Chester and the 24-hour Lottery
Chapter 18; How does your garden grow?

Van, Garth, and Chester spent the next few weeks in the exercise area when not eating or sleeping. Van was determined to build up Chester’s strength and Garth tried his best to not break him, although Chester suspected the man didn’t hold back the punch that broke his nose halting further activity for two days.

Racket stopped the nightly visits after walking in to see Chester and Van laying next to each other after a hard day’s training. Van laid draped across his chest fast asleep and Chester glared at her until she left.

Good riddance.

Thanksgiving came and went without acknowledgment. No need for holidays or celebrations when families were torn apart by a tyrannical madman. Chester didn’t think those hiding below ground had much to be thankful for besides being alive while their loved ones struggled under Spell’s thumb of oppression.

Saldivar disappeared again. Chester felt for him but wished he would reach out. Maybe he had, only not included them. Time was wasting away but his new friends, the only friends he’d ever known, devoted each day preparing for action.

Preparing me for epic failure, he thought after Garth struck his aching left kidney once again.

Racket entered the fitness room when Garth grumbled Chester’s hits were not improving for the millionth time. Van smiled at the surly woman while Chester pretended his gloves needed tightening.

“He’s not a fighter,” Racket spoke, crossing her arms, “Switch to weapons. Guns. He shot Carl in the leg with one try.”

“That’s right, he did,” Garth mused, wiping sweat from his brow, “What do you think Chester?”

“You’re gaining muscle but it’s not enough,” Racket carried on, “Being able to defend yourself against an enemy is something you need to work on, but you aren’t a fighter.”

Chester’s face heated, fumbling with the gloves until they landed on the mat with a dull thump, “How would you know? It’s only been a few weeks and I haven’t trained for years like you guys.”

“Chet,” Van’s soft voice came with reason, “Racket’s trying to help. I’m sure Joey wouldn’t mind lending guidance, right?”

“Yeah,” he conceded, “but it’s not as if there’s an infinite amount of rounds for me to pop off. Joey told me he and his bunkmates make bullets before bed in case Saldivar storms Fort Ozark.”

Racket shook her head, “There are other techniques you can practice. Knives, how to throw a grenade without blowing it up in your face.”

Chester looked from Van to Garth, who both seemed in agreement. It was true he wasn’t built for psychical altercations but tried his best. He nodded once.

Racket cracked a smile before ruining the amicable moment with typical sternness, “Clean up and meet me at the armory.” Then she swiveled on her boots leaving Chester clenching his jaw in frustration at being commanded.

“I thought for sure you’d throw a tantrum,” Garth chuckled.

He glared, about to say something he would surely pay for later when the door opened again and Henry stepped in. Chester hadn’t seen the cue-balled piece of shit since arriving and defenses went up. The man had attacked him after all without provocation. He eyed the nose ring, wondering how hard he’d need to pull to tear it out.

“What do you want Henry?” Van didn’t sound pleased, making him hide a smirk.

“Saldivar wants a meeting in an hour, asking for the three of you to join him topside.”

“Topside?” Garth’s usually stoic face brightened, “Interesting.”

Henry glanced at Garth before looking Chester up and down like he was checking for something before turning back to Van, “Are you busy?”

She casually shrugged, “Not at the moment.”

“Can we talk?”

Chester frowned, bending over to pick up his discarded gloves. He had no right to feel jealous when the two left, but he was. They hadn’t been intimate, and it would have been weird after Racket anyhow. She sometimes slept in his bed, but knowing there were other interested men hurt because he wanted Van for himself.

“Guess Joey can wait,” Garth slapped his back harder than necessary, “I’ll escort you to the exit later.”

Chester returned to his room, freshened up, then ran to the canteen for a snack. Rigorous workouts made his frame even wirier and needed the calories. Racket sat alone at a table and without thinking joined her.

Her dark eyes showed surprise before she quickly covered it with a scowl, “Did Henry tell you we’re to meet outside?”

Chester nodded, finishing a ripened apple, “Who is Henry? Another converted Ozark Officer? He’s the only one here with jewelry.” He didn’t hide his derision.

She forked an overcooked chunk of meat on her plate, “He pierced his nose and shaved his head after leaving Wayfarer City. It’s a domination tactic I read about as a child,” She smirked, “He’s a good soldier with a clear determination about what has to be done.”

“Funny, my childhood reading comprised how to scrap metal. What needs to be done?”

She exhaled like he was ignorant, “Neighborhood Allard needs to burn. So does Fort Ozark. Then we can begin the declassification process.”

Chester sat back, “Do you believe everyone is equal despite your superiority complex? What happens when you aren’t needed to knock someone around or shoot them in the face?”

“There’s always a need for peacekeepers,” Racket cracked a small smile tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, “and someone always needs a good thrashing.”

“You wanted me to kill Allard. What made you think I can do it?”

“What makes you think you can’t? People often do what’s required under duress. I knew planting the seed would start your wheels turning. How would you execute the double-dealing bitch?”

Chester barked out a laugh, “You’re so messed up. Are all Construct Babes as psychotic as you? Van at least exercises caution when plotting murder. She played me like a neighborhood rover inside Diamond. Never saw it coming.”

Racket pushed her tray away before standing, “Well, you noticed her before anyone else did, making you more perceptive than others. Rovers are skilled at not being spotted. Come on, we’ll chat on the way.”

It was weird speaking to Racket as if they were friends. Chester had a few nightmares in the past weeks of the woman castrating him along with other horrors. They walked down a corridor he never ventured before, feeling surreal at the moment.

“Vanyla has always been one to approach situations with care,” she glanced over, “That’s why I assigned her to you.”

Chester gritted his teeth, losing all humor, “So you choose me? You ruined my life! How dare you!”

Racket stopped, and he made sure there was a distance between them, “I thought you understood, being a first-time participant from a neighborhood immersed in corruption, violence, and drug abuse. You behaved exceptionally well after Van revealed the truth, proving I selected correctly. Plus, you fit the criteria every state agreed on.”

“So, let me understand. Every lottery winner is a loner asshole from a shit-hole?”

Racket snickered, “Nice to see you joking instead of threatening me. You’re behaving better and I was only doing my job. Be glad you’re here because otherwise, you’d already be one of the unfortunate ones sent off to The Institute or dead.”

Chester let out a calming breath gazing into her dark eyes, noticing they seemed softer, “You’re right, I am grateful. I never imagined this would happen. I’m part of something history will remember and be judged forever because of it. You wouldn’t expect Spell to care so much about my capture, but it’s not me he’s after, is it?”

“Course not,” Racket rolled her eyes walking again, “You know about his agenda and made him look like an idiot. Spell needs to make an example out of you and anybody associated with the rebellion. I’m grateful states no longer have bombs. At least the founders were wise that way after the war.”

Chester clenched his hands, “Acheron has no leader and Spell could easily invade. We aren’t too far from The Institute.”

“Correct,” Racket seemed unconcerned, “Only about twenty miles actually and he probably intends on raiding any installations he can replace. We’re well set up for such attacks.”

Chester swallowed nervously at her indifferent tone keeping his mouth shut when catching sight of five guards armed with machine guns outside a large door. This must be the exit Garth never showed him.

“Hey!” Garth shouted from behind, “You were supposed to wait for me.”

Chester shrugged, looking past the man to see Henry and Van along with a few others he didn’t recognize. Van flashed her usual peppy smile shoving them to continue. When the group met the guards at the door they unlock it, and everyone entered another tunnel only narrower. He recalled how long it took them to descend in the elevator shaft hoping they wouldn’t have to walk the entire way.

“I can’t wait to breathe in the fresh air,” Van bumped her shoulder with his, “Looks like Saldivar has something up his sleeve.”

Chester observed the people ahead, all wearing the same clothes and definitely tougher than him. They carried packs on their backs chatting quietly to one another. Who were they and what was Saldivar planning?

Walking along the creepy tunnel his mind wandered over conversations he’d overheard. Talk of freeing family after destroying Fort Ozark like it would end genetic separatism then fucking rainbows would magically appear to signal all clear as everyone lived unrestricted and content as if there wouldn’t be a statehood to rebuild. Chester had to wonder who would bring order to the chaos that would come with freedom.

The lottery had proven certain individuals could not be trusted with immunity.

“Why so glum?” Van asked, “I’m sure it’s safe. Saldivar travels with ten armed personnel at all times.”

He shook his head, “I’ll tell you later.”

“Is he freaking out again?”

Chester glared at Garth, “Where are we going? Is there an elevator?”

Racket and Henry laughed, and he gritted his teeth to keep from lashing out. Containing his anger throughout the years had left an urge to scream for them all to fuck off but wanted these soldiers respect, not condescension, so kept a mental tally until able to go full ‘tantrum’ as Garth put it. On the right Van shrugged, knowing as much as he did.

“Yes,” Racket said after a beat of silence, “We’ll exit on the south side of Acheron.”

“After a two-mile walk,” Henry added.

“Fantastic, we should have a race,” he grumbled, glad he’d eaten before the journey.

“What’s up?” Van pestered, “I can see your wheels turning Chet.”

He smirked, peering down the tunnel not seeing an end in sight, “Don’t worry about it. Do you know them?” he nodded to the group ahead.

“They’re former biotech scientist,” Racket answered, cutting into their conversation, “Arrived yesterday with news.”

“You should talk to them,” Chester suggested, “I didn’t realize scientists looked like soldiers.”

“That’s heredity discrimination,” Van clucked her tongue, “Perhaps you should interrogate them?”

A big man with arms as thick as Chester was round turned, saying in a deep timber, “I’d like to see you try.”

Van laughed, easing some tension, “Why are you and the others going topside?”

The fellow left his crew and eyed the five of them, “My name is Wallace.”

“Hi Wally,” Van gave a sweet smile to the newcomer, “I’m Van, and this is the one and only Chet.”

“Wallace,” he repeated in a growl.

Chester ruefully chuckled, knowing it was useless to fight his annoying nickname, “Are you a scientist?”

Wallace stopped eyeing Van to answer his question, “Sent to labor in the warehouse when I was twelve but ended up creating recycling enzymes which brought the scorched land back into fertility faster.”

Racket straightened, eyes flying wide, “Wallace Taylor? I thought you’d be... older.”

Wallace clenched his hands into fists, “I thought my work meaningful until Spell used it as a bargaining chip. He hoarded my research when other states are in dire need. After he squandered my projects never trusted government officials again.”

“Are you saying there’s a way to repair soil and Spell kept it hidden? Neighborhood March can barely grow a mature tomato.” Chester stared at the massive guy with renewed hope.

“Have you ever been inside of a Diamond home? Oh, I suppose not,” he frowned, “He twisted my innovative solution into frivolous gardens for the elite.”

“That son of a bitch!” Van spat irately, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Wally. Welcome to the resistance and someday soon, we’ll share your brilliant work with the rest of humanity.”

“Wallace,” he tried to correct her again, but smiled, “and it’s nice to be a part of something meaningful again.”

“We better keep moving,” Henry placed a hand on Van’s hip and Chester held his breath until she moved out of his hold, “The lift is close.”

Chester fell into step with Garth while Van exuberantly talked Wallace’s ear off. Racket wanted to destroy Neighborhood Allard and The Institute but it was becoming clear it wasn’t beneficial to anyone to do so. There were too many important discoveries inside the facilities that society deserved.

Racket glanced over her shoulder giving him a raised eyebrow as if sensing his new perspective. There were two sides to everything and right at that moment felt certain Racket would never give up her stance, even after meeting Wallace. Both places held deep-seated abhorrence to most and Racket’s determination to dismantle them came from being genetically conceived and controlled.

Chester gave Racket the same curious look, and the woman smirked before marching forward. He had to speak to Saldivar to make sure their leader was on the same page because if not, Chester needed to convince them some horrors were worth protecting.