Read Online The Watch (The Red Series Book 1) by Amanda Witt - Free Book Online

you into
dangerous situations.”
    “Nobody lures me
anywhere,” I said. “I do as I please. I’m not a child, you know.”
    Farrell Dean studied me, a faintly ironic expression
crossing his face. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.”
    He set his sandwich down and got to his feet, glancing as he
did so at the B workers, closer now—not yet close enough to hear us, but
close enough to see we were back here alone.
    Farrell Dean wasn’t as tall as Meritt but he was still nearly a foot taller than me, and when he took me by the
shoulders and backed me against the wall, I could see nothing but him. “Let
go,” I said, shrugging off his hands.
    “If you want me to talk to you, be still and listen,” he
said. He was showing the B workers what they expected to see, what they’d
automatically ignore. We weren’t supposed to indulge our personal preferences
until we were past the breeding years and safely sterilized, but except for the
wardens, most adults were willing to overlook a little handholding and so forth
until we hit nineteen and got assigned. After that any unauthorized affection
was a serious offense.
    Farrell Dean put his hands on the wall behind me, one on
either side of my head. He smelled like motor oil and sun, and was so close I
could see the flecks of gold and green in his hazel eyes. “Why are we scarcely
making it?” he said, speaking quietly and swiftly. “Why are you barefoot and
practically starving?”
    One of his hands dropped to my ribs, and I knew he could
feel every one.
    “I’ve been all over the city,” he said. “I’ve made repairs
in every area—agriculture, industry, medicine, food preservation,
everywhere. And everywhere we’re falling behind.”
    I was underwhelmed. “So we need to route a few more people
into mechanics,” I said, moving away from his hand, tipping my head back to put
a little more distance between our faces. My hair snagged in a bolt on the
metal wall behind me and two or three hairs came loose as I jerked my head, but
enough stayed caught to imprison me.
    “ Here. ” Farrell Dean nudged my
chin, turning me so he could get to the problem. “I don’t mean the mechanics
are behind. Everyone is.”
    “We always manage somehow.”
    “Yeah, but this year the storehouses are low,” he said, and
finished freeing me. “Lower than I’ve ever seen them.”
    That pulled me up short. It was late October—our
stores should be at their peak. Of course, our fields hadn’t had a great year.
Spring had come late, and when it did come it was wet and cool.
    Turning to face him, I searched his eyes, but I already knew
he wasn’t teasing; Farrell Dean wouldn’t joke about this. A shiver ran through
me as I imagined my usual hunger intensified.
    “The Watchers will know what to do,” I said.
    Farrell Dean shrugged and began picking with great focus at
the hairs I’d yanked out on the rusty bolt. I watched him, knowing he was
avoiding my eyes.
    “They’ll know,” I insisted. “The Watchers will do
something.”
    “Maybe.” He freed two or three long red hairs and wound them
around his finger, while I kept up a waiting silence.
    Finally he looked at me. “We’re running out of time,” he
said. “And the Watchers aren’t making any suggestions. They’re not listening to
suggestions, either. A dozen different people have tried to get in to see them,
and not one has even gotten past the door.”
    “The Watchers never let anyone in to see them,” I said
reasonably. “It’s the rules. Nobody sees the city commissioners.”
    “And in normal situations, fine. If it makes them happy to
act all mysterious, whatever. But this is not a normal situation.”
    A field worker gathering pumpkins shouted something to his
fellow workers, and when Farrell Dean glanced over his shoulder I noticed the
uncharacteristic tension in his jaw. He wasn’t like this. He was always calm,
always steady, always good humored, always understated.
    Apparently the sight of the workers