Chester and the 24-hour Lottery
Chapter 9; Back to school special

“I was so worried,” Van whispered into the crook of Chester’s sweaty neck, “Are you alright?”

He held onto her slim hips, relieved but paranoid to be back with the group. She smelled like apples, not coconut, but liked it very much. Her green eyes searched his but he couldn’t answer except to nod.

“How is your mother? Did they hurt you?”

Chester let go of her waist and avoided replying by walking away. Why had Governor Spell permitted him to continue as a winner without threats or promises of death? Garth tracked his movement as he walked through the checkpoint of Neighborhood Saldivar where children over seven years of age and The Institute resided.

Long school houses covered eight blocks, each divided by maturation and DNA approved erudition and living quarters. Chester recalled how he loathed waking up cold and hungry until sixteen when forced to return to March where his mother had already declined and ordered to work the landfill until twenty.

The Institute housed over four hundred people who ran Ozark’s dark secrets and answered to state officials. Most were not a day over thirty as brighter and better perceptive children stepped in. Chester hadn’t envied those from his childhood predestined to live their life in The Institute. Just because they replaced you, there were the experiments.

Chester shuttered, glimpsing the eyes of youths peeking out of windows and doorways. These were the future minds of Ozark and they had no choice or voice over their own lives.

“Good to have you back,” Joey grinned beside Diamond in front of one of the training quarters, “Ernesto Saldivar said he’ll only talk to you.”

“Where is he?”

Joey pointed to the head building in the distance, “Home as usual. He communicates by Virto-Frames. Hasn’t left in five years.”

Van tugged on his vest, “I’ll go with you. Do you think you could get a pair of Virto-Frames?”

Chester exhaled and peered at her smiling face, desperate to tell her the ghastly future Governor Spell confided. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Hey, are you okay? Someone hit you, but what happened? Did you speak to Spell?”

He huffed, wishing she’d shut up, “Everything is fine.”

“That’s my line.”

“It’s true. My mother is home, I’m here. Party is underway... everything is fucking great.”

Van fell silent with a frown. When they arrived at the steps of Saldivar's house, the doors opened and he came out wearing a lengthy black robe. Chester remembered the man being bigger and more intimidating, he was, after all, responsible for all children until placed to their assigned station in life.

“Chester Drivel,” Saldivar’s Spanish accent kind, “It is good to see you again. I hear you are having a party in Wayfarer?”

“That’s right. Would you like to come?”

“I would like that very much, but my love needs a ride,” Saldivar ambled down the stairs, the long robe swishing around his frame, “You as well, Vanyla Springs.”

Van’s smile grew, “Thank you. Who is your lover?”

“Ah, the lovely Susan Potter, mayor of our fine state.”

Chester closed his eyes for a brief second before biting out, “I was just at Fort Ozark. Why didn’t she approach me there?”

“Were you approachable?” Saldivar’s tone teasing.

“No, I wasn’t,” Chester begrudgingly agreed, “Okay, so what do I do Van?”

She sharply turned, “What? You’re calling the shots here Chet. You won the raffle!”

“Did I?”

“Alright, that’s it. Excuse us, Saldivar, I need a word alone with Chester.”

“Please, use mi casa,” he waved them off, “I’ll join my friends at the checkpoint.”

Van took Chester by the hand and led the way into the vast foyer. He remembered waiting there for his placement, the one and only time allowed inside the councils home.

“Come here,” Van reached for the glasses but he held up a warning finger. Cocking her head, inspected his expression and then understanding lit her eyes they replaced his Vid Frames, “I know it’s been a hard day, but soon we’ll be back in the city, winding down your time as the winner of the lottery. You’ve made a great change for the people so far.”

He frowned and looked anywhere but at her face, “When I was eighteen I thought everyone who won was the luckiest person in the world. I stayed out to watch and nearly got killed because the asshole ran over the crowd. I always wondered for what purpose did the lottery serve?”

“Hope. Twenty years ago we believed individuals could find it in themselves to incite change by proclaiming it so. Blood oaths with the promise of living a better tomorrow by changing a day.”

“Different times I reckon. I’d forgotten that slogan. Made to feel dirty and rotten for banning alcohol and feeding citizens isn’t hope, it’s asking for me to abandon it.”

“No,” she put her small hand on his cheek, and he shivered from the contact, “They’ll tell you many things, but in the end, it’s your own gut instincts and feelings you need to contend with. You’re doing wonderfully. Now come on, everybody’s waiting.”

As they walked back to the checkpoint, he placed an order for someone to pick up Mayor Potter and told she already left Fort Ozark. What was Saldivar doing dating her and why did Spell allow her to leave the safety of Ozark? He’d never heard of such a thing allowed.

“Do you like my robe?” Saldivar questioned, pulling the hood over his head so it obscured his face, “I think you’d look perfect. El disfraz!”

“Downtown is rife with fashion designers,” Diamond sniffed, “He can do better.”

“Ah, but I have one for everybody,” he exclaimed, holding up a bag Chester hadn’t noticed before, “We should hurry before nightfall as I’m sure the rail-cars and other transit commuters will block the road into Wayfarer.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your invitation to fucking party reached the entire state and gladly received Chester!” Joey slapped his shoulder, “You offer a free spread with no violence. Why wouldn’t they want to see Wayfarer City like that?”

Nervously Chester nodded, feeling as if he’d missed a chunk of information. Perhaps Joey or Van had spoken to the assigned coordinator while detained by creepy Spell. Instead of questioning the situation jumped inside the truck. Van made certain everyone climbed into the other vehicles before leading the convoy towards Wayfarer.

“Costumes,” he broached the subject a while later, “I once saw a guy painted all in gold pretending to be a statue and then another beat him with a hammer. Do you know what red and gold make when combined?”

Van screwed up her face, “Damn Chet, do you have any good memories?”

“Orange or maybe an autumn leaf. It was as if his costume had come alive and eaten him.”

“Hmm, fitting for Halloween then you morbid man. Listen, wear the cloak and I will too. Oh my, check this out!”

Ahead the roads were overwhelmed with buses, and people on foot crowding their way into Wayfarer. Whole families, friends, and neighborhoods were coming together to celebrate a night residents typically hid in fear of what the lottery winner would do. Not only were they not afraid of Chester, but eager to blow off steam on Halloween.

Van pulled over as did the rest of their group. Getting out she suggested he call for air support.

Garth came to him before he could pass the request, “Sir, are you aware there could be a riot if these citizens' needs aren’t met?”

“That won’t happen,” he tried to sound confident but since the incident at Ozark lacked optimism, “I’m calling in an Airbus to transport my new friends safely to the city center. What will you do?”

Garth sighed, “I must come with you obviously. Don’t get any funny ideas.”

He smirked, “Have you seen me have any ideas lately?”

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