The First Born

Lena watched the fall colors pour in through the window and dance on the paint-chipped walls. The sun was coming up already, but she hadn’t slept at all. How could she? Today was October 1, 2035, her fourteenth birthday and the day they would come for her.

Most children turning fourteen would be celebrating their adolescence. Basking in the glory of a new era. Parties would be in order. Families would be gathered, and memories made. That was not an option for Lena. She was one of the unfortunate children affected by the First Born Rule. The day marked the end of her childhood and the beginning of something dreadful.

If it were an ordinary day, Lena would have already climbed from bed and began the chores around the farm. The day was anything but ordinary. It was a day she had feared for years now. Counting down using ticks on her closet wall to signal the impeding dooms day, of sorts. So, this day she laid in bed longer than usual with hope of prolonging the hours ahead. The Recruiters, or Gatherers to the common people, would come knocking on her door any minute, she knew. In the back of her mind, there was still a lingering hope she was overlooked. A hope that her name never made it onto their list. It was a childish delusion, but she had nothing else to hold onto.

The smell of ripe apples from the orchard filled the bedroom through the cracked window. The weather outside was chilly, but the howling wind helped sleep come a little easier at night. So she left the window open until the snow began to fall each winter. The snow would be coming soon, but she wouldn’t be around to see it.

Lena knew hiding in her bedroom wouldn’t make the day any easier. She had to face her problems instead of pretending they weren’t real. Starting with her wreck of a mother. That was the first obstacle. She emerged from the thick bed covers as naked as the day she was born. Her favorite way to sleep since she was a small child. Lena made her way towards the bedroom closet, her bare feet gliding across the drafty floorboards. Most days she wore her favorite flannel shirt and overalls to work on the farm. Lena decided on a more formal approach. Jeans would be more suitable. Or would it? Truth be told, she had no idea how she was supposed to dress for their arrival. The flannel had once been her fathers but became too small for him over the years and he passed it to Lena. “If your mom would stop shrinking my clothes, it would still fit.” Her father would joke with a giggle and wink at Lena. She loved that flannel and hoped she would be able to keep it.

After dressing, she drowsily walked toward the window to see what the morning held. The sun was completely up and casting shadows across the valley. From the window view, rolling hills and trees blanketed the scenery. Chimney smoke from other homes rose above the tree line. Beyond the trees, there was nothing. A few small towns were within walking distance from the farmhouse, but for the most part, Lena’s family lived in seclusion.

The nearest city, Jefferson, was over twenty miles away and she had been once as a small girl. Her father told her the cities were packed with filth and corruption and young girls had no place there. During harvest, he would travel to Jefferson in the family’s’ run-down farm truck on Sundays to sell crops.

Her father must have been right about the city. When Lena was ten years old, he was murdered by a gang of school aged children on his weekly run. The children took what little cash he had and enough produce to feed a large family for a few weeks.

When a person knows hunger, they’ll do whatever is necessary to fill that empty feeling in their stomach. Even if it meant taking another’s life. The children must have been really hungry. At least that’s what Lena tells herself to keep the hate buried beneath the surface.

Not a single day passed that she didn’t think of him. With every slam of the front door, there was a fleeting thought that maybe his murder was all a bad dream. That just maybe it was her father coming back from working in the fields. The thought only lasted for a second. Then she would return to the real world where people don’t come back from the dead.

Following her father’s death, Lena and her mother made trips to the nearby small towns to sell produce, eggs, and milk to the locals. Not much profit was made from the ventures, but it was enough to keep the farm up and running.

Lost in thought, Lena finally snapped to and headed downstairs toward the kitchen.

Her mother was already awake and cooking her favorite meal for breakfast; potatoes and eggs. Lena's stomach growled at the smells that filled the house. There was no dinner the night before. Her mother had locked herself away in her bedroom for the entire day. Her soft sobs echoed through the thin farmhouse walls all hours into the night. Lena was the one leaving the comfort of her home, yet her mother was the one falling apart.

As she came to the bottom of the stairs, Lena slowly peered around the corner into the kitchen to prepare for what her mother’s mood would be. As expected, she was a wreck. Her hand was shaking while stirring a pan of eggs. A half empty jug of moonshine was within an arm’s reach, a reoccurring theme since Lena’s father’s death.

Her mother frequently came home with a fresh jug after weekly visits to one of the towns across the river. A man there always traded potatoes for a moonshine.

“Good morning, mom,” Lena quietly spoke, trying not to startle her mother. She hated to see her drink, but the alcohol helped ease the despair that ate at her soul, so she never pressed the issue.

Her mother forced a half smile in return at her daughter’s arrival. A smile that attempted to cover the shame and guilt buried underneath.

Lena made her way toward the stove and wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist for comfort. Not only were her arms shaking, but her entire body was unstable. Lena wished there were some way to ease the suffering her mother felt, but that was an impossible task.

Her mother pulled away from the embrace. Compassion was never her strongest suit. Even more so since her husband was murdered. She seemed mad at the world. But why shouldn’t she be? The world had given her more heartache than a woman of her age should have to deal with and now her daughter would be taken away as well. She was literally losing everything.

Lena went to the cupboard for plates and glasses and began to set the table for breakfast.

“There is still the possibility I was overlooked.” Lena began while placing the dishes around the table. A lie, Lena knew. But what else could she say? There was nothing else to talk about and the awkward silence was unnerving. “We live miles from the city. Who knows, maybe…”

“Don’t talk to me like I am a child, Lena. You do not believe those lies. What makes you think I do?” Her mother snapped.

“I’m sorry. I was just trying to make conversation. I don’t know what else to talk about.”

There were so many things Lena wanted to ask her mother but could not. The thought of bringing up questions like; Will I die when I go to war? or What will happen to my body? Will I ever see you again? These were questions that flooded her thoughts, but she dared not ask them.

Lena had thought about death over the past few months more than any child should. Death was not something 12-year-old children were supposed to fear. Unfortunately, that was the world she lived in. Children were disposable.

An awkward silence filled the room. Lena racked her brain trying to think of something to say. Anything to ease the tension. Her mother broke the silence before she could intervene.

“I failed you Lena. I have admitted it, why can’t you? I had one responsibility. I promised him that I would keep you safe. I promised him that I would never let them have you and I failed!” Her mother sobbed.

In her outburst, her mother slammed a hand onto the countertop and was holding it in pain. Lena tried to get a look to make sure it wasn’t broken, but her mother pulled away in rejection and went back to stirring the eggs as if nothing happened. But not before little Jimmy began to wail from upstairs.

Without so much as a flinch, her mother kept cooking breakfast.

Does she not hear him crying, Lena thought?

The midwife, who delivered Jimmy and came around for check-ups every so often, suggested her mother suffered from post-partum depression. Apparently, it was a fairly common ailment in mothers giving birth under stressful conditions. The midwife promised it would pass with time.

The midwife lied. It had been four months since Jimmy was born and the symptoms seemed to be getting worse by the day.

Lena realized her mother was oblivious to the crying baby with no intentions of getting him out of bed so she headed back up the stairs towards the nursery.

Jimmy was an ugly, wrinkled thing when he was born. She remembered how awfully funny he had looked those first few days. He had since grown into the most beautiful baby she had ever laid eyes upon. He had their mother’s big blue eyes and blonde hair, whereas Lena had red-brown hair and green eyes like her father.

When she arrived at Jimmy’s crib, the poor fellow had soaked through his diaper onto the bedding. In disappointment, Lena couldn’t help but wonder when the last time his diaper had been changed. She knew her mother got diverted from reality from time to time given everything she had endured, but more was expected when it came to the welfare of Jimmy. He was only a baby after all and needed a mother’s touch. She was supposed to nurture him and show him affection as mothers are supposed to. Only she did the opposite. She was cold, distant and the only time she interacted with the baby was when she nursed him.

Lena pulled the baby from the crib, removed his bed clothes, and took him into the bathroom for a quick rinse. He hadn’t stopped crying since he woke up.

Lena noticed a large rash on his bottom from the wet diaper rubbing against his skin. Another strike against her mother, but she would handle it without complaint, as she always did. Especially today.

After rinsing the baby in the tub, Lena put a coat of ointment on his rash to soothe the pain and covered it with a fresh cloth diaper. She bundled him in layers of warm clothes and placed him into the homemade wrap she made as a gift for her mother. Jimmy finally began to calm down with a fresh change of clothes but continued to whimper like a small puppy. Lena thought it adorable when he made those noises and gave his cheeks a squeeze.

When Lena returned downstairs, her mother had finished cooking and was placing the food on the table. She was excited to finally sit down for a hearty meal. She was so hungry.

As soon as Jimmy saw their mother, he was screaming and kicking his little legs in every direction. Lena tried to pass the baby across the table to their mother, but she waved him away.

“I think he’s hungry. When was the last time you fed him?” She asked her mother who continued to go about making her plate blatantly ignoring Lena. “Hello, mom can you hear me?”

“I fed him last night. Are you accusing me of trying to starve him or something? He’s a baby. They cry. Just let me eat for God’s sake. I handle him afterwards.”

Lena nodded trying to avoid any further confrontation and stacked her plate with eggs, potatoes and homemade biscuits. Of all her mother’s flaws, cooking was definitely not one of them. She always had food on the table even when there was nothing in the pantry. She was a true wizard when it came to cooking.

Trying to eat was a difficult task. Jimmy continued to kick and thrash for his mother. Lena had enough. “Look, he needs food. He isn’t going to stop screaming and fidgeting until you feed him. Can you just take him so I can eat?”

“My breasts are sore, just go fetch him some goat’s milk for now. I am in no mood to deal with that screaming. Plus, I have been drinking all morning.”

“That’s never stopped you before.” The comment was too much, Lena knew before the words had escaped her mouth.

Her mother slowly rose from the table and grabbed the bottle of liquor from beside the stove. So much for enjoying breakfast as a family on what could possibly be the last day Lena would be at home.

Before she left the kitchen, her mother turned to take a stab at getting the last word, “The little whelp has teeth. Maybe get him a wet nurse if you really want to help! Just let me mourn the loss of my daughter.” The tears were flowing again. She headed up the stairs to her bedroom with a slam of the door that shook the farmhouse walls.

“I’m not dead yet,” Lena whispered and proceeded to leave the table and grab a bottle from the cupboard. With Jimmy in the wrap, she headed out the door toward the barn.

The goat was asleep when she entered. Lena had to wrestle her awake. “Get up ole girl,” she nudged. “I need some milk for Jimmy. Mom is in a bad mood this morning.”

The goat gave a grunt at first, but eventually got to her feet. Her teats were swollen. Lena had to massage them for a while to relieve her. Most mornings, the goat would have already been milked before dawn, but the daily routine was a little astray.

She filled the bottle with warm milk and rubbed the goats head in appreciation before taking off towards the wooden swing that hung from the ancient oak tree. Which happened to be her favorite spot on the farm.

The spot was right in the middle of the flower garden she helped her mother plant the past summer. The flowers were still alive but beginning to droop from the fall weather. Cold dew was dripping from the leaves onto the ground below.

Lena settled into the swing and began to feed the baby. He sucked at the bottle greedily almost choking himself. “Easy, it’s not going anywhere,” Lena told him as though he could understand. “Mother loves you, I promise. But things are difficult right now. She is having trouble dealing with it all.”

Lena was rubbing the soft tuft of blonde hair on the baby’s head while rocking the swing. In return, Jimmy began to play with her hair, wrapping the long, wavy strands around his tiny fingers and smiling playfully. It was a moment she never wanted to forget.

From the swing, she could see the sun casting shadows for miles through the hills. She looked off into the horizon at the beauty of the valley in the fall. The trees were full of life painting a brilliant scenery with their colors. The smell of wet leaves and morning dew filled her nose.

Staring into the distance, Lena’s mind was almost at ease for the first time in weeks. Until she noticed a cloud of dust rising down the driveway.

Sure enough, a large white van was coming around the bend headed straight towards the farmhouse. Lena and her mother weren’t expecting visitors. The people in the van had one purpose only; collecting Lena.

All the color faded from Lena’s face. Her skin began to feel clammy and cold. Whatever fears she had imagined and tried to suppress, just become a reality. Her eyes began to fill with tears. The tears obstructed her vision and began to fall on Jimmy. He must have sensed the discomfort shared by his sister; he began to wail loudly again. They had found her. She should have known. She belonged to them now.

Lena raised her body from the swing slowly, as though in a trance. The task posed more difficultly than should have. Her knees were shaking and felt like putty under the weight of her body. It was everything she could do to keep from falling.

She and Jimmy made their way back to the house. The short trip seemed to last an eternity. Everything was moving in slow motion. The sounds of the farm. The sounds of rocks kicked under the tires of the van coming up the drive. All the beauty Lena had experienced just moments before had faded to a dull gray.

Upon entering the house, she found her mother in the kitchen, looking out the window. She heard them coming as well.

Lena handed Jimmy off to her and headed up the stairs. She had packed a small duffel bag just in case. Mostly essentials; underclothes, bathing supplies, and her fathers journal she had found after his death.

Lena grabbed a band from her dresser and tied her thick, waist length hair back into a tight bun. She looked at herself in the mirror and for a small second, contemplated making a run for it. But how far would she make it before they caught up. She knew the thought was irrational.

So instead, wiped the tears from her face as the fateful knock came over the front door. With one last glance around the childhood bedroom she would never return to, Lena headed back down the stairs to meet her fate.