This Conspiracy

Chapter 7

Author stuff: The amount of research I put into for the scenes in the farm and Blood House is kind of ridiculous. It's been ages since I've been in a barn. Almost 17 years now. And for a good reason. The family members who still work on them have... unsavory opinions and beliefs of the LGBTQA+ community and are pretty racist.

So, guess which family members the gay cousin squad doesn't see!

Anyway, I have been able to start running again — which is always really nice. I'm out of shape, but my running buddy and I are pumped and enjoying the fact that the snow is melting so we have a place to run safely. If you guys are interested, check out Zombies, Run! It's a great app that's really helped me get back into it, and the storyline is so much fun. You try not falling in love with Sam Yao.

Trigger warning for this chapter! There is blood and gore mentioned. And an animal is cleaned and prepped to be eaten. And some unsavory stuff about mucking out stalls and... falling into that muck. And mentions of vomiting.

Chapter 7

In Which Graham Takes A Dive

Flossy was glad she was in the chicken coop. It smelled just as bad and some of the hens didn't exactly like having her in there, but something told her it was better than the Blood House. It was larger than she initially expected, suitable for the fourteen chickens, surrounded by a decently sized range that enclosed the coop, the run, and some of the pasture in the Glade.

Winston gave her an easy task, she was aware of that. Feeding took no time at all. The chickens were happy to eat and pecked at the ground as she went inside for her next task – collecting the eggs, which was actually quite enjoyable. The chickens didn't seem to mind her doing that while they ate.

Washing the eggs was a delicate task – something, she found, she was quite good at. Most of the eggs just had to be wiped down with a sponge. Only a handful had dried poop or bits of yolk from another egg dried on them. She was grateful that Winston had gotten her a bowl of warm water before she'd started – she had no idea where to even look.

Cleaning the straw took a bit more time. It had to be changed twice a day, as it was terrible at collecting moisture, and the Glade was usually warm. It could get humid really easily, and it tended to linger in the coop especially.

"It rots too easily," Winston said to her before he let her in the enclosure so she could work. "I asked for something better a couple of times, but the Creators never send it up. Normally, I have one of the Slicers do this, but I gave him the day off. He's nursing a bit of a hangover, like the rest of the slintheads around here."

She didn't doubt that he wasn't the only one. From what she could see, quite a few of the boys were lazing about. Mostly the Slicers and the Bricknicks. Gally had the Builders at work – though some were moving about reluctantly and glaring at their Keeper – and the Track-hoes were tending to the Gardens under Zart's instructions, moving slowly. The Baggers all stood near the entrances to the Maze, looking bored – a few of them were probably sleeping on their feet. They seemed like they had it easy. The Sloppers were cleaning away, though they weren't rushing around. She couldn't see Frypan and the Cooks, but she was certain they were just like everyone else. She wondered if the smell of food was making anyone feel ill.

All things considered, she finished in the coop just shortly before the midday break. She slipped out of the chicken enclosure, clicking at the hens as she left. To them, she was insignificant, like anyone else in the Glade. That was an oddly nice and comforting thought.

She headed over to Winston in the... slicing area. She cringed at the warm, metallic scent of blood. The sight of it was worse than the smell. Winston and two other Slicers were in the middle of gutting and cleaning a pig.