Species Traitor: A Science Fiction Dystopian Novel by Kate Mary (universal ebook reader .TXT) 📗

Donna standing at one of the sinks. Her gaze caught mine in the mirror, and I was suddenly aware of how deep the lines around her eyes and mouth had gotten. She was older than my mom even though she didn’t act like it, but tougher and more determined. She’d raised two daughters by herself and had even saved enough—somehow—to send them to trade school so they could have a better life. One was working in a factory downtown now—not a great job, but better than cleaning mirrors in the wastelands. The other had met a man from an upper low-class family and gotten married.

“How’s your sister doing?” Donna asked when I stopped next to her.

“Working hard in school and doing everything she can to avoid coming home most days.”

Donna clicked her tongue, making a disapproving sound. “Should be illegal.”

“Yeah, well, good luck trying to convince our elected officials of that.” I focused on my reflection as I brushed out my long, dark hair. “They’re too busy imagining problems with the Veilorians to focus on real problems like poverty and child labor.”

Donna, who was in the process of cleaning herself up, shook her head. “The whole city’s gone crazy.”

I exhaled, saying nothing as I brushed out my wet hair.

The reflection staring back at me looked older than twenty-five, and even though I felt guilty about it, I found myself envying Lena and her youth. I’d been working for ten years now, doing eight-hour shifts six days a week just so my mom and sister could have a roof over their heads, and it left little time for socializing. Not that I had anyone to spend time with these days. Most of my school friends had moved on, getting married and starting lives of their own. Like Ione.

Still, I didn’t look bad—slight circles under my eyes and gaunt cheeks aside. My mother had been a beauty once. I’d seen the pictures. I resembled her a lot, as did Lena. Too bad it was wasted on me. Not my sister, though. She’d made friends who lived in nicer parts of the city, people whose parents didn’t depend on the government. One day, she would be one of them. I was going to make sure of that.

Donna and I walked out together, parting ways once we were outside so she could head deeper into the city with a few other women, laughing and seeming way too cheerful amidst the gloomy surroundings, while I turned in the opposite direction, heading for the edge of the city where the District stood.

My hair was still wet when I started out, but thanks to the heat and long walk, I knew it would be dry by the time I made it to my destination. It was something I was used to, even if I was sweating after only five minutes. My family had never owned an auto, and being the lowest of the low meant public transportation wasn’t something we could afford. In fact, other than the autobus at work, I could only remember a couple times during my twenty-five years when I’d been in one. When I was around five, right after my dad moved out and I’d made the long trip across the city to visit his new place. Since his new life hadn’t left much room for children, it was the only time I went. Years later, my mom had let it slip that the visit had been court ordered or wouldn’t have happened at all. It had been part of the short-lived Family First initiative, an effort by the government to limit the number of financially dependent families. To say it had been a disaster was an understatement. It turned out no father was often better than a shitty one who wanted nothing to do with his children. The rise in domestic violence hadn’t been quite enough to end the initiative, but the murder of a five-year-old boy had. His father hadn’t been thrilled about being forced to give part of his hard-earned income to a child he hadn’t even wanted to begin with. Although he’d probably been less thrilled to stand in front of the firing squad that ended his life.

The program had been abandoned shortly after the father’s sentence was carried out.

Other than the one visit to my dad, I’d gone on two trips to the edge of the city with school groups as part of our history lessons. Teachers thought it helped students understand the full impact of the wars, pollution, and natural disasters if we could see the devastation with our own eyes. As if the overcrowding, disease, low birthrates, and poverty weren’t enough to prove just how shitty things had gotten.

I was deep in thought when I turned onto the street leading to the District, which was the only reason I didn’t notice the chaos right away. Even surrounded by the normal city noise, the roar was intense, but it took a couple seconds to register the anger through the buzz of voices. When I did, I slowed and lifted myself up on my toes, trying to get a better idea what I was getting into. It wasn’t the first time I’d encountered a disturbance outside the District. Humans still occasionally caused problems for the Veilorians, either picketing to display their displeasure or even on a few occasions trying to lure the visitors out. As if they had a choice.

Right away, I could tell this was different, though. The voices were louder and more violent, and the crowd thicker. There was a group, just in front of the gate, and they were holding signs. Their backs were to the fence and they were yelling, chanting the same thing over and over again.

“Send them home. Send them home. Send them home.”

My pulse quickened as I slowed, trying to decide what to do. I could keep walking, putting my visit off until things settled down, or I could push my way through the crowd and go into the District as