AFTER BREAKFAST, TRINITY FOLLOWED GAAR through the forest toward the Finishing Camp. Mirra had already moved on ahead, leaving her scent to clear their path of other predators. Soon she’d see the encampment for herself. Would it be as bad as everyone said it was? Her hands trembled as she pulled the backpack off her shoulders and took out her water bottle. No matter what she discovered, she had to be home before dawn. Tonight would be the seventh night since she’d escaped. She took a quick drink, stumbling over a tree root and dropping her backpack.

Gaar stopped, shooting her a dirty look. “Stop daydreaming and pay attention.” He started walking again.

“Sorry.” He was grouchier than usual. She stuffed the bottle back inside the backpack. There was a slight indentation where it sat on the ground. Probably from Gaar’s bread. She tried not to smile as she slung the bag over her shoulders and trotted to catch up with him.

He motioned for her to wait and disappeared into the bushes. The morning sun filtered through the leaves above. She raised her face to catch the warmth. It was a glorious day, perhaps her last one with Gaar and Mirra. She’d miss them and the freedom of the forest. A twig snapped. She wouldn’t miss creatures trying to eat her. She crouched, pulling out her knife.

Gaar stepped into view. He’d circled around. “Come on.”

She exhaled deeply. These two really needed to quit sneaking up on her. She sheathed her knife and followed him, stopping at the edge of a clearing. Up ahead was the encampment.

There were five buildings inside the fence. One was a single-story, wooden structure with three curtained windows and smoke coming out of the chimney. The other four were large, windowless, gray-brick buildings several stories high. There was no smoke coming from their chimneys. They stood cold and silent.

The yard was big with several fields that had been harvested and prepared for winter. Smaller, winter root gardens lay on the east side of each building. The Elavital River ran from the forest, under the fence and through the camp. She smiled slightly. She’d been right about the river leading to the destination of the Harvest Listers.

The buildings looked uninviting compared to the cozy huts of her home, but other-than-that, the camp seemed okay. Gaar and Mirra probably considered the Finishing Camp a terrible fate because the Producers were enclosed inside a fence. That would be a horrible existence for them, but she’d lived like that her entire life. It wasn’t so bad. At least in an encampment, she didn’t have to worry about ending up some creature’s dinner. Still, something didn’t seem right. She studied the camp again, but the only things ominous were the spirals of razor wire running across the top of the fence.

“Why do they use barbwire here? We don’t have that at home?” she asked.

“They say it’s for protection.”

That made sense, especially after seeing the Cold Creepers, but there was something in his tone that told her he didn’t believe that was the real reason. She started to ask him why when he held up his hand.

“Wait. Watch,” he said.

A few minutes later, four Guards stepped out of the one-story building. Voices and laughter trickled out of the open doorway. As the door closed, the yard, once again, fell silent. They separated into pairs. Two went behind the Guards’ house and came back around carrying large, full, burlap sacks which they stacked in front of the closest brick building. Then they returned to the back for more bags.

The other two strolled past the sacks and went inside the building. They came out leading a group of teenage, male Producers. The Producers began working in the root gardens. After a while, the Guards ordered them to walk around the yard. Most of the boys chatted and laughed with each other while circling the enclosure. After two laps, the Guards whistled and the Producers headed back to the building, picking up a sack and carrying it inside.

This was repeated for the next two buildings. After the third set of Producers, the only group of females, went back inside, the Guards entered their house. No one went into the fourth building and no one came out. A few moments later two other Guards came outside and began walking the perimeter.

“Did you see your friend?” he asked.

“No, but I saw Mirabelle and some others from my camp.” The Producers had looked good, really good. They’d all put on weight and there was a healthy, happy glow to them that had been missing at home. This might be the ideal place for her. Maybe, she’d finally fit in somewhere, but where was Travis? Could she have missed him in the crowd? “I need to speak with her.”

“How do you plan on getting inside?” He raised a brow.

This was a test. She studied the camp and smiled. “See that tree over there on the far side of the yard. I can use that to get over the fence.”

“That will get you in, but not out. The tree is on the outside of the fence and the branches don’t hang far enough over for you to leap to them from the inside.”

In her haste, she hadn’t considered how she would get out again. She chewed on her finger. “Uhmm. I could scale the fence. It isn’t that high.”

“You’d never get over the barbed wire. This isn’t a game. You have to plan your exit as well as your entrance.”

He was right to be angry with her. He’d taught her better than that. She scanned the area again. “There’s a gap on the top of the fence where the gate swings open. I could squeeze through there.”

Surprise flashed across his face for a second and then he nodded. “So, there is. I’d never noticed that before. It’s small, but you could fit.”

She stood a little straighter. She’d passed his test, but the opening was too little for Gaar. Her shoulders sagged it wasn’t going to work after all.

“The problem with that escape is that you’d be directly in front of the Guards’ building. They’d see you through the windows and be on you in an instant.”

Okay. It wouldn’t work for a couple of reasons. She looked over the camp again and again. There had to be a way. She couldn’t fail now, not when she was so close.

“This way,” he grumbled.

What had she missed? She followed him through the brush to the other side of the encampment. They darted from bush to bush, arriving near a large tree by the fence. They climbed until they were hidden by the thick foliage.

“Look down,” he said. “Do you see where the earth is disturbed? One of the Guards used to sneak his girlfriend into the camp.”

Along the fence line was a small section of dirt that had been dug up in the recent past.

“The soil there will be easy to move. You should be able to shimmy under the fence.”

There was no way he’d seen that loose dirt from where they’d been standing. “How did you know this was here?”

“I watched the camp a couple of months ago.”

“Why?” Who would want to stake out a Producer encampment?

“Does it matter?” He shot her a dirty look.

“No. I guess not. I was just curious.” He sure was grouchy today.

He snorted. “The curse of your father’s kind. A different Guard was helping Producers escape.”

Maybe, that’s why she hadn’t seen Travis. It didn’t seem that bad here, so why would he leave, unless, he’d been returning to tell her about the camp, like he’d promised. Her heart skipped a beat. He’d never made it home and he wasn’t here. An image of the Cold Creepers flashed through her mind. “What happened to the ones who escaped?”

“Most went to the Forest Witch.” He scratched his chin.

Oh, Travis, you should have stayed here. “What did she do with them?” She wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.

He glanced at her. “Probably, nothing. She’s just an old, female Almighty who takes in strays, so to speak. She’s basically harmless.”

Basically? “You’re hiding something. I can see it in your eyes.” This was the second time today that he’d kept the truth from her.

His black eyes bored into her. “Don’t go inside. Come with Mirra and me and we’ll live the rest of our days free in the forest.”

Her breath caught in her throat. It must be really bad if he wanted her to run, but she had to do this. This was why she’d left her home. She shook her head, placing her hand on his arm. “I can’t.”

He shifted away from her. “Foolish youth. Some things are better left unknown.”

She turned her head, staring at the camp. He was wrong, knowing was always better. Her whole life was a secret and it had caused her only pain.

The two Guards headed back into their building.

“They’ll be in there the rest of the afternoon. If you’re determined to do this, you need to go now.”

She couldn’t have heard him correctly. “You’re coming with me, right?”

“I can’t go inside that camp. The Producers would cause a ruckus when they saw me.”

“But…” She didn’t want to go alone.

“You don’t have to do this.” He nudged her shoulder.

Her hands trembled. It would be easier and safer to leave, but what if Travis or Adam were in there? She had to find out if they were okay and if not, she had to persuade Gaar to help her free them. She shook her head.

He sighed. “You need to stay focused and pay attention to your surroundings. You can’t let your emotions get the better of you. Question everything that they tell you. Things are often different than what they seem. The lakes and rivers appear safe on the surface and yet, sometimes River-Men lurk below.”

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

She nodded, his words barely registering. He was sending her inside alone. Alone.

He grabbed her arm. “Once you’re under the fence stay low and move fast. Find the others from your camp and talk to them. When you’re ready to leave each building look to me and I will let you know if the way is clear. The Guards should stay inside until late afternoon, but you can never be too careful.”

She took a deep breath and dropped from the tree. She began digging in the dirt. It was easy to move and it only took minutes to make an opening big enough for her to squeeze through. Once inside, it was a clear path to the building. Too clear. There was nothing to hide behind. She hunched over, making herself as small as possible, and ran to the nearest building. It was the one the Guards hadn’t entered. She leaned against it, panting. Her heart was racing, but it wasn’t from the run. She needed to get this done as quickly as possible, so she could get back to safety.

She pushed away from the wall, peeking around the corner. No one was around. She ran to the next building where the female Producers where kept. Hopefully, the door would be unlocked. She should’ve asked Gaar how to pick a lock. She turned the handle and the door opened. Another step and she would be completely on her own. Gaar couldn’t help her inside the building. She glanced back at the tree where he waited. It was a long way away. She inhaled deeply and slipped inside.

The smell of mold filled her head as the damp, cold darkness surrounded her. She sneezed and then stilled. Nothing moved. A long hallway, barren and narrow, stretched in front of her. She walked slowly, listening for any sign of life. At the end of the hallway was a stairwell. She climbed to the second floor. There were six doors in this corridor, three on each side. They were all closed.

She crept to the first one. There was a murmur of voices inside the room. She didn’t recognize any of them. She moved on, repeating the process. At the third room she paused, tapping on the door.

“Mirabelle, is that you?” she whispered. “It’s me, Trinity.”

The talking ceased as footsteps moved to the door.

“Trinity? From home?” asked Mirabelle.

The sound of the familiar voice flooded her with memories-the smells of earth and bread and her mom’s vegetable stew. Her breath caught in her throat. “Yes.” She needed to see a familiar face. She turned the doorknob but it was locked. “Open the door. Please.”

“I can’t. Only the Guards have the keys.” Mirabelle hesitated for a second. “It’s for our protection.”

How many times had she heard that in her lifetime? The fence was for their safety. The Harvest List was to keep their bloodlines strong so no deformities were born. She’d never questioned it, only accepted it as truth, but now, Gaar’s voice echoed in her mind, repeating almost those exact words about the barbed wire.

“What are you doing here? They haven’t brought this year’s Listers yet,” said Mirabelle.

Odd, it no longer bothered her that everyone assumed she’d be on the List. “I snuck out. I wanted to discover what happens to us and find Travis and Adam, my little brother. He’d be five now. Have you seen either of them?”

“I haven’t seen anyone that young.”

She bit her lip. Where was Adam? Would she ever find him?

“Trinity, you should go home. You don’t want them to catch you,” whispered Mirabelle.

This was it. She was going to find out the horrible truth that Gaar and the others had warned her about. Her stomach clenched.

“You don’t want to do anything that would stop them from bringing you here. You’re going to love this place. I have new friends and you wouldn’t believe all the food. We get to eat everything we grow. They even give us extra food.”

That was not what she’d expected. It sounded…nice. No wonder everyone had gotten so much bigger. At home, she was always hungry.

“That isn’t even the best part. From what J.R. tells us, the next place that they take us is even better.”

“The Warehouse District?”

“Yeah, how did you know about it?” asked Mirabelle.

“A friend told me. He didn’t seem to think it was such a good place to go.” That was an understatement. Why was Gaar so sure that seeing this camp would make her want to live in the forest? It seemed okay to her and Mirabelle really liked it here. Gaar had said to question everything, so maybe it was time that she started.

“Well, it sounds great to me and I hope that I get to go this year,” said Mirabelle.

“Why wouldn’t you?” Was it like at home, where the better examples of Producers were chosen to stay or maybe in this situation leave? If that were the case then she’d either be leaving right away or stuck here indefinitely.

“It depends on our size. The bigger ones are taken to the Warehouse District. Most of us are here for two or three years, but a few, special Producers get to leave after only one year. I like it here and everything, but they promised to fix my leg once I go there.”

“How are they going to do that?” Her mom was a healer. There were no miracle cures for malformed bones.

Mirabelle’s tone was excited yet hushed. “I don’t know exactly. I was worried that no one would want me, you know, because of my leg but J.R. assured me that once they were done with me, no one would even know that I had a deformity. Can you believe that?”

No, she couldn’t. It wasn’t possible. Even with a platform in the shoe there would still be a gait issue. “It doesn’t sound right to me.”

“Well, you don’t know everything. J.R. said…”

“Who is this J.R.?”

“He’s the Lead Guard here and he’s really nice,” said Mirabelle.

She’d never met a nice Guard before, but she’d never really spoken to one. Kim said that Jackson was nice, but she was an Almighty. The hairless Guard never went out of his way to talk to the Producers at home. She shook her head. This wasn’t making sense. “Mirabelle, I’m confused. Start from the beginning. What did J.R. say happens to us at the Warehouse District?”

Mirabelle sighed. “We’re taken there in a big group and then we’re split up. Some of us are sent to restaurants, some of us to grocery stores, some to hotels and some are sent directly to the homes of the wealthiest Almightys.”

Her dad had said that House Servants worked at those places. “I don’t understand. Why—”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Don’t feel bad. I didn’t know what those words meant either. J.R. explained it to us. They’re all places that Almightys visit for different reasons. A restaurant is…”

“I know what those words mean. What I don’t understand is why they would want Producers there?”

“To do the work.” Mirabelle’s voice held a hint of exasperation.

Gaar was right. Something was off here. “They have House Servants for that. Why would they need Producers?”

“What is a House Servant?”

She grimaced. Why had she said that? She shouldn’t know anything about House Servants, but it was too late now. “They’re a different class that works in the homes and the businesses of the Almightys.”

“How do you know that?”

She absolutely could not mention her father. “My friend.”

“Well, your friend is either wrong, or they want Producers to do the work that these House Servants can’t.” Mirabelle’s tone was disgusted. “You’re asking too many questions just like Travis. You need to stop doing that. They don’t like it.”

“You’ve seen Travis? Where is he?” Why hadn’t Mirabelle told her that earlier when she’d asked?

“Well, I’m not positive that he’s still there. They took him to the other building a long time ago.”

She exhaled slowly. Travis was still here, safe, not with the Forest Witch and not in the belly of a Cold Creeper. “Which building?”

“The one where they put the trouble makers.” Mirabelle paused. “But you can’t go there. It isn’t allowed.”

There was no way she wasn’t going. “Tell me which building.” She softened her tone. “I need to see him. Please.”

“You’ll be sorry if you’re caught.”

That was an understatement. “Please, Mirabelle.”

“It’s the one right next to ours. Not the two closer to the Guards’ house, but the other one.”

Her heart beat faster. She’d found Travis. “Goodbye, and thank you.” She turned and left the building.

Outside, Gaar motioned to her that all was clear. She nodded and raced to the other building, slipping inside. Once again cold darkness surrounded her, but this time it was accompanied by the overwhelming stench of feces. She fought the urge to gag as she pressed back against the door, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the limited light from cracks in the building’s mortar. The shuffling of feet echoed in the stillness. She tensed, prepared to run if whatever was moving came closer, but it didn’t. After several moments, she stepped out of the doorway and into the main room.

Rows of cages sat in the center of the room, some empty but most encasing a lone Producer. A metal rail, suspended a few feet in front of each row, ran the length of the building. The Producers stood in their own feces, the cages too small for them to sit or turn around. Some shifted their feet, causing the shuffling noise that she’d heard, but most remained still and silent, their chained hands extended through the bars. A metal contraption encircled their heads and necks, inhibiting most movement.

Her heart thudded in her ears. Gaar was right. She could never allow herself to end up here. She had to go home and warn the others, but she was not staying. She’d known that the Almightys could be cruel, but this went beyond any punishment that she could have imagined. Her instincts told her to run, leave this place, but Travis was here. She had to find him. She forced herself to creep closer. As she passed each enclosure, the Producers remained immobile, either not hearing or not caring that someone approached. When she was about halfway through the first row a female raised her head.

“Who are you?” whispered the girl in a dry, raspy voice.

She should help her. No. She would help her, but first things first. “I’m looking for Travis.”

A male in the next cage raised his head. “Run. Get away if you can.”

Oh, how I wish I could. “I will. As soon as I find Travis.”

“There’s a Travis down there.” The female Producer tipped her head a little to the right. “But Jeremiah is right. Don’t let them catch you here.”

“I won’t. Thanks.” She moved on, peering in each cage as she passed. She stopped at the second to the last one. This Producer was taller and heavier than Travis, but there was something familiar about him. Long, greasy hair covered his face, so she cocked her head to get a better look. “Travis, is that you? It’s me, Trinity.”

He raised his head, cracking open his eyes. Greenish pus clung to his lashes. He licked his dry, chapped lips. “Trinity?” His voice was gruff from disuse.

What did they do to him? The friend she’d known was strong and energetic. This creature hung limp and florid. She touched his face. He was burning with fever. “Oh, Travis.” Her voice broke, but she couldn’t cry. Not in front of him. It would make it worse somehow. She took her water bottle out of her backpack and tipped it to his lips.

He jerked away the best that he could, but the head restraint made it impossible for him to move far.

“It’s water. Drink.” She put the bottle back to his lips and poured. A little made it into his mouth; the rest ran down his chin and onto the concrete floor. She pulled on the chains around his hands. They were locked. She examined the cage door. It was unlocked but with his hands in chains and his head in that contraption opening the door meant nothing.

“No escape,” he said.

She felt the metal around his head, trying to find a way to unlatch it. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

Some of the other Producers turned in their direction at her statement.

“Stop,” he said weakly. “You need to leave before they catch you. Go back to your building. Don’t fight them. Do whatever they tell you. Don’t end up here.” He dropped his head.

She lifted his face and wiped his eyes with the cuff of her sleeve. “I’m not leaving you. I don’t have a building. I escaped into the forest. I have friends with me. They can help.” She cringed internally at the promise, not sure that Gaar and Mirra would be willing to help. At the sound of a machine revving overhead, she jumped back, away from his cage.

“Leave now,” he said. “Forget about me.”

Some of the Producers began to fight at their restraints. Others stared straight ahead and opened their mouths.

“What’s happening?”

“Go,” he snapped. “Please.” The outburst seemed to sap the little strength he had and his body sagged, suspended by his head and neck.

The engine grew louder. It was coming closer. She couldn’t fight a machine. She gave one last desperate pull on the chains around his hands and then ran to the exit. She had to get out of there, away from the darkness and the smell. She yanked open the door and stopped. The light and fresh air beckoned, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t save him, but maybe, she could help in some small way. She glanced back. Travis was staring in her direction, but probably couldn’t see her in the dim light. She let the door fall shut and squeezed into the corner, hiding in the shadows. After a few moments, he dropped his head.

The metal rail in front of the cages began to shake. A machine emerged from a cabinet on the side of the building and rolled along the rail. It stopped in front of the first Producer; he stared straight ahead, jaws wide open. A long metal pipe extended out of the machine and slid into his mouth. The device shook and he swallowed convulsively. The pipe retracted and the machine moved on to the next Producer. It was Travis.

He tried to turn away, but the contraption around his head locked him into position. The pipe jutted out of the machine, pressing on his lips. The muscles in his cheeks clenched as he fought to keep his mouth closed. A gruel-like substance spilled out of the pipe and down his face. Soon, the pressure from the pipe pried his teeth apart and he swallowed violently as the food was forced down his throat. After several minutes, the metal bar retracted and the device moved on to the next Producer. Travis collapsed in his restraints, his body shaking with silent sobs.

She bit her hand to stop her scream. She was powerless. Useless. There was nothing she could do to help him. She had to get out of there. Hand trembling, she quietly opened the door and pushed outside, stumbling into the fresh air and sunlight. She ran, needing to get as far away as possible. She staggered to a halt. She’d forgotten to look for Gaar’s signal. She glanced at the tree, but he wasn’t there. She wrinkled her nose as the stench of unwashed body drifted toward her on the breeze. She turned around, sniffing the air.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” yelled a burly Guard by the Guards’ building.