Memory of the Color Yellow

by Suzanne Jenkins

  “I do,” Rose said. “Do you want to come inside and talk to him?”

  Somehow, he knew it was Paul. Rose couldn’t remember sharing Paul’s name over the phone. Maybe the school also called the police. Wondering why the man wasn’t approaching the house was even more frightening. Would they concentrate all their efforts on punishing Paul for leaving the line up instead of searching for Steve?

  “Just send him out. I’ve got to get him back to school. An inspector will be around to talk to you later today. A team is on its way to get your boy, so you can relax.”

  His words had the opposite effect. “Where was he taken?” Rose asked, anxiety building up, fears growing.

  “I’m not sure,” he lied. “Someone will call you soon.”

  “When will he be brought back home?”

  “I can’t tell you that, either,” he said. “Someone will call you.”

  With no way to contact her husband, Rose waited, trying to stay as busy as possible when the wellbeing of one’s child is unknown. By the time the school bus returned that afternoon with a bus load of students that didn’t include Steve, she and Eleni were beside themselves with anguish. Standing in the door, they watched Paul Junior walk by the house with a red, swollen face, look up solemnly without addressing them and they knew he’d been warned, or worse.

  And then the worst, when the worker’s bus arrived at seven, George walked toward home with the others, heads down, stony, Paul Antoni Sr. not among them.

  “Get inside,” George hissed when Rose came out to meet him. Turning around quickly, she moved through the door, pushing Eleni back inside.

  “We need to tell you something, George,” Rose said, catching a sob. “Something horrible.”

  “Where’s Peter and Stephanie?” he asked noticing their absence immediately.

  “The baby is sick again and they left early to take him back to the clinic,” Eleni said. “But we have something you need to hear.”

  “You’d better sit down,” Rose said, hiccupping.

  Rose was not a blubberer, but she started, plopping down in a chair, her behavior putting George on alert.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, nerves raw. “Is it the baby?”

  “Our Stevie was kidnapped today!” Rose sobbed.

  “What?”

  “A delivery truck stopped at the bus kiosk and took him. They won’t tell me what happened, but Paul Junior saw it and ran over to tell me. He must have gotten into trouble because he didn’t acknowledge us on the way home this afternoon.”

  “We called The Council Police,” Eleni said, signifying the seriousness of the situation.

  “You called The Council Police, of course. What did they say?”

  “They wouldn’t tell me anything!” Rose said, crying. “Just that they were going to pick him up. We don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”

  Shaking, George stood up, carefully walked to the phone, and with trembling hands, dialed The Council Police. After he explained why he was calling, he was put on hold while the answerer sought information. In minutes, she returned.

  “Your son is fine. You’ll be contacted soon with more information.”

  “When? Are they bringing him home? Where is he?”

  “Someone will contact you soon, Mr. Manos. Sit tight.”

  He looked up from the receiver. “She hung up on me. She said he was fine. Someone will be in touch.”

  “That’s what the officer said. It’s been hours. What does it mean? Why aren’t they bringing him home?”

  “I don’t know,” George said. “Why would anyone kidnap our son?”

  “It was a delivery truck,” Eleni said. “I bet it has something to do with Tiresias.”

  “Paul Senior didn’t get on the bus,” George said, distracted.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just what I said! He didn’t get on the bus coming home.”

  The women repeated what Paul Junior had said about his father sharing forbidden information with his son and then Paul telling Steve everything.

  “I bet that has something to do with his absence,” Eleni said.

  “So that’s how Steve knew where to go? I should have killed Antoni when I had the chance,” George bellowed.

  “Georgie, pipe down,” Eleni said. “We don’t need The Council Police here with a warrant for the threat of murder.”

  “I think it’s probably too late,” Rose said. “If he wasn’t on the bus, it could only mean one thing…”

  As a unit almost, they left the kitchen and hustled to the door in time to see Candy Antoni hurrying to the bus, Paul and Paul Senior’s father bringing up the rear. “They’re looking for him,” Rose whispered.

  “Go out and tell her he wasn’t on the bus,” Eleni said, pushing George forward.

  “He could get into trouble,” Rose hissed, swatting her mother-in-law’s hand off her husband. “Candy will find out soon enough, if there’s anything to know.”

  “I wonder if Stevie told someone Paul led him to Tiresias,” George said.

  The thought that their son could be tortured into giving details was both terrifying and enraging. “No. I’m sure Paul Junior told them when he was dragged out of here. For all we know, he never went back to school. They could have interrogated him and they in turn took care of Paul Senior.”

  “We need to eat,” Rose called out, the imagery of her son being interrogated too much to comprehend. “Let’s have something to eat while we wait for news of Steve.”

  “I can’t eat,” George said, choking. “I need to know that my son is okay before we sit down for dinner. What’s he having tonight? I want him home to eat with his family.”

  “I’m going to call The Council Police again,” Rose said, reaching for the phone.

  No one stopped her.

  Chapter 11

  Worry for my family blocked the excitement trying to take hold as the afternoon unfolded and it became clearer that I might not make it home in time for dinner. Once we were through the gate, Billy drove through an urban area unlike anything I’d ever seen. Glass and steel skyscrapers reached to the sky, juxtaposed with smaller buildings built of different colored bricks with ornate moldings and details. It was something out of a book. I saw the river flowing beyond the buildings, sunlight glinting on it, the current evident in the movement of the reflection on the water. Gigantic ships headed downriver captured my imagination. What was their cargo?

  “What’s that?” I asked, perched on the edge of my seat. “What’s its name?”

  “Why, that’s the Detroit River. I keep forgetting you’ll learn geography when you’re a teenager. You’ll learn your universe actually moves beyond Europe Town or wherever you live.”

  “It’s Europe Town,” I replied.

  Looking over at Connie, I saw her watching me curiously. “You’ve got a thousand questions, don’t you?”

  I nodded. “It’s beyond me why they wait until a kid is thirteen to tell them the truth,” Connie said.”

  “I don’t think a little kid’s gonna understand,” Billy said.

  “Understand what?” I asked.

  “We’ll get indoors first and then you can start asking questions,” Connie answered.

  “Where are we?” I asked looking around, ignoring her.

  We’d driven inland from the river a few blocks, stopping at one of the modern buildings. This one had balconies placed around the perimeter and round, dark windows all the way up the side of the building, like glass eyes. It wasn’t as welcoming as the other buildings.

  “This is The Council building,” Billy said. “Doesn’t it look like a prison?”

  Billy drove up the ramps of an indoor parking structure. It was scary; I’d never been higher than my bedroom window, the force of the grade up pushing me back against the seat.

  Pulling into a spot with a Reserved sign painted across its surface increased my curiosity. Thinking Connie and Billy must be im
portant to have a reserved space, I asked just like that. “Are you important?”

  “Ha! Not hardly,” Connie replied.

  “But we sometimes have important passengers,” Billy said, ruffling my hair. I didn’t like it and pulled away from him, but he overlooked it.

  Connie stepped into the elevator and held the door for us, but I hesitated. I’d heard stories of elevators killing people, another terrifying experience. “What if it crashes to the ground?”

  “It won’t,” she reassured, reaching for my hand and pulling me inside.

  “And if it does, we won’t know what hit us,” Billy said. They laughed but I didn’t think it was funny.

  “How far up do we go?” I asked, hanging on to the railing.

  Within seconds, I felt the sensation, looking forward to more now, the adrenalin rush appealing.

  “Twenty-four,” Billy answered. “Our home away from home.”

  I looked at the keypad; we were at six. Closing my eyes, I enjoyed the feeling of speeding against gravity. When the car came to a stop, it did so with a quick jerk jarring my knees.

  “Here we are,” Connie said, stepping out and holding the door for us.

  The elevator emptied into a light-filled hallway. There were two large windows at the end of the corridor but light was coming from the ceiling, too. Craning my neck around, I saw circular apertures from which the light seemed to be coming.

  “Is that a light bulb?” I asked.

  “Why does a kid care where the light is coming from?” Billy asked, frowning.

  “It’s a light tube,” Connie answered. “Every floor has them. The tube goes through the ceiling and comes out the side. Those round eyes on the building? That’s what they’re for.”

  The carpeting was thick and muffled our voices. Half way down the hall, Connie stopped at a door and knocked. We waited for less than a minute when Billy took a plastic card from his shirt and swiped it through a slit in the door, but the door opened from within by a beautiful girl wearing the same uniform Connie had on. “I’m sorry. I was in the ladies room.”

  “Perfect timing!” Billy shouted.

  The girl giggled, smiling at me. “So is this Steve?”

  “This is Steve,” Connie confirmed.

  “Steve of Europe Town,” Billy said.

  “We haven’t had anyone from Europe Town in a long time,” the girl replied, barely able to contain her joy. I was mystified.

  Holding out her hand to me, she continued to smile. I had to admit it was contagious and finally, I lost the hard guy demeanor and smiled back.

  “I’m Darleen,” she said, her hand suspended in air.

  I offered my hand and she shook it. “Welcome to Detroit, Steve. You and I have a lot to talk about. I imagine you have a lot of questions for me.”

  “Oh, he’s full of questions.”

  I looked around the room and could see Billy through a doorway into what looked like a bedroom, talking on a strange looking, wireless device, pacing. Connie peered into a refrigerator, assembling a tray of food I hoped would be for me. I’d forgotten my fear and was suddenly hungry.

  “I’m here to answer all your questions,” Darleen said, catching my attention again. “First, you’ll have a bite to eat and then we can get down to business.”

  “When can I go home?” I asked the question foremost on my mind.

  Darleen pulled out a chair for me. “Sit down, Steve. I don’t want to diminish the seriousness of what you’ve done so let’s get the recriminations out of the way. You understand what that is, don’t you?”

  I nodded my head, dread growing. Turning to a storage unit, Darleen brought out a file folder which had been placed in an upright file holder, several folders stashed behind it. Waving it at me, she frowned.

  “This thick thing belongs to you. Normally, young people stay off the radar until high school graduation. It gives them an opportunity to prove to themselves and the community what they have to offer to society. Rarely, by high school, someone will stand out enough to grab our attention.”

  “Our being The Council,” Connie added, looking up from the kitchenette.

  “Right, but we’ll cover that in a moment. First of all, you called attention to yourself by breaking the rules. We watched that first escape to the protected zone with interest. Paul Antoni stepping out of character like he did, involving you in his shenanigans was a surprise to us. Up until that moment, Paul didn’t cause any alarm bells to ring.

  “After that first night, we expected him to fade away, just as he did. You stepping up on your own was a surprise! Don’t get me wrong; we always expected great things from you. But average great things. Not over the top great things.”

  I didn’t understand why a hike through the woods was a great thing, but didn’t comment.

  Connie giggled as Darleen explained it. “Are you following what she’s saying?” Connie asked.

  “You knew we were running to Tiresias,” I said.

  “Yes, but Paul only snuck off once. That trip was enough to satisfy his curiosity. You kept going back.”

  Speechless, I wondered where this was going. I was too young to catch the concept of a set-up.

  I heard a motor running from within the kitchenette and then a bell rung. “Done!” Connie exclaimed, taking a paper plate out of a box-like device which she set down in front of me. On the plate was a triangular piece of what looked like bread covered in cheese and some kind of sausage. I looked at it, not sure how to eat it.

  “Do you know what that is?” Connie asked. I shook my head. “It’s pizza! Try a bite.”

  I’d heard of pizza from classmates, but it wasn’t something any of us had to eat at home. “Do I need a fork?” I asked, looking around the plate in case I missed it.

  “Nope, just pick it up. Careful, it might be a little hot.”

  Hot was an understatement, the cheese was molten and burned the roof of my mouth. But it was so delectable, I just blew on it and took another bite. “Isn’t it good?” Connie asked.

  “One thing the revolution didn’t destroy was Detroit pizza,” Billy said, walking back into the room. “Okay, it’s all set. Darleen, you’re in charge. Buddy, it was nice meeting you. Connie and I have another dissenter to pick up. See you both later.”

  “Wait,” I said. “I thought you were going to tell me when I could go home.”

  “Darleen has answers to all your questions now, Steve. Just relax. You’ll see. Everything has a way of working out.”

  I watched them leave the apartment, or office or whatever it was, feeling abandoned, like they were being swallowed up, the pizza quickly forgotten.

  Darleen poured coffee into a cup and came back to the table, pulling out a chair across from me. “I apologize for the interruption. They must have another young person breaking the rules. Can you understand the deeper implication?”

  “I want to go home,” I said, having lost interest in anything she was telling me.

  “I know you do. But it’s not possible now,” she explained. Standing up again, she went to the window and looked out.

  “From here, you can see how flat Michigan is. You’ll learn Michigan used to be a state. Do you know what a state is? At one time, this country was a portion of a continent divided into forty-eight unequal, haphazard sections called states. The reasons for the boundaries didn’t make any sense. Each state was governed like an individual country. Some people thrived, others barely survived.”

  She turned to me, her face expressionless. “That simple explanation is paramount to why the rebellion started. Dissatisfaction. Eventually what happened is that the revolution took place; the people voted leaders into power who would change those things. Most of the population lives like you and your family live. Comfortable, safe, enough to eat, healthcare for all. It’s mostly equal.”

  I wasn’t confident enough to argue with her, but I knew because of recent conversations with my family that what she had ju
st said wasn’t true.

  “But why am I here?”

  “Leaders are born, not made,” she said, misquoting some obscure source. “We wait for leaders to show themselves in a special way and then we take over from the parents so an opportunity to achieve a highest potential is possible.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well, what it means is that when you disobeyed the rules, the negative became a positive, because it showed the leaders your special strengths. Now they want to harness that and help you develop into a leader.

  “But that’s enough for now. Eat up your pizza. We have some errands to run.”

  “We’re you a dissenter?” I asked, picking up on the word I head Billy use.

  “No. Why would you think that?”

  “How’d you get to work and live here?”

  “I’m a Council Member,” she said, rubbing her knuckles on her chest. “Fourth Generation Coalition.”

  “When do I go home?” I was right on the verge of tears.

  “You don’t. Not another word about going home for now, okay? You’ll just have to trust me.”

  Her words reduced me from a tough almost thirteen year old, to a little boy again. I missed my mother and father. I knew they would be worried sick about me but there seemed little I could do about it. A knock on the door shook me out of my doldrums, my senses on alert.

  Darleen got up from the table to open the door. Once again, she stood aside, letting a handsome man inside. Standing on her toes, she stretched up to kiss him, while he kept one eye on me.

  “So you’re Steve,” he said, reaching for my hand.

  I didn’t reply, worry and dread preventing me from pleasantries.

  “We’re about ready,” Darleen said, glancing at me with compassion. “He doesn’t have much appetite.”

  “It’ll pick up when he smells a freshly made pizza. How long was that in the fridge?” he wrinkled his nose, pointing at my plate.

  Darleen laughed. “It’s just from last night,” she said. “Come on, Steve, let’s go.”

  I was reluctant to leave the apartment unless it was to go home, but I was pretty sure by then I wasn’t returning to Europe Town right away. I still hoped I’d be home in time for dinner.