Naturals (12 page)

Chapter 14

“Your coughing is ruining the moment,” Lockwood complained, motioning to the fading sun setting the sky ablaze.

“I wasn’t aware there was a moment to ruin,” I countered. “We’re milking a cow. It’s ridiculously cold outside, and I’m pretty sure even the flies aren’t swarming around us because of our incurable stench.”

“You
still
haven’t gotten used to not bathing every day? Wow, that council really spoiled you,” he teased, picking up a pail full of milk and heading back to the barn. Lockwood was trying too hard. Ever since the incident with the message, he’d gone out of his way to be overly nice to me. To make me feel like I belonged.

But I didn’t. These people would never help me. I wasn’t worth the risk. I wasn’t their family, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t save mine. Over the past couple of days, I hid half of my daily rations in the pockets of my dress. I would save as much food as I could before I ventured into the wilderness. If there was someone out there malicious enough to leave messages for me, I had to save my sister before he or she took it to the next level.

I grabbed the second pail and followed behind Lockwood, trying in vain not to spill any of it. Even after working on the farm for months, my arms felt wobbly. I often spilled more on the walk from the cows to the barn than I turned in, but Lockwood never said anything. He continued to be a very patient teacher.

“Yes, I can’t tell you how much I miss being forced into service. There was something about losing all of my personal freedoms that really spoke to me,” I replied drolly.

“You better watch out. You’re starting to sound like an Isolationist.”

No. I was just saying what I needed to so he wouldn’t suspect what I was planning. Maybe it was idiotic to think I could get Louisa back, but I had to try. I couldn’t just sit back and let someone else decide my life for me. Even if that meant my death.

I guess I took after my father in that way.

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Lockwood asked me.

“No. I wasn’t,” I joked lamely.

“Give me that,” he said, pointing to my pail. “You’re getting more and more flighty every day. You’re really starting to hold me back. If you don’t watch it, I’ll ask that you be reassigned.”

“And miss out on our daily witty banter? I think not,” I said, feigning seriousness.

“You’re lucky you’ve become quite the milkmaid. Otherwise, I really would lodge a complaint,” he said, counting the pails and marking the number on the daily ledger. We didn’t spend our whole day milking cows. There were also chicken eggs to collect and pig pens to clean. It was no Templeton.

But at least I had Lockwood. I wondered whether, if I asked him, begged him, he would help me. In that moment, standing covered in chicken goop, my feet camouflaged in cow poop, I wanted to thank him for teaching and welcoming me. I wanted to thank him for being my friend.

As I went to do so, I was overtaken by a fit of coughs. My body curled forward, shaking violently with each one. My nose burned and began to run. It was getting worse.

Back in the compound, no one had to worry about silly little illnesses like colds. Most natural sicknesses had been eradicated by the council’s astounding advancements in science. They could create perfection, after all. Curing a cold was child’s play.

But the council wasn’t all-powerful—even if they somehow convinced not only us but themselves that they were. What good were their scientific miracles on the battlefields where thousands and thousands of our men died? How did science save our people as the bombs fell? Wasn’t it science itself that created these weapons of mass destruction? This art of chemicals and machinery couldn’t heal my mother’s addiction or stop my father from giving himself up to a useless cause. And science couldn’t save my sister as she tried to bring life into this world.

And if they
could
do these things, become Gods in their own right instead of creating them, then they chose not to. And that’s what made me hate them.

Science, despite its appearance of logic, was nothing but illusion—a magical hope that meant nothing more than the series of letters thrown together to create its name. It was a word, and words weren’t action.

So, while it might have been nice to simply go to the compound’s infirmary and have my cold healed in a matter of hours, I never wanted to go back to living there.

“You sound like you’re getting worse,” Lockwood said, taking a step closer to me.

I held up my hand to stop him. I didn’t need him to baby me. Once I caught my breath and wiped the tears from my eyes, I looked up at him. “I’ll be all right. It’s a cold,” I said, dismissing his suddenly serious expression.

“Yes. A cold you’ve had for weeks. Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“I’m taking you to Sharon,” he said, grabbing me by the elbow and ushering me out of the barn.

“The pregnant woman? What can she do for me?” I asked, dragging my feet.

“She’s our doctor. Or at least the only one I’d dare take you to,” he said, his voice dropping low. He tugged again on my arm, forcing me to follow along.

“A doctor?” I scoffed.

“Yes, a doctor. What, did you think her only job was making babies?” He looked at me like I was the most ridiculous person he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing. I didn’t want to admit that it was exactly what I’d thought—or at least what I’d feared.

“I’m fine. Really,” I insisted.

“Are you really going to make me throw you over my shoulder and carry you there? Seems a bit melodramatic,” Lockwood replied, attempting to lighten the mood.

“I seriously doubt you’re strong enough to do that. I mean, you were assigned to milking cows,” I muttered, knowing it was useless to fight with him. Besides, if visiting Sharon meant I would feel better, it was worth a try.

“Oh, Tess. I was wondering when you would come to see me,” Sharon said, rubbing her dirty hands on her even dirtier apron. Apparently, besides the community’s poor excuse for a doctor, Sharon also played the part of cook.

“Was I supposed to?” I asked. “No one told me if that’s the case.”

“Well, I assumed…”

“I don’t think she’s here for that,” Lockwood hedged.

“Oh. I see. So, am I to assume that you’re here for contraceptives?” she asked without missing a beat, her hand resting on her swollen belly.

“Contra-what?” I asked.

“God, no. Definitely not that!” Lockwood howled with laughter.

Sharon’s face went red. “I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply. I just know you two spend a lot of time together. You know you don’t have to be embarrassed to talk to me about your urges. There are options we can discuss.”

“My w-what? Urges?” I stammered. I felt my face begin to match Sharon’s. “What is she talking about, Lockwood?”

“Sex. She thinks we want to have sex. Together. Isn’t that amusing?” he replied, playfully pinching me on the cheek.

I smacked his hand away. “Is that all you people think about?” I eyed her stomach again.

She was like me.

Life.

Producer.

Maybe it was all
she
thought about.

“Oh, so now we’re back to being
you
people instead of
my
people,” said Lockwood.

I sighed and shook my head. My throat felt dry. Parched. “I’m here because I have a cold, and Lockwood said you might be able to help me.”

“Of course. He did well by bringing you to me. Why don’t you take a seat,” she said, pointing to a bench at one of the empty dining hall tables. I wondered how Sharon would fit me in between making dinner for the community and taking it upon herself to repopulate the world.

She took a seat and did all the things I read about in books. In the compound, they would simply ask you what was wrong and give you a pill or a shot. Sharon felt my forehead and pressed the back of her hand against my cheek. She asked me a million questions about how I was feeling and what hurt. She brushed my hair from my forehead as she told me to breathe in and out.

“What do you think?” Lockwood asked.

“You need rest,” Sharon said, taking my hand in hers. “I’m worried that maybe you’re working yourself too hard.”

“There’s no doubt in my mind they gave me the easiest job they could. I won’t stand by while everyone else contributes. I’m a member of this community now—”

“No one will question your dedication to the community,” said Sharon.

I shook my head. That was exactly what they would do. If they really thought I considered myself a member after what happened the other night, they were mistaken. “Can’t you just give me some sort of medicine?” I asked.

“We don’t have very much to give. And what we do have is saved for the direst of circumstances. When our people ran from the council, they took what they could in the little time they had. And after the first of the Isolationists left, the council made sure to destroy everything they didn’t need, everything that we would. That included all the hospitals. We’re lucky if we can find some clinic not annihilated by the war or the council. I could ask the leaders, but I can almost guarantee they wouldn’t grant the request,” she explained.

“Well, if they only use the medicine in the worst possible situations then it must not be so bad. I’ll continue to work and let my body do its job and fight it off,” I replied.

“That’s what worries me. Your body isn’t like ours.”

No, it wasn’t. That’s what made me so dangerous. It was the reason the council wanted me dead. I shook my head—that wasn’t entirely true. “But…but your body is like mine,” I said hesitantly.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that,” Sharon said softly, apparently reading my thoughts.

“I must insist you rest,” she continued. “Your body isn’t used to these conditions. It hasn’t built up a strong immune system. Yes, your body is miraculous in ways we don’t quite understand, but it isn’t invincible. You haven’t been exposed to the illnesses we have grown up with.”

“Okay, so I’ve been sheltered. You and everyone else in this place have made a point of telling me this plenty of times,” I snapped. Then I sighed. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“I can’t speak for the others, but I’m telling you because I care. This could turn very serious.”

I yanked my hand back from her grasp. I didn’t like the familiarity. Did she think because she carried someone’s baby inside her that she got to be everyone’s mother, too? Just because she’d survived didn’t give her the right to try and replace our own mothers.

My mother. She reminded of her despite being nothing like her at all.

A mother was the one thing I didn’t need.

I never had.

I had always only had Emma.

“Are we done here?” I asked, moving to my feet.

“You’re being unreasonable, Tess,” said Lockwood.

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. But that’s what makes this place so great, right? I have the freedom to walk out of here and you two can’t stop me.”

I wasn’t surprised when Lockwood followed me out of the dining hall. If there was one thing he enjoyed more than a good joke, it was an opportunity to showcase how stubborn he could be. “I don’t want to hear it,” I said without stopping.

Despite my many claims that I would feel better soon, I didn’t feel well enough for a battle of words. I needed a good night’s rest. Life wouldn’t stop just because of some little illness. Tomorrow, I would get up and do my job.

“Will you just stop and hear me out?” he pleaded.

“You would be wasting your breath, so don’t bother,” I said, rounding on him. “What were you thinking, bringing me to her?”

“I was thinking of finding a way to make you feel better. What’s your problem with Sharon anyway?”

“I don’t have a problem with her,” I said, crossing my arms.

“Bullshit. You don’t like her. Admit it,” he said, his voice rising.

I looked around to make sure we weren’t attracting a crowd. Luckily, most people were just leaving their workstations, and the dirt roads were nearly empty. “I don’t have to like everyone I meet. And if you knew she couldn’t do anything for me, I don’t understand why you felt the need to waste my time.”

“I brought you to her because I knew you wouldn’t listen to me when I said you needed to rest. I thought she would make you understand,” he argued.

“Why? You think we’d form some instantaneous bond because we both can—”

“It had nothing to do with that!” he said, cutting me off.

“So then what was she talking about with all that
I’ve been expecting you
stuff?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing. She meant nothing. You’re reading into things. You’re so used to living with villains that you’re trying to create them here, too,” he countered. I wanted to believe him, but he couldn’t look me in the eyes. And I knew—he was lying to me. He’d never lied to me before. My heart skipped a beat and my back tensed up.

Not him, too.

At what moment in the history of mankind did secrecy become our greatest defense?