Brothers, page 1
Brothers
A Prequel to the Red Dog Conspiracy
Patricia Loofbourrow
Copyright © 2022 Patricia Loofbourrow
Cover design © 2022 Patricia Loofbourrow
Background graphics by Artie Cabrera
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1-944223-49-6
Quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson is from his essay, “The Poet,” published in 1844, which is in the public domain.
This is a work of fiction.
No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express written consent of the publisher.
Published by Red Dog Press, LLC
Table of Contents
Leaving
New
Life
Lessons
Bridges
Vision
Beauty
Traveling
Job
Hope
White
Sick
Friends
Messages
Behavior
Impulse
Questions
Companion
Trouble
Gone
Changes
Familiar
Purchase
Fixation
Threat
Family
Sworn
War
Focus
Outing
Suspicion
Caught
Punished
Grief
Discovery
Plot
Decision
Dream
Free
The Players
To those just trying to make their way.
The time: 1885 years after the Catastrophe.
The place: the Merca Federal Union — a federation of independent domed city-states in what was once called North America.
Opening the Aperture to peer into the city of Dickens, let us begin.
Leaving
“Congratulations. They want you.”
“Oh!” Daniel felt so ... surprised ... that he didn’t know what else to say.
You went to the viewing the month you turned sixteen. Everyone did. An old, brown-skinned man with round spectacles had come to Daniel’s viewing a few months back and talked to him for some time. That had been it.
From what Daniel was told, some were bought at their viewing; a few left that same day. But he’d also been told that it could take a while to find out whether your buyer wanted you, or if they’d changed their mind.
He figured the man had changed his mind.
Daniel peered at Miz Lisbet sitting behind her desk. He was one of the lucky ones. Yet it meant leaving. “What happens now?”
Miz Lisbet smiled like she thought he’d lost half the cards in his hand. “You’ll need new clothes for the training in Nitivali. It’s a rush order, so you’ll leave tonight.”
Daniel gaped at her. Tonight? “Yes, mum,” was all he could muster. He felt stunned, unable to move.
She glanced up at him. “You’re dismissed.”
Her voice startled him. “Oh! Yes, mum, sorry, mum.” He bowed and hurried out, carefully closing the door behind him.
He was supposed to go directly to the big room where the boys lived, but he turned beside her door, hands to his face, and leaned his forehead against the wall.
It’s what I always wanted. But it’s so soon.
Daniel didn’t remember anything before the Home. From the women who ran the place and the men who came to fix things or administer beatings, Daniel learned to be sociable, to be observant, to glean any skill or insight he could.
But the other boys were his real family. They were his brothers.
Daniel had realized long before this that even though he’d never seen it, there was more to this world than inside the Home. Some who never got sold never left: they served here until they died.
He wanted more.
I want to live, he thought. I want to do something worthwhile.
Feeling self-conscious, Daniel straightened, wiped his eyes, patted his cheeks, took some deep breaths. He wanted to look like a man who’d pleased his buyers. Someone capable. A man moving up in the world.
I can do this.
When he went round the corner into the huge, door-less room, the other boys swarmed him. “What happened? Why’d she call you? Are you in trouble?”
Daniel forced a smile. “They wanted me. I’m to leave tonight!”
There were sixty boys in there, but the room fell silent. A little one grabbed his legs and began bawling.
He was four, and fairly new. Daniel picked him up, the boy’s soft little arms and legs wrapping tight around him. Lost his parents to fever, now lost me.
Daniel’s eyes stung. But he had to be strong, for them. “It’s okay. This is good. I get new clothes to ride on the zeppelin!”
The boy lifted his round, tear-streaked face to him, astonished. “You get to ride the zeppelin?”
Daniel set him down and knelt before him. “Sure do.” Feeling moved, he ruffled the boy’s straight black hair, kissed his pale little forehead, and stood.
Whoops and cheering. One of them said, “You lucky ...” A flurry of punches and slaps came to Daniel’s shoulders and back whilst his hair was ruffled as well. But it was all in good humor.
He had to breathe to keep smiling. They’ll miss me too.
After a while, the questions died down. He didn’t know anything, other than what Miz Lisbet just said. Nitivali must be a city, under a dome like theirs, but he didn’t know where.
Soon the others drifted away to their bunks. Some hid their heads under pillows, shoulders shaking, a sob breaking the silence.
Daniel didn’t move. He wanted to look at this room he’d spent his life in, fix it in his memory forever.
White walls, painted over every spring. Rusting iron bunks with traces of pale blue. Pillows on coverlets on sleeping pads on boards, each as thick as the other. Windows high in the wall let in the late morning light, but it was a good clean light, and the sky beyond was blue.
After dinner, they’d light the tallow-candle lamps set on the narrow cabinets between each bunk, tell stories, snore. Between that was various work: cleaning, preparing food, taking care of the animals, the gardens. But they always got time off when someone was called to Miz Lisbet.
Jacob stood watching him. Jacob looked like he was twelve, but he’d been chosen last week at his viewing. “I’m leaving today, too. You think we’ll ride the same ship?”
“Hope so,” Daniel said. “They tell you what you’re doing?”
Jacob shook his head. “Kind of worries me.”
Daniel chuckled. Everything worried Jacob. “Don’t suppose they’d pay all that money unless they plan to keep us a while.”
A shriek split the silence.
Miz Albaletta stood in the doorway, brass whistle in hand. She was portly and real old, at least fifty, with a pasty face and round silver-rimmed spectacles. “Luncheon,” she bellowed, then disappeared down the corridor.
She didn’t mean time to eat — it wasn’t yet eleven. She meant time to clean, set the fires, chop, slice, cook, and set the tables.
The oldest ones managed the youngest. So as the middling boys swept the floor, the oldest ones got the little ones’ hands washed and dried, which took some time, then had them carry wooden dishes, bowls, and cups to each place, marked with black lines on the narrow wooden tables.
Once that was done, the very youngest were sent to Miz Albaletta. She usually passed them on to one of the monitors, who’d have them do things like gather apples for this meal or wash potatoes for the next. The next older placed the dented metal spoons. The ones old enough to be trusted set the forks and knives.
Babies were in another Home. The ones who survived were brought over once they could use the toilet without help.
When the tables were set, the older ones unstacked the armless wooden chairs for the middlings to put in their places. Sometimes the littler ones helped, other times they played on the floor out of the way or went to Miz Albaletta if she had something for them to do. Usually a couple of middling girls would come running up, breathless, to take them over.
The girls were in another building altogether. The boys didn’t do much with them, except sometimes work beside them in the gardens. But that was when all the monitors came out, peering at the boys with suspicion, as if they might steal a carrot or tomato.
Soon enough the little ones were settled. Then most of the boys stood at their places for prayers. They all made the sign of the Board, crossing their arms to grasp their shoulders.
As eldest of the monitors, Miz Albaletta gave the prayer:
“Most Noble Floorman, we give thanks for the bounty You have provided through Lady Luck’s Blessing upon our land. Help this food and drink grant us strength to play the Holy Cards the Inerrant Shuffler most generously provided at our birth for the good of all. Praise be to the Blessed Dealer, whose skill gave us bodies and minds dealt true. Oh Holy Cards, teach us your wisdom this day. Amen.”
“Amen.”
The oldest ones served the youngest, then everyone else, then the cooks (the ones just younger), and then got to eat some.
By this time the youngest were squirming, so it became a race to finish eating before they made a mess. Then it was time to clean up, which took about as long as setting.
Once the youngest ones began scraping the few leftovers into one little wagon and stacking the plates in another, Daniel flopped into a chair, Jacob beside him.
“One more time, then we’re done,” Jacob said.
Daniel stared at Jacob in surprise. “I never considered it.”
“I wonder what they’ll have us doing wherever we end up.”
A laugh began inside Daniel but never made it out. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I wonder what Nitivali’s like.”
“What you should be wondering,” Miz Albaletta said from behind them, “is whether you’ll leave tonight at all.” She pointed to the little ones, who had stacked the plates so high they threatened to topple.
Jacob and Daniel leapt from their chairs.
“Hold on there, you!” Daniel shouted. The wagon veered to the right, scattering plates and bits of food across the floor. “Only stack to twenty, understand? Then you bring them to the washers.”
One of the little boys began to cry.
Jacob knelt beside him. “It’s okay. Let’s count them again.”
***
Once the room was cleaned, Miz Albaletta brought Daniel and Jacob to a carriage. But before they got in, Miz Albaletta gave each of them a hug, something she’d never done before. She cradled Daniel’s face in her chubby hands, then kissed him on the forehead. “Be safe, dear boy.”
He smiled, surprised at the emotion in her voice. “I will.”
Daniel had never been outside the grounds of the Home before, much less in a carriage, and thought it was great fun. People were everywhere. Other carriages passed by on either side. The buildings were brown and blue and gray.
Jacob lay on the brown leather bench seat, face white, moaning the entire ride.
Once the carriage stopped, they were taken inside, to a room so beautiful it took Daniel’s breath away. The walls were made of wood, but this wood was golden brown and ... it shone.
Everything was shiny, metal and glass. The room smelled wonderful, and the most amazing clothes Daniel had ever seen lay atop shelves or hung on forms shaped like men.
“This way,” an older man said.
Jacob was already gone. Daniel let the man guide him to a small room with swinging half-doors which hung about the level of Daniel’s head and extended past his knees.
The man said, “Let’s have these old clothes off you.”
Daniel recoiled. “You want me to take off my clothes? What kind of place is this?”
The man seemed unaffected. “Young man, I can’t put new clothes on you with your old ones on. If you prefer, I can step into the hall whilst you undress.”
Daniel felt foolish. But it all seemed so strange. “Yes, please.”
The man sniffed. “Perhaps a bath might first be in order.” He moved past, and it was then Daniel noticed another set of doors behind him, just like the ones he went through. The man opened one. “Bath for this one, then call me when he’s ready.”
The heat rushed to Daniel’s face as a young woman came to the doors. “Come on, then,” she said, and he didn’t know what else to do but follow.
Daniel had heard of baths but never had one: they lined up for a few minutes under the shower once a week in winter, twice a week in summer. The small room with a tub half full of hot water made him hesitate.
“Take everything off and put it in this,” the woman said, pointing to a large basket on the floor, then she left, the doors swinging shut behind her.
Towels hung on a golden stand. A chair sat by the wall to his right with underpants, socks, a comb. A full-length mirror on a stand was before that, and Daniel looked himself over.
I don’t think I look so bad.
He sniffed himself. He didn’t smell anything out of the ordinary. But he didn’t know how long he had in there, so he took off everything and got into the water.
Soap sat on a stand beside the tub, and once he figured how not to slide around, the warm water was rather pleasant.
A knock at the door. “You almost done?”
Panic. “Wait!”
A laugh, but it was kind. “Just checking.”
Daniel leapt from the tub and dried off as fast as he could, then put on the underpants. The floor was wet, and he didn’t want to get the socks wet, so he held them. No other clothes were in the room. “What do I put on?”
“You can wrap in the towel if you want,” she said.
It sounded as if she hadn’t moved, which made him glad to wrap in a towel. Had she stood there the entire time? The idea intrigued him.
Finally, he took a deep breath, willed himself to relax. He was just one in a long line of orphans to come through there. He pulled the towel tight around himself. “Come in.”
Her glance went to the tub, now filled with brown-gray water, and Daniel’s cheeks burned.
“Come on.” She led him to the room he was in before. The man was there along with several fine suits of clothing which hung on hooks on the wall behind him.
“I hope your bath was pleasant.”
The man’s tone was so decidedly neutral that Daniel almost laughed. “Very good. Thank you.”
The man helped Daniel into a shirt, some trousers, a vest, shoes, and a jacket. Then they moved out of the small room. The man took out a measuring tape and put it around Daniel’s head. Then the man moved to a row of caps. “Which do you prefer?”
Daniel’s clothes were dark gray, so he picked a cap to match.
The man nodded approvingly. “Do the shoes fit?”
Daniel wiggled his toes. “They seem fine to me.”
“I’ll have two sets of shoes, four of clothing, and six of undergarments sent to your room.”
“My room?”
“At the training. When you arrive. They’ll teach you what to do with them there.”
Before this, it hadn’t seemed real that he was truly going there. But if they were sending his things ...
Daniel touched the fine cloth that now hung on him, soft as the little boy’s arms. “What now?”
For the first time, the man smiled. “A haircut and a shave.”
New
Everything was new, from the barber chair to a different girl cleaning his fingernails to a new man shining his shoes.
A different man led Daniel back to the carriage and there sat Jacob. Daniel hardly recognized him. “Damn, you look good.”
Jacob laughed. “They prettied us up for sure.” But then his face sobered. “What kind of place are we going to?”
“We’re not gonna dig carrots, that’s for sure.”
Jacob nodded slowly. “Whoever set this up just spent a hell of a lot of money. What if they don’t like us?”
“I’m sure they thought about that before they paid. Besides, what could happen? If they don’t like us, they’ll send us back.”
But no one had ever come back.
Daniel looked at the lengthening shadows outside the carriage window and wondered what the hell he’d just gotten himself into.
“Looking out seems to help,” Jacob said.
“Good thing — laying down’d mess that pretty hair of yours.”
Jacob’s hair was almost as dark as Daniel’s, but with a bit of a wave to it. Now it looked shiny too, wet but not wet, slicked back all nice.
“If I didn’t know better,” Jacob said, “I’d say you were getting sweet on me.”
Daniel laughed. “You can like the way things look, can’t you?”
Jacob grinned, cheeks reddening, as he stared out of the window. “I suppose so.”
There weren’t any shops here, just a few homes and some fields. “Hey,” Daniel said. “Where are we going? I don’t remember this.”
“I don’t know.” Jacob stuck his head out of the window. Then he turned to Daniel, awestruck. “I just saw a zeppelin!”
Terror, excitement, and chagrin filled Daniel all at once. “We’re leaving? They didn’t let us say goodbye!”
Jacob’s face fell. He slumped forward, elbows on his knees, head down. “We’re never going to see them again.”
Daniel remembered when Miz Albaletta she sent them off. The hug, the emotion in her voice. She was saying goodbye.
***
They stopped at a roadside inn to water the horses, to use the toilet, to walk around. A zeppelin rose slowly in the far distance, lit from below by the lights of the city. Daniel never imagined anything could be so big.
It turned out their zeppelin was much bigger.
