Niko Page 21

  Chapter 16

  The greenhouses were situated on the north side of Amaryllis City by its water treatment plant. Fifteen long, grey buildings were organized into rows and columns with one smaller building, the office, at its head. Despite the importance of the facilities, they were not heavily guarded, making do with a wire fence and a few patrol men.

  Niko walked along the short path to the office. She supposed that to some, being forced to work in the greenhouses would feel like a punishment with all the menial and repetitive labor involved. She thought she'd enjoy it, though, because before being orphaned, her family had tried to start a little one of their own using watermelon modified to grow on very little water and a single UV lamp. They'd grown fairly large—about a handspan long and they sported golden yellow and brown stripes. The only trouble was they rotted quickly on the vine. Niko stood in front of the office and knocked.

  The largest man she had ever seen opened the door. His skin was the color of dough, and the wispy blond strands of his hair blew in the slight breeze. They reminded her of blades of grass.

  "I'm Harmony Niko, from the Rose Circle," she said. "I'm supposed to start working here today."

  "Yes, yes." He nodded. "The papers just came this morning." His brown eyes were perfectly round like thumbprint depressions, and Niko could imagine that patting him would cause him to give off a yeasty smell and a puff of white powder.

  He gazed down an exceedingly narrow nose at her. "Is something funny?"

  She had been smiling, but she quickly removed it from her face. "No."

  "Alrighty then." He uttered a soft grunt as he stepped off of the single stair leading outside. "Let's get you situated."

  Salt crunched beneath their feet as they walked across the lot. "My grandfather, the first George Herbert, erected the original greenhouses back in forty-two," the subsequent George Herbert said with obvious pride. "He was born Before and decided to use the uncommon method of growing food outside of the earth. It saved a lot of people's lives as nothing but weeds can be grown out there now. Of course, there were people who couldn't see the benefit and tried to tear down the greenhouses. My father and uncles had to guard them during the war. The violence was incredible, but as you see, we're still intact. We even—" He was cut off abruptly by a cough.

  She could hear it rattling from deep within him, tearing through his lungs and slamming into the square he pressed to his mouth. His doughy face flushed from pale to puce. He was bent nearly double and Niko could see dark crescents of sweat stains ringing his collar and underarms even though the day was a relatively cool one.

  The attack eventually subsided and he dug into his pocket with a trembling hand. He pulled out a small cubed bottle, unscrewed the cap, and downed its contents in one swallow.

  He cleared his throat and continued on, his voice made rough by residual phlegm. "We're also expanded to include several canneries in all three cities, providing over eighty percent of their nutritional needs."

  Outside, his canned goods, nicknamed 'Berts’, sold on the black market for astronomical prices. When she asked him about it, he acted offended, claiming to have no idea what she was talking about, there was barely enough food to go round the city.

  They stopped in front of a greenhouse. The generators hummed and Niko could feel their vibrations in her boots. A4 was painted on the side of the building in large orange letters. The air smelled of ozone and a sweet metallic smell she couldn't quite identify.

  Entering the building, Niko discovered that small section contained a waiting room. A short, tanned woman stood behind a desk. Beyond her was a locker room, and presumably, beyond that was the greenhouse proper.

  "This is our three-thirty-four of the day, Carmen," George said, handing the woman a folder he'd kept firmly tucked under his arm.

  He laid a puffy hand on Niko's shoulder. "She's a Circle member, make sure she wears the suit. I don't want any complaints from the Council." Carmen nodded absently; she was flipping through Niko's folder, eyebrows rising occasionally at a particular line.

  George kept patting her shoulder. He seemed to be searching his brain for something more to say, but there was nothing. Eventually, he lowered his hand and turned for the door.

  Carmen lifted her eyes from the folder the moment he left. "You're that girl from the East Gate?" she asked, but she barely waited for an answer before she continued. "I have a cousin living in the slums. We were supposed to enter the city together, but someone stole our money. I'm in here, and he's out there. It's not right that they're punishing you for trying to help. Slithers attack the slums all the time." She shook her head as she stamped the folder. She handed Niko a card made out of scuffed green plastic. "It's not right."

  Niko was led into the locker room where she had to don a white jumpsuit with a hood, goggles, a face mask, and last of all, a pair of gloves with the mouth sealed around her wrists. She could feel the others eyeing her. Most of the Grey-men wore no protection, and it showed. There was a rough look about their faces, their cheeks were dry and peeling, and everyone, even the few fortunate enough to wear masks, had difficulty breathing.

  They gave her a wide berth as they collected their sprays, a growth serum, and a disease repellent and then headed into the greenhouse proper.

  Rows of UV lights dangled from the ceiling and washed the room in an eerie blue. The generator hummed loud enough to drown out any conversation, but the Grey-men didn't seem the type to chat as they worked anyway.

  The ones who'd entered the greenhouse with her soon joined the rest of their comrades, mechanically spritzing each exposed root before moving on to the next one.

  Mist hung in the air forming a wispy cloud between the lamps and the alternating rows of beets and cabbages stretched out from one end of the building to the other. They were suspended in mesh screens, their roots bristling out like overgrown white beards. Some had already been watered and dripped with condensation while others stood dry, their roots browning slightly at the tips.

  It was mindless work, dousing the roots with first one spray then the other before moving on to the next one. She was probably meant to think about her actions, but the sweet metallic smell grew thick as it slipped beneath the protection of her mask and caused her head to pound. She was left to continue the row in a numb haze as moisture collected in her suit and pooled in her gloved fingertips.

  She was glad to finally get out of there. She stood just outside the compound, her hands on her knees as she took in huge gulps of fresh air.

  "You look like you've just escaped a nightmare."

  Ben stood by the gate with one hand in his pocket, the other he used to shade his eyes from the noonday sun. She had only been in the greenhouse for two hours, but it felt as if a whole lifetime had passed, and she would have to go again tomorrow.

  She wiped her upper lip with the back of her hand, it felt soft and clammy from being inside the gloves for so long. "It wasn't what I was expecting."

  "Of course not," he said as he strode toward her. "They never are—well except for Waste. Waste was exactly how I expected it to be, possibly worse."

  She straightened. The fumes from the greenhouse had left a ball of nausea sloshing in the pit of her stomach. He handed her a water bottle which she drained in a long series of gulps.

  "What's the tallest building near the wall?" she asked once she was finished.

  He slipped both hands into his pockets causing his jeans to slide down his hips a little. A knowing smile spread across his face. "It won't work."

  Niko lowered her lids, peering at him demurely through her eyelashes. "What are you talking about?"

  He stepped a little closer until his arm nearly touched hers. He took the empty bottle out of her hands and started fiddling with the cap.

  "The distance is a long one," he said, the crackle of the crushed bottle masking his words from the casual passersby. "Hitting Slithers from up there is difficult."

  "But not impossible," she said pointedly.


  They moved away from the greenhouse compound, leaving the metallic fumes behind.

  "For someone like me or you, no," he said without bragging. "But I've never managed to do more than wound them, even taking what was obviously a kill shot." He let out a frustrated sigh. "Wounded Slithers are vicious."

  She understood what he was trying to say and looked away. "What did you do to get put in Waste?" she asked instead.

  He kicked at a particularly large clump of salt and it disintegrated into a small shower of dust. "Are you asking because you're genuinely curious about my sordid past filled with acts of wanton debauchery? Or are you hoping to distract me into talking about myself while you quietly resume your Slither killing schemes?"

  "The first one," Niko decided. "If that makes you feel better."

  He laughed once before launching into his story. "I was a bit of a brat when I first came to Amaryllis. I grew up being trained to kill Slithers, so I figured I already knew everything, and the rules being applied to everyone else weren’t meant for me."

  "Which rules?"

  "Not a lot," he said airily. "Just…" He paused, his lips trembling as he murmured a list of infractions too low for her to catch. "All of them. Amazing. No wonder they eventually put me in Waste. There was nothing else, I was killing them." He laughed out loud drawing the eyes of a few passersby. Not that he seemed to notice. "So, Silent Sally." He dipped his head toward hers. "Did I give you enough time to complete your insurrectionist plot?"

  She pretended to think about it. "Not really."

  "Oh, dear," he said mournfully. "Now I'll get blamed when it all goes terribly wrong. I guess I should tell you another story then."

  She smiled inwardly as he launched into his tale. When he wasn't fixated on her boobs, he was actually all right to be around.