Ann Aguirre: Enclave

“Not bad,” he said at last.

“Thanks.”

I’d done it. I was officially blooded. As much as the new scars on my arms, that marked me as a Huntress. My shoulders squared.

We left the three corpses. Horrible as it sounded, other Freaks would eat them. They had no care for their dead. They did not attack each other, but otherwise, anything in the tunnels — living or dead — offered fuel for their endless appetites.

By comparison the rest of our patrol passed with relative ease. Half the traps yielded meat. A number of animals lived down here with us; four-legged furry creatures we called food. I killed a wounded one, where the snare hadn’t broken its neck clean, and that bothered me more than killing the Freak. I held its warm body in my hands and bowed my head over it. Wordless, Fade took it from me and dropped it in the sack with the others. We had brats to feed.

I didn’t know how he marked the time, but eventually he said, “We should head back.”

On the return, I tried to memorize our route. Though no one had stated it, one day Fade would expect me to lead. He wouldn’t accept excuses, any more than I was inclined to offer them. So on our way, I counted our steps and turns and committed them to memory.

By the time we reached the enclave, other Hunters had already begun reporting in. Twist took charge of the bags, weighing the meat and either commending or berating the team. We heard “nice job” while the pair after us got “thanks to you, the brats go hungry in the morning.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said to Fade.

He inclined his head and circled around the fire. Without meaning to, I found myself watching the lean, muscular lines of his back and the way his hair fell against the nape of his neck. Fade moved like he fought, economically and without wasted effort.

“What do you think of him?” Silk asked. At twenty, she stood a little taller than me with fair hair she wore shorn close to her head. Her toughness made her an ideal leader. But her face contorted with contempt as she gazed at Fade. She didn’t like what he stood for and that he didn’t accept his orders with the same zeal as everyone else.

My opinions about Fade were far too tangled to talk about, so I murmured, “Too soon to say.”

“A lot of citizens fear him. They say he must be part Freak or he’d have been eaten out there.”

“People say a lot of things,” I muttered.

Silk took it as a tacit defense of my new partner and her mouth twisted. “That they do. Some say you should be a Breeder like your dam.”

I set my teeth and strode out of the kitchen, determined to find a partner and do a little extra training. Nobody would dismiss me as unfit to be a Huntress. Nobody.

Two days later, they called Stone, Thimble, and me before the Wordkeeper. He’d had time to consider the matter of the white card. Though I knew we hadn’t done anything wrong, my stomach still tightened with dread.

He wasn’t quite as old as Whitewall, but he had an air about him that made me nervous. The Wordkeeper was tall and thin with arms like bone. He sat before us wearing a heavy look.

“After examining the tin, I have determined you had no foreknowledge of its contents. I judge you all innocent.” Relief spilled through me as he went on. “You did well in bringing me the document. I will add it to our archives.” He referred to a gray metal box in which he stored all of our important papers. “But as a reward for your honesty, I have decided to read this to you. Make yourselves comfortable.”

That was new. Most of us could read enough to make out warning signs, but not a lot more. Our training focused on other areas, those more valuable to the whole. At his invitation I sat, folding my legs before me. Thimble and Stone did likewise on either side of me.

The Wordkeeper cleared this throat. “‘You are cordially invited to the wedding of Anthony P. Cicero and Jennifer L. Grant on Tuesday, June the Second, year of Our Lord 2009 at four o’clock. Thirty-five East Olivet Avenue. RSVP enclosed. Reception to follow.’”

It all sounded very mysterious. I wanted to ask some questions, but he’d already granted us a favor. The Wordkeeper made it clear we were dismissed once he finished, so I led the way to the common area.

Thimble looked thoughtful. “What do you think a wedding is?”

“Some kind of party? Maybe like we have after naming day.” I did wonder why the paper had been sealed in a box full of sweet-smelling powder, but I had long since accepted that I’d never understand everything. In the enclave, it mattered more that we performed well in our allotted roles. Life didn’t permit extensive curiosity; there was no time for it.

“Do you have any other contraband?” Stone joked. “We could take a look at it before we have to go back to work.”

Thimble leveled a stern gaze at him. “That’s not funny. They’re going to be watching us for weeks now, just to be sure…” She trailed off, not wanting to voice the possible offense.

To be sure we’re not hoarding. Last year, a boy named Skittle had been discovered with old documents and technology in his living space, some hidden beneath his pallet, other things concealed in hollow objects. Hunters had taken his whole collection to Whitewall and the Wordkeeper for examination and judgment. Most of it was judged significant to our cultural development, and they exiled him. Apart from Fade, I’d never heard of anyone surviving outside a settlement.

There were others down here, of course. We weren’t alone. Sometimes we traded with the closest enclave, but that required a three-day hike through dangerous territory. Natural resources didn’t permit large groups to live in the same area. Coming up as brats, each elder drummed it into our heads how without proper balance, we were doomed. And we believed it because it was true.

We had heard stories about other enclaves; they’d died out because they didn’t enforce the rules. They overbred and starved, or they didn’t follow hygiene procedures and they perished of the dirty disease. Here, the rules existed for a purpose. They saved our lives.

So I agreed with Thimble, shaking my head at Stone. “If you’re going to be like that, I don’t want you hanging around us.”

His good-natured face fell. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I know you didn’t,” Thimble said gently. “But other people might not understand.”

Likely not. They didn’t know Stone like we did. He sometimes spoke before he thought, but there was no harm in him. He’d never do anything to hurt the rest of the enclave. You only had to see him with a brat in each arm to understand that, but Whitewall and the Wordkeeper had to err on the side of cruelty, if it came down to the greater good. I didn’t want my friend sent on the long walk.

“I’ll be more careful.” He looked truly chastened.

Shortly thereafter, we split, going our separate ways for work. Part of me knew our friendship couldn’t hold its close ties. Over time, Thimble would bond with other Builders; they had more in common, things to talk about. Stone would stay with the Breeders, and I’d find myself more at home with the Hunters. I didn’t like thinking about the inevitable because it reminded me how soon our lives would change forever.

I arrived in the staging ground just as Silk began to speak. She cut me a sharp look, but she didn’t dress me down in front of the others. I sent a silent thanks. Hopefully she knew I wouldn’t make a habit of being late; any other day I would be among the first to assemble. I was so proud to wear the Hunter marks on my arms.

Silk ran down the day’s priorities. “I don’t know where their numbers are coming from, but even after stepping up patrols, we have more Freaks in the area.”