Free The Terminus by Oliver EADE Page B

had coloured patterns, strange designs and frills. Also, their
toe and finger nails were painted pink, lilac or red. How odd! But what caused
her to stop struggling and stare was the girls’ hair… long and styled to suit
each owner. None had the obligatory pudding-basin. Some had ringlets, others
French braids, pony-tails or bunches. Most wore accessories – flowers, ribbons,
bands or patterned clips. Beetie’s expression betrayed her amazement.
    “Can’t wait to
become one of them , ay?” remarked her captor, noticing her stillness.
Beetie frowned. The other girls remained silent, like the surfacers, but the
man holding her up was different. “All in good time,” he continued. “At least
you’re one of the fortunate ones. Because of your looks. Some aren’t so lucky.”
    With a turn
and a nod of his head, he indicated a large, windowless grey building. Bearing
only a door and a tall chimney, there was something terrifying about its drab
soullessness. She tried hard to remember whether she’d seen the place before.
    No one at the
Retreat had any idea what went on in the Hatcheries, all having emerged in late
childhood with memories as blank as a clean sheet of paper. Rumours travelled
around – and Arthry could neither confirm nor deny these – suggesting older
surfacers, those who became sick, slowed down or went against the authorities,
would return to the Hatcheries to be re-cycled… un-brained and turned into
gee-rat food.
    “Release me at
once!” Beetie screamed. “Let me go! I belong somewhere else.”
    Like others in
the Retreat, the girl had vowed under no circumstances to mention their
underground safe haven.
    “Not any
longer, you don’t. Now… ‘B’ for blue, huh?” He grinned as he swung the netted
Beetie like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder and carried her towards a pale
blue, two-storey edifice beyond the shuttle-bus precinct. Colourful buildings
of differing pastel hues were spread out across a large area, connected by
attractively tiled pathways and well-trimmed gardens… with flowers! Beetie had
never before seen flowers. Apart from the grey block, the Hatcheries should
have been beautiful, but, bumped up and down on the brute’s back, the girl
experienced only beauty-eliminating nausea during the short journey. He dumped
her at the entrance of the blue building, took out a knife and cut her free.
She struggled to her feet on shaky legs and leant against the wall, facing the
grey block in front of which stood a row of grey crates on wheels. Beetie
hadn’t noticed these before.
    “God’s got a
good reason for making that place ugly!” He informed the girl, enjoying
her unease. How she hated the monster! “Gotta keep you girls right. So make
sure you don’t go getting ideas of your own after we’ve re-erased those silly
little memories you’re trying to hide inside your pretty head ’cos it’s where
you might end up if you do.” He chuckled and banged on the blue door. “Well,
not finally. Inside the stomachs of the gee-rats... that’d be your final destination.
And from there food for the people. It’s called recycling!”
    Could she
outwit him? She felt for her mag-stunner but the pocket was empty. Blinker must
have stolen it. Would Arthry know they’d taken her to the Hatcheries? Send a
rescue party, perhaps? There again, Blinker might have returned to the Retreat
and denounced her as the traitor? She could only be certain about the
boy from the past who had touched her lips with his own. A ‘ kiss ’, he
called it. She’d tingled all over and for the first time in her remembered life
she felt truly like a girl.
    The door
opened. A woman in a blue overall stood before her, arms folded.
    “Put up a bit
of a struggle, this one. She even…” began the heavy.
    “Get me out of
this place, you fat idiot!” rebuked Beetie. “Take me back to the shuttle-bus at
once!”
    “He said she
might be a bit feisty. Thought she might need a bit of taming. Ha