Lottery Read online

  THREE

  THE STAIRCASE RAILING WAS smooth like glass where Tabitha gripped the cool metal. Through the long metal tube, she felt the distant pings speak to her in an exotic language. She tightened her grip, listening. Some of the vibrations were no more than a quiver, far away and weak. Other tremors were powerful, jarring. The stronger vibrations told her someone was coming. Another porter, maybe, driving up the winding staircase to reach the landing of the cafeteria. What business did they have? Were they here for Justin’s specialty? Were they here to see the mayor? Maybe they were here to glimpse the yellow airlock. People did that. She’d heard of people from all over the silo, taking a day or two, climbing up from the Down Deep to get a look at the heavy airlock hatch. Once they’d looked at the steel door, and touched the thick glass in the porthole, they’d move on to gawk at the great screens, showing the outside world.

  A hard thump rang through the staircase railing, pulling her mind back to the task at hand. A stirring came from her middle and Tabitha took her arm away, pushing it down to her side. It killed her a little inside to do that. It pained her to purposely ignore the life growing inside her, but at the same time, the life she and Justin had created was a reminder of what would happen to him if her secret was revealed.

  In the silo, there was only one response to an unplanned pregnancy. Just one. No exceptions. The father of the unborn child was always put to cleaning. Just the thought of it tore a painful hole in her heart. She braced herself against the railing while she pushed away an urge to cry. When the emotion passed, she put her hand to her hip, rubbing a dormant lump on her skin, and thought about some of the stories told to her and her friends. They were horrible stories about women who’d become pregnant—their birth control implants failing or taken out—and about the fathers not coming forward. A mix of fear and sorrow filled her as images of lifeless mounds came into her mind. The remains of the women pointed out to them after they’d had their implants activated. She wondered if any of the children had ever been brought to the cafeteria to visit with their dead mothers? Did their adopted parents tell them where they’d come from?

  Tabitha dared to look over the edge of the staircase, taking in every inch of a fall that those before her had embraced in a moment of insanity, jumping to their death. Was death better than what she was about to do? She could see more than a hundred feet. Beyond the darkness of the silo, she saw golden teeth, jutting out from the sides, pushing towards the center. It was the soft light spilling from the doorways onto the landings of each level, bleeding outward. But to her, they looked like teeth, like she was staring into the face of death, readying herself to be devoured by the silo. A decision this terrifying wasn’t deserving of the life she carried, and a sudden appreciation for the simplicity of jumping came to her.

  Her plan was simple, maybe even naïve. If she lost the baby now, then nobody would know. But could she live with the memory? Another stirring came from her belly then: another reminder. Tabitha felt the urge to rest her fingers over the motions, but forced her hand down instead; again, leaving it at her side. The lottery wasn’t a perfect solution. Nothing is perfect. But for their silo, the lottery was part of who they were. It was one of the laws they lived by… it just worked. What if I lose the baby, and find out I can’t have any more?

  The smell of something sweet breezed by her face as a porter hurried past her. The air following him was alive with the fresh fruit he was carrying; part of the cafeteria’s daily delivery. She thought of the kitchen’s schedule and the concoction of morning juices Justin had been experimenting with. The mix of citrus with other juices had only fared reasonably well, a small disappointment for him. It was all about the numbers, he’d told her: the number of mouths to feed in the silo. He’d said that to her a few times, and she’d often thought he’d obsessed over it too much. When she asked him why he wanted to mix the fruits, he’d answered something about the yield, that some fruits grew faster, and that if he was right, he could mix the fruits to make more juice, make the juices last longer for everyone. Tabitha couldn’t help herself and pushed her hand to her belly, wishing there was another kind of juice, an endless supply so that one more mouth wasn’t one too many.

  An eerie silence came to the Up Top. The chatter from the cafeteria had quieted and the stairwell was empty. She hadn’t noticed when the sounds of parents and children thinned to a mere prattling. Tabitha wondered if the dinner hour was nearing a conclusion. A rush of families would be coming towards her soon, flooding the stairs, taking their leave of the cafeteria and winding back down to their apartments for the night.

  Tabitha sensed a newfound urgency, and focused on the staircase, feeling the metal structure that tied the silo floors together. She held herself still, motionless, holding her breath, trying to sense how much time she had before anyone came out. The ringing of footsteps on the stairs had all but stopped, as did the vibrations in the railing; both were silent, keeping to themselves the secrets of those traveling upward from the Down Deep.

  “Now is the time to do this,” she mumbled. Her voice was shaky, her breathing heavy. “There’s nobody coming.”

  Tabitha stepped forward, placing one of her heels against the edge of the step. She wobbled once, and held the railing to steady herself. Hesitation held back her other foot.

  “You can do this,” she said, ignoring the flutter of her baby.

  She pulled on her back foot, willing it to move forward, until she was perched on both heels. Tabitha leaned into the fall that would take her baby. She stayed that way a moment, holding the railing with three fingers. Her fingers turned white as she pressed them against the round metal. A vibration came then, traveling into her hand. It was distant and low, but she felt it. By now she could tell how far down the stairs the person might be. Disappointment came then, a heaviness clutching her insides, as she realized she had time. A lot of time. Two fingers. Nervous sweat teased her eyes and gathered on her upper lip. She had thought she would be crying, but the fear of what she was tempting spawned a level of calmness she didn’t know she had. One finger. A brief thought of irony hit her while her feet rocked precariously on the lip of the top step: the winding staircase gave life to the silo; it bred existence into their community; and now she was going to use it to take a life. An innocent life.

  “God forgive me for this,” she mumbled. Tabitha closed her eyes and pulled her lone finger away from the staircase railing. At once, her body swayed forward—her toes resting on nothing. She was falling.

  “God forgive you for what?” she heard from behind her, and then felt the grip of hands pressing into her arms, pulling her to safety.

  FOUR

  TWO MONTHS EARLIER

  Tabitha waited for Susan, tapping her foot against the floor outside of her friend’s apartment. She heard two voices from behind the closed door. There was no mistaking Susan’s voice, and Tabitha guessed the second voice to be that of a man whom Susan had begun dating; someone from the hydroponic farm, she’d told her.

  She pegged the floor with her toe, impatience growing. Her frustration warmed her face, stirring, as the need to talk to Susan became more urgent. She swiped at the ground with an absent kick and turned her eyes towards the closed door, raising a hesitant hand and readying a ball of fingers to pounce on the scratchy gray surface.

  There was laughing and joking from the other side, and then there was silence. A bump against the door was followed by the murmur of subtle moans. The sounds from the young lovers brought Tabitha’s hand down from the door, moving her to step back. An uncomfortable guilt shuttered her urgency, as though she’d been caught in an act of voyeurism. Shaking it off, she waited, and perked up when the door opened suddenly, spilling laughter and lustful talk into the hallway.

  “Tabbs, what are you doing here?” Susan questioned. Her eyes were large, weighted with surprise and embarrassment, as she pulled the front of her coveralls closed. A pair of green eyes followed Susan’s words, meeting Tabitha’s as the man from hydr
oponics turned around to say hello.

  “So you’re Tabitha,” he declared. “Susan has told me so much about you. My name is Joe.” Tabitha could only nod her head, extending a hand to be polite. Rough calluses wrapped around her fingers, gently lifting her arm up and then down. Susan turned her head, her expression changing when she saw Tabitha offer the briefest of signals; something was wrong. In that subtle gesture, she told Susan that she needed to talk. Susan obliged and put her hand on Joe’s shoulder, turning him around to quicken their goodbyes. Tabitha blinked to her friend, appreciating her effort; she didn’t want to cry in front of a stranger.

  It was only a moment before they were inside Susan’s apartment, sipping a bitter tea that was much too hot. But in that moment, Tabitha had seen her future in a nightmare vision. She saw a future of caring for a baby that hadn’t come from winning the silo lottery. She saw a future of being alone, raising a child without a father. She saw long climbs up the winding staircase, a small hand in hers, as forbidding eyes stabbed her heart with a cold stare for what she’d done. She was standing in the cafeteria on an anniversary that was both bitter and joyful. The day was her child’s birthday, and they were staring into the outside world through the large wallscreen. She was kneeling next to her child, pointing a finger at the desolate hills, searching for the round heap of decay that was her baby’s father. And then she saw her pointed finger flaking away in the toxic air. Her hand was next, disintegrating, and then her insides began to crumble. She saw her child’s face—a perfect combination of her and Justin—turning to ash, frozen for a second before the acrid winds carried all their remains away.

  “Tabbs… Tabbs, what is it?” Susan asked, taking her away from the hellish images playing in her mind.

  “I’m pregnant,” she told her friend. And while her voice was glum, it cracked with the strain of telling someone. She’d thought of a hundred ways to break the news, but in the end, she just blurted it out. The sharp sound of hands clapping jolted her from the stare she’d leveled at the table. Air from Susan’s clapping bullied the wispy moisture above the tea, curling it into spirals that looked like the great staircase. Susan’s bouncing drew Tabitha’s eyes upward, where she found her friend cheering the news.

  Tabitha’s heart was with her friend’s, wanting to join in the happiness, sharing and celebrating the news. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not now, anyway.

  “Susan, you don’t understand,” she started to say, shaking her head. “It isn’t good news. There’s going to be trouble.” Susan stopped jumping, pinched her lips until they were white, and then reached across the table. Tabitha took her friend’s hand, and lost her words. She’d sworn to herself that she’d get through this, at least this part, before crying again.

  “When did you have your implant deactivated?” Susan asked. But Tabitha continued to shake her head. “Wait! It isn’t Justin’s baby, is it?” Susan’s eyes grew wide, revealing most of their whites. The sight of her friend was comical, and the question nearly unbelievable. Before she could stop it, Tabitha shushed away an approaching laugh. How could she think such a thing?

  “Seriously?” Tabitha asked, trying to keep her voice firm and her expression unaffected. But maybe she needed to laugh? And when the laughing finally began, Susan joined in, but raised her eyebrows, perplexed.

  “What?” Susan asked again, squeezing her hand.

  “I’ve never slept with another man. You know that,” she answered.

  “So what is it, then?”

  “I’m pregnant, but we don’t have a lottery ticket,” she told her. “We’ve never even entered our names in the lottery. Next year, or maybe the year after… but not now. My implant must have failed.”

  Tabitha startled then, wincing at the sudden removal of her friend’s hand from hers: yanked away, as though it had touched something impure. Tabitha watched as Susan covered her mouth—fingers trembling, shaking her head—a red flush creeping over her cheeks. The sight in front of her was enough to confirm just how bad the news she’d been carrying was.

  “Oh no, Tabbs,” Susan began to say, and then rushed to take a breath. “Tabbs, you can’t be pregnant. You can’t! Not without a lottery ticket. They’ll send Justin outside and put him to cleaning, and…” Tabitha waved her hands, stopping Susan from saying any more. She didn’t need to hear what she already knew to be true.

  “Tabbs, I know someone!” Susan blurted. Her voice pitched higher as she repeated herself and shook her hands in the air. “I know a person, who knows of a person, who can help you and Justin.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, raising her chin to listen. Susan went on to explain about a person that traded lottery tickets for chits.

  “He gets them from couples who’ve won a lottery ticket, but can’t redeem them… you know, before their lottery ticket expires,” Susan went on to explain. And as she continued talking, there was something electric in her words, the buzz becoming contagious and catching, like a fever. Tabitha felt hope and anxiety war within her. Caution kept her stomach tight, clenching nervously, just enough to shorten her breath. The idea of someone holding lottery tickets seemed too good… too easy.

  “Where?” There was a shudder of apprehension in her voice. “Where exactly is this person?” Tabitha asked, thinking she sounded more settled.

  “He’s in the lower Mids,” Susan answered, and then tilted her head and raised her eyes, waiting for a reaction. “I know you don’t like to travel, Tabbs, but I think this might be your best option.”

  “How far down?” Tabitha asked. She didn’t mind some travel on the stairs, but for most of her life she’d been in the Up Top, and only on occasion had she travelled to the Mids. She watched Susan counting the levels, mouthing the numbers and pulling down her fingers. When Susan finished counting, placing her hand below the table, she offered a reserved look and shrugged her shoulders.

  “It’s deep, Tabbs.”

  “How deep?”

  “Ninety levels… maybe more.”

  “That’ll take a few hours, Sue!”

  “Actually, I think it might take us longer.”

  “Well, who is this person? Do you know for certain that they have a lottery ticket? Can I trade them for chits? Do they know a couple that hasn’t been able to redeem their ticket? Is the ticket going to expire? If so, when?” Tabitha slapped her hand to her mouth, trapping her lips between her fingers, holding back the onslaught of questions pressing to get out. She was suddenly overwhelmed with the thought that there was hope. Hope that someone in the silo could save her baby and prevent Justin from being sent to cleaning. The suddenness of emotion rocked her, and for a moment she went blind with grief, crying into her hands, blubbering words of relief while Susan folded her arms around her.

  Susan suggested that they leave right away. Tabitha agreed, nodding her head as she tried to settle the cadence of her breathing. Knowing they had a full day’s journey to and from the lower Mids, they each packed a small satchel of food and bottled some water to carry. They collected all the chits between them, including what she and Justin had hoarded away in their apartment. She could only hope that what she carried would be enough to cover the cost of the lottery ticket.

  The first steps downward brought sorrowful thoughts. A scurry of blue denim coveralls hurried by, porters busy in their delivery, but she was only vaguely aware of their presence. She’d expected elation: a symbolic first step to ending a dilemma that seemingly had no resolution. But in place of the relief, she couldn’t help but think of the couples that had won a lottery ticket, only to give the honor away. What happened? Why would any couple forfeit the privilege? Did one of them leave for another? Was it him, or her? A dozen questions peppered her mind like spots of dank mold, staining the purity of the silo’s lottery system. And as they progressed downward—past the first of many levels—the question that stayed with her most was: How could someone get their hands on something as valuable as unredeemed lottery tickets?

  “You ready
to take a break?” Susan asked. Tabitha felt a hand on her arm, slowing her descent to the next level. “Let’s take a break for a few. The lower Mids aren’t going anywhere.” Tabitha turned, glancing up at her friend, and saw the tired flush in her cheeks. The silo was warmer than usual, and only then did she notice the itch of sweat on the back of her neck.

  “What level are we at?” she asked, but when she smelled the earthy vegetation, and felt the humidity on her face, she realized where they were. “Never mind. I think I know. Do you smell that?” Susan lifted her chin, raising her nose into the air, and took a deep breath. A pleasing smile curled the corners of her mouth.

  “I like that,” she answered, dropping down two steps to stand next to her. “I’ll take that smell over the garment district any day.” Tabitha nodded, agreeing, and then nudged her friend’s arm. She didn’t know why she did that. Maybe it was the earthy smell and the sticky air, like something primal, triggering the need to offer a reminder of how much she appreciated having her there. Susan nudged her back, returning a grin, and then motioned to the landing below them.

  “There,” Susan told her, pointing to the landing. “Let’s take a break down there.”

  “Good idea. And if I’m right, and the smell is what I think it is, then we’re at the gardens—level forty-nine. The first level of the Mids.”

  As they exited the staircase, stepping out onto the flooring, Tabitha read the landing number aloud.

  “Yup! What’d I tell ya!” she stated in a declaration. “Number forty-nine.” The door to the gardens opened, flooding the landing with a rich aroma, giving rise to a grumble from her empty stomach.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Susan asked. Tabitha nodded to her friend who’d already started towards the door.