Audrey answered, “Well, here, we pick our names. Some people have decided to keep their government names, like Quinn. Others, like Ringo and myself, picked our own and chose names for our kids. The important thing here is people have that choice. And actually, our kids did too. Ana named her son ‘Russell,’ but on his own, he decided he liked the sound of Russell W. So, he added the W, and we all call him by the full name that he picked, Russell W.”
“What does your name mean, Ringo?” asked Davis. “Ringo? I’ve never heard anything like that.”
“I picked my name from someone who was a famous drummer at one time, a long time ago. A lot of people didn’t consider him a great drummer. I do, but regardless, what you can’t deny is that he was revolutionary. Different, creative, but not a show-off or pretentious. He played meticulously and tinkered endlessly.” Davis noticed that Ringo had started drumming his long slender fingers on the table as he talked about this man. “But, while I drum a little for fun, it’s not why I picked the name. It’s because I strive to work my computers, inventions, and electronics the way he played drums.” Ringo had a shy little laugh, seeming to be a bit embarrassed talking so highly of a man he had never met, or maybe he was ashamed to compare himself to a person he obviously admired.
Davis wasn’t entirely sure she understood what Ringo meant by playing his computers and inventions like drums. Audrey saw the confusion on her face. “Before we moved down here, Ringo brought computers, monitors, different components, circuit boards, wires—you name it. Boxes and boxes of wires, tools, programming software. All his things to tinker with and repair any computer program or electronic. But they’re getting old, getting worn down, and we don’t always have enough power. Sometimes he has to get very creative to get things done, coax results out. But, no matter what amazing things he does or what records he accesses to help us, you’ll never hear him brag. He’s beyond humble.”
The whole time, Ringo was looking down, obviously very shy and modest about the words that his wife was speaking about him. He didn’t have to think about it long because soon Quinn was coming out with Ana, bringing in food.
Following behind Ana was someone Davis knew. In fact, she would recognize his face anywhere. He had the same sandy blonde hair that was just a little sticky-up. His eyes were still expressive and green, and they told you he could figure out your deepest, darkest secret with a wink. She remembered everything from his still-boyish, slightly lopsided grin to the birthmark above his right eye and to the scar he had on his left wrist, a mark that somewhat resembled an arrow and pointed to his middle finger. Davis felt her heart quicken, and her temperature rise. “This is Brookshire,” started Quinn when she recognized a look. “Oh, do you guys know each other?”
“Yes,” replied Brookshire before Davis could utter a word. “We went to school together. We were…well, we were best friends,” he finished with that lopsided smile and a shy glance downward.
Davis blushed and took a step back, and with a more devilish grin than Quinn thought possible of her, and replied, “Yes, close friends.”
~
Brookshire spoke first. “I can barely believe you are here, Davis. I mean, I heard, of course, but I couldn’t believe it until I saw you. And I was out until this morning.”
“It’s nice to see you again, too. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I ever would. Where were you this morning? I didn’t even realize people left here.”
Quinn piped in. “Yes, well, this might be a little too much for right now, but we have people who are on, uh, both sides?” she said it like a question. She was also looking at Ringo and Audrey and making eye contact, clearly unsure if she should be saying anything. Ringo gave a slight nod, an indication to continue. “So, Namaguchi, who you met briefly, and Brookshire here are double agents, for lack of a better word. Both work for President Everett, but both are also members of our secret group.” Quinn paused for a moment and took a breath. She had been speaking very fast like she still wasn’t sure if she should be talking about this. “Duffy and Hernandez, who you haven’t met yet, are too. Hernandez is a nurse, and Duffy is a doctor. They both checked in on you several times when you were sick, but you probably were asleep or not aware.”
Davis was not quite sure what to think. It was a lot to process; she started to trust and like these people she was meeting, but there were still many questions about why she was here. She felt a reserved apprehension about everything she was hearing. If everyone here was honorable, why should they have to hide things? Live underground? Have secret double agents, she thought.
Davis rested her head against her hand and closed her eyes. She was feeling overwhelmed and tired. Suddenly, Brookshire sat next to her and patted her other hand that was still on the table. “I know you’ve had a lot to think about and process. I want to let you know I’m here for you if you want to talk at all.”
“Thank you. You always were a good friend,” Davis said with a smile.
“Here, try some food,” Brookshire said, spooning her out a portion of oatmeal from the tureen in the center of the table. He took the steaming bowl and placed it on Davis’s placemat.
Davis took a small spoonful and held the spoon up, pausing and watching the steam rise off before she took a tentative first bite. “It’s good, thanks…” said Davis. “Hot.” She mostly added that because she couldn’t think of anything else to say, and everyone was staring at her. One thing she hated was people staring at her. However, her remark regarding temperature did nothing to quell the stares she was receiving.
Davis kept eating little bites hoping that someone would also eat or start a different conversation which had nothing to do with Brookshire, her, or Brookshire’s dimples. She realized, in all fairness, those dimples had only been brought up in her imagination so far, but she couldn’t envision they went unnoticed by everyone else.
After what felt like an eternity, the people at the table remembered their manners and started eating their food. Quinn piled a little lettuce with some shredded carrot on a plate and handed it to Davis. Taking it, she gave Quinn a silent smile of thanks. Davis couldn’t believe foods she had only seen in books and on television were on her plate. So far, the foods she tried had been okay, nothing awful, but sort of on the bland side. She suddenly desired this crisp looking lettuce and bright orange carrots. She took in the colors and the freshness of everything before taking a small bite. Cool. Refreshing. She had trouble thinking of adjectives to describe the food, having had nothing like it before. The lettuce didn’t have a lot of flavor, but she liked how crisp it was and the mildly sweet taste. The carrots confused her tongue further. Harder in texture with a slightly sweeter flavor than the lettuce but maybe moderately bitter and earthy.
As she was pondering, Quinn piped in and asked her what she thought of the salad. “It’s good, thank you,” replied Davis. “Interesting. I haven’t had anything like this before, but I enjoy it.”
“Maybe when you’re up to eating more foods, we can add a few tomatoes, cucumbers, toss it with a little olive oil and vinegar. Almost nothing better… Oh! You’ll have to try bell peppers in it too! That’s one of my favorite things in a salad…” And then Quinn was rambling on with her words just as Audrey had been minutes ago.
Davis realized that everyone was trying but that nobody knew what to say. There was an odd tension that hung in the air. They were trying to get to know each other without being too excited or, possibly worse, too blasé. She decided she wasn’t even that hungry anymore, and she decided to put everyone out of their misery. “I am sorry I can’t finish. I think I’ll just lie down; I’m not feeling too great. Thank you for everything.” She paused for a moment and looked around the table. “Ringo, I would very much appreciate it if we can have a real conversation tonight about why I’m here. I don’t care anymore how heavy or overwhelming it is. I need to know.”
“Of course,” Ringo said. “We will make time for that. Do yo
u want Quinn or someone like Brookshire you know a little better here when we talk?”
“Yes, both would be great, thank you.” Davis made her way to the door when the large gray tabby walked in and once again considered her. “Oh, by the way, what is it with the cat?”
“That is Buster,” Quinn replied. “I found him outside one day, all straggly, dirty, and hungry. I didn’t think he would make it, but he somehow has. He’s a scrapper. He looks like a beast; he’s big and has such a loud, grumpy meow. But he’s so sweet. So friendly. He’ll sleep with you if you take him with you and put him on the bed.”
“Oh…wow. No, thank you. I’m not quite ready for a bedmate yet,” and then, to her embarrassment, she caught herself looking up to Brookshire and giving him a slight grin. She caught herself quickly and followed with, “I’m just so tired, and I’ve never slept with an animal.” She again caught her words in her throat and tried desperately not to look at Brookshire. She excused herself quickly before she said anything else dumb.
Davis made her way back to her room and lay down on her bed in the quiet dark. For the second time in a short period, she was desperate. She was desperate to calm her mind and get some rest. Desperate not to think of Brookshire. And desperate to explain to herself why she hadn’t tried to escape once.
~
Davis tried to clear her mind. But she could only think about what she needed to ask and what details she needed to clear up. Her mind kept wandering, and her heartbeat was racing. Even though she tried not to, she also kept thinking of Brookshire. They had started as friends in school. Many people thought he would eventually submit a request for marriage to Davis, but that never happened. They held hands once. It was at a Courting Dance. They had found a dark corner away from everyone else and just talked for almost the entire time. They never danced, never kissed, just held hands. Davis remembered looking down at their intertwined hands and seeing that scar on his wrist. She had wished the “arrow” pointed to her heart instead of his finger.
As she fidgeted in bed and tried to calm her mind, she remembered another thing from Brookshire. He had told her if she ever had trouble falling asleep, she should start with A in the alphabet and name something she was grateful for that also began with an A. Then onto B and C until she fell asleep, usually a cinch to happen by the more complicated letters like K. She tried to relax her body and breathed deeply in and out a few times. She struggled for a few minutes to come up with her first word until she remembered Alvarez, a kind teacher she had in school. Then, her mind quickly shifted as she remembered Alvarez was also a strict follower of President Everett. Could she trust that anymore? Davis no longer knew. Eventually, she decided it didn’t change the fact Alvarez was a kind person and a great teacher. After a moment, she realized she wasn’t going to solve this conundrum tonight, so she tried to push it from her mind and focus on her next letter: B. That was easy, Brookshire, of course. C. Cats, she thought with a little giggle. She never thought that would be what she’d pick; she wasn’t even wholly comfortable with Buster yet. But he was cute and did rub her legs, so she was grateful for the random kindness if nothing else. She got to D and couldn’t think of anything. Her mind went blank. She sunk into her thoughts, her brain filing through the different people and places in her life as she drifted off to sleep.
Her sleep came in restless fits. Even though Davis was exhausted, she surmised that she had trouble sleeping because of her anxiety. She was also afraid to sleep through the night and miss her meeting with Ringo. After tossing and turning for a while, she got up and started pacing in the room, trying to organize her thoughts and questions. She went over to the door to crack it open to see if she could hear anything, but she couldn’t. After a few minutes, Buster came into the room and started pacing right beside her. As she reached the end of the room and before she would turn around, Buster would look up at her as if saying, Are we doing this again? Buster would then turn around a few seconds after her, do a little trot to catch up with her, and then repeat the scenario at the next turn. Davis found great amusement in it at first. Then she started to worry that maybe she was teasing the cat, which wasn’t very nice. She knew nothing about animals and didn’t know what they might and might not like. For a reason unbeknownst to her, she wanted to try to pick the cat up. Leaning down and putting her hands around the cat from a few different angles, she attempted to figure out what the best way to pick him up would be. Losing all her confidence after Buster gave her a tough-sounding “Meow!” Davis walked over to the bed and sat down instead, to see if he would follow her. He did, jumping up on the bed, sitting next to her, waiting for her to make the next move.
She mindlessly started petting Buster’s head and listening to the soft, rumbling purr that came from him. Buster kept bumping his head against her hand with gentle force. His tail held high and slightly twitchy. She leaned back down against the pillows, and Buster curled up next to her, nestled into her side. Before Davis could even think about anything, she drifted off, lulled to sleep by Buster’s soft purrs.
It wasn’t a deep sleep, but it never was for Davis when the recurring nightmare started. She told herself to wake up—she was always somehow aware when this dream started again, and the last thing she wanted to do was relive this traumatizing nightmare. However, as usual, she stayed asleep. It was the same as always. Darkness and shadows were encompassing everything. Then, out of the dark, a boy’s face appeared, he was dirty, and his face was streaked with tears and paralyzed with fear. As he’s dragged away from her, he starts begging, reaching out to her for help as she backs away. Screams and shouts are coming from below. As she continued to step back, getting further apart from the boy, the fear and the darkness, she trips backward. Looking down at what tripped her, she sees a black, bloody beating heart. As she screamed in her dream, her brain started to yell at her wake up, Wake up, WAKE UP!!! She finally woke up, sitting straight up with a gasp and scaring Buster straight off the bed. Feeling pain, she looked at her palm, where three crescent-shaped marks bled. She had clenched her fist so hard she dug her nails into her hand, making cuts into her palm. She was familiar; this had happened before, too.
Davis rolled over on her side and saw Buster on the floor, giving her a look to let her know she had greatly inconvenienced him; then he left the room. She was glad. Anxiety choked her throat, and sweat beaded her forehead. She wished she knew why this dream haunted her. It always made her wake up depressed, tensed, and full of anxiety. She supposed she had simplified the problem to herself. After all, she knew the reason she had the dream. What she was really after was how she could forget it and make it all go away.
Since Quinn had brought her some more clean clothes and fresh towels, Davis slowly got off the bed and gathered a few things so she could go shower. She wanted to go clean the cuts in her hand and get ready for dinner tonight. She wished she could wash away the wound in her soul, too.
~
After her shower, Davis dressed and, after putting her items back in her room, worked her way back to the dining room. She was also keeping her eyes open for Quinn. Davis spotted Quinn in the kitchen, prepping for dinner. “Hi, Quinn. Do you have any kind of first aid kit, bandages? I somehow cut myself,” said Davis, hoping that Quinn would hand over the needed supplies with no questions asked. Luckily, Quinn nodded and walked her down the hallway a bit to a very white and sterile-looking room smelling of antiseptic. “This is the medical room. We have basic supplies in this unlocked cabinet, and then more advanced things Duffy and Hernandez, our medical team, have to be here for.” She opened the first cupboard as she was speaking and reached in to pull out a first aid kit. She handed it to Davis and told her that it would have ample supplies.
“Do you need any help? You’re okay?”
“Yes, fine, thank you. Just a small cut on my palm.” Davis said a quiet word of thanks to herself when Quinn just nodded as she walked out and told her she’d be fixing dinner if she needed anythi
ng else.
Davis went about cleaning her hand again in the sink in the room and then pressed some towels on it to dry up the water. Luckily, the bleeding had stopped, and she found some wound cleaner and ointment in the kit and some gauze to wrap around. She tried to do as inconspicuous as job as possible, but she realized that would be impossible. No way anyone would miss this. Trying to think about what she could say about what happened, but she had no idea. Replacing the first aid kit, she decided to stick with not knowing how it happened. Then Davis worked her way back to the kitchen to speak with Quinn.
When she walked in, she saw Quinn cutting food for dinner. Quinn turned and faced her, cheerfully saying, “You okay? Can I get you anything?”
“No, thank you. Do you need any help?”
“I’m almost done. By the way, you’ll meet Hernandez and Duffy tonight. And Namaguchi is back too. Just didn’t want you to be surprised by the new faces.”
“Great, thanks. Should I just go wait in the dining room?”
“Sure, I’ll be in there in a few minutes.”
Davis walked into the room, but there was nobody there yet. She sat down and sipped the water that was already sitting there for her. Feeling tired, she put her hands on the table, elbows out to the side, and then rested her head atop her hands. Her head was still spinning and pounding in intermittent bursts; she also felt random different throbs and aches. After she relaxed a few moments, she felt a hard bump on her extended elbow. She opened her eyes and peeked out under her arm. Buster, the large gray cat, was bumping her arm with his forehead. He would tilt his head, give her elbow a substantial bump, then turn around in a circle, almost prancing on his velvety feet. A slight hump in his back and his tail held high. Then, he came around again for another bump. Davis lifted her head and started petting the cat, who got his purr motor going in low, grumbly satisfaction.
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