COMPLETE! The Wasteland. A woman screams in the night. Spotlights flash on a pile of dust in the desolate patch of land that lay just beyond the tall crosses that picket the boundary of Encampment R-34. A group of curious students leave their bunkho...
MELL'S NOTES BOOK July 29, 2245 Entry #4 - Handwritten
I know I shouldn't be writing. My job-head, an unusually ugly old woman by the name of Ireath, explained to me that recording disagreeables and most-unforgettables in my Notes Book should be reserved for dinner-hour. I think that's on purpose, since no one would sacrifice their opportunity to eat so they could complain to themselves. Suppose it just gives me something else to complain about, in the end.
Nearly a week has gone by and I hadn't seen Bryne until about an hour ago. It was pretty clear after we were told immediately to stay away from one another, that when Ireath chose to pin us as General Tasks, the Elders were sending a message to anyone who considers filing a petition for physical engagement before Commencement Day. I realize now that Bryne and I should have been more patient. We probably would have been pinned into the jobs we'd worked for all these years. At least Bryne and I don't have to hold back anymore, now that we're Generals. I'm showing the strength and grit I've always had in me, and Bryne is finally using his mind. Ireath must have seen it coming because he was quickly assigned to the Photovoltaic Power Garden with the Scientists. The Scientist life-job has been full for years. They never have more than three at a time. Bryne would have worked hard to be a Scientist if there was an opening, but we were in a rush to apply for sanctioned sexual relations, and now he's been downgraded to work alongside the lowest of the low. And that meant switching to medical detail with the Helpers the following week to assist at Hospital House. The good news is that we spoke for the first time tonight, and he was able to tell me how Edie is doing. That last part is the bad news.
Edie's gunshot wound is festering. I was worried at first that the wasteland sickness had somehow reached her after being past the picket boundary for a few seconds, or that bleeding near the desolate patch had allowed the infection to enter her body. Bryne assured me that it was only from the bullet, but that Hospital House is low on supplies. I didn't want to know how low.
That's another reason why people don't want to be pinned as a General. Since we get moved around to every life-job, you learn a little bit about everything at the encampment, which means "you get to know how the sausage is made". That's what General Ireath says. I don't really understand that saying, but it sounds disgusting. I've seen the inside of a sausage, and I'd prefer not to know how to interpret such a phrase.
Speaking of sausages, I've been working with Roz and the other Cookers most of the week in Mess Hall. Roz has learned the intricacies of the grills and iceboxes and took to the kitchen better than any graduate I've ever seen. She tied her hair back with a washrag and immediately got her hands dirty by processing the meats and pulverizing the grains. Since Generals are often assigned the more backbreaking and monotonous tasks, I spent my days there separating a bail of silverware that the Scavers had been collecting for years into two piles. The usable and the meltable.
Apparently, the Watchmen are making a new tower soon and need the metal, although I have no clue where they're going to put it. One of my fellow Generals thinks they're returning to the defunct expansion plan in order to enlarge the camp. The expansion started when we were children. You can still see a portion of abandoned fencing trailing up the hillside, wrapped in vines. It was canceled when winter came and a nasty flu killed off a tenth of the encampment. Maybe the Watchmen were waiting for this year's Commencement. If that's the case, it's not going to work out well for Bryne and I. Generals have to do the scary work, as well. I'll never forget when the storm lights went out and a General Task had to hang over the roof of Watchtower J to fix the wiring. And everyone was watching them daily during the expansion plan, as they moved the crosses a few inches at a time to make room for new fencing. I remember their terrified faces most. They constantly looked over their shoulders, as if something unseen was always lurking in the tall grass. And yippee, I get to be one of those people now.
Lenny has been standing at the front of Church Hall these days. They shaved his head clean and gave him a new name, which we expected. We now have to address him as Luther Priest when he passes by. I wonder what they told him. From the gaunt expression and dark circles under his eyes, I imagine it's quite terrifying. Maybe it's better not to know. I'll make a note to tell that to the younger students if I'm ever asked.
Felicity is in charge of a young student. Actually a former student. The girl's name is Paisley. She has an innocent face and a hot head, from what I hear. After being pulled out of schooling, she was placed with the Helpers to care for the infants in Nursery Ward across from the bunkhouses. When she comes of age, they will assign her a proper job. Probably General Task. I've seen Paisley fighting with Felicity. She knows a lot of nasty language. I don't know why they put the two of them together. In my opinion, Paisley acts a lot more like Roz. That was a strange decision by the job-head. Same goes with pairing Felicity to that irksome oddball, Trigger. That's not for me to question, I know. They pinned the life-job to Felicity. The two of them need a Guardian and she must fit the bill.
Lane seems happy in the job that was perfect for me, working one-on-one with Scavers as a Trader at the Inventory Post. She keeps track of what we have, what we need, and monitors letters that are delivered from other encampments through a fat brown bird they call a Carrier. You can roll a small note and attach it to their ankle. I'm not entirely sure why Carrier Birds are safe when the other ones are dangerous enough to make us cross ourselves. Maybe Lenny, I mean Luther, will let it slip one day and I'll find out.
Crevan has been causing a stir with the Breeders. They walk the encampment like Elders-in-waiting. Then there's Rufus. I've seen him the least. Word is, he's out past the boundary with the other Scavers. As for Oscar, I see him the most. He stands at Watchtower D, binoculars at the ready with his back to Masen. They haven't given Oscar a gun yet. I wonder when the Watchmen will train him to shoot. They must do that somewhere privately, beyond the pickets, because the first time I ever heard a gunshot was when Edie tried to escape.
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