
"I'm not sure I'll get over how much better the air is in here," I admit with a shallow breath.
"I'd known, but it was hard to imagine... I don't actually remember a time when the air quality was this decent," Farra says, biting her lip thoughtfully.
A thousand thoughts rip through my mind. Why wouldn't they attempt to make other cities like this? Moving and making similar structures to block out the dust.
We walk for a bit, marveling at the landscape.
We turn again, winding towards more condensed housing.
Although small and worn, it isn't like my neighbourhood.
The houses are a medley of old and new, repurposed brick and clay meshed with concrete and wood.
What is striking is the neatness of it all.
Something as simple as a home made of unbroken material seems frivolous to me, unachievable back home.
Once again, I feel overwhelmed by the noise. Everyone outside sweeping, talking, hauling things in wagons. As we near, people give us polite nods, neither warm or hostile, and I wonder what they think of us.
In my town, there is this vast unspoken contrast in people's beliefs.
A divide that's neither talked about nor encouraged for debate.
There are devout loyalists; people who truly feel the current government is just, and that their efforts are altruistic.
They pray to the Gods for forgiveness, frequenting the temples and offering what they can in a show of sacrifice.
They believe soon the grass will grow, the rain will come steadily, and our continent will flourish.
Then there is the other half, the citizens who are quiet.
The ones that look at their peers with worry and regret every time the council comes out with new guidelines, the harsher laws that leave its most vulnerable citizens behind.
It feels dangerous to even think these thoughts.
They are so rarely voiced out loud; people are too scared.
Those in charge have made it pretty clear, making sure everyone understood early on what happens if you challenged the system.
To put it simply, life is short.
I follow Leo as he bounces around the street, greeting people and asking questions like a friendly pest. My sense of unease only heightens as we continue on through the town.
We pass a school where kids are playing outside with a ball.
Something so simple shouldn't have jealousy shredding through me, but it does. My sister has never lived like this.
I watch Farra. Her face is sober, reflective, and her eyebrows pinch in thought.
I haven't been brave enough to attempt a conversation about all this with anyone. I wonder if she is a devout. With all her family members serving in the army so willingly, one would think they agreed with the Council's mission statements.
I question my own true opinions. I surely don't agree with the distribution of resources.
I feel the methods being used to reestablish ourselves aren't working.
I see the corruption in the executions, the way the Council turns a blind eye to the missing residents.
But I've never allowed myself to truly linger on these thoughts.
Or maybe, more honestly, I've never had the luxury of time to dwell on it.
Most of the people in Strayton are the same, other than Deacon's family and a few select others.
There's no traveling in between towns and exploring.
I'd never have known a place like this was real if I hadn't enlisted.
A thought creeps up on me. Did dad know? Is that another reason he was so hellbent on answers? I've been so angry with him over his obsessiveness. Now I wonder.
We turn another corner, wandering into a market and my breath catches.
I am struck, feeling like I've been delivered back to another time.
Vendors line the walls with booths, and I'm reminded of the booths at the Games––but instead of horrible offerings these seem to have real goods.
I stop at a booth with produce. Mostly hearty things, easily grown; full potatoes, turnips, even a cabbage.
My eyes widen as I see how healthy it all looks.
The next table has green vegetables on it, and I suck in a breath through my teeth.
I feel foolish for being so confused, for feeling so in the dark, but I turn to Farra and I see her eyes have a watery sheen. She tries hastily to blink the emotion away and locks eyes with me.
"I haven't seen any... since I was a kid," she says just above a whisper.
I grab her hand and squeeze, hoping she hears the agreement I can't seem to say out loud. I wander towards the table with a few carrots, and a kind older woman sits behind the booth. She grabs three small carrots, holding one out to each of us.
I put my hands up immediately, trying to stop her. "Oh, I can't. We have no money, we can't afford this." I shake my head enthusiastically, smiling.
The woman scowls, a slight disapproving shake of her head.
"This one is on the house." She sighs, gesturing at the three of us with the carrots. "You lot deserve better."
Hesitantly, I take the carrot, seeing the finality in the woman's features and not wanting to offend her.
My mouth waters. Even the cafeteria food, which is miles beyond what we ate in Strayton, is condensed.
They need to get as much out of the produce as possible, so everything made into calorie and nutritionally competent servings.
They don't just hand out whole produce. Farra is caught in a trance, staring at the carrot in her hand.
Leo, who's been quiet longer than I thought possible, asks delicately,"What do you mean, you lot?"
She hesitates, only briefly, and seems to choose her next words carefully.
"Those of you who live outside these walls, who risk your lives to protect those within. You deserve..." She stalls, but I know what she means. There is a glimmer in her eyes, and her words fall heavy over the three of us. They know, then. The citizens here know how the rest of the country lives.
A loud groan pulls me from my thoughts.
"Oh, fuck me, that is good. Thank you," Leo says this chomping on his carrot.
Farra gives the woman an apologetic smile and thanks her before leaving, but I linger for a second longer.
I search the woman's face for something—I'm not sure what—before finally turning away to walk through the rest of the town.
It's not long before we turn back, and I'm grateful. Our group seems quiet, somber. All of us stuck in our own heads as we make our way to the dorms. Leo hesitates, swaying while doing and undoing his pockets over and over. I can tell he doesn't want to part.
"Wanna come up?" I offer.
He bobs his head, his features relaxing.
"Yes! I've only been waiting for a sleepover invite since the first day we met." He grins.
Farra's eyes go wide. "Oh, no, she didn't mean to sleep over, Leo... I'm serious. You can come for a bit, but then you have to leave." She sounds panicked, but Leo is already jogging to the door, waiting for us to unlock it.
He scoffs at her, "I am a delight to have around. Stop acting like I'm a chore."
She rolls her eyes and stomps inside, making me chuckle.
Upstairs we all sit comfortably. Leo steals my pillow and makes himself a nest in between our beds. We sit idly chatting for a while, and I notice Farra's quiet differs from the usual. Thicker. I throw a pencil at her.
"Hey, you ok?" I ask.
She purses her lips. Considering what to share with her newly established friends.
"Seeing the city like that today, it felt wrong. Off. It doesn't make... sense." She scrunches up her face.
I nod, waiting for Leo to pipe in, but he's quiet. Contemplative. Farra rolls suddenly, her hands cradling her head so she's facing us.