Emma

Dinner hour was at six every night. The iron doors of the kitchens in each sector opened, and people formed two lines. The warriors on duty portioned out food, making sure everyone got equal. Well, almost always everyone got equal, though less often as of this year. Once people got food, some went back to their huts, and some socialized in the sector’s square, an open space surrounded by huts. The sector had several doors. One for the kitchens, six for the bathrooms, and one exit into the Community.

This Sunday night, I got my bowl of…stew, maybe, and a piece of four-day-old bread, then made my way outside and into the main community square for the public lashing Tom required everyone to watch. Since Tom had picked the girls, I knew one or both had rejected breeder’s duty.

Bred for the future of humanity, raised with an understanding of their purpose in life, allowed special privileges like nice-smelling soaps and shampoos and a better education—they had access to our library—and better food, the breeders should mate our lord beast. But still, they didn’t comply with Tom’s requests. Instead, they ran from Amoris.

Tom exempted them from working in the community, unlike some of us who worked until our feet couldn’t carry us so that breeders could live a comfortable life. Needless to say, I couldn’t summon compassion for the ones compromising our existence. Breeders should entice the lord into mating. I didn’t fully understand the mating thing, but I understood enough. It meant to have sex with the beast male who would take you as a mate for life. Breeders ought to breed like rabbits with him, because once we uncovered his mate, the Beast Father would send supplies. For the lord’s mate, we’d get not only supplies, we’d also get freedom so we could live Above.

Though I’d never seen Lord Amoris in person, I could imagine why the breeders would be terrified. Still, one of them ought to do something other than get lashed. The fear of lashing alone would make me spread my legs for the beast. It couldn’t be as bad as lashing.

By the time I found my corner behind the crowd and sat down with my back against the wall, Whitney was already begging for mercy and tugging on the rope. Adam checked her bindings, made sure the rope would keep her secured to the pole, then backed away. He faced the crowd. The hem of his black robe fluttered around his boots as he circled Whitney, flicking the whip as he went.

He lashed out.

I winced at her scream, could almost feel the burn on her shoulder.

Okay, so maybe I wasn’t a heartless person after all. Breeders should breed. They had special privileges. But the lashing really hurt. I’d know, I’d been lashed last year for stealing from the kitchens.

I dipped my bread into the bean stew (or something similar) wondering what all went in there, when I caught Tom in the corner of my eye. The crowd parted so he could make his way to my corner. I went to stand, but he patted my head and looked around. A man appeared out of nowhere and brought Tom a chair. “Thank you, John,” Tom said. “Have you met Emma?”

John remained on the other side of Tom, so I couldn’t see him.

“No,” John said.

Tom stroked my head. “She’s like a daughter to me. If you need anything, she’ll help. Won’t you, Emma?”

“Yes, Tom.”

Tom put a spoon on the floor and sipped his soup. I caught his wince at the taste, but he didn’t comment.

“We’re really short, aren’t we?” I asked.

“On food, yes. John brought us news from Above, so we’re not short on information.”

I didn’t care about information. My stomach churned, and I put the bowl away. I’d go hungry for the night if I didn’t eat. Tom sipped some more while Whitney cried some more.

People chanted louder, most wanting Adam to lash the breeder harder. He was giving her a break. Tom extended his hand to John, and John walked away with Tom’s empty bowl.

I scooted closer to Tom’s chair and poked him in the thigh.

He didn’t take his eyes off the lashing but patted my head, telling me he’d listen. “How long before we start starving?”

“One week of supplies is left. John is going Above again. Should be back on Tuesday with more. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everyone.”

I scooted closer so when I whispered, he’d hear me. “I’d like permission to appear before Lord Amoris.”

Tom shook his head. “The beast goes into the cube when you work inside his quarters.”

“Yes, but why?”

“So he doesn’t hurt you.”

“He hasn’t hurt any of the breeders.”

“Breeders are different.”

I sighed. Breeders ensured a prosperous future, and since Tom had a vision that a beast mate was perfect, it couldn’t be me, a genetically imperfect offspring. “But what if—”

Tom pierced me with his cold gray eyes. “Emma, you are not a breeder.”

I shrank back. “Please, hear me out. I’ve been thinking about this mating thing and your vision. What if the perfect girl for him is the beast’s versions of perfect, not perfect as we think of it? Like, a beauty-is-in-the-eye-of-the-beholder-type thing.”

“I know you would give your heart for this community. It is something I have always admired about you. But a mate to the lord is not crippled. I have seen their offspring. She will breed him healthy beasts.”

“That’s the thing, Tom. I am healthy. I have good immunity. Didn’t even get the flu, remember?”

“Emma, I wouldn’t wish you to become a beast whore, and that’s all you’d be to him. His whore, a distraction from unloading his seed into his mate.”

A beast whore? “Ouch.”

Tom chuckled. “Sooner or later, we’d find his true mate and he’d discard you, maybe even consume you.”

“So is that a no?” I teased.

He patted my head. “It’s a no. We’ll find more breeders from the new people and carry on.”

“I still think there’s no harm in bringing him every woman, whether a breeder or not. The Beast Father will send supplies within a day of finding his mate. Fresh potatoes, Tom. I don’t remember what fresh food tastes like.”

“Silence,” Tom said, not loudly but sternly, and with a note of finality. “It’s not you. It can’t be you. I’ll take care of the food.” He stood and whistled. Adam paused his lashing, and the crowd grew quiet, all eyes on Tom. He pointed at Whitney. “She’s dead,” he said.

What? I stood on my toes to see up front. A knife stuck out of Whitney’s kidney. Her family slowly pushed through the crowds, making their way home. Her dad must’ve thrown it. She’d shamed him for not breeding as she should.

“I think that’s enough,” Tom said, loud enough for all to hear. “From today onward, until a mate to the beast is found, every breeder of child-bearing age will see him. Two per day until we find his mate. And when we have gone through every girl in our community”—he glanced at his warriors and pointed—“you will do God’s work!”

“At ready!” they answered.

“Because,” Tom said, “if we follow God’s word, we will exterminate the unholy beasts from our lands. The Beast Father will bring them disease and suffering, and when they all die up Above, we shall emerge as victors.” He lifted a finger. “But first, I need a beast mate! Not today, not tomorrow, but yesterday. Breeders and fathers of breeders, hear me now. If I don’t get a mate in one week, you will bring him your small children. You will bring him any female in the community no matter her age. Understood?”

People mumbled, cursing the breeders for the first time I could remember. They blamed them for failing Tom and failing to provide for all of us. As I snuck out of the square, I watched Whitney’s family walk away while her dead body, bathed in blood, hung by its hands from the pole.