24 Hour Lockdown

by Virginia Henderson

  Melody claims the bag of cheese crackers that just happens to be gluten-free.

  Marc watches us with disdain before settling on the pears and the last part of the sandwich.

  Amelia practically inhales her sandwich. I have to lick my finger to wipe away the grape jelly on the side of her mouth.

  Everyone is quiet as they eat. Until George speaks up.

  George

  I swallow another handful of salty nuts and take a swig of the community water bottle, careful to not put my mouth on it. I can just feel Marc dying a little bit on the inside and I can’t resist.

  I extend the bottle to him, “Thirsty?”

  Marc makes a face and swipes my hand away, knocking the bottle out of my grasp and it lands on the floor. “Hey!” I shout.

  I grab it up before too much can pour out. It’s half empty now. I frown at Marc. “Nice going.” There’s a water fountain but I don’t feel like walking all the way over there.

  He straightens his wrinkled suit. “Trust me, it’s the least I could do.”

  Joseph tugs at my sleeve. “Hey, pass it here before klutz wastes the rest of it.”

  I hand it over and then look around at our side circus. Everyone’s just about done eating. It’s time to get down to business.

  “This situation has escalated and we need to take progressive action.” I turn to Joseph. “It would really help if you cleared up a lot of our questions. It would make things a lot easier on all of us.”

  When he ignores me, I move on, “And for the safety of everyone involved, we’re going to make some changes. For one thing, we’re going to take turns being sentry. Joseph can’t be left alone for any amount of time and until the police arrive, we have to keep an eye on him.”

  Joseph interrupts, “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”

  To make matters worse, Marc puts a hand to his ear and frowns. “Did you hear something? No? Neither did I.”

  Joseph sits up straighter and he looks like he’s ready to jump. I whack Marc on the back on the head. “Are you that daft? No wonder you think the guy wants to kill you. You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

  Marc looks indignant and rubs the back of his head. Joseph seems satisfied.

  “As I was saying, we are all taking turns as sentry. Our second change is that we’re all staying on the same floor. This separating business is for the birds and it’s what got us in this mess in the first place.”

  Marc

  The nerve of this guy ordering us around. Marc Amos doesn’t preform demeaning tasks like babysitting. Least of all for the guy who wants to murder me.

  “What makes you think you’re in charge?” I challenge. It’s clear who should be the leader. I have a degree from Harvard! What does George have? Most likely just a high school diploma.

  Melody stands up, ready to deliver a lecture. “Boys, please. Haven’t we had enough arguing for one night?”

  Night? I check the time on my phone and am shocked to see its well after three in the morning! I slump in the chair. Will this nightmare ever end? It’s been almost ten hours!

  I raise my hands. “Alright, I believe in democracy. Let’s have a vote. All in favor of beef for brains as the leader raise your hand.”

  I frown as five hands shoot up almost instantly. Even the kid is against me! I sneer at Joseph who also raised his hands.

  “You don’t have a say. Criminals forfeit their right to vote.”

  Joseph lowers his hands and smiles nastily. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You still lost.”

  That guy really knows how to get on my bad side. I wonder who he really is. From his messy appearance, he’s not the type I would usually associate with.

  George is taking over now, handing out sentry duty assignments.

  “It’s almost four in the morning. We’ll go in hour shifts. I’ll take the first hour. Then Melody, Susan…” He pauses and glances at me. “Marc, can you be trusted to take a turn?”

  I’m appalled at what he’s insinuating! “Me?” I point at Joseph “He’s the one we can’t trust. He told us himself that he can still kill me with his hands tied.”

  George inclines his head. “True, but it’s you who enjoys egging him on.”

  Susan timidly raises her hand, “What about Amelia?”

  George turns to her and shrugs. “She can stay with you during your hour.”

  Before any one can argue, George finishes, “After Marc’s turn, we’ll start over again. We’ll keep this up as long as the lockdown lasts. I’d suggest getting some shut eye on your own time, no snoozing on the job. Everyone got it?”

  Joseph

  And so, it’s begun. George has pulled up a chair across from me and is literally watching me like a hawk. Everyone else has dispersed and is doing their own thing.

  I wish they would just get off my case about this. I had no intention on hurting anyone except Marc. Melody was just at the right place and the wrong time.

  George interrupts my thoughts and asks, “You want to talk about it?”

  “No. I don’t. Why don’t you go bother someone else?”

  He leans back in his chair. “Because no one else attempted what you did.”

  I think about what he said. “Fair enough, I guess.” I shift on the couch to get comfortable. I’m going to be here for a while.

  “So, you’re a writer, huh?”

  It’s noticeable when he perks up. He sits up straighter and there’s a faint smile. He replies, “and proud.”

  I nod slowly. I always thought reading was boring, let alone writing. Too many book reports in school left a bad taste in my mouth.

  “Why?” I ask him.

  He frowns in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  I let out a sigh. “Exactly what I said. Why do you write?”

  He scratches his chin and I can see him mulling over the question. “Well, I guess it’s because I only feel happy when I’m writing.”

  “You ever been published?” I venture.

  George deflates a little, his shoulders slump and he frowns. “Not yet.” He says quietly as if he’s ashamed to admit it out loud.

  I nod in approval. “Interesting. Well, that’s one thing we have in common.”

  George tilts his head. “What would that be?”

  “We both have goals that we’ll probably never accomplish.”

  Melody

  I would like to spend my free time reading. I have almost thirty-five minutes until it’s my turn to watch Joseph. I’m not sure if I like this new system. Doesn’t it violate his privacy rights? I don’t agree with what Marc said. Joseph is still entitled to all his rights, including voting.

  Anyway, I would go upstairs and choose a few books to read, but George prefers that we stay on the first floor. I guess that makes sense.

  I consider following Susan to the children’s area, but she seems upset and I don’t want to cause any division. You would think after telling her about my…problem, it would make us closer.

  Which reminds me, my scalp is itching something awful. I never have on the wig this late. I’m usually asleep by ten.

  I head back toward the restrooms. There’s no one here, but just to be safe, I check under the stalls. It’s empty.

  I stand in front of the large mirror and slowly remove my wig. I hardly recognize myself. My eyes look bigger and my forehead is too high. I finger the short tuffs of hair that are fighting to grow back. I had always kept my hair long and I would braid it often. It was so beautiful back then. Letting out a sigh, I scratch at my head, relieving the itchy feeling.

  I place the wig back on and adjust it. I hate cancer.

  Chapter fourteen

  Susan

  I’m feeling the odd sensation of dejavu as Amelia leads me through the children’s area. Except this time, she bypasses the movie aisle and heads toward a section called the Treasure Cove.

  In the Treasure Cove are mostly bean bag chairs for kids to sit on and read. In one corner, is an empty sandbox with con
tainers of clay-dough and sculpting sand. There’s also two little tables with coloring pages and crayons.

  The wallpaper that wraps around the room shows a detailed scene of a sandy beach. One on side, pirates are arriving on the beach, shovels in hand, ready to uncover buried treasure. In the ocean, mermaids are splashing and diving. One on another wall, is painted the famous quote by Walt Disney, “There is more treasure in books than in all the pirate’s loot on Treasure Island.”

  Amelia usually doesn’t want to go to the Treasure Cove because it is always so crowded, but now she is leading the way. We go down the ramp and enter the area.

  The moment her little eyes land on the sandbox, she exclaims, “I wanna play in there!” She lets go of my hand. I let her run towards the sandbox while I take a seat on a blue bean bag nearby. I sink a little bit and am practically on the floor.

  That’s when I notice the carpet squishes beneath my shoes. I get up quickly and look around the floor. I hadn’t noticed before, but some parts of the tan carpet are a darker shade. It must be from all that rain.

  “Amelia! We need to leave.” Now that I’m aware of it, I do smell a faint dampness; like a flooded basement.

  But Amelia doesn’t react to the urgency in my tone. She has three different colors of clay-dough and is mixing them together to create a bland gray color.

  I hurry to her and take her by the hand. “Come on, we need to go.”

  She pulls her hand out of my grasp and whines, “but I’m playing, mommy!”

  We don’t have time for this. To keep her happy I reply, “You can bring it with you.”

  She seems satisfied and follows me up the ramp. George is a writer, maybe he knows what to do.

  George

  I let out a gruff sigh when I hear Susan calling for me. What now? Can’t a guy write in peace? I paid my dues and kept an eye on Joseph. I’m entitled to some ‘me’ time for the next three hours while the others take their turns.

  To be honest, I’m still sore with what Joseph said to me. He pretty much insinuated that I’d never have my works published. The nerve of the guy! Discouraging aspiring writers is possibly the worst thing anyone could ever do.

  Susan is practically dragging Amelia with her. I frown in annoyance when I see that the brat has gone and mixed clay-dough colors. I’d know that miserable gray lump anywhere. Seeing as I’m employed/enslaved at one of the many Clay-dough factories.

  Susan is almost out of breath when she stops at my table. “George! The Treasure Cove…it’s flooding!”

  Her eyes are wide and it’s like she expects me to jump up and turn into that video game character who’s a plumber, Zario.

  “What do we do?” She asks urgently.

  I shrug. “What can we do? I’m no plumber. And I doubt Mr. Suit is either.” I have to chuckle at picturing Marc as a plumber. He probably doesn’t even know which end of a plunger is up.

  Susan shakes her head. “But…what if it gets worse?” She’s close to hysterics and I have to wonder if she has some sort of fear of water or something.

  As calmly as I can I say, “Let me guess, the carpet is just a little damp? Right?”

  She nods quickly. Amelia takes a seat at my table and smashes the dough on the table. Good grief!

  “And the Treasure Cave…”

  “Cove, Treasure Cove,” she corrects.

  I exhale slowly and grit my teeth. “The Treasure Cove is a little lower than the main floor, right?”

  “A little. There’s just a ramp, not stairs. It’s not like a basement, it’s just a short ramp.”

  I have a feeling my ‘me’ time is going to be taken up with this whole conversation.

  “Still, the flooding isn’t on this floor. Just stay in this area and you’ll be fine.”

  Susan leans in. “Shouldn’t we go upstairs? Just in case?” This lady is really freaked out.

  I shake my head. “No. And if you haven’t noticed yet, the rain stopped a few hours ago. It isn’t going to get any worse.”

  She takes a breath and smiles weakly. “Yeah. I... I guess you’re right.” Her hand shakes as she pats down her hair. “I’ll be back. Would you mind watching Amelia? It will only be a second.”

  I most certainly do mind! Before I can even begin to protest, she leans over and says, “Amelia? Can you stay here with George and show him your clay-dough? Mommy will be right back.”

  Amelia grins and nods her head. What has just happened? Do I look like a nanny?

  I call out to Susan as she hurries away in the direction of the restrooms, “Hey!”

  To my horror, the shrimp is crawling on my lap and is squeezing the clay-dough with her tiny fists. “This is my kitty.” She explains as she shows me a long unrecognizable glob.

  I rest my elbow on the table, hold my forehead, and mumble. “Sure kid. Whatever you say.”

  Marc

  Watching the grump getting saddled with the kid is priceless. And I know my prices.

  Without my temporary office, I’m stuck down here with everyone else. Unless…

  Without a moment to lose, I begin my search for material I can use to recreate an office down here. After all, I have a flat in London and a cottage in Italy. Who says I can’t have two temporary offices in this confounded library?

  There are a few problems though. One being all the heavy reference books that are perfect for building, are upstairs. Not that I’m willing to obey George’s every word. It’s just easier this way rather than creating waves. And Marc Amos is all about taking the easy way out. Aside from my lack of lumber, I’d receive nothing but grief from a certain young woman.

  I glance over where Melody is. It’s her hour to watch the delinquent. Maybe if I finished constructing it before her shift is up, she can’t say anything. But I’m not using books, so it shouldn’t offend her.

  My first job is to select a good spot. It has to be secluded, preferably near the restrooms and water fountains. I would like a spot in a corner somewhere so I don’t have to watch my back. Important people of my status always have to. And since Joseph tried to viciously attack me, my point has already been proven.

  I wander around a bit until I find a good spot in an alcove beneath the staircase. Now to just find materials to use for a wall.

  Joseph

  Daylight is streaming through the window now. But that doesn’t make me any more chipper. In fact, it’s making my current situation worse. Surely the lockdown will be over soon. And the way I’m being watched, a quick getaway is looking pretty slim.

  Melody is actually sitting on the couch next to me. When she first came over and plopped down beside me, I scooted away from her.

  We’ve been silent ever since. She braids her hair and I sulk. I find it strange that she’s not afraid of me after what happened earlier. Makes me wonder if there’s something wrong with her…

  Thinking of that whole event, I guess I do kind of owe her an apology.

  I clear my throat and shift in my seat. I hate these ropes. What I wouldn’t do to stand up and stretch.

  “Uh… I never did say I was…um, sorry.”

  She stops in mid-braid and looks at me curiously, waiting for me continue. “I never was going to hurt you, I was after…someone else…”

  To my surprise, Melody smiles. “I know. And I forgive you.”

  I just stare at her in shock. “You forgive me? Just like that?”

  Melody shrugs and stares at her hair in her hand. “Would you rather I not forgive you?”

  What kind of question is that? “Well… yeah, I mean no…I mean…”

  She laughs at my confusion which makes me angry and I reply, “Do all hippies enjoy playing mind games, or is it just you?”

  She stops suddenly and frowns, clearly offended. “Hippie? What in the world makes you think I’m a hippie?”

  All her attention is on me and I can’t help squirm uncomfortably under her intense gaze.

  “Well…your clothes for starters.”

  She looks down at
her tie dye tank and shorts then back up at me. “What’s wrong with my clothes? It’s summer. I always wear shorts and tank tops in the summer.”

  I almost hate pointing out the obvious. “But it’s tie-dye…”

  “So? You have on camouflage capris. Should I just assume you’re in the military?”

  I wince. “Point taken.” I wish I had never brought it up.

  But just like with the, introduce yourself activity, she isn’t ready to drop it. “Go on. What else do I do that make you think I’m a hippie?”

  I sigh. I’d almost prefer the cops carting me away right now. “Well… what about your over the top friendly and positive attitude? No one should ever be that happy.”

  Melody sits on the edge of the couch, ready to defend and explain herself. “What’s wrong with being happy? A lot of people have no idea what it’s like to be happy. And I wish more people had positive outlooks. And as for being over the top? Trust me, I have my share of bad days.”

  “Okay, but you’re so concerned about the environment. Isn’t that what hippies are into?”

  Melody’s gaze softens. “Maybe that’s how they feel. We accept too many toxins into our lives. Besides, I just want to treat the home God gave us with respect.”

  I freeze when she brings up God. I can literally feel myself closing up and shutting her out. “Alright. You win. You’re not a hippie.” That’s the cue to drop the topic entirely.

  She offers a small smile. “I already knew I wasn’t a hippie.”

  I don’t reply. It’s best to stay quiet and maybe she’ll take the hint.

  Melody

  I know I’ve hit a sore spot and it would be against everything I believe in to just ignore it. A heavy weight rests over my shoulders and I decide to carefully test the waters.

  Jokingly I ask, “Can I make some assumptions about you now?”

  I’m encouraged when his stern scowl breaks down a little and turns into amusement.