Submitted for the January 2024 prompt: Weather Warnings

“You ever get sick of eating cull?” Jay asked. His face puckered as he chewed.

 

My fingers were getting prickly from the cold, so I ate a couple berries too.

 

“Sure, but it’s not like we have a choice,” I said. Actually, we’d be dead without them, I thought.

 

“Good point,” he said. A smile engulfed his face, and he darted off into the snow.

 

Damn. I envied his innocence. Guard towers peppered the icy horizon and Jay was having the time of his life. Kids his age didn’t know any differently. He had no idea that only a few miles away kids just like him would come home to a fireplace and a warm bath. I resented the hell of this forced labor.

 

I buried my arm in the snow up to the armpit. Once a large enough hole was carved out, Jay would dangle in to pick the berries where they grew against the frozen dirt. By then, I’d already be digging out the next spot.

 

When the backpack was full, we ate some cull. A flush rescued Jay’s patchy blue pallor. We were always trying to stay ahead of the signs of hypothermia.

 

It was time to head back for the count. When the snow got too deep, I powered through with my legs and pulled Jay on the sled behind me.

 

“Can you go faster, please. I’ve always wanted to try a hot drink,” Jay shouted gallingly. Kids really are suckers for prizes, I thought.

 

“You’re — really — pushing it, little man,” I said, shaking my head. “You wouldn’t know a hot drink if it scalded your tongue.”

 

“What the heck does scalded mean?”

 

“Never mind,” I said.

 

The frigid wind resisted us. That Jay was putting in so much effort for these assholes made me want to puke. I knew I should tell him the truth, but I wanted to protect him as long as I could. He had such a rare lightness to him. The thought gave me a sudden urge.

 

“Jay, watch the sled. I’m going to take a quick pee.” All I could think was protect Jay from winning. Then without quite understanding why, I did something unconscionable. While Jay waited back at the sled, I pitched six fistfuls of cull from the backpack as far off into the snow as I could throw.

 

When we finally arrived at Town Center, we piled our loads into our bin for a guard to add to our running tallies. The hardest-working kids would be rewarded. Ma whispered to me, “Thank you for taking such good care of Jay. I love you.” I was trembling from what I had just done. The cull that I had discarded could have saved a life.

 

The General announced a moment of silence to remember all those who had died before there was cullberry. Pa tightened his fist but didn’t dare speak out. Ma brushed the powder off of Jay’s hair.

 

Then came the count. All the children stood to a limp round of applause. The General’s voice projected crisply despite the whipping wind.

 

A soldier opened the line to the town’s sole geothermal well with a loud screech. He stirred water and cocoa together in an ancient pot and actual steam rose out of the top. He poured the contents into a small cup. The crowd, young and old alike, watched blankly.

 

“Please join me as we reward our most dedicated workers during this past year. With 5,895 berries, will the Derrick boys, Jay and Samuel, please join me on stage?”

 

The crowd pivoted towards Jay and me. My mind was spinning. We must have really gathered a substantial amount to win despite my self-sabotage. Pa nodded at us and we made our way through the crowd.

 

Jay peered into the cup like he was about to sip from the holy grail. He nearly forgot to thank the General had I not nudged him. Hungry eyes watched from the crowd. If I hadn’t been on stage with him, I might not have noticed. When he swallowed, cold tears leeched from his eyes.

 

* * *

 

After that day, my carefree brother was gone.

 

I told him everything. How heat had become an endangered resource. That we had become slaves forced to scavenge resources for our captors. How beyond the fences, there were children who got to age in their own time. How when resources burned, humanity melted.

 

Pa had told me once that if he squinted hard enough at the snowy plain, he could almost imagine that he was looking out at the ocean from a sunny beach. I have to remind him not to talk about that stuff. It’s better to forget, I think, but even better to have never known at all.