This week’s WIP Wednesday comes from my ONC novel, again, since that’s mainly what I’m working on right now. This piece is from my most recent chapter.
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He frowned. “Viv, hate to break it to you, but unless I’m going mad, nothing’s here. Is Mr. H meeting us here?”
She grinned. “Nope. Come on. We’ve got to go behind the buildings around this lot and under the fence. Follow me closely once we cross the fence line. The field’s an abandoned minefield, and only certain marked paths are safe.”
He sucked in a sharp breath. Wait for it… He’d ask the same things she had when one of the Deixebels had brought her here. He cleared his throat. “What do you mean abandoned minefield? They built this close to something that could blow everyone here sky-high?”
“Look around, Seb.”
He did as asked with a deepening frown.
“What do you see?”
“Run-down apartments that should have been condemned by now.”
“And who lives here, do you think?”
His gaze wandered around the space then returned to her, and understanding lit on his face then morphed to disgust. “All the people the government deemed unfit for a button or a good life. The ones they’d get rid of if they weren’t so useful for all the work no one else wants to do.”
“Precisely.” She headed across the lot, sidestepping debris and trash piles. “They’re citizens just like us, but no one cares if these people die. They’re all slotted for labor camps or execution based on age. But most people in their cozy two room apartments or big houses have no idea these people exist. No one respectable comes here. No one wants to risk ending up like them.”
He made a sound between a growl and a snort. “Are you serious? They just turn a blind eye?”
“You have to understand,” Viv said. “The people here live and die on the government’s whim. Too young to work? You live here with those who are too old for the labor camps or mines. Too old to do that either? You’re exterminated. Who would want to risk ending up like these people? There are rumors, of course, about this kind of thing happening to those who dissent, and even though no one says it, they’re scared they might end up that way.”
“And these people? Did they dissent?”
“No. Most were like you. Too outspoken for their own good, too freethinking. They didn’t dissent. They just questioned. But unfortunately for them, none of them were from the upper class. They were from the lower class.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, and he shook his head. “And they claim they take care of everyone.”
“They do. But some get taken care of in a very different kind of way than others.” She crossed her arms. “The Supreme Council believes they are gods, and gods hold life and death in their hands.”
He scowled. “How can anyone allow this?”
Her gaze fell on a young girl sitting in an alley, her belly distended and her eyes hollow. The girl seemed familiar, and then it struck her. This was the young woman from meeting last week that she’d seen giving her own share of bread away to another little girl even though she clearly needed it. Viv’s heart squeezed. If only she had a chip or two to give or even food if money wasn’t an option. She glanced down at her barely touched coffee. This was all she had, so it would have to do. She hurried over to the girl and knelt in front of her, ignoring Seb’s questioning stare. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
The girl’s gaze fell on the coffee, and her face lit up with interest. But distrust still lurked in her eyes when she lifted her gaze to Viv’s. “Evia, Miss.”