Phoenix

The Recruitment Pt 2

They stepped into the hall and looked around. It was large enough to fit a standing crowd of over one hundred people, and the fourteen of them huddled at the foot of the stage, seeking the comfort of proximity.

Ash grasped Jai's hand and wedged a position for them in the middle of the stage. If they were going to be seen, better to be front and centre. They received a few disgruntled looks which she quickly dispelled with a glare so intense that even the biggest boys at the back decided it wasn't worth the effort of trying to stop her. Once she'd secured her position, she looked around for the sick sister and spotted her, on the fringe of the group, eyes closed, leaning on the stage for support.

Ash tore her eyes away and focussed them out in front.

They waited.

The sick sister wheezed behind a clamped hand.

They waited some more.

The high tin ceiling creaked as it expanded under the heat of the rising sun.

Finally, the double doors swung open to a chorus of exhalations. The recruiters were a group of formidable individuals, with hard-line faces and stiff-legged walks. Ash counted five in total. They climbed the stairs and onto the stage, feet thumping the hollow wooden laminations. They stood and scanned the selection in front of them like they were scanning a shopping list. Around Ash, orphans rose hopefully on their toes, straining like poppies towards the sun.

After a long moment, a squat man with a bulldozer body stepped forward. He wore grey slacks, held in place by a thick brown belt. They'd seen him on the screen in the mess hall during meal times, looking a bit like a honey pot swarmed by buzzing reporters. His role as the head honcho for all the city's mining corporations held him up for a stoning on most days and he took the stones in spadefuls and threw them over his shoulders, uncaring of who he hit. He was known for the dollars in his eyes and the rising toll of onsite deaths in his mines. He was a gold digger and a gravedigger at the same time.

He jabbed the air in the direction of the tallest, burliest orphans in the group before turning and stomping off the stage. The boy stumbled after him, face caught between relief and fear. He might be safe from the street, but too many people died in the mines to warrant a celebration.

Another squat man stepped forward. This one wore a dirty flannelette shirt with a coffee stain down the front. He had a sloping mouth, set in permanent displeasure and when he pushed his sleeves over his thick forearms, he exposed skin riddled with burns. By the emblem on his pocket—a clamp and a hammer overlapping in the shape of a cross—he was from the metal factory, known for its long hours and gruelling conditions. But at least it didn't have the reputation of the mines... yet. Ash stood a little straighter.

"Not much to choose from." He grunted. "But at least you come for free." He jabbed his finger. "You and you."

Two stocky boys to Ash's right looked at each other, open mouthed, as though they couldn't quite believe their luck. The metal recruiter didn't wait for them to recover from their shock. He was down the stairs and out the door in a few dozen strides. The boys stumbled after him. The steel door opened and closed with a bang, causing the remaining orphans to cringe.

There were only three recruiters left.

The selections continued without ceremony, with preferences heavily skewed towards the boys—though one girl did get picked as a kitchen hand at the bakery to which she squealed like a pig with delight. Soon, they were down to the last recruiter—a woman so blonde that her hair disappeared into her scalp, with bright red lipstick and large blue eyes. She stepped forward, high heels clicking loudly as she surveyed the six remaining orphans down her nose like dregs at the bottom of a wine glass.