Xavier stared at him while shaking his head, then very deliberately spoke above the crowd, “I’ll see you later, Matt.”
Matt turned toward him, his eyes wide while trying to force a few words through a mouthful of toothpaste. He reached for Xavier, begging him to stop, but it was too late. Xavier had spun straight into a Guard—his body recoiled then crumpled to the floor.
“Watch it!”
Xavier looked up at him while scrambling to gather his feet underneath him. “Sorry. I—I—“
“Don’t let it happen again.” The Guard stepped over him rather than around. “What’re you lookin’ at?” he snapped at the onlookers, but no one dared speak.
Xavier fled from the bathroom. I’m so sick of this crap. He returned to his footlocker to secure his toiletries, slamming the lid in the process. I should light their beds on fire. Do something. He sighed and took a quick look around. I could get away with it. Who would tell? No one likes these guys. Seriously, who the hell would say anything? A few strong footsteps broke up his thoughts as they neared. Another Guard. Whatever… screw these guys. Xavier watched the man for a moment before heading out. Time for work. Again.
He drifted toward the maintenance shop, being led there by a discoloration of the floor that grew darker the closer you came. Xavier stopped—Classroom 101 always seemed to get in the way. The old desks were still there. ‘X was here’ carved along the bottom edge of the one. A juvenile act done against a dare. He immediately regretted it upon finishing. Not that he faced any punishment for it. It just wasn’t like him to do it. He was a good student and had a fond recollection of school.
Those classroom activities began to stir again as he sorted the memories highlighting his last year of normalcy. Life seemed so difficult at the time. Now, he longed for those problems—the minutiae of a child’s life—chores, homework, and play. A weak smile creased his face as he remembered his classmates. Most of them were gone now, including his sister. “I survive for you,” he said aloud.
“Here again?” One of the few teachers left in the town asked.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
“Need a refresher on your measurin’?” She chuckled to herself while she sorted through some objects on her desk. “I’m gettin’ low on pencils again. All we got are nubs. You got any in the shop?”
“I doubt we have any extras,” Xavier said, “but supply should still have plenty.”
“Guess we’ll find out.”
“I’ll see you around.”
“When ya goin’ to stop dwellin’ on the past? You’re here every mornin’.”
Xavier forced a smile. “I don’t know.” He took his hand from the frame of the door and continued along the discolored floor.
“About time,” a rough voice remarked, as Xavier stepped foot into the maintenance shop. “We’re gonna have a long day ahead if we don’t start now. ‘C’ and ‘E’ are about down. The belts begun to whine, and they gonna need replacin’.”
“Okay, Grant. Give me a second,” Xavier said, as he surveyed the room.
Many of the workers rushed about, gathering tools, preparing themselves for the day’s work. A few stragglers hung about the water cooler, gossiping and discussing the work they were going to do.
“We’re going to need some water too, X,” Alex said.
Alex. What a joke. “Why can’t you do it?”
“Your turn, boy,” Grant interjected.
Alex smirked, taking his glasses from his nose and wiping them gently with his handkerchief. A certain smugness about him as he returned to his conversation. The conversation he interrupted for the sole purpose of getting after Xavier.
“Alright, alright, I hear you. Everyone’s on me this morning, huh? Are any of you at least getting breakfast for us?”
“Breakfast?” Grant asked. “Boy, you must be crazy. Two meals, early lunch and dinner—that’s it. Ordered by the S.A., and they sayin’ we’re lucky to get that.”
“Since when?”
“Today’s when. Where you been? They been talkin’ about it for weeks. Surprised you haven’t heard it was comin’ down the pipe.”
“And the council approved it?”
“They didn’t have much choice but to do it. It’s all parta that deal now. We’re gonna have to make changes from here on out to fall in line with their expectations, or it could all fall apart.”
That might not be all bad.
Xavier stared blankly at Grant picking through the pile of dirty, grease-covered parts in the corner. He couldn’t help but worry that he was in the presence of his future—the life of a lonely, overworked man. Maintenance was much safer than scavenging or exploring, and Xavier knew that, but he still wanted something better for himself.
He certainly didn’t want Grant’s life. The wear and tear. The blackened mixture of dirt and oil that remained under his fingernails. All the long wrinkles in his forehead that spanned his entire brow. A constant reeking of gasoline—his cologne of choice. The stress of maintaining a town held together with scraps animated itself as slight tremors in his sixty-year-old hands.
“Why you lookin’ at me like that, boy?”
“Zoning out.”
“We ain’t got time for no zonin’. Don’t let that breakfast stuff get you down. We gotta worry about stuff we can help, so get your ass movin’.” Grant clapped his hands together several times. “These generators ain’t gonna make it much longer. We’ll tinker with these a bit then we’re gonna start on somethin’ else.”
Xavier sorted through the rubber belts that hung on the wall. “These will fit ‘C’ and ‘E’, right?”
“Lemme see.” Grant took the belts from Xavier and examined them. “This one here ain’t gonna help nothin’. Look at these cracks.” He traced them with his fingernail. “Minor, but they’re there. That’d be a whole other day’s work had we put these on. Not to mention had it damaged the mechanics.”
“How’d you see those?” Xavier leaned in and squinted at the belts that lay in Grant’s dirty palms.
“You needin’ glasses, boy? What else can’t you see? We can’t be makin’ mistakes with this stuff. Lemme put in a scavengin’ request for some glasses.”
“My eyes can’t be that ba—”
“Boy, it don’t matter. Can’t risk mistakes. Lemme write this out, and you take it down to supply. See what they got. I’ll get to these belts, so don’t you worry about them.” Grant found a scrap piece of paper and scrawled out the request. The writing bounced along with his tremors—it was barely legible.
“Are they going to know what this is?” Xavier rotated it, puzzled on which way it went.
“Yep. They know my writin’ over there. If not, just tell them what you need, but make sure you get the water before you go.” Grant pointed toward the water cooler sitting between Alex and his friend still chatting with no intention of working yet.
How the hell does he get away with this?
Xavier folded the order and placed it in a pocket of his ill-fitting cargo pants. The weight of his hand drooped them considerably from his bony hips. He adjusted his frayed leather belt, slipping the buckle’s prong through the last hole. The next step would be punching his own notches in the belt, and now with only two meals a day, it was almost a certainty.
Reaching between Alex and his even lazier friend, Xavier grabbed the orange water cooler. He hung it over his shoulder as he made his way from the hallway into the school’s courtyard. As he stepped onto the worn path that cut through to the other side of the school, his empty stomach began to growl.
He eyed the crops that grew just beyond his reach. It was tempting, but he wouldn’t dare take without permission. The Second Alliance Sentries watching over the courtyard with their rifles served as a constant reminder of the repercussions for interfering with the town’s food stock.