David

David hit the dirt, breath knocked from his lungs. He lifted his head, stunned. Who would hit him?

E5’s nasty face grinned down at him, and he exhaled as his stomach dropped.

Of course. The one Enforcer who hated him.

"Break it up," E5 said, voice rough with boredom.

David pushed himself up, heart hammering. "She’s a thief!"

E5 barely glanced at the girl, who had already yanked her scarf back up, adjusting it with shaking fingers.

"You got proof?" E5 drawled.

David seethed. His word as a fellow Enforcer should be enough proof. "She took extra rations—"

"Does she have them now?"

David’s eyes flicked to the bucket.

The satchels were gone.

David ground his teeth together, the blood pulsing in his temples. “I’ve seen her do it before when I was on shift. She took—”

“Did you report her?”

David unclenched his jaw and tapping his teeth together. “Not yet, but—”

“You didn’t report her, you got nothing on her," E5 continued. "And you ain't on duty. Looks to me like nothing but a domestic dispute."

David stared at E5, disbelieving. "She’s been doing this for months!"

"If I see her steal, I’ll deal with it. Until then, keep your hands to yourself."

David’s hands curled into fists. He wanted to scream.

The girl stepped closer, voice low, almost mocking. "Better luck next time, E22."

“You should be outside this camp,” he growled. “Fighting for scraps like the others.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “And yet, here I am.”

David’s hand twitched at his side. He wanted to rip that damn scarf from her face. Who are you?

Before he could act, she slipped past him, brushing against his shoulder as she walked away.

Then she was gone, vanishing into the crowd.

He stood frozen, breath heavy, rage boiling in his chest.

Jed clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Let it go, man."

David closed his eyes.

He couldn’t.

The frustration carried with him all the way to the quarry.

He wasn’t wrong.

She did take more than her share.

E5 had hit him in front of a dozen witnesses. For what? For calling out a cheat?

She looked guilty the second he saw her. Hood pulled low, scarf wrapped too tight, shifty eyes. She didn’t even flinch when he called her out—just looked at him like he was the one stealing. Like she was better than him.

He’d seen people like her before. Always an excuse. “It’s for my grandmother,” she’d said. Sure it was. Everyone had someone sick or dying. Everyone had mouths to feed.

But no one else tried to punch him when they got caught.

He hadn’t meant to grab her hair. He was aiming for the cloth. It didn’t matter—she fought like a cornered dog. Scratched his wrist. Kicked his shin. Got a clean shot to his chin.

What burned most was the way she looked at him after E5 showed up. She didn’t smirk. Didn’t gloat. Just turned and walked off like he was beneath her. Like she hadn’t just assaulted him and been let off with a pat on the head.

He still didn’t catch her name.

David flexed his hand. He could still feel the coil of her thick hair in his palm, the snap of it when she twisted away.

He shouldn’t have let her get under his skin.

He’d remember her face. The eyes. The fire.

The next time she tried something, he’d be ready.

“Still thinking about her?” Jed said.

David grunted. “No.” He unwrapped his parcel. Breakfast consisted of a hard roll and a pill. The rolls had a name, he knew. Once upon a time he liked reading novels about characters who had to eat this stuff on long sea journeys. Hard tack. That was it.

He sure hated it now.

“Good. Think about that amazing breakfast you have.”

David let out a short bark of a laugh. “You read my mind.” He fingered the small pink pill before tossing it in his mouth and swallowing it back.

The pills kept them safe from the newest plague. According to officials, the Drange was wiping out Marauders like water in a sugar jar. And in the worst way. It broke down the neurons in the brain that made humans different from apes. The ones for higher intelligence, critical thinking. Men became animals, sick, starving, deranged animals. What the Marauders wouldn’t give to get their hands on these pills.

He and Jed found their usual places in the quarry. David’s pickax was right where he’d left it. He hefted it and began chipping away at the rock wall.

Jed said softly, “It’s not fair. We deserve better.”

David bobbed his head away, his blood pumping faster at the thought of someone overhearing Jed. He recited the Survivor’s Mantra, trying to calm his racing heart. “We are the survivors. We trust our leaders. We must band together—”

“David.” Jed’s eyes rolled above the scarf covering his nose and mouth. “Shut up. I hate hearing that bullshit.”

“You don’t believe it?” He held his pickax aloft, frozen in mid-motion.

“In spite of what the Custodians want us to think, we’re not looking out for each other.”

“But you always act like you believe them.”

Jed went back to hacking at the wall. “You should do a better job at hiding your feelings.”

“This is a man-eat-man world, quite literally,” David said, still watching Jed.

“Go back to reciting your mantra before you get us both in trouble.”

David glanced back to make sure no quarry guard had overheard them, then swung his ax into the rock wall.

An isolated man was a dead man. But he trusted no one in this dark world.

Except—

“You and Susan took us in,” David said quietly. He wasn’t sure Jed would hear his words over the hammering of the pickax.

“You were children.”

“You oriented me. Guided us. Told us exactly what to do, how to behave.”

“We were as traumatized as you were, kid. You arrived at the right time. We needed something to believe in. Someone besides ourselves.”

“What keeps you going, Jed?” David whispered.

“We are not meant to die,” Jed replied, swinging his pickax with more force than usual.

The bell began to toll. Several slow dongs rang out across the camp, echoing in the quarry. One, two, three, four, five.

David frowned. “I don’t know that toll. What is it?”

Jed dropped his pickax. “The alarm! Marauders must’ve broken through!”