Author stuff: The amount of research I put into for the scenes in the farm and Blood House is kind of ridiculous. It's been ages since I've been in a barn. Almost 17 years now. And for a good reason. The family members who still work on them have… unsavory opinions and beliefs of the LGBTQA+ community and are pretty racist.
So, guess which family members the gay cousin squad doesn't see!
Anyway, I have been able to start running again — which is always really nice. I'm out of shape, but my running buddy and I are pumped and enjoying the fact that the snow is melting so we have a place to run safely. If you guys are interested, check out Zombies, Run! It's a great app that's really helped me get back into it, and the storyline is so much fun. You try not falling in love with Sam Yao.
Trigger warning for this chapter! There is blood and gore mentioned. And an animal is cleaned and prepped to be eaten. And some unsavory stuff about mucking out stalls and… falling into that muck. And mentions of vomiting.
Chapter 7
In Which Graham Takes A Dive
Flossy was glad she was in the chicken coop. It smelled just as bad and some of the hens didn't exactly like having her in there, but something told her it was better than the Blood House. It was larger than she initially expected, suitable for the fourteen chickens, surrounded by a decently sized range that enclosed the coop, the run, and some of the pasture in the Glade.
Winston gave her an easy task, she was aware of that. Feeding took no time at all. The chickens were happy to eat and pecked at the ground as she went inside for her next task – collecting the eggs, which was actually quite enjoyable. The chickens didn't seem to mind her doing that while they ate.
Washing the eggs was a delicate task – something, she found, she was quite good at. Most of the eggs just had to be wiped down with a sponge. Only a handful had dried poop or bits of yolk from another egg dried on them. She was grateful that Winston had gotten her a bowl of warm water before she'd started – she had no idea where to even look.
Cleaning the straw took a bit more time. It had to be changed twice a day, as it was terrible at collecting moisture, and the Glade was usually warm. It could get humid really easily, and it tended to linger in the coop especially.
"It rots too easily," Winston said to her before he let her in the enclosure so she could work. "I asked for something better a couple of times, but the Creators never send it up. Normally, I have one of the Slicers do this, but I gave him the day off. He's nursing a bit of a hangover, like the rest of the slintheads around here."
She didn't doubt that he wasn't the only one. From what she could see, quite a few of the boys were lazing about. Mostly the Slicers and the Bricknicks. Gally had the Builders at work – though some were moving about reluctantly and glaring at their Keeper – and the Track-hoes were tending to the Gardens under Zart's instructions, moving slowly. The Baggers all stood near the entrances to the Maze, looking bored – a few of them were probably sleeping on their feet. They seemed like they had it easy. The Sloppers were cleaning away, though they weren't rushing around. She couldn't see Frypan and the Cooks, but she was certain they were just like everyone else. She wondered if the smell of food was making anyone feel ill.
All things considered, she finished in the coop just shortly before the midday break. She slipped out of the chicken enclosure, clicking at the hens as she left. To them, she was insignificant, like anyone else in the Glade. That was an oddly nice and comforting thought.
She headed over to Winston in the… slicing area. She cringed at the warm, metallic scent of blood. The sight of it was worse than the smell. Winston and two other Slicers were in the middle of gutting and cleaning a pig.
"All done, Girlie?" Winston said, pulling out the intestines. They dropped down into a metal basin at their feet. He worked with his bare hands. His arms were slick and stained red. That almost sent her running for the hills.
She had a feeling they were doing this on purpose. They most likely were.
"Yeah," she said, feeling a little light headed. It wasn't so much the blood as it was watching them work. She tried to pay attention to their faces and not the splayed pig on the table in front of them or the blood covered parts of them.
"Go and get the boys. You guys deserve a break." He nodded to the Blood House. She looked away and all but ran from the sight. She was not meant to be a Slicer. Tending to the animals, sure, but doing… that? There was no way she'd be able to handle it.
Graham and Archie were still mucking out stalls. They weren't even a quarter of the way done. They looked up at her when she entered.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey," Archie said, leaning on a stall divider. "What's up?"
"Midday break. Winston gave us permission to go get some lunch."
"We're almost finished with this stall," Graham said. "Wait for us?"
"Sure."
She found a three legged stool that was probably used for milking the goats and cows and lounged on it, her back leaning against a stall divider and her legs stretched out in front of her. After the cramped quarters of the coop, this was a luxury.
"How were the chickens?" Graham said as they worked.
"Not so bad," she said, looking down at her shoes. They weren't really meant for working in the Glade, the soles were too thin. They were made for indoor work. She hoped some new ones were sent up for her. "If I just had to work with the chickens all day, I probably wouldn't mind being a Slicer. How were things in here?"
"Hot," Archie said.
"Lots of heavy stuff," Graham said.
"Almost got attacked by a goat."
"The pig with the black spot around his left eye is mean."
"I hate sheep."
"Sheep poop a lot," Graham said, looking at Archie. Archie nodded.
"The ram's worse."
"Ugh, I hate the ram."
"What?" Flossy said, trying not to laugh. She looked between the boys, unsure of what she just heard. These boys, really. She was glad to see Graham opening up and talking more, though. Never a bad sign.
"Everything going okay in here?" Winston said, walking in. He was wiping off the blood on his arms with a towel that was stained brown with old blood. He looked between the three of them.
Flossy returned her gaze to her shoes, and then she heard a thump. She looked up to Archie and then Graham. Graham had fainted right into the pile he and Archie had just mucked out of the stall.
After Graham had been carried off to the Med-hut, once again, Flossy and Archie were sent to lunch. Frypan and the Cooks made up simple ham and swiss sandwiches for the Gladers. Flossy hadn't looked at Archie since they'd left the Blood House. She couldn't without wanting to laugh.
She felt bad for Graham, landing in a pile of muck and whatever else. It was gross. And what was worse was that he'd have to wake up smelling like that. Poor Clint and Jeff, having to smell him like that until then. She did not pity them that day.
"Okay," Archie said, watching as she tore her sandwich into smaller pieces – it was almost inedible at that point, "what's up with you? Are you not hungry or something? You could probably talk to Fry and have him make you something else, if you want. It's you, so he'd probably do it. If it was me, well, that wouldn't go over very well. Hey, Flossy, you even listening?"
She shrugged, not giving a real answer.
Gally sat down next to her. A few Builders and Bricknicks joined them – she had a feeling she'd meet them later when they got the chance to work together. She felt their curious eyes on her rather than saw them.
"Why'd you kill your sandwich?" a Builder said, gesturing to her plate. "Did Winston convince you to be a Slicer? I knew it. Can't trust him with anyone."
"Where's the Greenbean?" a Bricknick said, looking at the two of them.
"Fainted," Archie said. "Winston came in to see why we were taking so long, Graham saw the blood, and…" Archie demonstrated Graham's faint with his arm. "He landed in a pile of muck. I feel bad for the Med-jacks right now."
The Builders and Bricknicks gagged and groaned in disgust and amusement. None of them pitied Graham. Or Clint and Jeff, if seemed.
"Winston make you kill a chicken yet?" a Bricknick said.
"What?" she said, looking up at him. Kill a chicken? Winston was Keeper of the Slicers, and he did work in the Blood House… It did make sense.
"Not yet," Gally said. "Winston likes for the Greenies to have lunch first, then he makes them kill a chicken. It weeds out the weak ones – according to him."
Her stomach roiled at the thought. She didn't think she could do it.
"We'll take that as a no then," one of the Builders said, smirking at the look on her face.
"I would say have fun with that, but I don't think it'd be appropriate." Gally said.
"Why, cause she's a girl?" the Builder sitting across from him said.
"Something like that."
Flossy watched as Gally looked at all of the Builders and Bricknicks sitting at their table. So, vomiting and fainting were normal for the job trials, especially for Slicers. Good to know.
"Fry's going to hate that you wasted that sandwich, Princess," Gally said, pointing to her plate.
"I think he'd hate me more if I threw it back up," she said, looking down at the miserable pile. She looked up at him and slid the plate close to him. "I don't think I can eat right now. Too much on my mind."
He shrugged and took it. Food was, apparently, food and he was more than willing to take more of it. Boys and their bottomless pits for stomachs. It was gross how much they could consume in a matter of minutes.
She folded her arms on the table and rested her head down in them. She had only been in the Glade for twenty-four hours, and she was already exhausted from… well, she wasn't sure why she was exhausted. The emotional toll of waking up in an unfamiliar place, with no memory of who you were, or where you came from was probably the best she could give.
It wasn't that she hated being here, but she wasn't exactly enjoying herself either. She could imagine how dozens of other girls would kill to be in her position. And speaking of other girls, why was she the only one? Maybe they were placed elsewhere. In another Maze.
That was a lonely thought.
She hadn't realized she had started to drift off until someone – Archie – shook her shoulder.
"Come on," he said. "We have to go back to the Blood House. We have a few hours left."
"At least we know two things," she said, getting off the bench.
"What?"
"Neither Graham or I will be Slicers."
"And the other thing?"
"Gally's part bird. He's willing to eat a broken up sandwich."
Archie gave her a full-bellied laugh, nearly keeling over onto the ground. The sound made her feel lighter.
Author stuff cont'd.: Poor Graham.
What am I listening to? Meddling Adults (If you like listening to adults attempting to solve mysteries meant for kids, I recommend it. The winner gets a donation for their charity of choice.)
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