Chester and the 24-hour Lottery

Staring at Henry’s head in the small one-room hunter shack while Racket and Van whispered feverishly back and forth, Chester wondered how he’d look bald. He absently scratched at the scruff of his jaw, deciding his hair long a much better option because of his ears.

“Are you paying attention?” Racket snapped her fingers in front of his face, “I asked if you’d scrounge up kindling for a fire while I find dry wood? We won’t last through the night otherwise.”

“Is that a good idea?” Henry objected, “There could be patrols and smoke is a dead giveaway. There’s an old blanket I found and we can huddle together for warmth.”

Racket shook her head, “We’ll be fine. I’ll set up a parameter alert with the Virto-Frames and link it to two-”

“Uh-huh, sounds great,” he cut her off, grabbing a knife from Vans pack, “Are my glasses on?”

“Wait,” Van fiddling with them, “Now they’re active. Be careful.”

“Stay close,” Racket added.

Henry chuckled from the dirty floor, resting his bum leg, “Are you a man or a boy, Chester? Make sure your boots are laced.”

He rolled his eyes in annoyance, leaving instead of responding. Henry had a point about the fire and how the women treated him. With a smirk reminded himself he’d had both in his bed and definitely all man.

The forest was deep and dark, but it had not snowed during their journey. The cabin Racket found wasn’t easily seen and a lot better than hiding under a tree boughs all night. He looked at the ground, finding a few pieces of dry twigs.

The door slammed opened and Racket came out, stomping off with a purpose. He avoided her, picking up enough wood for several fires then reentered the freezing structure. The dust in the air tickled his nose when he dropped his load by the fireplace.

Henry stood with his back against the wall with Van pacing, lost in thought. Chester ignored them, sitting in the far corner, huddling down into his coat. He stared at his muddy boots, hungry and miserably cold, recalling how Wallace took a hit and how lucky he was to not have been captured.

“They were taking people alive,” he said, hating the silence, “Why would they do that?”

“What did you see?” Henry sat, flinching as he agitated his wound, “The men I fought sure as shit wasn’t trying to take me alive.”

“Wallace,” he quietly answered, “Shot with a disc-shaped bullet that seized his whole body. Maybe he’s dead, but it seemed to shock his system unconscious. You’re a deserter, I imagine they wouldn’t want you back.”

Henry snorted, glancing at Van who continued to pace, “Wallace shows up and suddenly we’re all sent packing and Ozark Officers ambush us in the forest? Do you think he made a deal with Spell?”

“Saldivar knew,” Chester spat, “Suppose Wallace said Spell was coming and instead of fighting he gave up? Not everyone left, just those Spell would be placated by. Where is Garth?”

“With Saldivar,” Van said, rubbing hands together for warmth, “Racket spoke to Saldivar, but only briefly. It makes no sense to send his best fighters away if there was a planned attack. We need to contact Garth, or perhaps Joey. In the morning I’ll secure line to Lacy if I can tweak the Virto-Frames.”

“Is she a Construct Babe too?”

She nodded gazing out of the dirty window beside the door, “Deven’s family kept Lacy safe for years but I worry she’ll fight if they turn up at the farm. If it’s clear, we’ll go there.”

Racket came in with logs in her arms and Henry jumped to help. Chester remained seated as the three argued once more about lighting the fireplace. Racket held out a tablet showing them the security feed rigged with Vid Frames and he relented, helping to build a small fire that could be easily extinguished.

The four huddled around the warmth and Chester hid a smile when Van cuddled close, turning on her side to rest her head on his lap. Minutes passed with unexpressed opinions and furtive looks. He gazed into the flickering flames, trying to come up with a plan that didn’t end with being caught or worse.

“Do you know who our contact is in Acheron?” he questioned Racket.

Knees pulled up to her chin, sitting the closest to the fire she shrugged, “A man named Ben. He’s a lottery winner and Saldivar thought it would boost morale if we rallied together.”

Van stiffened when he snapped, “You’re kidding right? He never expected us to make it this far.”

Racket narrowed her dark eyes, dropping her legs, “What are you talking about? I hope he and Potter made it safely inside the bunker, don’t you?”

Chester looked long and hard at the earnest expression on her face, realizing the loyalty towards Saldivar was unwavering and needed to speak carefully. Henry and Van had already voiced their assumptions but Racket was a devoted soldier.

He touched Van’s waist, feeling her relax, “What did Saldivar tell you before sending you away?”

She flicked her eyes to Henry, “He wished me well on my new mission and to think before I acted because my true test was approaching.”

“What did he mean by that?”

“I call it mindfuckery,” Van sneered, standing up as if expecting an altercation and knowing Racket’s history of violence, Chester didn’t blame her, “A test? Racket, think about it! Saldivar had supplies at the ready for departure and when have you known him not to scout the area? Two trucks sat mysteriously abandoned on a road we headed towards and there were definitely more than a dozen attackers in the forest. It doesn’t add up. Your test is to fucking give up the ghost.”

Racket stood to confront Van with fists clenched at her sides, “Saldivar risked exposure every time he rescued one of us from The Institute and how dare you insinuate he would purposely lead everyone into a trap! That’s what you’re saying, right? How easily you forget he saved you from forever becoming a part of the Machine.”

Van’s eyes became wet and her mouth snapped closed. Chester wondered what the Machine was, but held his tongue as the women faced off. Henry relaxed with his back against the wall, cleaning his nails with a small penknife as if this was an everyday conversation.

“Then what is your assessment?” Van squared her shoulders, “Chester thinks they took people alive. Since when do Ozark officers care we live? Why did they attack in the woods and not outside of the installation?”

Racket ran a hand through her short hair, glancing down at him, “Fuck! Everything happened quickly and I’ve tried to make sense of it. I knew Spell would order soldiers into Acheron but I don’t understand why he made me leave. I’ve worked with him for so long, now at a loss why the hell I’m here with you three.”

Chester felt pity for the woman when her voice softened and faltered. Like Van, she had a hard time rationalizing why Saldivar sent them away so suddenly. Racket respected and followed Saldivar without question and had to face facts she was as expendable as everybody else.

Poor delusional bitch just got a reality check.

“We need to move at night,” Chester remembered what Saldivar said about patrols, “Acheron isn’t safe. Van will contact Garth and Lacy tomorrow to find out if either has a clue to what’s going on. We stick together and form a solid plan before entering a situation we’re not prepared for.”

“That… sounds reasonable,” Racket slowly agreed, “Smart.”

He tried not to let her compliment stroke his ego but smiled. They settled down and Racket pulled the tablet out to go over files uploaded by Potter. The man, Ben Link, was a garbage collector and lived with his older sister and like Chester, had the unfortunate honor of winning the lottery after abstaining.

“Why did you wait for years to buy a ticket?” Henry spoke for the first time in a long while.

“I thought if I didn’t take part I wouldn’t end up like my mother. That perhaps, one day, my DNA standing would gain better employment if I presented myself as conscientious. Then I foolishly believed if I won, I’d change the neighborhood. How anyone felt we lived reasonable lives, still boggles my mind. Once a month I’d give fifty credits to the rovers just to keep them from breaking in and stealing whatever they wanted.”

“Fred March will pay,” Van assured him, “They’re all going to suffer.”

“Taking back control of the neighborhoods is crucial,” Racket shut off the tablet, “There has to be a way.”

“We left a shit load of weapons in Crane,” Chester stared at the dying fire, “I suggest we build our own army and spread my delirium to those willing to listen and fight. Sorry to rub it in Racket, but we’re on our own now. I feel it.”

“I feel hungry,” Henry smirked, picking up a pack and rummaged until producing two dried fruit bars wrapped in degradable paper, “Well, at least we won’t starve tonight.”

“I’ll work on contacting Lacy,” Van threw a log on the flames, causing embers to scatter close to where he sat, “Oh Chet, that’s not how I enjoy setting your pants on fire!”

Laughing, he scooted backward with a wink and split the bar Henry handed over in half, offering her a piece, “How far are we from Crane?”

The four planned well into the night, coming together when Chester would never have imagined he’d be joking with Henry or smiling at Racket after calling him shit for brains after suggesting they eat wrappers if starved. They listened to his suggestions and Chester realized his opinions mattered if he spoke up. Van and Racket called him brave in the past and until that evening wasn’t secure enough to speak his mind.

He still felt insubstantial but the women plotting beside him fierce wildcats and knew without a doubt if Saldivar conspired against them would be miserable until his last breath because they plotted a campaign against every single asshole that came between them and freeing Ozark citizens.