S. Bodeen - The Compound

“Your mother and sisters would only get upset. Unnecessarily upset.”

I needed to get out of there.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” There was no emotion in his voice. My throat tightened. I could only nod.

I left, shutting the door, trying not to sprint down the hall to my room. So I wasn’t imagining things. The Internet was back up. Maybe I could find out what was going on outside these walls. If Dad had kept that information from me, chances were he was keeping other things secret as well. And I intended to find out what those secrets were.

ON MY WAY TO GET SOME LUNCH, MY MIND WHIRLED. MAN, first the Internet is connected, and then Dad says it’s not. He lied right to my face. And lying only came that easily when you did it a lot. So what else was he lying about?

Little Miss Perfect skipped down the hall toward me. “Eli, you want to come with me? See the—”

“Shut up.” First my mom, now my little sister. Was Terese that stupid? “How can you be with them? Spend time with them?”

Her chin rose as her hands went to her hips. “Eli. Someone has to take care of them, Mom can’t do it all. Lexie and I have to help.”

I couldn’t do anything but shake my head and walk away. When had the Supplements morphed into family members?

Even pondering it was distasteful. The Supplements were already the cause of too much weirdness in our world. Like the short-lived experiment with Tea.

We weren’t really drinking tea—we just called our snack time Tea, thanks to Terese and her obsession with everything British. In the early years underground, we snacked on milk and stale cookies. But real milk had died with the cows. The UHT milk lasted a long time, and the powdered milk until Year Four. Dad had counted too much on the cows.

Mistake #47.

One afternoon, Lexie and Terese sat down with me for our afternoon snack of milk and cookies. Mom usually mixed up the powdered milk and poured a glass for each of us. One of those old-fashioned juice glasses with the little flowers on it. I always guzzled mine down, rather than use it to wash down the cookies. For those two and a half seconds every day, I pretended that I was still in the old world, Els standing by to refill my glass with an icy gallon jug of Land O’ Lakes 2 percent.

But that day Mom wasn’t there. Dad was. And the glasses were already filled when he brought the tray to the table. As always, I chugged mine. It didn’t taste like the powdered milk we usually had. It was strange. Not in a bad way. More like the leftover milk at the bottom of a bowl of Cheerios with sugar.

I stuffed a ginger snap in my mouth as Lexie and Terese took their time, sipping their milk after every few bites of cookie. Dad didn’t join us. He just waited until we were finished, then cleared his throat. Without any great theatrics, he told us the powdered milk was gone. And where that day’s milk had come from.

Mom had an electric breast pump, and like a cow, the more she pumped the more she produced. I was thirteen and Lexie was fifteen. Mom and Dad were still getting along. Dad called her his little Holstein, because as long as she ate well and got enough rest, she produced a lot of milk. Plenty for the Supplements.

And for us.

I gagged and leaned over toward the floor.

“What?” Lexie looked up at Dad. She looked as repulsed as I felt.

Dad shrugged. “You’re all still young, growing. You need nutrients wherever you can get them. This milk has calories, vitamin D, folic acid…”

I tuned him out, not wanting to hear some lengthy explanation. Like the scientific facts would justify it all. Like we were all supposed to say, “Oh, Father, thank you again for saving us.”

Yeah, right.

The next day, the glasses were waiting at our spots. I crossed my arms and sat there. But it wasn’t like we had a choice when Dad put his mind to something. My protest was short-lived and in the end I believed I had no choice but to drink it and gag. Lexie and Terese, too. Until one day Dad wasn’t there at Tea time. Mom silently set powdered milk in front of us, and we never had the other “tea” again.

That experience was just another thing in our new world we wouldn’t have even considered in the old.

Like the Supplements.

No way in hell was I going to get to know them. Not if there was the remotest chance they would meet their intended fate.

In the kitchen, over a lunch of warm tortillas from a big batch Mom froze before the flour went bad and fresh salsa, I pulled out a swivel barstool at the counter a few feet away from Lexie. Her long hair was up, and her velour was pink. She picked at her food, ignoring me.

The need to feel normal overwhelmed me. My world seemed so turned on its end that I needed to get a grip. Bothering my sister might help. “You’re pretty in pink.”

Her face turned my way with a hint of a smile.

“No, wait. You’re pretty pathetic in pink.” I laughed.

Her placid expression became a sneer. “Screw you.”

“What has you all cranky on this beautiful day?” I smeared salsa all over my tortilla.

She rolled her eyes. “Mom is just so smug.”

I took a drink of water and slammed my glass on the counter. The smug thing again. Dad might be smug. Mom certainly wasn’t.

Lexie read my mind. “Hello . She’s smug.”

“She’s in a bomb shelter, for cripes’ sake. What the hell does she have to be smug about?”

Lexie ripped her tortilla into little pieces. “Don’t you get it? She has everything she wants. A husband who dotes on her. No worries.”

My laughter was so instantaneous I almost choked. “No worries? Take a look around.”

Lexie sipped her water. “You look. What do most mothers of teenagers worry about?”

I shrugged and stuffed half a tortilla in my mouth, displaying it for her.

“Gross.” She shifted her gaze away from me. “They worry about their kids driving cars because they might be in an accident. They worry if they don’t come home on time. Then there’s drugs, alcohol, tons of crap—”

“What’s your point, Lex?”

One of her hands slapped the counter. “She doesn’t have to worry about any of it. Her kids are all here; her rich husband isn’t going to run off with his secretary.”

With part of a tortilla I scooped up some errant salsa. “You’re forgetting the fact she’s trapped underground with a husband who…” I’d never voiced the truth aloud. I didn’t think I could.

“What?” Lexie had stopped eating to stare at me.

I shrugged.

“Come on, a husband who what? What were you going to say?”

“Nothing.”

She turned to baby talk to taunt me. “Is widdo Ewi afwaid?”

I practically shouted the words. “A husband who breeds new kids to feed to his old ones.”

Lexie’s mouth dropped open.

I didn’t even need to pause for effect. “There’s a type of dinosaur that did the same thing.” I snapped my fingers. “Hey, they could name it after Dad. The Yanakakasaurus.”

Lexie glared at me. “How can you say that?”

I hadn’t meant to. She pissed me off and it just slipped out.

Since it did, I kept going. “God, you are so clueless. He lies to us, all the time. Always has. At least Mom never lies. And I bet she would give anything to have us out in the world, even with all that. I think she would leave this place in a heartbeat.”

Lexie bit her lip. “You’re on her side.”

She was really starting to ruin my lunch. “Last time I checked, we’re all on the same side. The underside.”