The Queer Rebels

Chapter 27: Rallying

"Charlie?" A hand brushes against my shoulder.

Instead of responding, I burrow my face deeper into my pillow.

"Come on, Charlie. Last call for breakfast." Their voice is soft, but insistent.

I groan, then I turn my face just enough to be heard. "I'm not hungry."

A weight plops on the edge of the cot. They've sat down. "Dude, you haven't eaten a meal since we've been here."

I turn over and look up. Alex's concerned eyes are trained on my face. They run a hand through their shaggy purple hair.

Alex has barely left my side since we both arrived here at the designated Meeting Spot. Maybe they feel guilty for telling me that Harry was looking for me. Or they regret not coming along and stopping everything from happening. Or maybe they just feel bad for me. For how pitiful I've become.

"Fine," I huff, pushing off the covers and pushing myself up onto my elbows.

Alex stands so I can get up. I smooth out the wrinkles from my shirt and yank at the binder that I slept in. Again. Then I grab my jeans, which are crumpled at the foot of the cot, and pull them up over my boxers.

I miss having clean clothes.

But I don't have anyone else to blame, do I? If Harry and I hadn't gone into the city, none of this would have happened. And while the bomb wasn't my idea, I could've stopped Harry if I tried harder. Could've done something.

"Come on. Breakfast," Alex reminds me.

I must have been zoning out. Again.

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter and stand, stepping into my sneakers.

Several dozen cots are arranged in lines in this one corner of what once was an expansive retail space. They are all empty, which means I'm the last to wake up.

I follow Alex around the temporary wall that has been set up to mark off the sleeping quarters. We walk under flickering fluorescent lights and past empty shelves until we reach a wall with several folding tables displaying food.

There is a basket of apples, a mostly empty plate with a few lonely fried potato bits, a tray with scrambled eggs, and two carafes, one with coffee, the other with tea.

First, I pour myself some coffee, and then I grab a plate and serve myself some eggs and grab a small apple. "I miss bread," I admit as we walk over to a few empty folding chairs.

"There was a loaf this morning," Alex says with a shrug. "But just the dense home-made stuff the farmers make."

As I bring a forkful of eggs to my mouth, I realize that I never put much thought into where our food comes from. Growing up, it was always just there. Provided by the city. "Farmers?" I ask.

"You know," Alex says as they pick up their mug, which they filled with tea. "The city has pretty tight control over the factories, but the farms have a lot of autonomy."

"Why?" I ask, surprised.

"Well, I don't really know how it all works," Alex admits, "but the farms are far enough away that they have to operate somewhat independently."

I nod, scrunching my brows.

"Besides, as strong as the Great Olek is, I doubt he wants to have conflict with another city."

"What?" I almost spit out my coffee.

Alex looks at me quizzically. "What? You didn't think that Dimstad was the only city in the whole world, did you?"