Marigold Heather Manheim (most important books to read .TXT) 📖

she met Namaguchi at a Courting Dance. Ana became his fourth wife at the age of sixteen.

Quinn supposed it was kismet when she and Ana met. She loved that word, “kismet.” Almost like they kissed when they met. She knew her forbidden love for Ana would never come to fruition. The Everettisim Church taught against same-sex relationships. Although, one of her friends in the bunker, Audrey, once told her they were not precisely a puritanical country like they had been, many, many years ago. Now, everything was all sort of a mishmash of what struck President Everett’s fancy. However, not everything the President decreed was necessarily enforced. Because of the reduced population, there were not enough Security Patrol Guards to go around and watch people get intimate. So really, you could do almost what you pleased with another person of age as long as you did it quietly and discreetly. But the minute it reached the public eye, as it indeed would if one of the people involved was the wife of a Chief Officer, kiss that kiss goodbye, Quinn thought to herself. She just wished it was easier to do than say. Her heart was always arguing with her brain on this one, each piece of her like fighters, trying to knock out the other with reason or emotion, whatever the case may be. She wasn’t even sure why she felt this way about Ana, another woman. It was not something that was ever shown to her or discussed, so it caused her some confusion and angst. Quinn admired Ana’s beauty, who wore her dark brown hair long in defiance of the law about having it in a bob cut. Ana also had smooth brown skin that reminded Quinn of milk chocolate, which Quinn had only tasted once. Namaguchi had brought some chocolates as a gift to Ana when they married. It was contraband, but since he was a top official, it was easy for him to get away with breaking the law. Ana kept the box and ate only one sweet at a time, slowly dwindling the box to the last piece, which she kindly gave to Quinn. It was time to shake that off, though, and forget about that. But one thing Quinn could not forget was the warmth of her hands when she had them around Ana’s slim waist. Just once, a hug that lasted a little longer than other hugs, Quinn’s hands resting on the curvy divots above Ana’s hip bones that Quinn thought were so lovely and inviting. She also could remember her heart pounding so fast against her chest that Quinn was sure Ana could feel it as much as she could feel Ana’s heart beating in sync with her own.

Quinn had to remind herself to get back in the game. She was not here to reminisce about warm hugs. She went up to an Information Kiosk and swiped Clark’s ID Card. She quickly checked the stats, the most important one being her next vaccination day for Clark’s pre-prescribed dose of the Marigold Injection. She had two weeks. Perfect, that was more than enough time. Her next stop was the restroom, and she quickly scurried in. A woman she passed on the way in gave her a sideways glance and a quick mumble of “We are the people, and the people are we.” Quinn forgot to say it back, and the lady was out of earshot before she could reply. She took a pause; she could not make mistakes, even if they were simple ones. She used the bathroom, then washed her hands as the guard watched and timed her. However, she surmised it was pointless because she had to enter and exit the bathroom under a wave of blue ultraviolet light that killed all bacteria on those entering and exiting.

Her next stop was the Commissary for her dinner nutrition biscuit and glass of pure distilled and filtered water; her tray also ran under a blue UV light before being handed to her. She ate her meal in silence. While not tasty in any sense of the word, the biscuit would enlarge in her stomach, making her feel full and give her a dose of vitamins and minerals. All a growing girl needs, she joked to herself as she bit into the dusty, dry brown biscuit. They were formulated for dietary requirements, not taste, and kept the population at a “healthy weight.”

As soon as Quinn finished up, she started up to the eighth floor, the floor for single people. The first and second were for families with more than two children, the third and fourth floors were for families with one or two children, the fifth and sixth for couples with no children, and the seventh and eighth for single people. Children without parents that were under the age of sixteen stayed in separate facilities at The Everett Center. As she climbed the stairs, she took in the clean gray steel all around her. She almost felt as if she could get lost, with everything looking the same. The only time it varied was when she reached a door to a new floor. A red two, three, or four, and on up marked each entrance on the inside and outside. Quinn noted she didn’t see any dust or dirt, no trash or paint chips. Just stark, clean walls, stairs, and doors. They were nothing like the lesser class Pods.

Quinn got to her red-lettered door with “Eighth Floor” on it and opened it up. She hoped she could find an empty bed. She hadn’t stayed in this particular Pod in the past, and she knew most people tried to get the same Pod and room every night—call it familiarity. But it didn’t matter if you slept in one that had an occupant before you. At least in the Pods for Class One Citizens, every Pod and bed was cleaned, sanitized, and then probably cleaned again. Bed mats that were already bacteria resistant got atomized