The Great Food Fight

The Great Food Fight ended a week ago. Lena’s brothers, both of them, were supposed to come home today.

...

Lena’s arm itched something terrible as the dry grass of their now-barren field rubbed against her bare skin but she didn’t move, exhausted from running and tears. She lay there, looking up at the cloudless summer sky and cursed the cruel world for its heartless math.

Tomorrow she’ll turn thirteen.

Ten years ago, the Federation of Corporations codified the Nutritional and Food Production Guidelines, outlawing food produced by anyone, including farmers like Lena’s family. Those 3D-printing-rotten-mouth bastards.

Nine years ago, the Great Food Fight began and mass starvation ripped through the corn belt. Then the rest of the world.

Five years ago, her dad left to join the fight and never came home.

Two years ago, Matt had his number called to join the front lines.

Three months ago, it was Benny’s turn.

At the thought of Benny, all the air went out of her lungs. Again. As if a giant had stepped on her. A sadistic giant who revelled in her grief.

One week ago, the war ended. Lena had been delirious with joy. Her brothers could come home. No one else would die, gunned down by drones in their own corn fields. There was a rumor going around at school that real food might even come back and they wouldn’t have to choke down tasteless printed substitutes anymore. Her mouth watered at the thought.

A cool breeze swept the field and Lena’s arms prickled with goosebumps. She should get home. She didn’t want her mom to worry, it had been a terrible enough day already.

Slowly and with heavy footsteps, Lena trudged back to the house.

The banner she painted, just that morning, flapped in the breeze, taunting her with its white letters screaming WELCOME HOME MATT AND BENNY.

She flung open the front door, startling her family. Two aunts, mom, gran, Vera - Benny’s pregnant fiancée, and Matt - their eldest sibling looked at her. Dried tears streaked their cheeks and her mom looked as if she had aged a decade since this morning when Matt pulled into the driveway. Alone.

Matt stood up, “Lena,” his voice was deeper than she remembered. Scars peppered his hands and face until he was barely recognizable.

“Why didn’t you bring him home?” Hot rage bloomed in Lena’s chest as she shrieked at her brother. “Why didn’t you save him?”

His face paled. “I… I..” he stuttered, tears filling his eyes.

“You should have saved him!” Lena spat at him and sprinted up the stairs to her room. She slammed the door, wishing that all of this would just go away. That she would wake up tomorrow and find out that it was all a bad dream.

It wasn’t fair. Only three months that he’d been gone and she’d almost been stupid enough to get her hopes up that his number wouldn’t be called. That they’d somehow forget about him. Matt never wrote about what he saw and had to do but she’d heard stories from her friends at school about what the front lines of the resistance looked like. She prayed that Matt wouldn’t end up like Tammy’s brother, blown up by a land mine near the Federation’s outpost in Ames. She had hoped Benny would never have to see any of it, that he could avoid coming home dead-eyed and deaf like Johnny’s sister. But none of that was possible now. Now, Matt was home but Benny...

She punched her pillow.

Benny was gone. Forever.

Another punch.

Benny, her brother who taught her how to throw a punch when Jeremiah Adler wouldn’t stop teasing her.

Two more.

Who read to her every night for a month after their dad died until she remembered how to sleep.

Three punches.

Who had a baby on the way who would never get to meet him.

Tears scalded her sunburnt face as she pummeled her pillow.

Like she would never see her father again. Or her cousins.

A soft knock shattered her momentum.

The door creaked open and Gran poked her head in. “You shouldn’t have said those things to Matt.”

Lena flushed. “I know,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

Gran sat next to her on the rickety bed. “This war has stolen much from us.”

“Too much.”

Gran nodded in agreement. “Yes. But we have Matt back.”

“I know,” Lena hiccuped through fresh sobs. “But I want Benny too.”

“I know. We all do.” Gran kissed her head before standing. “But we must celebrate what we still have. The war is over. Matthew is home.” She marched downstairs, Lena trailing behind.

“To the yard.” The family matriarch announced to her kin. Dutifully and silently the rest of the family rose and followed them outside. Lena tried not to look at her banner, now trailing on the ground.

“Matthew, fix that banner,” Gran ordered. “Lena, grab some logs. Vera, the matches. The rest of you, sit.” No one dared argue with Gran when she used her teaching voice. Not ten minutes later, they sat before a crackling fire.

Gran stood between them and the flames. Lena scooted her bench closer to her family. Her mom clutched at her hand. “This is not the welcome home party we hoped for when we heard the war had ended. This is not the celebration we thought we’d have when our brave soldiers reclaimed the farmlands,” Gran began. “But we are home. All of us, at last. For the first time in ten years.”

Lena snorted. Ten years ago, their family had been twice as big. How could this be home now?

“We are home,” Gran repeated. “Matthew is home.” She stretched out her hand to her grandson. “Benny, Lyle, Frank, and Joey may not be sitting here but they are here.” She patted her heart. Vera wept, silent sobs wracking her round figure while Lena’s mom rubbed her back.

Gran sat back down and began rifling through her pockets. Lena leaned in, “what are you doing?”

The start of a grin danced on Gran’s thin lips, “I think we all deserve a treat. Aha, there it is.” She whipped out a crimson box from her overalls.

“Mom, are those raisins?” Lena’s mom gasped, speaking for the first time in hours.

“Real ones. Made from real grapes.” Gran smirked, a wicked glint in her eyes.

“How… how… where did you get those?”

“Let’s just say that the Federation’s official couldn’t get out of town fast enough when he heard the news and his cellar had some illegal produce he couldn’t take with him,” she winked at Lena. “But right now,” she tore open the box and placed one in her daughter’s palm. “We are going to celebrate.” One by one, she walked around the circle until everyone clutched a single raisin.

“To Benny,” she murmured, lifting her dried grape aloft.

“To Benny,” the family echoed.

Lena popped the raisin in her mouth and nearly gasped in surprise at its sweetness. It was the first non-printed food she’d tasted since before she could remember. She nearly smiled. Benny always said that real food was sweeter than printed but she didn’t believe him. They had the farmlands again. Anything was possible.

......

Originally submitted to the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Challenge 2019, Round 1

(edited since thanks to the gracious feedback of the judges)

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