She looked up at the farm around her, busy with slaves, a fair mix of brainiancs, zealots, and sheer brute labor. She remembered a time when the mere thought of slavery made her sick, and now she was running one of the largest operations on the island. "Oh well, survival of the fittest is a bitch." The words stuck out in her mind, she remembered the day in class when James...or was it John... no, she was certain it was James, had said that. She remembered how upset she had been, when that dork James...John...(Jackson, maybe?) had blurted it out in the middle of a government class debate. "To be young and idealistic again," she thought, " more accurately just idealistic." After all she was only 16, but she felt much older. Back, before everything that had happened, she had heard someone once say that there was a huge difference between 15 and 16. She doubted they knew how right they were.
At 15, Sarah had been your run-of-the-mill, punked-out honor student, a political radical who dabbled in dealing to make money for college. The latter, at the time, seemed like it would be a secret key to open the door to her future, a blemish on a otherwise spotless record, to be covered up and forgotten. Then came the virus, and her firm plans to change the world died with the adults. However, that key proved to be still a valid tool, just in a way she had never imagined. Anarchy, confusion, and ultimate power in the hands of teenagers became her blessing. They were all looking for an escape, Sarah, too.
However, Sarah's escape route was the pitfall of countless others. She still felt guilty from time to time, but she tried to focus on the positive. She had power, the power to protect herself, no matter what happened. Through the lonely times, business boomed due to the depressed kids. During the brief period of peace within the city, she had made a relative fortune dealing in gambling dens around the city, and now she was doing better than ever under Chosen rule. "I always knew Martin's habit would pay for my future," she thought, and almost giggled.
Back in the day he had been her main customer, that was even where he came up with the ridiculous name "Zoot". It was their code name for the PCP he loved more than life itself. Jaffa had always been a straight up weed man himself, and that was good for her because chemicals for the hardcore stuff was coming harder and harder to come by, but the good old "weed of wisdom", as the Chosen leader called it, was easy to grow and maintain, which was what kept her relatively safe from the wacko brigade.
She looked up from her thoughts and saw the next bus load of brain boxes being told they were coming to the "Science Faction" pulling in the drive. She rose to her feet, dusted the dirt off her flared jeans, and began to walk over to meet the new recruits. "I wonder what Jack is doing right now?" she thought.
~~~
A girl somewhere in the back was crying. They had been driving all night and all day, and Jack had heard her muffled cries and moans almost the entire way. Jack wasn't crying. It was not as though he didn't have a justified reason for just breaking down and crying. He had just been pulled away from everyone he loved and thrown in the back of a windowless van by a bunch of buffoons in pajamas, being taken to only God knows where, where god knows what would be done to him... all without her. The girl he loved was back with The Chosen, in the hands of Wears No Pants and the Brady Bunch . . . if anything happened to her . . . he didn't know what he'd do, but he'd do something . Even thinking about this didn't make Jack cry. It was almost as though he had forgotten how. It wasn't as though he didn't have any practice. In his time, he'd had plenty. Even before, he had always been such a crybaby. He cried all the time, at the smallest things.
But not lately. He'd gone through a strange transformation lately. At first he had attributed this to Ellie. He had always heard that first love changed people, but he assumed they would be for the better. Jack all of a sudden missed Dal, his one true friend. It seemed the better he got along with the girls of the tribe, the more strained their relationship had gotten. It seemed like they had gone from best friends one moment, so in tune that they even finished each other's sentences, to enemies, and then to mere acquaintances. Jack wasn't sure which was worse, being angry at Dal or this wall of indifference that had built between them. "It wasn't my fault were grew apart, he's the one who moved out of the mall to go work on his little farm." Jack thought as he pulled his knees closer to his abdomen and began to chew harder on his already ragged thumb nail. But it was his fault. Jack remembered all those times that he had acted like an jealous asshole, when he knew Dal and Ellie were nothing but friends. He knew it couldn't have been easy for Dal. He had just lost one best friend, and thanks to Jack's amazing tact, he had lost another. The girl was still crying in the back. Part of Jack wanted to go back there and tell her everything would be all right. Another part of Jack wanted just to join her in her sobs. He did neither. He tried to close his eyes and fall asleep. Tomorrow was another day. That he was sure of, but he was still contemplating if that was a good thing or a bad thing when the van came to a halting stop.
~~~
"You want us to do what?" a red haired girl exclaimed. Sarah just looked at her with a sour expression and replied in her stone cold voice.
"You heard me. This is a farm, and you are going to work it. Some of you will be working out in the field, some of you more clever ones will be working in the mill, and the most trusted of you may one day work in the house, with me," she replied.
" Mill? What do we grow, wheat? Wool? What?" another boy asked.
"Cannabis sativa," she replied to a room full of blank stares.
"We're making dope, stupid!" a spikey haired redhead boy, who had barely looked up throughout the entire ordeal, muttered.
"So you do talk," Sarah said putting her finger under the boy's chin, and slowly lifting his head. She was taken aback by what she saw.
"Sarah?" the spikey headed boy said surprised in a voice just above a whisper. "Never expected to see you again." Sarah didn't answer, she was transfixed looking into the, boys familiar eyes.
"That'll be all. These lovely, hooded gentlemen to my left will escort you to your lodgings," Sarah said, coming backthe to Earth. The "volunteers", as Sarah preferred to call them, lined up, and in a single file line, exited room.
"Star," Zanne said in a concerned voice as she gave her friend a hug from behind. "You okay? I haven't ever seen you lose it with the slaves before."
"I'm fine, just a little queasy," Sarah replied in a distracted voice. Zanne knew her friend enough not to push the issue, but couldn't help but follow her line of vision to the boy in the stupid shirt walking in the newbie line.
~~~
"Sarah, here, not only here, but the head of a Chosen farm? This can't be right," Jack thought lying in his bed that night. "It just didn't add up. Sarah was the quintessential hippie chick, that explained the pot, but the sub-zero attitude just wasn't her. " Jack was still deep in thought when he felt the strong arms of a guard yank him out of bed.
~~~
Sarah sat at the little table in her apartment. She didn't know why she was so nervous. It wasn't as though this was the first time she'd ever had a boy in her room, but this seemed different. "Get a hold of yourself, Jones," she ordered herself. She needed to be calm and cool for this to work. She heard the knock she had been waiting for. She smoothed down her too short dress, took a deep breath, and walked to the door. When she opened the door, she saw something she didn't expect. A hooded guard was at the door.
"What's the meaning of this? I thought everyone was on strict order that I was not to be disturbed tonight," Sarah said in a tone that the staff had lovingly deemed "The Death Voice".
"I know, Lady Sarah, I mean you no harm. The Guardian was unable to attend tonight. He asked me to come and give you his regards," the Guardsman said in the typical monotone, Chosen-underling way.
"His regards? Well, tell him I said thank you," Sarah replied, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice as she closed the door.
"Wait," the Guardsman said, sticking his foot in the door. "There's one more thing. The Guardian sent a gift."
"A gift?" Sarah said, a little surprised. "What is it?" The hooded figure reached from behind the corner and pulled out of all things, a boy with a sack over his head. He thrust the boy towards Sarah like he was a waiter showing a fine wine for the patrons approval.
"Will this do, Madame?" the Guard asked.
"Fine, let him in and be gone with yourself," Sarah said, leading the blindfolded boy into her room as she tried once more to close the door.
"One more thing!" the Guard exclaimed.
"What now?" Sarah asked, annoyed.
"The Guardian would probably like it if you returned the favor," the Guard said, with his head looking down to the floor.
"Fine. One moment," Sarah said, closing the door and throwing the gift down on the couch. "Stay," she commanded as she opened up a hidden drawer and pulled out a small plastic bag of a white power. She measured out a bit and put it into a smaller plastic bag and grabbed a bit of raw cannabis. She re-opened the door, handed the "package" to the Guard, and waved him away.
The Guard quickly turned and said, "Thank you, Lady Sarah, I will be eternally touched by your kindness."
Sarah slammed the door without acknowledging the guard's departure. She turned her attention to the lovely piece of man currently sitting on her couch. She was a little hurt because of the Guardian's absence. She had hoped to cement her role in the hierarchy of the Chosen that night, but she when she thought about it, screwing Jaffa wasn't exactly her idea of a good time. The faceless boy, however, looked right up her ally.
"Lady Sarah?" the boy said, with a mix of wise-ass tone and a slight lisp that could only belong to one person, as she approached him. "Ooooo, I'm the gift to Lady Sarah of the Order of The Zootfreaks," he said.
