"Is that why you can't sleep? You're worried over them?" Manda looks sympathetic.
I shrug. "Maybe? I'm having bad dreams. Maybe they're stress related."
"I bet your period is coming," Manda points out. "I always get weird dreams right before mine."
I nod, toying with my fork on my empty tray. I don't mention that I haven't had my period in well over six months. It's never been regular, but I'm sure giving away my food isn't helping. Ever since Dad died, everything's been a little off, and my period and whether or not it shows up is the least of my problems.
Before Manda can say anything else, one of the guards comes up to our table. He has two new women with him, both of them skinny and dirty and tired-looking. I recognize one from the local whorehouse—Dina. The other looks like she's barely fourteen. "New recruits," the guard says to us. "These two will be bunking with you ladies."
"Oh." Manda straightens, shooting me a look of surprise.
I wear a tight smile of welcome. I shouldn't be surprised the bunks in our room are being filled. Kristi got moved out of the program a while back, and Rachel mated a dragon and was given swanky quarters elsewhere in the fort. I just didn't realize we were still recruiting for the program. I glance around at the cafeteria. Now that I look, there seem to be new women every day, and more than there were in the past.
Are we…recruiting?
More women for the dragons? The thought makes me uneasy.
"I'm Manda," my friend says brightly, getting to her feet. "Let me show you guys where to get breakfast."
I jump to my feet, fighting the urge to put a hand to my abdomen to secure the cornbread I've stashed. "I'll make sure we have extra blankets in the room." As Manda shows them around the cafeteria, I make my way out, explaining the same to the guards and tugging on my too-short shift dress as I go. I have a little time to dump my purloined breakfast under my pillow and then return to line-up for the day's orders.
I make it back just in time, sliding into place with Manda and Dina and the other girl. The women line up in front of the guards, and a man with a clipboard comes out, just as he always does. Life in the fort is nothing if not regimented, and it's even more so now that Lord Azar is in charge. He goes down his checklist, calling out names and assignments.
"North Quadrant, scavenging," the guard calls out in a bored voice. "Jan with Baxter. Toya with Carson. Adrienne with Rodriguez. South Quadrant, scavenging. Dina with Holland. Jenny with Hightower. Kacie with Sutton. West Quadrant, scavenging…"
Dina gives Manda a worried look.
"It's okay," Manda says, speaking in a low voice. "I'll talk with Daniels, let him know that you guys need a bit of time to settle in."
I want to point out that she can't guarantee that she can talk to Daniels, but in the next moment, Manda's name is called out…and she's with Daniels. Her smile of pleasure tells me that she knew this would happen. Huh. Maybe Manda's been pulling strings on the side and I've been too wrapped up in my own worries to notice. Good for her. I know she's in love with him.
Once we're dismissed, I give my dress another tug and wait. A moment later, Hightower comes to my side. "Ready to go out?"
I shrug. My cornbread is safely hidden, so might as well get the day started. "Ready when you are."
Hightower smiles at me, shouldering his weapon. Of all the guards, Hightower is probably my favorite. He reminds me of a kid brother, probably not much past the age of sixteen if even that old. He's got reddish hair and pale skin, and he's tall and skinny. He's good-natured, too, which seems odd to me given that he's with the rest of the militia, but everyone gets on the best way they know how. He's generally nice and easygoing, though, and heading out with him is fun.
We sign out the assigned bikes and pedal out of the South Quadrant gates. I like the excursions out of the dirty, crowded fort. It reminds me of happier times with my father, back when we were nomads roaming from ruin to ruin, collecting what we could. Most nomads are murderers and thieves. I like to think that my dad was different, but maybe not all that much. Doesn't matter now, he's dead.
The moment we cross out of the gates, the doors welded into the car barricade shut behind us. Something prickles on the back of my neck and I put a foot down on the weed-covered concrete, pausing. I look back behind us, because I can't shake the feeling that I'm forgetting something…or I'm being watched.