Rain pinged off the barred windows of the cafeteria. Silas stood in his place in line and held his tray still. The line moved another foot. The girls had already eaten and were filing out by the time Silas took his first step into the cafeteria. He hadn’t seen Malina, but had only peered across the room long enough to see the last five girls leave. It was too late to see his sister. Malina was normally somewhere in the middle of the line.
As he approached the woman controlling the food dispenser he heard one of the guys ahead slam his tray down.
“This is it?” the boy asked, although his voice was not loud, in the otherwise quiet room it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. “But I’ve been good.”
“Food is a privilege. Move along,” the woman said. Her attention switched to the boy behind him. “Next.”
“But what about bread?” the same boy asked.
“We’re out of bread. Move along.”
Silas leaned so he could see the boy causing the commotion. Today’s breakfast was oatmeal and he had a scoop so small it barely covered the bottom of his bowl. It was near a fourth of their normal serving size and every meal was also accompanied by two slices of bread, but this serving had only half a slice. Bread was the one thing Silas could count on. He’d been saving a slice a day and storing them under his mattress. They would need extra food when they were free. The bread was always something he could count on, even before. The cafeteria food was never very tasty and sometimes it smelled bad. If he didn’t like the meal, he could last on the bread, but without bread he would have to adjust his standards for palatable food.
“Is there a problem?” Westminster asked coming up behind the boy.
The boy paused as if considering whether to voice his complaint again, but he just shook his head.
“Then move along.”
The boy grabbed his tray and left the line to find his table.
When Patton and Silas received their servings it was the same size. Although no one would say anything, the mood in the cafeteria was hushed. Why were the serving sizes smaller? Every boy in the room had the same potion sizes, yet they couldn’t have all done something wrong. Could they? Why were their portions reduced if they had been good? All of these questions floated around the room in the looks the older teens gave each other, or the longing in the smaller kids’ eyes as they glanced back at the cafeteria line. There was also more scrapping of bowls on every table as even droplets of oatmeal were more important. Silas saw one boy lick his bowl when he was done.
Silas tried to take small scoops so it would seem like his meal lasted longer, but it wasn’t long before everything was gone. Beside him, Patton ate his whole bowl in three spoonfuls and then scraped his finger along the bottom and sides. Then they both waited for what was left from their allotted half hour for breakfast to end.
The extra time gave Silas the opportunity to watch the guards and other workers. It had almost become a habit now. Anytime he had a moment to spare he watched them: the way they stood, the way they interacted with each other and the way they watched the Carillians. All it took was one look at the sour expression on Tymas’ face to know he wasn’t having a good day. Westminster walked up next to him and was about to say something, but Tymas pushed him to the side and moved to the opposite wall. Westminster folded his arms and glared at Tymas’ back.
Aside from the two cafeteria ladies there was also a janitor named Cortez. He wiped down the tables, swept the floors and took out the trash. He was mostly ignored by everyone. The guards never interacted with him, he just did his job and stay out of everyone’s way. Silas wondered what class he was. If he had to guess he thought Cortez was an Ajak, but he wasn’t really sure. Silas watched him move across the cafeteria until he was standing near the food dispenser. There was something shifty in his eyes and the way he kept inching back that caught Silas’ attention. Silas ducked his head to watch him better. Then, in a movement so fast Silas wasn’t sure he saw it correctly, Cortez’s hand shot out, grabbed a slice of bread and stuffed it in his pocket. It happened again. Cortez grabbed three more slices and filled his other pocket.
Silas blinked. Cortez’s eyes checked on the positions of Tymas and Westminster and then he filled a third pocket on his thigh. He didn’t seem to care if any of the Carillians spotted him. The woman said they were out of bread, but apparently there was enough for Cortez to feel comfortable taking some and not worrying too much about getting into trouble with the guards if food was found to be missing. Silas wondered if there was a way to use this. Perhaps they could get Cortez to let them out of their cells at night. He’d have to talk it over with Malina, but he wasn’t sure if this information would be enough to trust Cortez.
Silas also noticed an uneasiness among the older boys. Marcus and Stephen had their heads close together and were obviously whispering, although Silas couldn’t hear anything. There was a ‘No Talking’ rule in the cafeteria, but none of the guards seemed to notice. Not even Tymas whose watchful gaze scanned the room every few minutes.
When the bell rang everyone stood and filed by the door for time in the yard. Silas could hear the rain hitting harder as the boys filled the hall. The yard would be miserable today. His stomach rumbled to remind him that he hadn’t eaten enough. They waited for several minutes and then the doors opened and everyone started running.
Silas ran with his mouth open to let the rain dribble down his throat. Water was better than nothing and he needed more in his stomach than what he had been given. Besides the rain dripping in his mouth gave him a reason to ignore how his shirt and pants stuck to his skin and made it harder to move.
Everyone was moving slower today and the guards didn’t yell at them to pick it up like they might have. Perhaps they were too busy thinking how miserable they were watching the yard in this kind of weather. The rain fell in torrents and Silas could barely see the girls on the other side, so it was also possible the guards couldn’t see how fast they were running.
Then the rain began to let up and before Silas had completed another lap it had stopped completely and the sun came out. Hugle gave a warning shot into the center of the yard and the kids picked up the pace. Only now the mud flew everywhere and Silas’ feet kept slipping when he tried to go faster.
He could see Malina across the yard helping up one of the smaller girls who had tripped. Even though Silas knew the Machine didn’t run last night, he still felt his body relax some. He had to tell her what Cortez did and see if the girls received as little food as they did. They also needed to make some kind of final plan for escape, because if there was going to be a limit on the Carillians’ food it could make it difficult to have food saved up for when they were on the run. They had to be prepared and start putting all the pieces into place so that he could get her out before anything big happened.
The bell for the door rang. That never happened during exercise. The girls running in front of the doors tried to run around them as they slowly opened.
“Halt.” Westminster’s voice cracked through the air and everyone slid to a stop.
This was not a normal stop. First they didn’t get their normal portions of food and now they were being stopped before the end of their exercise. Something was going on. Fear flickered in everyone’s eyes as they glanced at the door. Silas found he was breathing harder than normal and his calves felt sore from picking his feet out of the mud.
Tymas, Lloyd and Rickman marched into the center of the yard. They were followed, more tentatively, by a boy roughly Silas’ age, who kept failing to find solid ground to place his shiny black boots. Silas was positive this boy was Tirean, it was something about the way he held his head and how crisp and clean his clothes were. He sniffed a bit when he saw how dirty all the Carillians were, but unlike others who would be given a tour of the facilities, this boy looked at them. It was almost as if he were searching for someone specific, someone he knew.
The boy ignored the girls and began walking down the boys’ line.
??
?Backs against the wall,” Tymas boomed.
Everyone moved.
The boy approached Silas and then finished his inspection and returned. Silas kept his eyes down. It was never good to look defiant or too interested in what was going on. Yet when the boy’s shiny boots stopped in front of him, Silas couldn’t help glancing up. The boy was definitely looking at him. A thousand possible reasons for why this boy might be interested in him ran through Silas’ mind, but the ones that kept repeating involved the Machine. The boy walked over to Lloyd, the old Faan, and said, “I can’t tell if that’s the one.”
Silas felt somewhat relieved. He did not know this boy and so he couldn’t be the one the Tirean was looking for.
“Turn around,” Tymas said. His dark brown eyes almost seemed to beg Silas to disobey.
Silas did as he was told. It felt odd to be singled out like this, in front of everyone too. He hoped Malina would not try to do something crazy. There was soft, muted talk going on behind him that Silas couldn’t make out and he wished one of the other boys would give him some kind of clue as to what was going on. The longer he spent facing the wall, the more he felt exposed and the more certain he became that something bad was going to happen.
The boys near Silas leaned away from him like petals from the center of a lily. And then a splash of water drenched Silas’ back and filled his right ear. Silas began to shake. What were they doing?
“Yes, that’s the one.” The Tirean boy’s voice sounded muffled to Silas’ ears. Then Tymas gripped his arm and pulled him away from the wall. Silas kept the pace Tymas set as they walked to the doors. They were going to take him to the Machine. They were going to drain him of every memory he had. He wished he could feel more afraid, but he felt frozen inside.