The Ruling Impulses

by Francesco Portone

  William had no idea where to start to move all those items. Kaminsky proposed to start with the mattress, the most cumbersome object, so Lucinda could lay down and rest a little. He regretted having brought just one, but he could not foresee that the refugees would multiply. After transporting it to the lower floor, Walter Kaminsky remembered he had to ensure that running water was still available. The toilets were on the left side of each floor. He therefore traced the one on the first floor, crumbling and smelly but still usable. He had previously tested the water coming out of the taps, but he thought it was better to check again. In his bag he still had a few kits left over from his last visit. He opened the bathroom faucet and a very light but regular flow came out. The water turned out to be a little heavy again, as already emerged in the first test, but it was drinkable and the flow was sufficient for washing. The two guests would not have any major difficulties, at least in the short term, but that arrangement could only be temporary.

  Once everything was transferred, Kaminsky pulled out of his magic bag a special communicator that William would just have to use in case of emergency to call for help. He would never, ever have to use his personal communicator, otherwise they would be easily traced. Lastly, he picked up an old yellowed book and handed it to William. Since they could not use computer tools at least they would have something to kill some time with. William sniffed it and quickly flipped through the pages. Then he read the title printed on the front cover and felt like smiling.

  «'Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea', what's that?»

  «A very old novel. I'm sure you'll like it», the militiaman assured him. «I'm just sorry...»

  «For having brought only one book, I know, I know», William interrupted, completing his thought. «It means that we'll take turns, or I'll read it for you, Lucinda, what do you think?»

  The woman was silent, too worried about what was waiting for them to be able to focus on pleasantries.

  «How long will we have to stay here and what should we do if baby wants to come sooner?», she replied instead, drastically changing the subject. That thin veil of joy on the reddish militiaman's face was swept away in an instant by the icy breath of pragmatism.

  «Delegate DiFraia and I will come up with something. Try to keep your heads up for now», Kaminsky said to cheer them up. He then checked the time and looked out the window. The sun was up and he had to hurry to Militia Headquarters. Just a small nod to say goodbye to them both and so he took off running to leave the facility, whispering the promise that he would return as soon as possible.

  Once alone, William asked his companion of misfortune if she wanted to lie down a bit on the mattress, but she chose the chair and therefore William was left with the softer option. The future father wasted no time and began to bombard his partner with the classic questions related to conception and the baby: when and how she knew, the gender, how she felt, if she had morning sickness already, if she thought of a name. Lucinda finally smiled, after so much tension due to the unexpected escape. She explained that she felt kind of a general malaise and did some simple blood tests. Her doctor also prescribed her both pregnancy and urine test, just in case, although she was skeptical about the actual need. The response instead was positive and she found out she was pregnant. She didn't know the gender yet, it was too early. She confided to William - with an ironic chuckle - that, immediately after she heard the news, either out of joy, out of surprise, or out of fear, all her ailments vanished and all in all she felt good. Regarding the baby's name, Lucinda pointed out to him – spreading her arms wide to indicate that large, battered room – that they would have all the time in the world. William therefore got up and squatted in front of her to cheer her up again, assuring her that everything would be fine, they would have a normal and happy life. He squeezed her hand to confirm the promise and Lucinda, in response, lowered herself and kissed him gently. The idyll was brutally interrupted by a metallic sound coming from the outside, from the courtyard. The two turned abruptly and then looked into each other's eyes, undecided about what to do. William slowly got back to an upright position and with his index finger to his mouth asked Lucinda to remain silent. He approached the window with measured steps and silently slid along the wall until he had a good view to peek at what was happening down there. There was again the same sound and William leaned out and then quickly withdrew his neck. He saw no one, so he did it again, but more calmly.

  «A damn tin can», he said angrily, turning back to Lucinda. «Just a damn tin can blown by the wind.»

  Lucinda could finally release the air held in her lungs. «And who knows how many other such things will happen, Bill. It'll be hard to keep a cool head, every little noise will send chills up our spine.»

  William kept looking at the open space to make sure no one was there and suddenly Lucinda saw him stand up on his toes.

  «What's up, Bill?»

  «Hell, that...»

  William stopped in the middle of the sentence, then ran to the room door, asking his partner not to move. He climbed the stairs four steps at a time, not caring about the possible risk of collapse anymore. He reached the fifth and last floor - fortunately still accessible - and looked out the window from the upper level. The four towers appeared threatening and austere. Who knows how high they were to stand so imperiously above the surrounding buildings. Their lights, of extreme brightness, could only be harmful for the eyes of the facility's unfortunate guests. William's fears were thus confirmed: the Zoo - the prison where no one in East Eden would want to spend even a minute - stood a few hundred feet from their hiding place.

  Chapter XXII

  At first Lucinda and William began to count the days so as not to lose track of time, but soon they got tired and relied on instinct and the increasingly pungent cold. It was wintertime, without a shadow of a doubt, it was of little use to know the exact date. It would not make any difference in their conditions. Calculating exactly Christmas day: that would really make the difference. It surely had to be very close, it probably was December 23, give or take a few days. In the absence of clocks or other tools to measure time, and isolated from the rest of the world, they established that if one day, on morning awakening, they felt in the mood to celebrate, well, that would be Christmas. Clearly they could not linger too much, otherwise they would end up celebrating it in January, along with the new year. And so it was. On a cold, dry and sunny morning Christmas greetings were exchanged. That was also the day they started reading that book, “Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea”, so they could distract a little and maybe lose themselves in fantasy. They had a rich and tasty breakfast based on canned beans, canned vegetable soup and sliced and wrapped bread. The good Kaminsky really thought of everything: there were also jam snacks – individually packaged - which they had not tasted yet and which they promoted on the spot to the rank of “Christmas cake”. They toasted with room-temperature beer and then wiped their mouths – dirty with beer and crumbs - with the back of the hand. They looked at each other and laughed. They completely forgot their manners. The laughters were long and loud. They really needed them. And in that instant they realized how much they wanted a normal life routine. Something they had often tried to chase away for fear of ending up in the abyss of dissatisfaction, in the vortex of ordinariness and boredom. That situation wasn't so bad after all, Lucinda admitted. At least they had time to talk, to clear things up like they never could before. Without stress or nervousness, without having to regret not having held their tongues. For a short time, just the time of a vacation, it could be an ideal condition, but no more than that: outside there was a whole world waiting for them, people who depended on them, with their families, their needs. And then there was their baby. He too had a right to a normal life. The issue of where and how to deliver him would become urgent before long. Lucinda hoped with all her heart that Walter Kaminsky - of whom they meanwhile lost trace - or that delegate, Alfred DiFraia, found a solution. Otherwise, they would have to leave that abandoned
factory and move to another place where there was at least an emergency room. Their freedom was no more important than giving birth to their little one in complete safety. It was already hard to carry on the pregnancy without being able to do periodic checks, without the support of a gynecologist. Lucinda wondered how it was possible, in ancient times, to deliver without medical knowledge and without suitable facilities. Yet the world went on for thousand years. Life - the future mother thought to herself - had always found a way to perpetuate, releasing the energy needed to adapt, to evolve, to overcome the difficult phases. It had to be that way for them too. They would be able to grab their future, in one way or another, and keep it close. They would be a family, for better or for worse. In order for that to work, however, a prerequisite was needed: William had find his own balance. They had talked about it in the past and were able to confront each other once again during isolation. Lucinda had already accused him once in the past: I couldn't say to what extent the fault lies with your illness or with your unstable character, which is getting worse and worse . Sometimes William let himself be overcome by the evil effects of the illness afflicting him. On several occasions she feared that William could raise a hand to her and in that case her ability to defend herself would be of little use. The gesture itself would set up an insurmountable barrier between the two of them. They came very close to that point, they therefore had to work together to ensure that such situations were just a bad memory of the past. They had to take advantage of the absurd - and hopefully temporary - situation of captivity to consolidate their relationship, to find ways to live together peacefully. They would have to consider that room a kind of gym to test their desire to reach an understanding beyond the feelings; beyond the passion that warmed their hearts whenever they were close.

  After the hearty meal, they began the reading of that old book, as they previously agreed. Lucinda wanted to enjoy a smell of antiquity too, as William did earlier, and so she randomly flipped through some pages, sniffing them one by one. Then she touched and smelled the rough black cover. «It smells like mildew», she complained and William reprimanded her without thinking twice, because that was simply a scent coming from an ancient era. She laughed and returned the book to him, asking him to be the narrator of the story. William cleared his throat and started with the preface, written by another equally unknown author to them. Lucinda stopped him: it was better to go straight to the point. William obeyed, grumbling and pointing out that haste was not the best premise to venture into reading an old novel. Lucinda suggested him to stop playing the part of the consummate literary critic, because he knew little about books, maybe even less than her, and ordered him to finally start reading. They chuckled, then William, with a more serious tone, opened the gate to a world made of mysterious creatures that infested the seas, fish and other animals with suggestive names, and introduced the first characters, two gentlemen named “Professor Pierre Aronnax” and “Conseil”.

  Less than one hour later, Lucinda – who was lost in her thoughts for some minutes already - cooled William's ever more enthusiastic performance by asking him if and when Walter Kaminsky would show up again. William's joyful and innocent look faded away in a second. He folded the page he was reading before the interruption to keep track, but then he judged it was almost a crime to damage such an old object and so tried to bring it back to the initial shape. The trace of folding was not yet gone away so William repeated the operation in the opposite direction to make sure that the paper remained flat. Then he got up and picked up one of the empty snack bags from the table. He tore a piece of it off with his hands and shaped it so that it was sufficiently narrow and long to serve as a bookmark, so he slipped it between the pages and closed the book. He placed it on the table and sat down again, as usual, with his elbows on his knees and his hands crossed.

  «I sincerely hope so», he replied, worried. «If he doesn't come back, we're in trouble.»

  And so, day after day, after breakfast they had a fixed appointment with the adventures of the Nautilus and Captain Nemo. They read the book in the morning, when there was more light, since nightfall came early at that time of year and they had no electricity. The evenings were too cold, moreover, so they went to bed immediately after dinner and huddled tightly on the only mattress available to warm up a bit. Kaminsky provided them with blankets but they weren't padded and a cold wind blew through the broken window. Without even hot water, washing in the morning was a real nuisance. They had to wash carefully and slowly, sprinkling water in small doses. As for the food, they still had some, but if their friend did not return, they would have another urgent matter to solve, besides pregnancy.

  And their friends? William could no longer remember the last time he saw Charlie DeClerk. They were investigating Minneman, then things quickly went wrong and everything was put on the back burner. Who knows if Kate Ramos still had troubles at work and if she found out something more. As far as he knew, the world outside could have turned upside down while he was hidden in that ruin.

  Lucinda was confident that Zephra Thomas would be able to run the business without her. She was a resolute woman. After the first days of uncertainty due to her unjustified absence, she would surely take the reins of the agency. What possibly mattered more was that Florianne Gilbert did not slap the customers, as usual. She had no desire to get involved in damages claims.

  On a cold and rainy morning they received the long-awaited visit. The return of Walter Kaminsky was anticipated by the roar of the ramshackle engine of the old patrol car MP-21. William jumped from the mattress and almost slipped on the wet, muddy floor. As usual, he leaned his back against the left side of the wall, got closer to the window and peeped out. Lucinda got up from the mattress and waited for a signal, ready to move if necessary. William recognized the vehicle but not its driver, who was wrapped from head to foot in a gray raincoat. He remained in his place waiting, as a precaution. The man seemed to be fiddling with the trunk until he pulled out a very large canvas bag.

  «Deveux, come give me a hand, it's heavy!», shouted the hooded militiaman. All the muscles of William's body, tense and ready to act, could relax. «It's Walter!», William Deveux shouted back to inform his companion, then he ran to the ground floor to help Kaminsky unload the new supplies.

  «We were worried», the involuntary recluse naively admitted.

  «I know», said Kaminsky, smiling, as the pouring rain almost obscured their view. They carried on two bags full of commodities and in the commotion woke up the invisible homeless, whose existence Lucinda and William would have ignored if it had not been for some grumble every now and then.

  Kaminsky briefly greeted the female guest of the facility, too, then collapsed in the chair, tired and sweaty. Perhaps it was not the first question the militiaman would expect, yet Lucinda wanted to know what day it was. Kaminsky, panting, gave her a smile and informed them that the date was January 7th. The two commented on the news, surprised. They would have instinctively said it was January 2 or 3. The militiaman asked Lucinda how she felt and she nodded, reassuring him. The next obvious question concerned the situation outside and what was going on at Militia headquarters. Walter Kaminsky shook his head, then took a deep breath and began to tell.

  Scarlet Militia, in essence, was preparing for war. They were doing searches everywhere, the citizens were scared. Checkpoints at the four corners of the city, their apartments were inspected several times. Even Delegate DiFraia was not doing well. Although not formally accused, due to lack of evidence, he was nevertheless asked to stay home. A kind of unofficial suspension from the service, to maybe avoid that he could manipulate or steal information. In short, they were angry as hell and Kaminsky explained that he himself was forced to tread very carefully for fear that they might suspect something.

  «Damn Militia», William swore, «and damn Minneman Company!»

  «You can say that again, William», Kaminsky agreed, breathing deeply before continuing. «I had a chat with the delegate... do you wanna
know who cheated Minneman? A man named Malik Renard, one of your teammates.»

  «Malik Renard? But how could...», William paused to think about it and walked around the room. Lucinda hung on his lips, waiting to know something more about that story. «That's why he repeatedly asked me if he could leave a few minutes to go to the bathroom... he needed to freely move around the building, without people getting in his way. And I've been such a fool to worry about his health!»

  «Yeah. What is not clear, however, is why they sentenced you too. DiFraia made two assumptions: either you unknowingly did something disrespectful to Minneman, and so they decided to punish you, or Militia just tried to avoid making a gaffe by publicly declaring that it was all a mistake and they made a misjudgment. We do not like acquitting the defendants at all. We would risk presenting to the citizens a poor image of Militia. An image of weakness, of superficiality.»

  «Sure, it's much better to put an innocent man in jail», William concluded sarcastically. Walter Kaminsky lowered his eyes and nodded.

  Lucinda carefully followed the discussion but, as soon as the two quietened down, she turned the discussion to the most pressing issue: her child. Kaminsky swore to her that that was all he and DiFraia thought about. If they did not find a more professional solution, the young man would bring with him a relative, an aunt who had worked as a nurse when she was young and had already helped a couple of women deliver in secret. He had not yet informed her of that, but the militiaman was sure she would not deny her support. Lucinda did not think it was a great idea and begged him to do everything possible to help them move to a place where she could give birth in safety and, above all, have a thorough medical check-up. She was not very well, yet she was holding on so as not to trouble anyone. William confessed that he did not realize it. He went to sit on the mattress next to her and kissed her on the head. «My hair smells bad, I should wash it», she said to lighten the mood. All three of them smiled sadly, William then got to his feet and went to shake hands with Walter Kaminsky. «Thanks for everything. You didn't have to help us. Thank you.» The militiaman returned the squeeze and soon took his leave to run back to Militia headquarters, once again urging them to contact him immediately in case of emergency, using the special communicator he provided them.