The food was excellent, grilled chicken and fresh greens with a cheese sauce that was rich enough it made my stomach hurt, a far cry from the basic stodge they’d given us in the mess tent. I ate every guilty mouthful, each bite a reminder of the difference, and wondered how I was ever going to write something that would keep those out there happy with their lot. The whole situation very much put me in mind of concentration camps despite the logic of necessity that drove the Secretary, and I again resolved to break free as soon as I could.
A chair scraped back next to me and I looked up at the unexpected interruption to see Emily, dressed again in combat fatigues but still frowning as she sat next to me with a full tray of food.
My heart leapt when I saw her, but her eyes bored into mine with an intensity that choked off the words of greeting before I could utter them.
“So you sold out,” she said flatly, the words making my stomach churn.
I looked around to make sure that no one was close enough to hear and shook my head.
“No, of course not! But what good could I do out there, building fences and being watched every second? This was the only way I could see of getting us out of here.”
I could see that she wanted to believe me, and I desperately needed her to.
“This isn’t much better,” I hurried on before she could speak, “but at least we’ve got a little freedom now. That’s why I asked for you.”
She raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh really? The guard they sent was quite clear that I was some kind of prize when he showed me to your room.”
I shook my head. “No, it was nothing like that, I promise. I may have fibbed to the Secretary and implied we were a couple, but only because he’d be suspicious if I asked for you to be reassigned for any other reason.”
She sighed and shrugged, then began shovelling food into her mouth.
“Whatever,” she said around a mouthful, “so long as you promise me we’re getting out of here.”
“Of course we are, I just need to figure out how, is all.”
“Well anything has to be better than serving food in the mess tent,” she said, stabbing angrily at her chicken. “This place is a fucking joke.”
I pushed my plate away, no longer hungry.
“I thought, well, I thought you might be pleased being back with the army.” I regretted it the instant I said it as her eyes flashed and she waved her fork under my nose.
“Happy? This isn’t my army, it’s a group of misogynistic thugs working for a pencil pusher with delusions of grandeur.”
I looked around hurriedly to see if anyone had heard the outburst.
“Keep your voice down,” I muttered, “unless you want them to send you back to the mashed potato. And what do you mean, misogynistic?”
She glowered at me but lowered her voice. “Have you not seen what’s going on here? Have you seen a single woman armed?”
I looked around again, this time studying the soldiers in the canteen. All the men had pistols holstered at their belts or rifles slung on their backs, but now that she mentioned it I couldn’t see a single female soldier with anything more threatening than a pencil.
“No, but surely some of the patrols have women in them? They can’t be so flush with soldiers that they can afford not to.”
She shook her head. “I volunteered for the patrols, thinking that maybe I could find a way to get us out of here, but I was told that women were too valuable to risk on the front line.”
“Too valuable?” I had a sneaking suspicion I knew what they meant, and her next words confirmed it.
“We’re baby machines. If we’re going to rebuild the population then they need us safe, where they can keep an eye on us. It’s like living in the dark ages.”
“And they told you this?”
“Well not in so many words, but it was pretty clear what they meant.”
“But there are women on the work gangs.”
“Gangs which are always under guard and never leave the perimeter. I suspect that any sign of danger would have them all locked away somewhere safe. It’s a teenage boy’s fantasy come true. Lots of guns, some fort building and a supply of captive women.”
As I looked again at what was happening I realised she was right, making me even more determined to escape, and never bring Melody within a hundred miles of this place if I could help it.
“What about everyone else here?” I asked, “shouldn’t we warn them?”
“What, and risk warning the wrong person and being sent out to the fields, or worse? No, let’s just worry about our own necks for now.”
I nodded and stood. “Well, I’d better get back to my desk, I’ve been here too long already. What are you going to do now?”
She shrugged and picked up her plate of half eaten food, placing it on the tray with mine. “I’m to report to Captain Barnes, I’ll be working on intel coming in from the scouts to help plan missions.”
“Well he seems like a good enough chap, I met him earlier. At least we’ll be working in the same area, nice of them to put us together.”
She nodded but looked less than thrilled.
“Yeah, you could look at it that way, or you could think of it as them being able to keep an eye of us both with only half the manpower. Doesn’t seem so nice that way, does it?”
I waited as she put the tray on a rack near the door, then we walked together down the hall to the command centre. Once inside, she reported to Captain Barnes and was allocated a desk, while I returned to my own and the empty pad waiting for me to spin lies for a man I was coming to loathe.
Chapter 39
My friends, colleagues, comrades in adversity, we find ourselves in a time of unprecedented upheaval and uncertainty. Many of us have lost loved ones, our homes and our way of life but we must strive now for the future, putting those losses behind us as we look to our survival and that of our country. Life has become hard, I know, but that hardship will strengthen us for the trials ahead…
I dropped the pencil onto the pad and stared at what I’d just written, resisting the urge to tear the page off and throw it onto the growing pile in the bin under my desk. I was writing propaganda, and bad propaganda at that, the thought of the Secretary using my words to cajole the unwilling populace into servitude almost enough to make me physically sick.
Still, I reminded myself, if I finished the day with nothing to show for the hours at my desk I might very well find myself back out in the fields as a not-so-gentle reminder that my position was tenuous at best, so I picked up the pencil and got back to work as Captain Barnes strode past my desk for the fourth or fifth time since lunch.
Each of us here has our part to play, every job essential no matter how menial it seems. Future generations will look back on our sacrifice and know that what we did, we did for them, indeed they will only exist because we did not sit down and…
I slammed the pencil down and stood, heading over to the coffee table and pouring a cup of the strong black liquid. I stirred in three sugars just because I could, then crossed back to my desk and stared down at the half dozen lines that hadn’t yet found their way into the bin.
It was all starting to feel a little unreal, as if I might wake up in the tent next to Emily and realise this had been nothing but a bad dream.
I took a sip of the coffee and grimaced. It had to be real, I thought, not even I could dream up coffee as bad as this.
I looked over to where Emily sat, poring through reports and making occasional notes on a pad of her own. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, but even so her dimples were still in evidence and it was all I could do not to cross over and rest my hands on her shoulders, ease the tension out of her stiff back with my thumbs.