Redeemer Read Free

it.
    “Attention citizens. The allowances have run out. If you haven’t received your number, you may return tomorrow to try again.”
    Chaos erupts from the catwalks. People yell and cuss.
    I frown and look to the woman. “What?”
    The woman sighs, her shoulders sagging. “I told you we were too far back in line.”
    I glance around at the people shuffling out, mumbling and grumbling, some shouting and yelling, shaking their fists.
    “You mean these people won’t get their food or water?” The Greaters are deciding who will live and who will die, just like always. In spite of the horror of my situation, anger stirs in my heart.
    The woman watches me for a moment, studying me, then she sighs. “You ain’t got nothing to eat, right?”
    I lift my chin. “No, I don’t.”
    “Come on over and you can have something at my place.” She begins walking without giving me a second glance.
    Her words take a moment to sink in while I focus on the fact that none of these people have enough food.
    She’s climbing back onto the catwalks to get out of the crowded arena. I consider whether or not to follow her, but my empty stomach and dry throat win out. I jog to catch her. “Thank you,” I say. “My name is Hana Norfolk.”
    Surprise lights up her eyes, but it disappears quickly. She nods and gives me a small smile. “Nice to meet you, Hana. I’m Isabel.”
     
     
     
     

3
     
    The walk through the city streets isn’t as intimidating when I walk with Isabel. People wave as we pass, and she has a friendly smile for everyone she sees.
    A memory passes through my mind, the memory of when I first met Fischer in Middle City 3. He worked at the hospital where Mom received treatment for the mutation, and his kindness struck me more than anything else.
    Isabel is like that.
    Something pings in my heart, something telling me I should be connecting the dots, but I’m so hungry and thirsty I can’t see a pattern.
    Isabel lives a few blocks from my own apartment. It’s deeper into the city, and the places here aren’t as run down as my own. There is glass in most windows, and some of the brick has been painted a nice, red color. In the distance, I can see the river. I remember the guards calling it the Old Tennessee River.
    She leads me inside and up a single flight of stairs. “Watch your head.” She ducks under a beam.
    I move just in time.
    Three doors line the hallway, and we move to the first one. She rattles the knob on her door, and it swings open easily. The inside of her apartment is clean and tidy, even though everything is old and worn. It feels cozy, in a way. Familiar.
    An ember of hope sparks to life. Maybe I can make my own dingy place into a home.
    I want to ask questions—does Isabel have a family? Does she live alone?
    But I’ve only just met her, and those questions seem way too personal for a city full of cast-out criminals.
    She moves soundlessly to her cabinet and pulls out a box, then moves back to me where I stand in front of her door. “It’s probably going stale, but at least you won’t starve.”
    I take the box of oats without complaint. “Thank you.”
    She nods and looks around. “Would you like to stay for a while? It gets lonely around here.”
    Her offer answers my earlier questions about her family, and I have no interest in going back to my own empty place. “I do have a lot of questions. They didn’t tell me anything when they brought me here.”
    She smirks. “Isn’t that something?” She sits on the couch and pulls her legs up under her, then pats the seat beside her.
    “Thanks again,” I say, holding up the box. My stomach growls, and she laughs.
    “Eat while we talk. I don’t mind.”
    I stick my hand right into the box and pull out a hand full of oats. Back home I would have boiled them and sweetened them with honey, but I’m grateful for anything right now.
    “What would you like to know?” she asks.
    “How often do the allowances come?”
    “Once a month if