A Fate So Cruel

Chapter 9 - Lemon + Salt

Nine Years Ago,

Three Years After The Coup

"What's anarchy?" Boston asked, squinting at the bright blue sky through the canopy of leaves above us.

Although the sun still peaked through in spots, the shade of the mammoth tree beside us provided us with much-needed relief from the afternoon sun as we perched on the roof of an old concrete shed in our overgrown neighborhood park, our feet dangled freely, swaying slightly in the warm breeze.

The shed's roof had witnessed countless afternoons we'd spent together. It was a quiet oasis from the world. And a good place to talk far away from the prying ears of others. It wasn't uncommon for one of us to ask the other about things we'd heard adults say that we hadn't been meant to hear, comparing notes about what we did and didn't understand, theorizing about the things that neither of us did.

Recently, we'd been here nearly every day after school dismissed around lunchtime. Sometimes other kids from school joined us. Usually on those days, Boston played soccer with them while I drew, or we both watched from atop the shed.

Today, though, it was only the two of us. That was the way we liked it best.

We each held half of the lemon my granddad had given along with a tiny paper packet of salt for us to sprinkle on top and lick off.

It wasn't a meal but I was still grateful to have something to fend off hunger. Besides, my granddad always ensured we had enough food for a small breakfast and a full dinner—something many in the Alderman Territory didn't have.

"I think it's like a rebellion. But everything goes crazy," I answered. Boston nodded thoughtfully, lips pursed in thought. "Who was talking about anarchy?"

"Dominic."

Dominic was the kind, but quiet mechanic that Boston's older sister/guardian, Cass, had been dating for the last year. He'd all but moved into their house over the last few months. He said it was because he worried about Cass and Boston, which I think was mostly true. But it didn't hurt that he was head-over-heels for Cass.

"What did he say?" I asked.

"I overheard him talking to Cass last night and said he thinks there'll be anarchy if the food shortages continue."

There had been riots in other Territories recently. I heard my Granddad talking to the butcher about it last week as I pretended to browse the sparsely stocked isles of the deli. From what I could pick up from their hushed conversation, it only seemed to make things worse.

Now it was my turn to squint up at the bright sun. "I hope not."

A look of confusion overtook Boston's face. "Why not?"

"I'm scared it will make things worse."

He nodded. "Cass is freaked out about it."

"So is Grandad," I replied before taking a lick of the lemon, the sour, salty taste making me salivate. Boston just stared down at his half.

"Maybe a rebellion would be a good thing," he said. "There's way more of us than there are of them. If every human came together, we'd have a chance. The problem with when the Lycan had the Coup is that everyone thought the human government was going to save them, and when they didn't, they were willing to fight themselves."

I hated the Lycan. I wished they never existed. Or, at the very least, that they never took control of everything.

But now they were here and there was no going back. A few humans had tried in the months and years following the Lycan overtook the world during the Coup but every attempt ended in the rebels being viciously slaughtered and the humans left behind being punished for it.