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IT WAS ALMOST MIDNIGHT WHEN Troy gathered the supplies he needed and slipped out the door. The new hole needed to be close to Trinity’s house but as far away from his area as possible. He headed around the back of the guard shack. The Lead Producers only monitored the perimeter of the encampment so it would be easier to enter Hector’s section from the interior of the camp.
The lights were out at Millie’s cabin. Tim and Millie should be in bed, but he’d have to be quiet. House Servants had excellent hearing and night vision. He hid in the shadows near the house as the automated light passed. Several yards away there was a section of the chain-link that was covered by high grass and bushes. It was perfect but he’d have to move fast. There was no cover between the cabin and the fence. He glanced around one last time and darted forward just as the guard shack door opened and two male Producers stepped outside. He froze for a second and then raced back to the cabin.
The two Producers walked toward the fence. One had to be Hector but who was the other one? More important, what were they doing alone at night? He smiled. Perhaps, he’d finally uncovered Hector’s secret. As the two moved farther into the yard, the other Producer’s face was illuminated by one of the fires burning near the perimeter. It was Hector’s son who’d been promoted to Lead Producer a few months back and was learning the job. He sighed. He should have known that Hector wasn’t breaking the rules.
“Make sure to examine every inch of the fence,” said Hector. “Troy reported strange noises the other night and a Lead Producer’s most important responsibility is to make sure his area is secure.”
Shit, shit and more shit. He wanted to slap his hand against his head or maybe, pound it into Hector’s thick skull. He was not going to be able to do this now, maybe, not at all. He would have to find out exactly when and how often Hector inspected the perimeter. He waited for them to go back inside before heading toward his station.
He’d just entered the maze of boxes when he heard the moans. He stopped, grinning. His night was looking up. He quietly placed his tools behind a crate and crept forward, following the sound. He may not be able to take care of the hole tonight, but unless he was mistaken, he’d soon have the information he needed to persuade Bell to support Remy for re-pairing.
The next morning Troy ditched out of work a little early. He and Bell were on the same shift and he wanted to catch the other Lead Producer at work. Last night had been very informative. Clarabelle was not untried. By the activities that he’d witnessed, she hadn’t been for some time. He pressed his hand against his mouth and pinched the smirk off his lips before entering the guard shack.
“Good morning, Bell, Butch,” he said jovially.
Bell stopped talking to the other Lead Producer and glared at him. “Skipping your duties again, I see.”
They were supposed to update their replacement with an hour-by-hour rundown, but it was a tedious waste of time. Nothing ever happened. “On the contrary, I discovered something very interesting last night, but I think we should discuss it in private.”
Bell’s eye’s narrowed. “Very well. I’ll speak with you at my home in...”
“Here would be better. I don’t think you want your mate or daughter overhearing this conversation.” He’d been waiting his lifetime for an opportunity like this and he was going to enjoy making the older Lead Producer sweat.
Bell studied him for a moment and nodded. “Butch, go check on your mate. Hopefully, she’s feeling better.”
Troy turned toward Butch, his face a mask of concern. “What’s wrong with Tulip?” He really couldn’t care less about Butch’s mate but it was never a bad idea to collect good favor.
Butch blushed a bit. “Her first breeding. She’s having a rough time of it.”
“Tina did the same. She makes a special soup. It helped her. If you’d like, I’ll have her make some for Tulip.”
“That would be very kind, thank you.”
“Be back in fifteen minutes,” interrupted Bell. “Nothing Troy has to say can take longer than that.”
His lips twitched. He really couldn’t hide the smirk any longer. “Fifteen minutes should be time enough.”
As soon as Butch left, Bell sat. “What do you want?”
He glanced at the chair across from the other Lead Producer. “May I?”
“If you must.”
He sat. It was a shame he couldn’t drag this out a bit, but fifteen minutes would have to do. “Let’s get right to it, shall we.”
Bell waved his hand in a “get-on-with-it” fashion.
“We both know that Millie is going to be retired this year and I want you to back Remy for re-pairing.”
Bell burst out laughing. “Why would I do that? Remy hasn’t produced a viable Producer in years. No, let me correct that. Ever.”
His muscles tensed. Remy could sire a fine specimen of a Producer if he’d just try. It infuriated him that the others thought so little of Remy because of Tim. “Remy’s past performances don’t matter. What’s important is that you support him.”
Bell leaned forward. “Again. Why would I do that?”
He shifted closer until only inches separated the two. “To save your reputation and your daughter.” A few more minutes and the sweat would start.
For a second, pure hatred flashed in Bell’s eyes. It was almost enough to cause Troy to jerk backward, but he held still and let his own mask drop.
Bell’s eyes widened slightly, but then he leaned back, crossing his legs. “What secret do you think you have on us?”
“I don’t think I have a secret. I know I do. Last night, I witnessed Clarabelle mating with Randy”—he paused and leaned back—“several times in several different positions.”
Bell inhaled sharply, but his face remained impassive. “You and who else?”
His lips twitched. Bell thought he had an escape. “Just me.”
“My daughter was home last night. My mate will swear to it. It will be your word against ours.”
He shook his head, very slowly to let the unspoken message sink in.
“You wouldn’t.” Bell paled.
He grinned. The sweat would start pouring out of the other Lead Producer now. “I would.” No one had ever informed the Almightys about pre-list mating unless a female was pregnant and it was too far away from the reading of the List, but he would. “I’ll call for a purity check.”
“Others besides Clarabelle will suffer.”
He shrugged. Nothing mattered to him except Remy.
“We have always passed the pregnancies off as a youthful indiscretion of only a few. If you do this, the Almightys will...”
“Find out that almost all our youths are partaking in pre-list mating.” He leaned forward again. “And what do you think Benedictine will do to his favorite Lead Producer then? He’ll know that this has been going on for a long, long time and that either you are incompetent or deceitful.” He scratched his chin. “For which offense do you think he’ll hurt you worse?”
“You’d really do this?”
He shrugged again. “Not if you support Remy for re-pairing.”
Bell stood and walked over to the counter and picked up an almost empty pitcher. “I have a little sun tea left from last night. Would you like some?”
The other Lead Producer must be very worried if he was offering to share his tea. Bell was notoriously stingy with his special brew. He considered telling Bell that this false politeness was a waste of time and that he would not negotiate, but he really did want to try the tea. “Yes, thank you.”
Bell emptied the pitcher into two glasses, filling them each about half-full. He poured some more water in the jar and then took a blue bag out of his pocket. “Pardon me, for a moment. I have to get tonight’s batch brewing.” He sprinkled some of the contents from the bag into a thin cloth and then dropped it into the pitcher. He placed the jar where it would get sun and carried the glasses over to the chairs and handed him one.
He sniffed it. “Smells lovely.” He took a small sip. It really was a wonderful blend. “Delicious. What do you use?”
Bell took a drink. “Family secret. It promotes longevity and fertility. Plus, it helps me stay awake. I drink an entire pitcher every shift.” After several moments Bell continued. “I don’t think I mentioned it, but a few months ago Benedictine told me about an update to the tracking device program.”
He stilled. Everyone was implanted with a tracking device when they were paired but what did that have to do with this conversation?
Bell scratched his head. “It was interesting. The new device would inform the Almightys of every step that we took, not just where we were at that moment”—he leaned forward—“but where we had been for every minute of every day and for how long we were there.”
His hand trembled. That would mean public execution for him and Remy. He couldn’t let Bell see his fear. He rested the glass on his leg.
“Benedictine wanted to know if I thought we should implement it in camp.” Bell leaned back and took another sip of his tea. “I was, of course, concerned. I’m not incompetent. I know what our youngsters are up to.” He narrowed his eyes. “I also know what many of the others in camp are doing.” He leaned forward again. “You are not the only one who collects secrets. I just don’t barter mine so cheaply.”
Sweat trickled down his spine. He had to remain calm and think this through. He did not have a device like that inside of him. It was impossible. “Why are you telling me this? Benedictine didn’t update our tracking program.”
“Why would you assume that?” Bell tipped his head.
Something wasn’t right. Bell was too calm. “I’ve only had surgery once to install the original device.” He smiled. “To my knowledge, no one else has gone in for additional surgeries either.”
“Do you recall the name of that other Almighty? The young one. Benedictine complains about him all the time.” Bell tapped his finger against his lip. “Hugh something-or-other. His mother is Sarah. I’m sure you remember her. She used to come by the camp with extra food and clothes for the needy. A sweet, kind Almighty.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. What is important is that this Hugh didn’t invent a new device, but an update. It is very tiny and it only requires that you swallow it. Somehow, it merges with the original.”
Bile rose in his throat. Every month they were given a dose of vitamin water.
Bell finished his tea and walked to the counter. “I told Benedictine that I did not think the expense would be worth it.” He turned and looked at him. “I said that we were too well behaved, boring really, for the cost.”
The tension fled his body. He was safe.
“Don’t give me reason to change my mind.”
He stood, handing his mostly full glass to Bell. “Of course not.” He walked to the door and then stopped. “Sorry. I’m sure I was mistaken about last night.”
Bell nodded.
He stepped outside, relief and then hatred washing through him. This was not over. He couldn’t report Clarabelle without Bell making a counter move, but Bell didn’t know about Trinity’s escape. Hector was safe. He would dig the hole in Bell’s section but he had to plan this correctly. Bell wasn’t stupid. If a security breach was discovered in his area, he might be able to persuade Benedictine that it happened during someone else’s watch. No. First, he had to ruin Bell’s reputation. Then, when they found the hole, Bell would suffer.