Marie's Journey (Ginecean Chronicles) (3 page)

“I think we got enough—”

“Another one. Hurry.” The young man snatched a second bag from the man’s hands and went to steal some more food. “What do you want to eat for dinner tonight?”

“I haven’t had meat in three months,” the man said with a grimace.

Someone from the other side, the third voice Marie had heard, spoke. “Please, Grant, let me have a steak tonight.”

“Sure thing.” The young man, Grant, looked purposefully around.

Marie saw him coming closer. She raised her eyes to look at the same thing he was looking at and saw the quartered chunks of what had been a big cow hanging from hooks over her hiding spot. He had already taken hold of the biggest piece when steps resonated from far away and Marie’s name was called several times. He started running, but one of the loose sandals he was wearing slipped away and he stumbled. He reached the floor, but to break the fall and save his face from being smashed, he had to use both hands and he let the meat fall. It landed with a big thud only an inch shy of hitting Marie. He followed his prized, stolen possession and found her as well.

“Where are you, girl?” Verena called from the corridor.

Marie heard her friend, but she wouldn’t answer. The man brought one finger to his mouth, silently asking her to keep quiet. His familiar green eyes were staring at her and he was slowly shaking his head.

“You didn’t see me,” he whispered and, piece of butchered animal on his shoulders, left, retracing the same route he had come from.

“Marie? Are you there?” Verena entered the cellar.

Without thinking, Marie stood and ran to meet the girl before Verena could see the hole in the wall.

“What are you doing?” Verena eyed her suspiciously.

Marie shrugged and walked out of the cellars. “I couldn’t find the potatoes.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Marie knew she had to confess what she had seen. She thought about it and even came close to telling everything to Verena, but she didn’t. At lunch, when everybody sat at the big communal table for the midday break, she stood silent. For dinner, she acted from the same script. She felt guilty for not talking to an adult and was terrified somebody could read it on her face, so she kept to herself.

He’s called Grant.
Somehow, the fact she knew the man’s name made her feel even guiltier.
Grant.
Thinking about his name felt too intimate. She tried to divert her thoughts to safer topics.
What are they doing at the Institute? Are they already asleep?

“Are you all right?” Verena asked once they were back in their room later that night.

Marie looked at her, once again debating if it was a good idea to spill her secret, then shook her head and answered, “Peeling potatoes all the day long isn’t conducive to extreme euphoria.”

“Humph…”

“Take my place tomorrow and see if you look better at the end of the day.”

Verena didn’t press the subject and went to take a shower. Marie followed her a few minutes later, but when she saw the long line of girls waiting for their turn to wash after a long day of working, she retraced her steps before Verena saw her. At the end of the long hallway, pale-blue moonlight illuminated the floor and the walls in a floral pattern cast by the light coming through the intricate latticework decorating the window. She walked toward it, attracted to the cold glass like a moth to the flame. She stopped before the window and leaned against it, her nose and forehead resting lightly on the dewy surface to cool her thoughts. Four floors below in the walled backyard, the men were still at work. She automatically searched the crowd for one blond head.

“Don’t tell me you’re the sleepwalker kind.”

Marie spun around at Verena’s words, her heart beating at double speed. “What…? No—”

“You’re awake, good. Let’s go down for the fire pit stories.”

“I’m tired and I need to wash.” Marie yawned and made to go back to their room.

“Nonsense. Sleeping can wait. We only have fire pit stories once per season. You don’t want to miss them.” Verena’s expression didn’t allow any other answer than yes.

“Maybe… I’ll stay for a little while.”

“Oh, you’ll see. Once the elders start telling the stories, you won’t leave until the last word is said.” Verena took Marie by the elbow and redirected her toward their room. “Wear something warmer. It gets chillier later at night.”

“Later? How late are we talking about?” Marie went to grab her only sweater.

“Don’t you have anything, let’s say, heavier, like made of wool or something?” Verena took one of the dangling sleeves from the sweater Marie was donning. She tested it between her fingers. “What’s this made of, anyway?”

Marie freed her head from the sweater’s neck—it had belonged to Idra and was two sizes too large for her. “Bamboo.”

“You got to be kidding. Bamboo? Really?”

“Yep, bamboo. In the Maritime region, temperatures reach smoldering levels. Bamboo keeps your body cool. We also make sheets and duvets with bamboo fibers.”

“But does it keep you warm?” Verena arched one eyebrow.

“Well, I don’t have anything else to wear, so I guess I’ll find out tonight.” Marie was actually looking forward to being cold to have an excuse to bail out of socializing.

A few minutes later in the hallway, they joined a river of girls happily walking down the stairs. Laughs and sensible conversations all around her, Marie felt like a fish out of water.
Idra
,
I miss you.
Verena introduced her to several apprentices, but Marie didn’t make an effort to memorize all their names. They looked nice, but she wasn’t interested in getting to know anyone new that night. Despite her long face, two girls decided to hang around: Laila, a small blonde, and Cina, a tall and lanky brunette. Marie answered the ordinary questions about how she liked it so far and if she thought working in the kitchen sucked with monosyllabic grunts. Laila and Cina didn’t seem to be put off by her reaction and so she let them do all the talking until something the blonde said made her pay attention.

“They’re going to announce the donors tomorrow. Aren’t you worried?” the girl asked Verena. “You’ve been here long enough and you have a sturdy build.”

“Of course I’m worried, but what can I do if they choose me? It’s not like I can say no.”

Marie shivered.

“Oh, no. Marie, you’re going to be fine. You’re just fifteen.” Laila smiled at her. “Captain Callista has never picked a girl younger than eighteen. I think there must be some kind of rule.”

“And you’re so slim. Donors are never thin. So maybe you’ll never be chosen.” Cina took Marie’s hand in hers to give her some comfort. “Look at Verena. She’s the perfect donor.”

“And I’ve just turned eighteen. Lucky me.”

“Maybe you’re going to be lucky this time.” It was Marie’s turn to console the girl.

“Chances I can escape it forever are slim. I’ll be eligible for seven years, and with my physique, it’s almost a given I’ll be a donor sooner or later.”

“But I heard it’s not as terrible as it was for our grandmothers. Now you won’t come in contact with the sementals at all.” Marie blushed as soon as she said the word semental.

“Still…”

“We won’t treat you differently if you got picked tomorrow. I promise I’ll be your friend no matter what happens.” The brunette, Cina, hugged Verena and Laila joined her.

Marie looked at the group of friends and felt out of place when one of the girls sniffed, maybe Verena—but the sound came from within the human block of intertwined teens and it could’ve been any of them. She’d never met a donor. Madame Carla was protective of her girls to the extreme. There was a rumor that the Institute rector starved her children to prevent them from becoming donors. Marie had never believed it. Food was scarce in general. But it was true nobody was allowed to gain weight through a daily routine of physical activities that nobody was excused from. Rain or shine, the girls had to run, squat, and lift weights for two hours every day of the week. Madame Carla explained her fixation with the reasoning the chances a fathered woman being employed by a pure breed family were strictly related to her looking good. Why a woman would look better when she was a stick on legs was beyond Marie’s comprehension. She was instinctively attracted by fuller figures. Idra. Beautiful, curvaceous Idra, who had never lost a pound despite the harsh dietary regimen of the Institute.

“You won’t be chosen.” Marie reached out one hand to touch Verena’s head.

Verena disentangled herself from the communal hug and tried to smile. “We’re going to be late. You know the elders don’t like it when they are interrupted mid-story.”

Cina and Laila nodded. They hurried outside, running down the last flight of stairs and heading toward the walled courtyard Marie had spied upon earlier. “But—” For a moment she worried they would see men up close and personal. Then she remembered the workers weren’t usually employed inside Redfarm. At ground level, the courtyard looked bigger and emptier without the frenzy of activities the white gazebo had required. The structure was now towering in its brightness against the dark canvas of the night sky. Verena took her by the elbow and broke in a sprint, only to stop before the structure.

“It’s so pretty.” Marie couldn’t help but feel like a little kid, a big smile on her face and wide eyes. “A fairytale house.” The shimmer from countless candles waved with every gust of playful wind, giving it an undulating quality that added to the atmosphere. “Like being underwater.” The low murmur from a crowd of happy girls came to an end when one elder stood and took the floor, raising her hand over her head. Marie joined Verena, Cina, and Laila on the wooden floor along the rest of the crowd.

“Apprentices!” the elder intoned. “We’ve gathered tonight to celebrate another great quarter for this farm. Let’s ask the Goddess for another fruitful season. Let’s have—”

Marie stopped listening; she was more interested in looking at the older girl, the way her long, fair hair almost brushed the floor, moving in sync with the wavering lights. Everybody applauded something the elder had just said and she did the same, looking right and left to get an idea of what they were doing. Madame Carla wasn’t big on formalities and the elders at the Institute never had any propensity for them, either. The intensity in this elder’s voice and her regal appearance intimidated Marie. A priestess-in-training syndrome it was called. A joke, a cruel, cheap expression used by pure breeds when they wanted to put a fathered woman back in her rightful place: way beneath them. But the expression did come to Marie’s mind in regard of the long-haired beauty talking to the apprentices as if they were garbage.
You aren’t better than us, just older,
she thought and then, with a hint of malice on her mind, added,
You’ll never be anything else
.
Just a fathered woman like me.
Apparently, she was the only one who wasn’t focused on the elder’s words. Four or five more bursts of applause and another elder, a slightly less exalted copy of the first, took her spot to tell the first story of the night.

Marie liked to hear a good tale like anybody else and her eyes and focus zeroed in on the newcomer.

“Darlene is one of the best storytellers. You’ll see.” Cina elbowed Marie. “I’m sure you’ve never heard anybody so good.”

Cina wasn’t exaggerating. Darlene had a gift. The whole time the elder spoke, not a single breath was heard. Darlene’s voice was pleasant enough, but the quality of the narration was what kept everybody glued to the story she slowly unraveled. “What a complicated plot, and with so many characters.” Marie shook her head in awe, unable to shush her inner thoughts. “She sure has a great imagination.”

“It’s said she’s
friends
with the captain…”

“Oh, do you mean…?” Marie lowered her voice to a whisper.

“I mean what you’re thinking. Darlene has special permission to watch TV with her pure breed friend.”

“I’d give anything to watch a TV show again.” Marie had a glimpse of a television show once and sighed at the memory. Madame Carla installed the television for the pure breeds who occasionally visited the Institute to snatch promising fathered girls. Although usually locked, during one of those visits, someone left the television room open and she snuck in and turned on the big screen. She had reverently taken the remote control in her hands and flickered through channels until she had found the program she was looking for. She had loved every one of the four minutes the wondrous experience had lasted before a pure breed caught her and sent her away. In her mind, she still played the photograms over and over, adding parts to the story she imagined happened right before and after those four minutes. It was a historical show. The actresses wore beautiful dresses and there was a duel being fought over a wife’s stained honor. The pure breed had showed up at the exact moment the pistols shot. Marie had begged the woman to let her see the end. Still to this day, she didn’t know who had died because of the gunshot. Marie’s malcontent toward pure breeds and what they stood for probably took form that day.

“Me too,” both Cina and Laila commented, bringing Marie back to the present.

Verena was silent. Marie noticed how the girl watched Darlene as if she were the last drop of water in the desert and felt sympathy for her. She knew exactly how that story was going to end, with Verena’s heart broken. It wasn’t uncommon that fathered girls, especially if beautiful, chose to elevate their lives by attracting pure breeds’ attentions. It normally meant a job inside that pure breed’s family and a series of privileges that lasted as long as the fathered girl’s beauty stayed fresh. Not the life Marie would have wanted for herself, but good enough for many other fathered women. When you were born on the wrong side of the woman race, there weren’t a lot of choices. Still, she wouldn’t have condemned herself to a loveless life just to eat or dress better. She nudged Verena’s shoulder with hers and when the girl turned, she smiled at her.

Verena lowered her eyes and blushed. “Am I that easy to read?”

Marie shrugged but tilted her head slightly and widened her smile.

“She deserves a better life.” For the briefest of moments, Verena’s gaze went back to Darlene. “I know I’ll never be able to give her what she wants.” She slowly uncurled from her sitting position. “I need to loosen up my legs.”

“I’ll come with you.” Marie would have preferred to stay and listen to some more stories, but it was clear Verena could use some company and neither Cina nor Laila were looking in their direction, their faces rapt by the narration. “You too deserve a better life, you know?” Marie said, unable to contain her frustration at Verena’s fatalism. “I know I deserve better than peeling potatoes.”

“You must come from a nice place.”

“I suppose I do.” Once again, sadness invaded her heart at the consideration she wasn’t at the Institute anymore. They moved silently, exiting the gazebo without disturbing the other girls.

Verena led her to a darker corner. “They can’t see us from there.”

“Does she know your feelings?” Marie looked around, letting her eyes get used to the dim light surrounding them. Only a flickering sconce illuminated the archway at the end of a small courtyard created by the recessing walls of the building. She looked up, wondering which wing the walls belonged to.

“I was stupid enough to declare my love.” Verena laughed.

Marie lowered her eyes to the herringbone-patterned cobblestones. “I’m sorry.” What else could she say? It wasn’t that she had any experience in unrequited love. She had kissed Idra and Idra had kissed her back. And before Idra, there had been nobody else. She was only fifteen, not old enough to have her heart broken.

“Well, I should’ve known better.” Verena walked slowly, kicking a pebble that skidded on the stone pavement with a pleasant metallic sound. She stopped under the sconce and removed a small box from one of the pocket on her pants. “Mint?”