Houston (ON HOLD)

Blake

*heads up: this part contains a little bit of sexual content. It is very brief, but I figured I'd warn you just in case :)*

Later that day, all of the prisoners sit in the barracks, allowed to have one hour of free time before lights out. Normally this is when we play our soccer games, but many times we just sit and talk with each other. Of course, the guards still stand outside the barracks to hear our conversations and make sure no uprisings are being planned.

"Born and raised in Austin." A man named Corbin says to me and our little group. "Always have lived in the South."

"You're from the Republic?" I ask. "I thought Federation citizens were the only ones being imprisoned?"

"Not everyone agrees with what Rheay thinks." Corbin says with his thick Southern drawl. I realize that Rheay had an absence of the accent trademarked by southerners long ago. "Not every Texan likes him."

I nod. It makes sense. I can't believe that I'd never realized that before. That just goes to ago how little I really knew about the war.

"What about you, Yankee?" A man I don't know asks. "Where are you from?"

"Oregon." I reply after a moment of hesitation. "Portland."

"Ooo, we got a coast boy here." Corbin says. "What's it like by the ocean? I mean, in a place where it's not so goddamn hot like it is here."

A small wave of laughter flows through the group. I can't help but grin at the truth. It is, as Corbin had said, so goddamn hot here all the time.

"Very rainy." I say. "Lots of clouds and rain, and snow in the winter."

"Snow." One man says. I think his name is Jackson. "What's snow like?"

"You've never seen snow?"

"Lived in Alabama before I got stuck here. I've only ever seen frost and small flakes."

I remember winter last year, how Portland had been blanketed with almost three feet of snow in a freak snowstorm. Emma and Alice and I couldn't make it to school for a week because the Trams couldn't remove the snow until a week after the first snow fell. Work usually slows in the winter, but last winter it almost completely stopped.

"It's like...flour." I say, rubbing my fingers together like I'm sifting the stuff through them. "Only it's everywhere. Many times in Portland it snows less than an inch, but last year we got almost three feet in one week. It was crazy."

"I hear in Wyoming and Montana they get that every winter!" One man pipes up.

I nod. "Wouldn't surprise me."

"I wish I could see snow." Corbin says wistfully. "But I'll probably die in here, so that's wishful thinking."

"You're not going to die." I tell him.

"Haven't you heard?" He says to me. "If the war ends and the Republic loses, they'll kill the prisoners. Every last one of them, including you, Yankee boy."

He stands and walks away, leaving me to ponder what he'd just told me.

We'll all die if the war ends?

"Why would they do that?" I ask Jackson, my voice tight.

"If they lose, I guess they don't want anyone to testify against how they're treating us. Rheay doesn't want anyone to show how terrible they were. Plus, I think we might just be pains in the ass they'll be happy to get rid of. I don't really know though. Corbin's the Major, he'll be able to explain better."