There were two breaks: a hasty lunch in a canteen that served up the unappetizing with a side order of the inedible, and a ten-minute tools-down in the afternoon. At shift’s end on that first day, every limb trembling with exhaustion, Luke crept out of the components shed and towards the bus stop. Back at the dorm, desperate equally for food and sleep, he limped up the stairs to the skanky communal kitchen. He’d need to eat to give him strength to get through the next day.
‘Luke?’
He turned from the cupboard he was searching for a tin of something that he might know how to cook – or even open – and saw a face he dimly recognized.
‘O’Connor B-780,’ the guy said, just as Luke’s failure to remember his name was getting embarrassing. ‘I mean, Ryan. I was a few years above you at Henshall Academy. Started my days straight after.’
‘Sorry,’ Luke mumbled. ‘Of course I remember you. I only arrived yesterday. Still adjusting.’
‘No worries,’ said Ryan. ‘No wonder you’re all over the place. Here, I’ll fix us both something.’
Luke would have eaten his own socks by that point, so he fell on the beans on toast that Ryan put in front of him. He was happy to let Ryan talk – though it turned out there wasn’t much to say about two years of days. His former schoolmate was considering converting to the military route: three years of labour followed by seven years of conscripted service as a ‘mauler’, then a minimum of ten years enlisted. As a mauler you were still a slave and didn’t get pay or benefits, but you did get a head start in your career in the forces.
‘Only downside,’ said Ryan, around a forkful of beans, ‘is that the maulers get all the most dangerous assignments. No compensation payable if you get injured or killed, you see.’
As downsides went, Luke thought that wasn’t insignificant. He didn’t mention Kyneston, remembering Kessler’s taunting and the reaction of the men he’d arrived with. But he had to offer small talk about something, so he told Ryan about the girl he’d met, the one delivering medicine. Ryan frowned.
‘Morphine? That doesn’t sound right. There’s no way a kid that age would have access to it. She must have stolen it, been trading it. You should report her.’
‘Report her?’
‘Safest thing,’ said Ryan. ‘Security here is fierce. Infringements are slapped on you for the smallest thing, and bigger violations add years onto your days. For serious offences, there’s slavelife. Apparently lifer camps make this place look like a palatial estate. But it goes both ways. If you flag up something dodgy, it buys you favour with Security.’
Luke thought that through. He was pretty sure the girl hadn’t been selling the drug. It had sounded more like she was delivering it to someone who really needed it. And while Ryan’s account of how Millmoor worked made a fair amount of sense, it also sounded a lot like snitching at school.
‘So where did you see her?’ Ryan asked.
In his memory, Luke clearly saw the rusted sign screwed to the wall, the word ‘East’ and the row of five 1s.
‘No idea, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘It was my first day. Barely know where I am right now, though I do know that my bed is a couple of floors up. Thanks for the feast, but I’m going to turn in. See you around.’
He pushed back his chair and left. And despite the million and one thoughts churning in his head, Luke was asleep the minute his head hit the thin, lumpy pillow.
On Wednesday, he got up and did it all over again. And Thursday. And Friday. On Saturday, he ate his congealed horror of a lunch in record time and was using the remainder of his break to poke around a corner of Zone D he hadn’t seen before (dirty and noisy, like every other corner he’d investigated so far) when a voice spoke from the shadows.
‘How’s it goin’, Luke Hadley?’
As far as Luke knew, only four people in Millmoor knew his name, and only one of them was a girl.
‘How did you get in here?’ he asked Renie, who was wedged into the corner behind a tool shed. ‘More importantly, why did you get in?’
‘Shopping trip,’ said Renie. ‘And social call. Came to see how you was getting on. Well, you still got all your limbs, so you’re doing awright.’
She tipped her head back and gave that inappropriately husky laugh. It sounded like she smoked fifty a day. Or like she’d lived her whole life in Millmoor, breathing the tar that passed for air here.
‘Shopping? What, for a new turbine?’
‘Nothin’ so fancy.’ Renie grinned, and pulled her tunic up a few inches to reveal what must be metres of cabling wrapped round her middle. It was red-and-white striped – the fine, super high-strength variety. (It was amazing how fast you learned about cables in a week of trusting your life to them.)
So she did steal stuff. Was Ryan right about her?
‘But that’s not the main thing. I’m here to ask your help. Reckon you owe me for getting you out of that tricky spot in East-1.’
Luke spluttered, but Renie carried right on.
‘One of your workmates’ kids got her glasses smashed last week. Girl’s blind as a mole, but she don’t need to see properly for her packing job over in Ag-Fac, and things like specs ain’t high on the priority list in Millmoor. Anyway – ta-da! Will you be my delivery boy?’
She produced a flat plastic case from her back pocket and held it out. Luke opened it. A pair of glasses. He took out the little cloth they were wrapped in and felt around for any secret compartments that might contain drugs. But it was just a hard plastic shell.