Free Red Sand by Ronan Cray Page B

agriculture sheds,” Paul explained. “But first, we need to make the delivery. Carter, what did you do back in the real world?”
    Carter didn’t like being on the spot. “Steward on the late ship Princess Anne.”
    “Great! You’re used to carrying things. You’re hired. Now I need a volunteer to be your partner. Lauren, I saw you raise your hand.”
    “I didn’t…”
    “I need the two of you,” he pointed at Lauren and Carter, “to grab each side of that bucket and bring it with us.” He indicated the pot below the latrine.
    “You’re kidding.” Carter couldn’t hide his disdain.
    Paul was nonplussed. “I can’t stress to you how valuable this position is. And, you might be glad to learn that it’s also the cushiest. Others of us on the island have waited years for this duty, but Tuk insists that residents of Departure Camp take it.”
    No one moved toward the bucket.
    “Someone has to do it,” Paul shrugged. “Today is your turn.”
    Lauren took action first, and Carter followed. There was no lid. A shallow moat of black liquid puddled around a mountain of waste. Much of the pile dried in the sun, but enough of it remained fresh. Lauren’s body sent back a sample of what she ate for breakfast.
    Paul looked in the pot. “Seems some of you didn’t follow directions. Liquids in the bucket, solids only in the pot. Get it right next time.”
    Carter and Lauren lifted it very slowly to avoid spills.  She gripped the handle as hard as she could. Paul followed close behind them, his hand on the small bag at his waist.
    They hadn’t gone ten yards from camp when Lauren stumbled. A blob of black slop broke free from the top of the pile and fell in the moat, splashing a few drops of greenish liquid up over the rim and onto the sand. Quick as lighting, Paul pulled a red dust out of the bag and sprinkled it over the wet sand. His eyes were wide, his chest heaving. “Do not do that again.” They didn’t.
    Emily and Mason were careful to walk upwind. They followed the trail back toward the Great Wall. Paul talked the whole way. “Tuk says, ‘Departure Camp people put their heart and souls into our gardening.’ You’ll probably put in a few ounces of blood, sweat, and tears, too, but at least you get to eat the fruit of your labor.”
    “He’s full of clichés today,” Carter grumbled.
    “He forgot one,” Lauren giggled. Carter looked at her, waiting. “Don’t let go or you’ll be in deep shit.”
    He smiled.
    They reached the portal in the Wall. Just as before, two guards stood before it with spears. One of them stepped forward and lowered the spear.
    "Who goes there?!"
    Paul rolled his eyes. "C'mon Cliff. That got old five years ago.”
    Paul turned to the group. “Everyone, this is Cliff and Chuck. They are the Great Guardians of the Gate, in their minds. I like to call them C&C Music Factory. You can, too.”
    “We’ve got a job to do.”
    “Cliff, right now you're either drunk on power or pruno. Probably both.”
    “I don't have to let anyone in.”
    “You're tilting at vines, my friend. Don't make me tell Ados you were responsible for holding up his work detail.”
    Cliff put the spear up and backed off. They opened the heavy wooden doors of the gate.  
    Paul waved them forward. “This is as far as I go,” he said as they neared the gate. “You’ll walk straight ahead until you get to the greenhouses. You can’t miss them.”
    “You’re not coming with us?” Mason asked.
    Paul glanced at the two men guarding the portal. “No, I’m posted at Departure Camp. You’ll be working with Ados, our gardener. He’ll explain everything to you. Have fun.”  With that, he turned on his heel and left them.
    Once everyone passed through the gate, Cliff and Chuck closed the doors.
    Carter made a strange noise.
    “What is it?”
    “When we got to the Wall, they were standing on the outside. Now that we’ve passed through, they’re posted on the inside.”
    “So?
    “What are they