Page 28 of All Your Days
Eli
Jacob has exactly zeroworries about me wandering off on my own while we’re here. If anything, the bigger concern is me plastering myself to his side and never letting go.
As we make our way through the outpost I realise I am unprepared—we all are. Cale, Malcolm, Ryan, and Lou shuffle along in shocked silence around me. It’s not Jacob’s fault. It’s one of those ‘you gotta see it to believe it’ kinda things. I thought since I spent the first years of my life in the grunt housing outside the main complex building, that I had an idea of what we were in for.
I was wrong.
The narrow streets are made of the same red dirt as everywhere, with homes on either side. Far apart when we first come in, then they get packed closer together the further in we get. There’s only the stars and a handful of torches to light the way, making everything seem scarier than it should be. There are too many shadows for dangerous things to lurk in.
Fear slithers up my spine. Even though the place seems almost dead, I can feel eyes on us, and if I stare into the darkness longenough, I swear I can see the outlines of people. No one calls out in greeting, no one stops us. No one walks the streets with us.
It’s eerie.
Not to say there aren’t signs of life. There is a stench in the air, something vaguely animal but unfamiliar, likely from the goats settlers have recently begun farming. And there’s music, too—twanging, lively sounds, blending with the sounds of laughter and yelling. Only the ground is too flat to hear where it’s coming from. It feels like it’s coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Yesterday, I overheard Jacob explaining that the outpost is built near an old mining town. The original town was pretty much burnt to the ground in the war with the Federation, but the people here have fought hard to rebuild. It’s not easy for them; the bore water here is so salty it’s pretty much undrinkable. There used to be a way to fix it, but that’s been lost. The people’ve had to finagle new ways to get enough clean water to drink. Part of our payment for lodgings is the extra water barrels we filled at the last well on the road.
I’m not entirely surewherethat lodging will be, though. Or what it’s going to look like. So far all I’ve seen are mud brick homes with leather flaps for doors and window coverings, and buildings cobbled together with whatever scraps of wood and metal sheeting that could be put together. Those ones would be deadly hot in the summer.
“It’s bigger than I thought it’d be,” Lou mumbles, shuffling close to box me in when we finally see someone stumbling down the street. The man—well, I think it’s a man—hobbles past us with a nod.
“It used to be smaller, but keeps growin’,” Jacob answers in the same low tone.
It explains why, after we turn down another street that doesn’t look like it should be a street at all, the houses seem better built,more permanent. A couple of the boxy, brick buildings look like they are even from before the red rains. Though they look in rough shape compared to most of the ones built since.
“That’s the actual outpost and Union offices,” Jacob says quietly, pointing to a building made of big bricks, kind of like the ones The Facility is made out of.
Only it’s a much prettier building than back home. It’s two stories, with a little garden of hardy looking plants on either side of the torch lined path to the front door. There’s a little undercover area there, too, with a lonely seat by the door. Even in the dark, it looks cleaner than anything else here, and really out of place. It’s the only place with glass in its windows.
“And that’s the trade shed. We’ll head there after we hit the outpost.” He points to another building as we pass, a huge rectangular building made of metal and wood.
The Union offices sit on what would have been the edge of the original outpost, but now it’s the beginning of the middle of the compound. It’s louder here—brighter, too, with more torches to line the streets.
And people. No longer loitering in the shadows, they watch us out in the open now and the difference between the outpost and The Facility becomes even more obvious. Back home, our uniforms have us looking all kind of the same.
That’s not the case out here, where they have to make do with what they have. Their clothes remind me a little of what I used to wear as a kid—sewn together with scraps of whatever could be found and reused.
At least with the layer of sweat and grime coating us from our day out in the sun, we fit in. It seems to be baked into everything here—including the people.
It’s new, and it’s making my skin itch.
For all the people, I notice there doesn’t seem to be any guards.
It’s overwhelming, to be somewhere so new. To be somewhere where I haven’t known everybody since basically the moment I was born. I’m ashamed of the fear clawing at my stomach. At least there doesn’t seem to be anyone out at this time of night. Well, they’re definitelysomewhere, because I can hear the party going on. It sounds kinda like fire pit night, when it’s gone on too long and the residents have had too much grog. That’s when shit gets messy.
I know there're guards on watch in the towers, but the lack of guards has me nervous. The people here… they are so exposed? What would happen if someone in one of those mud houses turned? There isn’t even a door to stop them.
As if he can sense my unease, Jacob’s hand settles right there on my back, right where the tension is forming. He keeps his hand there, guiding me along, keeping me anchored to him.
We pass a building that’s bigger than the others. It’s not as well made as the outpost, and definitely wasn’t built before the ed Rains, but the wood slat building seems more sturdy than the rest of the place. More permanent.
The building’s a long one, with windows cut out all along, and a covered porch. The window shutters and the large door in the centre of the building are open wide, with an old sun-weathered woman on a rocking chair.
There are more women in the windows, and some men, too, I realise, and more naked breasts than I ever hoped to see in a lifetime. I am pretty sure I can see some people fucking against a wall through the windows. Like, right there. I stare. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself. It’s not that I’m against having a little fun wherever you can get it, but having a root right there in the window? That’s a bit much. Isn’t it?
“You ‘right lads? Lookin’ for some fun?” The woman yells out, her voice harsh, harsher still is the sharp cackle that pierces thenight, making us all jump. Guess I wasn’t the only one caught gawking like a galah.
“Leave it.” Jacob warns, when Cale goes to open his mouth. Thankfully, the guard listens and we move on, making a left when Jacob tells us to, leading us to where we’ll be staying.
