Dystopia Chapter 31: Welcome to the Well

Each day a redo, nothing new. The note and the recent threat at the gate were still at the forefront of my thoughts. I needed a distraction. Time to pull Scout Team 3 together to venture outside. We needed to perform, otherwise Well members would actively protest. My recent ill-advised adventure at the Barrio resulted in success despite my actions. Addison, the team was always a step ahead of me. Saving me. The value of the Scout Teams was questioned by many. The bounty appeased the residents and committee members for the moment. Each day, Scout Teams watched while we all received special treatment. Residents were sneaking off, never to return, while others waited to fill their places.

Time to meet with the team, which often included Diana. I was sure her father was waiting for her return. She had proven to be invaluable. The connection between her and Frank was clear. I was in no rush to encourage her to return to her family nor to develop a relationship with Frank.

“Good morning, team. I have an old plan with a few modifications.”

“Finally,” Frank stated.

“The floor is yours,” added Brett.

“It has been quiet for the last several weeks. We know the problems are worse: the Well is running dry. Scout teams struggling to find additional supplies. Almost always returning empty-handed. We need a revenue source. A reliable flow of products. The community members are restless, angry, and often heard complaining behind the committee’s back. A revolt would accomplish nothing. Meanwhile, those in line at the gate believe all is well inside what we now call home. Agitators rattle the fence separating us from them — a fence offering minimal protection, needing reinforcement, if only we had the materials to do so.”

The long pause was telling. I knew what the team was thinking. I could read their body language.

Diana nodded. “This smoky, unpredictable weather is putting everyone in danger, and it’s hitting some people harder than others.”

“This we know! So get to the plan already,” Addison chided.

“Rather than inviting folks in, we need to create a way to exchange goods and services separated by a secure barrier. Maybe we can create a cage to control the exchanges. The interactions would be managed by assigned agents.”

“Tentative agreement: anyone with medical supplies or meds would be guaranteed entrance — a fact we’d confirm at the gate.”

“How about a ‘medical’ cage? The ill enter, we administer aid, and they leave having swapped goods we are in short supply of,” Diana said.

“Excellent idea,” Frank exclaimed.

Addison smiled. “I’ll check with Mr. Maddox.”

Brett noted, “It would be much easier to contain, but it would get ugly; folk seem to get more desperate every day.”

More people wanting in meant enforced lines, more security, stricter protocols, higher walls — and more danger.

“As our Scout Team leader, Jesse, you run this by the committee,” Cord added.

“Joshua, any thoughts?”

“Yeah, and stay out of sight.”

Fortunately, that was not my problem. I had my own. The note. The threat. A reward on my head, dead or alive. But who? Frank and Diana were becoming a thing. Scout Teams were often dysfunctional. Whispers, ‘anti-government’ groups, fabricated stories, plotters, bounties, miserable weather, and gangs abound. Could it possibly get worse?

It always does.

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