Terminal Regression

by Mallory Hill

  Dad unlocked the door, and Will stepped inside.

  “Thank you, sir,” he said, extending his hand. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

  Dad nodded, shaking his hand reluctantly. “I suppose I owe you. You’ve taken care of my girl. But know we’ll be thoroughly discussing this criminal past of yours. None of that goes away because of Laura.”

  Will nodded. “Yes, sir.” He looked at me. “I guess I’ll see you later?”

  He was safe. He’d stay in his little cell, unharmed, and I’d see him every day. Still, it was hard to make myself leave him there all alone.

  I slipped into his arms, embracing him enough to get us both through the night, hopefully. I could tell he didn’t want to do too much with my dad watching, but I kissed him as innocently as I could before saying goodbye. Then I had to go.

  Chapter 29

  <<<

  Dad led me through the building. It wasn’t just a jail, apparently. There were offices and conference rooms and lots of secretary desks, their occupants working so diligently they didn’t even glance as I passed by. Dad had his own office. From the size of it, I figured he must have been pretty important.

  We sat down, him behind his desk, me on the other side. He just looked at me for the longest time, trying to figure me out.

  “Suicide?” he asked finally.

  I sighed. “Yes, suicide. It sort of happens when you have no calling or reason to live.”

  “Honey, you loved art.”

  “I didn’t. I was horrible at it and had no patience for it.”

  He shook his head. “But you had the eye for it. You appreciated it. That’s what it means to be an artist.”

  I shrugged. “Well, it wasn’t enough for me. I can’t tell you why I’m the way I am. Maybe I am just sick or something. I just had to get out. I was being suffocated by mediocrity. Life was just so underwhelming I couldn’t breathe anymore.”

  “And Mom didn’t help you?”

  I looked down, ashamed once again. “Mom didn’t know. I told her I was selected. Like you. I just couldn’t do that to her. She’d worked so hard raising me by herself and trying to make me feel important in the community. Admitting what I was doing, especially when she’d always been so quick to dismiss the smaller stuff… I couldn’t let her down like that.” I’d planned on keeping it a secret forever if I ever got back home. Mom would blame herself for what I’d become. At least Dad had had no part in it.

  “You know I think about you two all the time?” he asked. “I’m sufficiently distracted here at work, but when I get home it’s harder to ignore. Everything’s so quiet and empty.”

  I wanted to ask why he’d left, but I knew it wasn’t a choice for him. It wasn’t a choice for most people. I was just a freak of nature.

  “What do you do here anyway?” I asked.

  “I’m on the leadership board. Basically, I’m one of the guys in charge. We have specialized divisions and areas to oversee, subcommittees. Anything that needs managing, we manage. I’m in charge of keeping the arts community well supplied and thriving, but I also oversee some Terminal B issues when they arise.”

  “Do you control the plant?”

  “No, the Terminal B divisions each have leaders like how I handle arts. Basically, every career type both here and at home has a person in charge of their supplies, conditions, and so on. Here we also have supervisors in place who can report to us when there’s a problem. Making the plant up to code is at the discretion of the leader, and he’s waiting to hear from the supervisor before taking action.”

  “But he knows it’s killing them?”

  He looked at me oddly, and I tried to control my rage better.

  “I’m not sure any of us know the whole truth of what goes on under our purview. We rely on supervisor reports or, in cases like mine, market supply reports. He does know it could be better, but he also knows the plant is for dangerous criminals. If we keep them incapacitated, there’s a lower chance they’ll be able to hurt anyone.”

  “Will won’t hurt anyone!” I declared before I could restrain myself. I lowered my voice. “He got in a fight trying to convince a guy to follow ration suggestions. He didn’t just up and assault someone at random.”

  Dad narrowed his eyes. “And they sent him here for that?” he asked in disbelief.

  “You’re the one with his file.”

  He nodded. “I’ll check that out. If it’s true, that’s cause for appeal or at least parole. But again, I have limited power in that department. Don’t get your hopes up.”

  It didn’t used to be so easy, but my hopes just kept gaining all this confidence for some reason. I did my best to keep them stifled and discouraged.

  “So,” Dad said, shifting in his chair a little. “How long have you known this guy?”

  I blushed. “Since I was a kid actually. We went to school together for a while. We lost touch after fifth grade, but we met again on the train. Then I found him on the side of the road after the plant had fried him, and he’s been living with me ever since. It’s not really safe for him to be alone in that condition.”

  “And you…love him?” he asked uncomfortably. “It’s pretty serious?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, the whole high-stakes environment sort of sped things along for us. He’s a great guy, Dad.”

  “I’m sure he is. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with this. You’re grown up. I’ve missed everything. I know nothing about you, and suddenly here you are. Don’t get me wrong, I love you and it’s wonderful to have you back, but…”

  “I know what you mean. We’ll get used to each other though. Someday things will make sense again.”

  He nodded, bringing his hand to his mouth, ready to cry again. “You look like her. You look so much like your mom.”

  I really didn’t. Mom was gorgeous. The light in her eyes was incomparable.

  I shrugged. “She always said I look like you.” I didn’t. Even tired and worn as my father now appeared, there was something beautiful about him.

  Maybe they just missed each other. Maybe I had just enough of a resemblance to each of them that they could see the other in me. It’s kind of amazing to be the child of two people who love each other like that.

  “How was she when you left?”

  “Fine. Insultingly, actually. But she had so much faith. She was convinced I’d come out alive… She was right.”

  Thinking about Mom made me sad. If I hadn’t been caught, I’d have been with her right now. But I also wouldn’t have ever found Dad. I couldn’t decide which I wanted more. It wasn’t fair that I had to choose.

  “I almost hoped she’d come with you,” he said softly. “I know that’s awful, but seeing you here… I don’t wish she’d kill herself, but we could be a family again.”

  That sounded incredible. When we were together, I’d been normal. I’d been happy even. Now there’d always be an emptiness.

  “Couldn’t you send her a ticket?”

  “It doesn’t work that way. The ticket office is part of our transportation department. Every year, we have a census go out. We keep records of career choices, people who can’t find a fit, suggestions of noncontributors, suggestions for leadership. There has to be a reason for selection, and they investigate those people very closely. Believe me, if I could have, I’d have brought you both here a long time ago. But she’d be pretty miserable here anyway.”

  That was why my original plan was so perfect. That wall would come down or at the very least the trains would go back and forth. We belonged together as one community. We needed to know our options and not be afraid that if we didn’t have a career we’d be killed. What would be so wrong with an open, honest system?

  “Why is it like this?” I asked cautiously. “Why do we even have the wall or the trains or any of it?”

  He sighed.
“Well, it’s a long story. A long time ago, we all lived together actually. But there were…complications. We were trying to build a perfect city, crack the code of utopia, and someone discovered it wasn’t possible so long as there were people without passion. There’s no place in society for people who don’t care. Most of them were already working Terminal B jobs, so the divide came pretty naturally. The wall was built at Terminal A’s insistence so they could make sure the city stayed pure. And things have been running smoothly for decades.”

  I couldn’t tell from his words how he personally felt about all that, but it had me pretty riled up. Heaven forbid “people without passion” be given a chance to figure themselves out. Heaven forbid they be given the same rights as everybody else.

  “Then how did the train become synonymous with death?” I asked, doing my best to seem impartial.

  “That was more of a cultural development than anything the government encouraged. People had to explain the train to their children, and they wanted to make sure it deterred them from ever having to take it.”

  “And the government just let them believe that for decades?”

  He gave me a curious look. “It was a harmless belief. And since the passengers could never come back, it wasn’t so far from the truth. To this day, there’s no consensus on how everyone thinks it happens, how a train can kill people and come back the next day in perfect condition. But nobody questions it. It’s easy to have faith in a perfect world, even in something impossible.”

  I wanted to ask how he could be involved in such a massive lie. How could he support a system that thought getting rid of people, people like his own daughter, was the answer to all of society’s problems? I didn’t know which was worse, the fact that all of this was happening or that he seemed so unbothered by it.

  Of course, Dad didn’t need to know I’d turned revolutionary just yet. I watched him do his work and arrange for someone to bring clothes and things for me to his house. I guess it was good that he had power here. Not just because I could use it for Will’s and my benefit, but because seeing Dad get respect and recognition gave me hope that good people really could find success in this messed up world of ours.

  There was a tiny neighborhood of real houses, probably the only one of its kind this side of the wall. That was where Dad and the other leaders lived. They weren’t very big—single story with one bedroom and one bathroom—but they were furnished and came with a kitchen and living room.

  “Here we are,” Dad said as he opened the door for me.

  The lack of concrete alone was enough to make me feel at home, but Dad had also decorated the whole thing with projects I could tell he’d done himself. The walls were a pale, neutral color, but almost every inch was covered by a painting or a drawing.

  Mom had a passion for the abstract. Her works were always exaggerated and full of colors that didn’t actually exist in whatever it was she was depicting. It was a bolder, brighter style that really embodied who she was.

  Dad had always preferred a more realistic style. He captured the everyday beauty of people and objects through extreme attention to detail and expert focus on light and shadow. His art was a study of form and movement, a search for the secrets of the universe.

  “I’m a little obsessed,” he admitted, noticing my fascination with his work. “Whenever I can’t sleep or have nothing else to do, all these images pop into my head and demand to be created. Eight years of that really adds up.”

  I knew some of the places he’d painted. Our old house, the market, the street corner with all the studios. I’d grown up with these places.

  Then there was Mom. Basically every other portrait was Mom. Mom smiling, laughing, crying, dancing, painting. And some so serious and dark it didn’t seem like the same person. One in particular showed her with her hand up, like it was pressed against a window. She looked lost and frightened. That painting made me see our resemblance for the first time. I did have her features when she was dead inside.

  “When was this?” I asked, not taking my eyes off her face.

  He came over and put his arms around me. “The day I left. We’d dropped you off at school that morning. You were kicking and screaming the whole way. Do you remember that?”

  I nodded. I’d never forget. “She was upset too?”

  “She didn’t want you to know. She held her head up until I got on the train. I can’t imagine how she was when you left.”

  Neither could I. I’d been too selfish to look back. Was it possible she’d been devastated like that all along but kept up the brave face for my sake? Had she spent eight whole years pretending? I wanted to touch the painting. I wanted to take that hand and pull her through and give her her family back.

  “I miss her,” I said. “If we’d made it through the tunnel…”

  Dad hugged me closer. “I know, Princess. Let’s get you settled in.”

  The clothes they’d sent me weren’t my typical farm flannels and jeans. Dad must have pulled them from the market delivery. I had dresses, blouses, skirts. Artist clothes.

  I was hanging them up in Dad’s closet when I heard the door open.

  “I’m here, Mr. Baily,” a woman’s voice called.

  Curious, I left the clothes and went to investigate. There was an older woman in the kitchen. She’d brought a couple grocery bags and was heating up the oven.

  “Who are you?” I asked, startling her a little bit.

  “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t know there was company.”

  Dad came in, and we both looked to him to sort things out.

  “Annie, this is my daughter, Laura. She’ll be staying with me for a while. Laura, Annie’s part of the staff. Apparently, leaders are unable to take care of ourselves, so they send people to cook and clean for us.”

  “I don’t clean,” Annie said with a smile. “Isaac comes on Thursdays for that. But only an artist can cook for an artist.” She looked me over. “I should have recognized you. He’s got your picture everywhere.”

  I looked around. Sure enough, my chubby, prepubescent face was peeking out here and there between the landscapes.

  “You’re an artist?” I asked.

  Her smile fell. “I was. Somebody thought I was getting too old for it. I blame my horrible son. I didn’t want to retire, so he sends me here. That sounds just like him. Luckily, Mr. Baily remembered me from the old restaurant.” She smiled at Dad. “Got me back to work.”

  I’d set out to be a rebel. My main objective was taking down management and restoring Will and Mimi to their callings. But somehow I ended up right in the lap of luxury. Décor, nice wardrobe, a personal chef. If I’d been the self-indulgent type, this might have convinced me to give up the fight.

  But Will was still a prisoner. Mimi would never have children. And Mom was alone and more upset about it than I’d ever known. I may have slept like a princess that night, but in the morning the fight was back on.

  Chapter 30

  <<<

  Dad escorted me to Will’s cell the next day, promising to look into his options and get me in a few hours. I hadn’t really missed Will. It had only been one night, and there’d been plenty for me to think about. But seeing him made my insides swirl around in some sort of visceral happy dance. Man, I had it bad.

  He smiled. “Well, you’re looking adorable today.”

  I’d worn one of my new dresses, not exactly trying to impress him, but I can’t deny I was grateful to be wearing something other than a dirty flannel.

  I shrugged. “Dad still wants to dress me like his little artist. How was your night?”

  “Not bad. A little lonely.” He wrapped his arms around me. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Why on earth wouldn’t I?”

  “Well, certain girls who will remain unnamed can’t be bothered to make prison visits.”

  “First of all, we got arrested toge
ther. If anything you’re the Clyde to my Bonnie. Second, do you have any idea how cool it is to date a bad boy?”

  He laughed. “I think that only applies to guys who wear leather jackets and cut school. Prison girlfriends have a less than desirable reputation.”

  “Well, you make my daddy nervous. That’s close enough.” I kissed him, unable to hold back another moment.

  “Careful, young lady. Eddie’s watching from the camera desk.”

  I grinned. “I bet Eddie could use a little excitement.” I touched his face. He had stubble growing in already. “How’s your head?”

  He reached up for my hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss my palm. “Just fine.”

  “And your stomach?”

  He smiled. “I’ve got a few butterflies, but otherwise I’m okay. I’m not being shocked, I get plenty of rest, regular meals. It could be a lot worse.”

  I didn’t doubt that. “But this isn’t forever. We will figure out a way to free you.”

  “I know you’re trying. But really, don’t worry about me.”

  “I have to. I can’t just turn it off, Will. I’m worried for us too. I mean, it’s going to be difficult if you have to spend the rest of your life locked up.”

  He nodded. “So what have you got in mind? Evidently we’re not very good at escaping.”

  “Maybe we have to be slightly more legal. I still want to spill all the secrets to the artists, but I think we can get you out by talking to the prison leader. My dad’s working on it.”

  He shook his head. “If it’s appeals, I’ve been through all that. I’d done a little research on our law enforcement prior to my arrest. They’ve all but given up on holding prisoners. The train and the plant is their preferred punishment. I guess it saves resources.”