Sleep, for me, was easier than it should have been while living amongst superiors - because the undead were just waiting for me to come outside to be devoured. I guess you could say I had grown custom to it. Better to sleep inside, within the thick metal walls, than out in the wild with the horrors.
Even during the day, there were terrors in the wild. Anyone could get lost in the wild's huge overgrown forests and jungles. Gramma told me the trees and plants never used to be so grand. Less people on the planet meant more room for the foliage to grow, and grow it did. It grew along old, cracked buildings, through broken pavement on the ground that used to be called roads, which sounded like small versions of the passageways - how the superiors transported goods -to me, and the plants swallowed up the old fashioned, little homes within it's colossal, green bulk. It would be much too easy to get lost in all of the green.
During the day, there were still the deaders to worry about, since they didn't sleep. Also, there were untamed animals that could rip a firsty to shreds as easily as any superior could. Gramma said these, too, were never as large as today. It seemed like whatever happened when the deaders began to rise, had given everything else a boost.
We were lucky, on some levels, that the pathogen that reanimated the dead didn't seem to effect the animals. In turn, that reason is probably why the hybrids weren't effected, since they were more animal than human. It wasn't like anyone could just be bitten and be a hybrid. That was a myth; something only in the books I'd read and the stories my grandma told. The truth was it was a mutation. Evolution had changed them, not a magical bite. We never knew who had the gene and who didn't until they hit puberty. Sometimes, firsties in the compounds would just wake up one day and realize they were different. When the superiors noticed it, they tossed out the hybrids. They can't feed on their blood. Either it makes them sick, or they just didn't like it; I wasn't sure which. The superiors had no use for them. If they were a hybrid, they were basically safe from the superiors and the deaders, because the deaders weren't interested in their flesh either, even if they were a lot like firsties sometimes.
I suppose that was evolution's way of keeping firsties around. Deaders were...well, dead. Superiors looked like us, but they were something else. Hybrids were firsties half of the time. If we weren't born a hybrid, we would never be one, but to honest, they were becoming much more common as the nights go by. I knew two perfectly regular firsties could have a hybrid child, but I had no idea if two hybrids could have a firsty. If they did, they never brought them to the compounds. If they did, they protected them somehow. From what I'd seen on the programs, they were pretty efficient whilst battling deaders. I could only imagine what a pack of them could do.
•••
Upon waking that night, I didn't ponder on the frightening aspect of things. This night was a special night for me, by firsty terms. It was my seventeenth birthday. I would be considered an adult from now on. That didn't mean I would move out to my own living quarters, or that I would necessarily get a chore around the compound - though I would be eligible to request one.
It meant a party.
Not the kind of party that my grandma remembered, back when they would throw extravagant bashes to welcome a human into adulthood - the age was eighteen then. It was simply a small celebration of recognition with cake and booze available. This benefited both firsties and superiors, I've been informed. The firsties could drink away their troubles and have some fun, and the superiors could bleed them after they'd gotten nice and sloshed. If the firsties had alcohol in their blood when the superiors took it, they could get drunk on us. Superiors loved to get drunk. It was the perfect type of chaotic rush their brains relished on; an extra oomph to their ever monotonous routine.
I had never been permitted to drink before, though I had entertained the thought. It was a chance to let loose, and feel somewhat uninhibited.
I hopped out of bed with a wide grin. I didn't have much else to look forward to in this frightening, disturbing existence, so I let happiness move me for once. I showered and dressed in a haze, wondering what wine coolers tasted like. Mom said they were her favorite; fruity like juice, but carbonated like soda with just a dash of courage mixed in. Courage was good. Courage to face the superiors night after night, courage to lay immobile on that icy table while they took your blood time after time, courage to accept being a bleeder is your fate, and nothing will ever change, courage to slap that annoying Hector superior if he decided to corner me to make hungry eyes at me again. I could really use some courage.
Gramma beamed when I emerged from the tiny bathroom.
"Happy birthday, love. Come sit. Lets sing together," she beckoned.
It was the best kind of gift that she could give me, bless her old, fragile heart. I loved to sing, and I loved to sing with her. It was one of the few joys we could partake in. My grandma had the voice of a songbird, a trait that I'd fortunately inherited. She said I had a voice more beautiful than the harp's song, and she would know. She'd remembered something from all genres of music from her day and before.
My parents were off doing their chores already, but Skip joined us to listen. We sang a song about love, a favorite of mine, by a firsty grandma called Celine Dion. I wondered if Celine Dion's pitch and intensity had matched Gramma's, but soon I got too caught up in the moment. I lost recognition of even the world around us as I crooned on. We managed a few more songs before the breakfast buzzer shrieked.
I slipped on my jacket and zipped it securely, before the hum and stepped out of the door with the song still in my heart. I yelped when I came face to chest with a rigid Hector, who'd been waiting on the other side. I turned thinking of bolting back inside. However, upon re-consideration, That would have been a terrible reaction. I needed to show him I wasn't going to be intimidated by him all the time - even though he was extremely intimidating.
"Hi." I told him reluctantly.
Skip just went on toward the dining area without even a backwards glance. He didn't care what we were talking about. All that mattered was that I was safe - I came in the night before after talking to the superior, so apparently he had no intention of harming me. That was all Skip needed to know. He trusted them too much. He would, since he envied them.
Hector pulled a deadly, stunning grin again. For a superior, he was an odd one.
"Hi. Nice voice," he said.
I gaped. I hadn't dreamed anyone, even a superior, could hear through the thick walls of that place. Still, I was less concerned with his magnificent abilities, and more concerned with his lack of respect.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you eavesdropping was bad?" I asked.
"I am bad," he stated slyly, his eyes darkening with his words.
"Stop that," I yelped. "It's creepy."
He laughed, a true laugh - not a chuckle. It was a loud, chilling, and extraordinary sound. I had never heard a superior laugh. I wasn't sure I ever wanted to again.
"You're calling me creepy? You've lived around the real creeps for much longer than I have . . ."
Huh? Was he saying firsties were creepy? He sure didn't seem to think so last night, I thought smugly. I chose not to comment, but instead to turn and go along my merry way. He wasn't deterred, as I could feel him keeping pace beside me.
"It's pretty creepy to wait by my quarters all the same," I pointed out.
"Is that why they call you Harper?" he asked, paying no mind to my statement.
"Yep," I admitted. "Voice like the harp's song and whatnot." I waved a nonchalant hand as if to say, "no biggie."
"I disagree."
"Really?" I replied, trying to not care what he thought in the least.
"It's much more beautiful than the harp's song," he told me.
I was touched, honestly. The compliment was a big deal coming from someone as familiar with never faulting melodious vocals such as a superior, but to show my pleasure would be showing him weakness. He would think he had busted down the wall that I was cautiously still mentally reinforcing.
They can all be great flatterers if they wish to be; this new one was no different, I reminded myself.
"Of course, I never could play the harp, blasted things," he went on as if he hadn't noticed my attempt at indifference at all. "Whenever I tried it would sound like a goose dying-"
"What's a goose?" I asked.
What an odd thing to say. It must have been a creature if it could be heard dying.
"Ah- well, it's a kind of bird, you know?"
"Like a sparrow?"
He had my attention now. Wasn't he born in a compound like me? He has to be new...so how does he know about this goose I've never heard of? Had they given him different books that I hadn't read yet? I wondered if he still had them. I'd read ours so many times, I nearly knew them by heart. Maybe he would let me borrow some. I rejected the thought. I didn't actually want to touch anything he'd touched with his filthy bloody hands. Well...they weren't actually bloody, but metaphorically...
"No different than that. Never mind. Time to do some guarding. Gotta make sure nobody does anything except eat and breathe." He said sarcastically.
I didn't think he liked his job very much.
I grabbed a loaded tray and found my family in the busy room. Breakfast was the popular time, so the dining hall was packed. They made the expected fuss about my birthday, but no one gave me gifts. That was a thing they used to do...before.
"So, then the stupid deader, he actually got up and ran at him again!" Skip exclaimed to someone behind us. He was turned around in his seat beside me having a perfectly gruesome conversation.
"I'm trying to eat, Dumbo." I said.
"Oh, come on, sis. You're a big girl now," he argued, but he simmered down.
"Have you given any thought to putting in a request for a chore?" my father asked me between bites of his bacon.
"I haven't really thought about it. Maybe I will." My mind did something dangerous then, and it thought, if I did, maybe I would see Hector more often.
I felt like ramming my head into something. I was losing my mind. I hated them! Though, I had to admit, he did seem to be different. There was just something about him. He seemed to be able to relate to me on some level - probably a product of his newness. He must be fresh enough to recall being a firsty. If he didn't act like a pervert by doing something as bold as opening my jacket again, maybe I could tolerate him.
"You should give it a chance." For a mortifying moment, I thought my father meant the superior, but I realized he was still talking about getting a chore.
"Well, it's hard to get one where you want to be. I don't know." I mumbled.
"Tell me about it. I've been waiting for an opening at the lab for a year now." My brother complained.
He only wanted at the lab to be close to Starsky. It was a common thing for firsties to develop crushes on the superiors, since they were perfect in nearly every way except their diet and their lack of humane emotions. It was practically unheard of that a superior might find interest in a firsty at all. Why me? I wondered.
Hector was still staring at me, but instead of feeling uneasy about it, I found myself enjoying my meal more than usual. This was a strange development. I chalked it down to being relieved to discover he wasn't waiting to attack me as soon as he got the chance...or was he? He winked, a sly gesture for only me to notice. What was I getting myself into?