Terminal Regression

by Mallory Hill

  I let everything happen around me. Arriving at the council building, being escorted inside, it all passed by like the scenery in a car ride. I wasn’t there. I was no longer a part of this. Because after everything that had happened, everything life had put me through, I honestly didn’t care anymore. Let Mimi lose her kids. Let Mom and Dad go on living their lonely, unfulfilled lives. Let Will die alone, frightened and confused in a ditch somewhere. Once I was dead, none of it would matter anymore. The world and everything in it would fade from existence like it had all been some terrible nightmare. And I would finally be at peace.

  The room was dark with no windows and only a few dim, flickering fluorescents on the ceiling. The representatives were seated in a semi-circle formation, and the officer brought me front and center while they looked on in mild confusion. I hadn’t anticipated it looking so authentic. Mom had only ever been to about three of these things aside from routine checkpoint meetings, and she’d never described it as anything but a dreary old waste of everybody’s time.

  She stood when I entered, and I could feel her restraining herself as the officer addressed the room.

  “This is Laura Baily,” he said. “We received instructions that she is to be discharged from the city, something we ordinarily do by train. As that is no longer an option, we’ve decided to leave it up to you how the discharge is executed. Officer Carey, can I hand her over to you?”

  An older man also in uniform nodded, and my cop let go of me to give him the keys. Then he left the room, and I stood there awkwardly, cuffed in front of the best and brightest our fair city had to offer.

  Mom rushed around the table and hugged me way too tightly. “Are you okay?” she asked, holding my face and turning it a bunch of ways as if she’d been expecting scrapes and bruises. I knew how to answer that question.

  “I’m fine,” I said. I’d never meant it less.

  She tried to smile, but it was different now. There was something broken deep inside her, and, try as she might, she couldn’t cover it up.

  She turned to face the others. “Laura doesn’t need to leave the city,” she declared. “She’s my little girl. I take full responsibility for whatever’s happening.”

  “Mom,” I warned, knowing she had no idea what she was getting herself into.

  “Jane, you know it doesn’t work that way,” Officer Carey sighed, not particularly upset by my little predicament. “If a discharge was ordered, she has to go. That’s the law. Just look what’s happening out there. People are panicking, rioting. Your artists are inspiring chaos everywhere they go.”

  The others in the room nodded and voiced their agreement, speaking over each other excitedly so that all I heard was a jumble of words. Something about babies and obscenity, horror, violence, radical, a danger to us all, stuff like that.

  “But there aren’t even any trains,” Mom shouted over them, truly thinking she’d found a loophole. “You can’t get rid of her without the trains.”

  The room fell silent, but I could feel them all sharing the same thought. I had to be stopped. Whatever the cost.

  “There are other ways,” Carey said at length, just as ominously as possible. “In the event the train is unavailable, a more direct method of expulsion must be implemented. I’m afraid it’s standard protocol.”

  Mom went pale, every last bit of that beautiful, sunshiny joy sucked right out.

  “No,” she breathed, her eyes darting around the room in search of support. “No, I won’t let you! You can’t do this! I can’t go through this again!” She grabbed onto me and started wailing like I’d never heard before. I wanted to help her, but my wrists were still cuffed, and even if they weren’t I didn’t know how.

  A lifetime ago, I’d wanted this. I’d wanted all of it, this exact picture. And now that I knew it was possible, now that I could see just how broken perfect people could be, it all made sense. For better or worse, I realized I’d been right from the very beginning. I’d been right to leave this life behind. I’d been right to think it would destroy me whatever little chance it got. I’d been right to start this revolution even if it launched us into Armageddon. Because this life was not worth living.

  I managed to nudge my mom off of my shoulder. She looked at me, expecting me to have a big reaction of my own, not understanding I’d had mine months ago when I signed up for my ticket.

  “Hey,” I said gently. “Mom, go sit down. It’ll be all right. I promise.”

  She shook her head, but I insisted. Finally, she wiped her face and obeyed.

  I took a deep breath. I didn’t know how to get myself out of this, but I didn’t need to. I was resolved to accept whatever fate awaited me. I had no other choice at this point. But if I was going out, I’d do all I could to take the enemy out with me.

  “I want to confess,” I said, my voice just loud enough to fill the room. “I did it. I broke out of Terminal B. I am one hundred percent guilty, and if you want to kill me for that, fine. But first, I want to tell you why.”

  I searched through my memories to find a beginning. I couldn’t tell where it had definitively started, but I knew when it had gotten significantly worse.

  “When I was a kid, my dad died,” I said, looking anywhere but at my mom. This was the story I’d kept from her out of fear I’d just make things worse. Now, worse no longer existed.

  “He took the train,” I continued. “He was selected… And you know what they say about people who take the train? They say they’re bad guys. Criminals, slackers, the scum of society. My dad wasn’t like that. He was a good, brilliant, talented person with everything in the world to live for, but he was taken away. And I got so scared because I thought maybe it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what you did or how good you were; you could just as easily be taken away.”

  I remembered coming home from school that day. I’d had to spend the whole day in the office because I wouldn’t stop screaming for my dad. And when Mom heard about that, she’d told me it was all right to be upset but that I was far too old to be acting that way. She told me I had to be brave or strong or something and not let it keep me down. And, God, how could I disobey her when at any moment she could’ve been taken from me too?

  “But I tried to be good,” I said, holding back very persistent tears. “I tried so hard but at the end of the day, I wasn’t. I wasn’t good, I wasn’t fine, I was crumbling. I was angry and resentful and bitter and just really, really sad… Being happy matters more than being good. It matters more than telling the truth. As long as you act like you’re happy, everyone leaves you alone. They don’t ask questions or try to fix you. So for years, I pretended.”

  I shut my eyes and tried to blink my tears away. I wasn’t sure exactly where I was going, but I had so much inside of me, so much I knew I’d regret if I took it to the grave. I tried to piece together more bits of the puzzle, all the memories and reasons and little bits of my life that had led me to this.

  “I grew up in the arts community,” I said. “Both my parents were artists; they were just incredible. My dad was so great, he did so much for his community, but it wasn’t enough to save his life. And so someone like me, someone who wasn’t very good and really had very little interest in it… I was doomed from the start, wasn’t I? So I tried to find another community. I tried every community in the city, but I was no better at any of them. And as I ran out of options, it became clear what I had to do.”

  I remembered coming full circle, all the way back to the arts, failing at everything along the way. I remembered adding my name to the community roster, hearing Mom talk about finding me a studio space, officially becoming an artist when I hadn’t picked up a brush in years. It was like I could already hear the train coming for me.

  “I’m a suicide,” I said, choking a little as it came out. That word tasted like fire, like hell itself rising up to devour me from within. This side of the wall, stripped of all the fa
rm’s sugar coating, that word had only one meaning.

  “I killed myself, but I didn’t die. In a way, that was the worst part. I didn’t die. I met people, heard their stories, made friends. I even fell in love. But here I am trying to redeem myself, trying to preserve what little happiness I’ve been able to find in this world, and this is where I die. After everything, after asking for it and having it denied to me then, I’m going to die because a bunch of frightened city council members can’t open their eyes and see that somebody outside the wall shut down the trains and wants to shut me down too. Well, fine! Do it! Get it over with! Put me out of my misery, but know that it won’t change a thing. They’re out there. If you don’t believe me, believe the trains. Believe the anonymous warrant for my arrest. Believe the market donors who’ve suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth. You have all the proof you need. So go on and kill me. You don’t need me anymore.”

  My face was dripping with all sorts of emotional runoff, but I was so beyond caring at that point. I stared them down, daring them to do their job, wondering if any of them even had the guts to try.

  I hadn’t looked at Mom yet. I couldn’t for fear I’d see just how severely I’d let her down. So I set my glare on the back wall, over their heads, waiting for death to consume me.

  The soft screech of a chair being pushed back was what finally broke the silence. Without thinking, I followed the noise to my mom, who looked like she’d just had all her hopes and dreams beaten out of her but held together with a stony expression. She stood before all of us when she just as easily might have passed out.

  “She doesn’t have to die,” she said so softly I could just barely hear. “She’s willing to leave and that’s enough. We don’t need a train if someone’s willing. Let her walk the tunnel.”

  The council members finally began reacting to what must have been the most eventful day of their careers. I saw a couple nods, a shrug or two. I meant absolutely nothing to these people.

  “So let’s vote,” Mom continued. “All in favor?”

  Gradually, she won the room.

  “All right. Just in case, all in favor of letting this whole thing blow over?”

  I got one guy. He smiled at me apologetically, and, honestly, I was so touched I could have kissed him. But the others were more cautious. I’d caused a disturbance; I had to be punished.

  I never got out of those handcuffs, and at the end of the meeting it appeared Officer Carey was going to escort me back to the station. My departure was scheduled for the following day, so I’d be spending the night locked up.

  Mom walked out with us, and Officer Carey let us have a moment before loading me into his squad car. She didn’t say anything. She just smiled so very weakly and pulled me close. I felt my heart breaking as I tried to fight the cuffs and hug back. Somehow, in spite of everything, I knew she still loved me.

  But I couldn’t be relieved. My mother hadn’t just saved my life. She’d condemned me to a fate worse than death.

  Chapter 36

  <<<

  Back at the station, Officer Carey went through the full criminal procedure with me. He entered my revised sentence into the system and then, not even kidding, he had me take a mug shot. I could only imagine the hellish, tearstained beast that would show up once that picture got developed.

  “Is this really necessary?” I asked as he had me turn to my left. “It’s not like I’ll be around much after tomorrow.”

  He shrugged. “You came back once. Who’s to say you won’t find a way to do it again?”

  I sighed. “I’m worn out, Carey. Besides, the way they handle criminals on the other side, I guarantee I won’t make it out alive.”

  At least I was ready for it. I knew there’d be a fair amount of torture, but with the promise of death looming on the horizon, I was sure I could endure.

  “Well, we’ll add you to the wall of fame, don’t you worry.”

  They had the mug shots of all their previous troublemakers pinned to a bulletin board. I tried to imagine my face up there. How had this happened to me? How did I now find myself scoping out real estate for my postmortem mug shot placement?

  My stupid little effeminate heart got excited all of a sudden. There was Will, pinned up alongside the other crooks. He had his jaw set and his brow furrowed, mad like I’d never seen. But it wasn’t a violent anger or even a vindictive anger. He was disappointed, let down by the institutions of justice he held so dear. He’d been betrayed, and it was as if the first little sparks of revolution were there in his eyes. He looked so strong, so intelligent, so wildly beautiful in every sense of the word. Lord, did I miss that boy.

  I touched the picture, hoping to magically pull him out of it. “Can I hold onto this?” I asked tentatively. “Just for tonight?”

  Officer Carey shrugged. “I guess there’s no harm in it. You knew him?”

  I nodded. “I still do.”

  I’d be returning empty handed. After I’d been so insistent that we do this, I’d have to face him in defeat. Worse, I’d probably doubled the trouble we were in over there. With any luck, we’d be punished together. It wouldn’t do either of us much good, but at least we wouldn’t have to be alone.

  I passed the night locked in my cell with some scratchy blankets, a small cot, and Will’s picture on my pillow. I lay staring into the darkness for hours, unable to quiet the thoughts in my head. After everything I’d been through, I couldn’t believe I was going back. Even though failure was basically my middle name by this point, I just couldn’t understand how I’d managed to let every single person down. And I couldn’t even begin to fathom how I hadn’t even learned my lesson yet. There was still a fire in me, just a little flickering flame after that monster of a day, but still burning bright and gaining ground. I wanted my hope to die. I needed it to disappear so I could reach my end without any regret, but it just wasn’t happening.

  I thought I’d taken the train because I had nothing left. Because I was worthless and hopeless and had run out of options. But Terminal B had extracted something from the shriveled shell of my soul, something strong and persistent and unconquerable that had long been out of use. Now, hard as I tried, I couldn’t have nothing left. I couldn’t disassociate myself from the love and hope and faith I now had bubbling inside of me. I couldn’t go back; I couldn’t revert to what I’d been the first time I went through that terminal. I had to progress. I had to move forward.

  I’d face management. I’d fight one last battle before my defeat. I’d plead a case for Dad and Will and Grant and Mimi, and I would not give up until death silenced me. That was who I wanted to be. For once in my life, I would be brave and go out strong.

  Some of that rock solid resolve wavered as I was taken to the terminal the following morning. I was escorted down the steps in cuffs and only released once there was a steady barricade of officers blocking the exit.

  The terminal was the same as I remembered it, dark and sad with years of parting words and final moments trapped within its walls. I stared down the tunnel until the track disappeared into darkness. It was easy to see why so many people believed there was only death on the other side, but I knew the truth. I’d come out alive. I’d be reunited with my dad and with Will if only for a brief moment before my sentence began. But looking into that tunnel, I only saw the end, waiting to claim me when all was said and done.

  Many of the council members had come to my send off. It must have been a great day for them. They’d finally be rid of me and could go about silencing the rumors and restoring their city to its former glory.

  Mom joined me at the track. This was really it for us. I remembered the last time we’d done this. I’d tried to telepathically apologize to everyone she smiled at, not knowing she’d been dead inside. She took my hands, and I felt a lump in my throat within an instant.

  “Are you ready?” she asked, doing a very good job of holding
back her tears.

  I nodded. “I think so. I’m sorry I did this to you. I’m sorry I broke the community. I just thought if people knew—”

  “The community will survive,” she assured me. “And they won’t give up. I wouldn’t be surprised if they made you a martyr, started painting your image on every corner.” She smiled and I found I was able to smile back.

  “I’ll miss you, Mom,” I said softly, my voice getting a bit stuck in my throat along the way.

  She shook her head. “No you won’t. I’m coming with you.”

  I stared at her. “What? Mom, no. I’m an adult. I can take responsibility for what I’ve done. You don’t have to keep protecting me.”

  She wiped a little tear from my face. “I know that, honey. But there’s nothing left for me here. My whole life is you. It always has been. I can’t bear to lose you again. So I’m coming. Whatever might happen to me, I don’t care. I will not lose you again.”

  I shook my head, but couldn’t get any words out. She pulled me into her arms as I burst out sobbing. What had I done? How had I driven my own mom to give up her life? What would they do to her on the other side? Would someone be merciful and let her work on the farm, or would her association with the revolution automatically label her a criminal?

  I pulled myself off her shoulder. “Please don’t do this,” I begged. “You can’t die because of me.”

  She shook her head and wagged her finger at me like I was a toddler. “Now, Laura, I’ve told you a hundred times it is not death. It’s an adventure, a big, blank canvas. A mess or masterpiece, we get to decide. I’m coming with you whether you like it or not, and that is the last I want to hear on the subject. Are we clear?”