This Conspiracy

Chapter 13

Author stuff: I'm sure it's just the rain.

Chapter 13

In Which The Girlie Doesn't Feel Good

For the first time since they'd been in the Glade – the first time in two and a half weeks – it was raining. Flossy marvelled at the weather from under the shelter of the boys' sleeping area. It was an open-ended extended hut of sorts with hammocks strung up, and sleeping bags rolled up and tucked away for less rainy days. Lanterns hung from twine or chains from support beams, and torches pierced the soft ground to light the area. They remained snuffed out and would remain that way until it was too dark to see with the dying rays of the sun.

They had all congregated there, waiting for the sky to clear so they could get to work. Some sat on their hammocks or on the ground. Others were perched on trunks and crates stacked together holding their personal belongings. They all hung together in little cliques, chatting amicably amongst themselves.

She reached out, cupping her hand to catch the rain. The water droplets were warm in her hand, something she hadn't been expecting. She watched, fascinated, as it gathered in her palm and started to drip out between her fingers.

"It should end soon," Zart said next to her. "The Gardens will be muddy, but the rain does them a world of good."

"Will your tomatoes be okay?" she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Oh ha ha."

She grinned at him, like the cat who caught the canary. She turned her eyes to look at the clouds. They were dark and heavily laden with rain.

"What if it doesn't stop any time soon?"

"Then we wait it out."

Her eyes scanned the group. Almost everyone looked miserable or bored, or miserable and bored. She could understand it. But, still, it was raining. It was like a little miracle of some sort.

It was mostly Track-hoes, Sloppers, and Baggers waiting around. The Builders, as well as the Bricknicks, have been called to the [edit:building] hut to work; the Slicers had their animals to take care of; the Med-jacks were almost always kept a little busy with one thing or another; the Cooks had meals to prepare; and the Runners always ran no matter the weather. Which meant, half of the people she knew were working.

She wiped her hand on her dirt stained cargo shorts and watched as their small world was washed clean. She leaned against one of the support beams.

It continued to rain on.

Lunch came and passed – sandwiches again, ham and swiss with honey mustard on rye this time, lightly toasted – and, still, it rained.

She watched a game of Stung – where one person pretends to have been stung by a Griever (she still had no idea what that was and had an increasing desire to never find out) and slowly picks off other people in the Glade while one person (the Creator) oversaw the thing. It looked amusing, but she wasn't particularly feeling too good. She actually felt chilled and her abdomen would give little stabs on pains every now and again.

It was evident by mid-afternoon that the rain was not going to stop. The temperature in the Glade dropped, making her wrap her arms around herself as she fought to keep warm.

"Hey," Zart said, tapping her arm to get her attention, "you should go lie down in the Med-hut. You aren't looking too good."

"Yeah," she said, getting to her feet. She dusted off the seat of her cargo shorts.

"Want me to escort you there?"

"No, I think I can make it on my own."

"Think or know?"