And the government is going to an awful lot of trouble to make the fakes seem real. If there’s one thing Charlotte has learned since women became more endangered than mountain gorillas, it’s this: The more complex the lie, the more unpleasant the truth behind the lie.
It’s hard to imagine how bad the truth might be, but a host of science fiction plots she’s seen in movies are ripe for the plucking. Each is worse than the last. How can she know what’s most logical, when nothing is logical anymore?
The next morning, as she mucks out the stables after the horses have been turned out to graze, the feed shipment arrives. She offers to help, but Tabitha waves her off. Inside Junior’s stall, she hears the murmur of voices through the wall. The little office for the stables is there. Leaning her ear against the rough wood, she listens as hard as she can.
The voices are low, but her mother’s voice is too familiar to miss. “Are you sure?” Tabitha asks, her voice sharp. She sounds tense.
A man’s voice responds. “No, but the engineer would know what he saw. And now he’s gone. Disappeared entirely. Even his apartment is cleared out. He wasn’t going anywhere, so someone made that happen. If he wasn’t right about what he saw, then why would they disappear him?”
The sound her mother makes is a familiar one. Charlotte has heard that sound often in the years since The Dying began. It’s the sound of a problem she can’t solve, at least not yet. A worried sound. A fearful sound.
There’s a long enough silence that Charlotte wonders if somehow they can hear her breathing through the wood. She covers her mouth and breathes slowly.
At last, her mother responds, “Listen, Rich, we don’t have time anymore. I’ve kept all this from Charlie, but she’s bound to notice sooner or later. Even with the meds they have most of the women on, people will notice eventually. Once that happens, security will change and it will be harder to get us out. We need safe passage and somewhere safe to go.”
She’s silent for a moment, then continues talking. “If he was right, if those were life support modules, how long could a person survive like that?”
The man’s voice is easier to hear, but Charlotte holds her breath so as to not miss a word. “He was an engineer, but the doc in our group said a sophisticated setup like that is meant for long term use.”
“So, long enough to make babies,” Tabitha says, her tone bitter.
“Yeah, that’s what we think. I’m sorry, Tabby. I really am. This sucks.”
“It’s not you doing it, Rich. I’m guessing they gave this place a shot, but we didn’t produce fast enough for them. And so many don’t survive. They probably feel like this is their only choice.”
The man coughs, but it sounds rough, as if his emotions are too near the surface. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You can get us out. That’s what you can do.”
“What about the others? There are hundreds of women and girls here.”
Charlotte’s legs are aching from her awkward position. She braces her hands against the wood, her fingers spread to avoid creaking. As she straightens her legs, one of her knees pops loudly and she gasps. The voices on the other side of the wall stop.
Grabbing her manure fork, she races for the open stall door, down the center aisle and into a stall two down from the one she was in. Her heart is thundering and her breathing rapid when her mother and the feed delivery man approach. It takes everything she has to force herself to look normal. Both of them peer into the first stall where she was, then her mother eyes her speculatively.
“Charlie, was anyone else in here?” she asks.
Charlotte shakes her head and keeps fishing for poop in the hay with her fork. “Nope. Not that I saw. Why?”
“Nothing, I just thought I heard more people.”
“Sorry. At least, not that I saw. Did you see if someone was at check-in? Maybe someone is trying to sign up for classes.”
Tabitha and Rick exchange a glance, then Tabitha darts back the way she came. Rick smiles at her, but the smile is sad, then he follows her mother. When they’re gone, Charlotte sags against the stall and braces herself with her hands on her knees.
She knows. All this time Charlotte has been hiding what she knows and what she suspects to spare her mother’s feelings. Tabitha has been doing the same for her. All this time they could have compared notes and worked together on a plan to get out of here. All this time that she can’t get back has been wasted.
As much as she’d like to run after her mother and begin that discussion now, the first riders of the day begin trickling in. The morning is filled with lessons. She volunteers to pick up their lunch, racing back with their brown paper bags filled with sandwiches and snack-sized bags of chips and cookies. The sodas are well-shaken by the time she gets back and drops them onto the picnic table.
Tabitha gives her a baffled laugh and asks, “What’s the rush? My goodness. You’re as red as a beet!”
Instead of sitting across from her as usual, Charlotte slides onto the bench next to her mother. She shoves one of the bags over and whispers, “Eat like normal. Just be normal. Don’t open the soda yet.”
“What are you talking about?” The smile fades and Tabitha lowers her voice to a whisper as well. “What happened? Did you see something?”
Charlotte looks around to be sure no one is close. They’re alone. Riding lessons have stopped in deference to the midday heat, leaving the horses to relax. Junior is eyeing them from across the fence, knowing
