“No! It’s their fault. If the rebels hadn’t started these revolutions, we wouldn’t have to live the way we do. They brought this on themselves. The Corsairs bring order. Everything else is chaos.”
“What’s wrong with a little chaos? The earth was created from chaos, wasn’t it? And what do you think the Triumvirate, the rest of the Corsairs, and Simeon would think of us and what we’re doing here? Order or chaos? Think about it, Kyle. Maybe if the rebels won, we wouldn’t have to hide what we are anymore. Maybe we could live free too. Don’t you want that? It’s not the rebels that are keeping us apart. It’s Simeon and the Triumvirate.”
“Simeon is my father. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.”
“Adopted father. And I wouldn’t bet on that. He’d turn against his family in a second if it served his purposes. He’s already hurt you more than you know. You used to be able to see that. When did you change?”
“When I realized the rebels are responsible for everything, that they’re the ones prolonging hostilities. The government wouldn’t even need an army if it wasn’t for the rebels.”
“You mean when Simeon made you believe that.” Mark took Kyle’s hands in his own. He’d never felt so distant from him before, and it frightened him. He felt like he was caught in a current being pulled away from Kyle just as he was trying desperately to swim toward him.
“I know what Simeon did to you. I know how he singled you out for punishments over the years again and again. He was harder on you than he was on any of us. But try to remember. Remember the Corsairs and people like Simeon were responsible for your real parents’ deaths. That’s why you were fighting them in the first place.”
“The rebel leaders were responsible. The Watch. They’re the ones who took my parents away from me.”
“Kyle, look at me. Eventually, there will be no one left to blame. Then what side will you be on? What do you believe in when there is no fight, no war?”
“How the hell should I know? I’ve never known a life without war, and neither have you.” Kyle paused, measuring his next words. More than anyone, he needed Mark to be on his side, to see his true motives. “Try to understand what I’m trying to do here, Mark. I want to save others from being recruited by the Watch, from going through what my parents went through.”
“I know you think you’re doing what’s right. You’re a good man, Kyle. But how do you reconcile everything they’ve told you with how we feel about each other? They kill people like us! You know that. You’ve watched them drag men out of their beds and beat them to death. You’ve heard the speeches about purifying the human race. How does that fit in with what we have here? With us?”
“I don’t know.”
Mark hesitated before placing his hand on Kyle’s cheek, red from the heat, sun, and anger. “You’re more than just the product of the things that have happened to you. More than what the Corsairs tell you you can be. I see you. I see who you are. And that’s who I love. But we have the chance to be a part of something bigger than the Corsairs, bigger than ‘staying the course.’ We have the chance to help these people change history, to change the course. You have to choose. I’ve chosen to help the rebels. Now, what are you going to do?”
* * * * *
In the fading sunset, dragonflies peppered the sky and lightning bugs lit the field, tiny candles among the twilight grass. The stars began to make themselves known, one by one. Gemma stood near the edge of the cornfield that bordered Zacharias’s land. She watched each star wink its way into her sight, but while she was staring at one, the sky filled with millions more. She thought of how she and Sam used to try to count them before they fell asleep. How they tried to grasp something as vast as the sky and make it their own.
She looked down and noticed how loosely her tunic hung from her bone-thin frame. She would have to take it in again soon. She lifted it up a little, exposing her flat belly, almost concave, to the warm evening air. She was beginning to not recognize her own body. She placed her hand there, where a baby should be but would never be now. No more permits for child-bearing would be given, that’s what the colonel had said. Going off the drugs and having an “accidental” pregnancy was too risky. She’d seen what had happened to undocumented children and their mothers. Wasn’t Aishe’s situation caution enough against breaking that particular law? But she understood the urge, the drive, the need to have a child of her own. She wondered again at a government that would expect its citizens to turn off their humanity. How was it even possible? The tears came unbidden to her eyes before she could think to hold them back. How she would have rushed to dry her child’s tears.
There was still Daisy and the other children to be cared for, though they were still somewhat removed from her. She thought how unwise and impractical it was to love a child so much who was not her own. But the heart cannot always be dictated to, even hers.
The gravel crunched behind her as Zacharias approached. “I haven’t seen you stargazing in a while.”
“Not since Sam . . . We used to look up and try to imagine our place among them. But then I guess for a while it didn’t seem like I had a place.”
“And now?”
“Still not sure I do. Maybe that’s what I’m looking for. You heard the message from the Triumvirate today. No more children. Kyle and I were waiting . . . I don’t know what for. But now it’s too late.”
“What about those children you take care of?”
“How do you know about them?”
Z grinned to himself. “I know things.”
“They don’t have anyone to take care of them but me.”
“So why not adopt them?”
“You know why.”
“The Watch comes first.”
“Well, I made my commitment to them first, I guess. I’m just trying to keep everyone as safe as possible.”
“Gemma, I need to say something to you. Will you listen?”
“I guess.”
“I’ve noticed you getting thinner and thinner these past months. Too thin.”
“We’re all on rations, Z. I’m fine.”
“Don’t give me that. Look at me, sweetheart.”
Gemma found it hard to meet his penetrating gaze.
“Pretty soon I’ll be able to see right through you. Have you been feeding those children out of your own rations? Tell me the truth, now.”
“Maybe. Sometimes.”
“Sometimes. All the time. Why, for Pete’s sake, didn’t you ask for help?”
“I feel like they’re my own kids. My responsibility, my joy. Especially little Daisy.”
“Well, it can’t continue. You’re killing yourself for them.”
“But they’re my kids. I can’t abandon them. Did you and Jesse ever have children, Z?”
Zacharias paused before he spoke. He looked toward the waning pink in the sky as it gave way to blue, but not really seeing anything besides the faces of his children. “Jill and Max. I used to take them to the zoo. Not exactly the kindest thing we ever did to animals . . . putting them in cages to gawk at and appease our own curiosity. But Max and Jill loved the lions.”
Gemma saw him enter the past, walking through a door of his mind he’d kept shut for some time.
“Did I ever tell you about the zoos?”
Gemma shook her head. He rarely talked about his past at all.
“Well, in big cities, they had these places with cages where they kept wild animals from all over the world for people to go and look at for entertainment. They would try to make these zoos look as much like the jungle as possible, to give the illusion that you were visiting these animals in their natural habitat. Then after the Disaster happened, it was clear the electricity was gone for good. We couldn’t live in the same ways we were accustomed. The zookeepers had no means of taking care of the animals that were left—those which hadn’t been killed by the storms or the bombings. So the keepers were ordered to put the animals down, to kill them as humanely as possible.”
Gemm
a shuddered to think of the senseless killing.
“But I remember hearing stories of a few animals that escaped their cages before they could be euthanized. These lions, specifically. It’s so interesting that animals born and raised in captivity never had any experience in the wild, but as soon as they were out of their cages, they reverted back to the ways of the wild—their instincts just took over. People thought they were tamed, that the cages would keep them as they wanted to see them. But nature goes deeper than that. Bars cannot change animal nature any more than government restrictions can change human nature. No bars or cages can make an animal less than what it is. The same is true for humans.” Zacharias took a deep breath in and ran his hands over his face. His trip to the past had exhausted him.
“How much more can they take from us, Z?”
“I don’t know. But in the meantime, I’m going to adopt those children myself and bring them here. And you’re going to start eating again.”
“I can’t ask you to do that. It’s too much for you.”
“Oh, I’m going to expect your help. Besides, you’re not asking. Now, the discussion’s over. I assume you’ve been keeping them at the old cabin.”
“Yes.”
“Alright, I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”
“What if the Corsairs won’t let you keep them for some reason?”
“We’ll cross that bridge then. Now I’m going to have to leave you. An old man needs his rest if he’s going to become a grandfather in the morning.”
When Gemma looked back up at the sky on her way home, though she was surrounded in darkness, the stars lit her way.
* * * * *
On the moonless night, Sam stood in the ultra-black darkness under the oak tree that held the rope swing. The swing jumped and lurched in the wind. He caught the scent of herbs from Sophie’s kitchen garden, and it made him hungry. Though he couldn’t see the words on the page, he held Great Expectations in trembling hands and thought of the burial prayers he had scribbled in the front, the only remnants of past religions. After as many burials as he’d overseen, he had them memorized and stood mumbling them under his breath, almost afraid to raise his voice. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters . . . May all be free from sorrow and the causes of sorrow; may all never be separated from the sacred happiness which is sorrowless. From untruth lead us to Truth. From darkness lead us to Light.” These were the only prayers he knew, and he hoped and feared one of the gods might be listening. He never prayed for himself, but on this night, he prayed for Sophie.
Branches creaked and broke in the trees, shaken out of place by the forceful wind that spoke of storms to come. Startled by the sound, he instinctively reached for his gun, though he wasn’t carrying it, and he probably wouldn’t have fired it if he had been.
His prayers continued, and the wind continued to blow.
“What are you doing out here, Sam?”
He turned quickly to see Ethan standing behind him. “Well, you finally managed to sneak up on me. Well done, boy.”
“Who were you talking to? I heard you whispering.”
“Praying, really.”
“Like to God? Like in the books?”
“Like that.”
“Do you believe in God?”
“I’m not sure I know what ‘God’ is. I believe in the good that is in people, that feeling in your gut when you know what the right thing to do is. Maybe that’s what God is, the demonstration of those things that are good and kind, those tender parts in us that make us vulnerable and human.”
“But as a living thing, do you believe in God?”
“Listen, when I read this book in my hand, I become invested in those characters for a time. I’m emotionally wrapped up in them. I care about their hopes, dreams, desires. I want everything to turn out well for them. I believe it is the same as God watching our lives unfold. Maybe it’s us who aren’t real.”
“But you were out here praying.”
“It never hurts to take extra precautions.”
“You’re worried about Sophie’s mission, aren’t you? Why aren’t we going with her?”
“If it’s dangerous for one person to try to cross the Border, it’s three times as dangerous for three people.”
“So you’re just going to let her go?”
“I’m pretty sure Sophie does what she wants and doesn’t need me to let her do anything. But if you mean that I’m going to sit here and not do anything, that’s not exactly true, either.”
“What are we going to do to help?”
“I need you to saddle Pip and have him ready to ride before she goes. I’m going to try to make her mission just a little easier and a little safer, at least on this side of the Border.”
Sophie’s voice through the darkness gave Sam the same thrill it did every time he heard it. “Sam? Are you out here?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“What are y’all doing?”
“Just getting some fresh air. Run along now, son, and do like I said.”
Ethan ran for the barn.
“Where’s Ethan going?”
“He’s just anxious to get started on his job of taking care of Pip for you.”
“You know I’m only going to be gone a few days.”
“I know. I’m not worried.”
“Mm-hm.” She took the book gently from his hand, knowing he wasn’t reading in the book itself.
“Praying, Sam? Really?”
“Why not?”
“I used to pray for things too. A long time ago,” she clarified. “Not things I would pray for now.”
“Oh?”
“After I’d lost my parents, my adopted parents, and my sister, I prayed to die.”
“Who did you pray to?”
“I don’t know. Some idea of a god my parents left me. A father figure. A kind old man who wanted to please us, but not as much as he wanted to teach us a lesson. Anyway, I’d sit in the woods on cold nights, times when I couldn’t find food, my stomach aching from the void, my ribs poking out from my translucent skin and clothes. I would just whisper the prayer over and over, ‘I want to die. I want to die.’ I didn’t know where that would lead me, whether Heaven existed as a place to meet God or not. But I knew I wanted to be with my parents and Laurie, wherever they were. Even if I had to follow them to Hell. The funny thing is that by the time a crazy man came to deliver God’s answer to my prayer, I had already changed my mind. I didn’t want to die anymore, and the air he was strangling out of me was the one thing I wanted to hold onto more than anything else.”
“Sometimes we don’t know what we really want until there’s the possibility of us not having it.”
“Well, I definitely don’t want to die anymore. I have things to live for now.” Sophie paused. And when she spoke again, her voice was a whisper, almost inaudible among the heavy breeze. “It was you. You were there that night, weren’t you? It was you in the woods who saved me.”
She saw her answer in his downcast eyes.
“I’ll always be there for you, Sophie.”
“And I’ll always come back to you.” She took his hand in the darkness, and they were both glad there was no moonlight to reflect in their tears.
“You have the map I gave you?”
“I do, yes.”
“I marked on there the guard station farthest away from the main roads. They’ll be the most relaxed. Might even be asleep.” He tried to laugh. “It’s better for you to take the long way to get there. Try to stay out of the lamplight.”
“I know. I’ll be alright, Sam. I can do this.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“See you in a few days, okay?”
“See ya.”
The forced lightness in their voices hurt their throats.
As soon as Sophie was gone, Sam ran to the barn. Ethan had done his job well. Pip was saddled, and the saddlebag was packed with his pistol, water
, and food. “Good job, boy. Just one more thing, and I’m off.” Sam went to the back corner of the barn and pulled out two bottles of whiskey hidden under the hay.
“What’s that?” Ethan asked.
“People used to drink this to make themselves feel good. I found them on the other side of the Border once upon a time. I’m going to use them with the guards.”
“Be careful, Sam.”
“I will, son. Now you run over to the O’Dell’s until I get back.”
“I can stay by myself.”
“I’d rather not have to worry about you and Sophie at the same time. Alright?”
“Fine.”
“Attaboy.”
Taking the shortcut across fields, away from roads and the town, Sam knew Pip would easily get him to the guard station before Sophie. He didn’t even have to push the horse to his fastest speed. The last leg of the ride did come to the road, and he threw stones at each lamp along it so he and Sophie could both approach the guard station in darkness.
He hadn’t been wrong when he said the guards would be more relaxed here. Few people ever approached this guard station. Even still, bribery had long since been out of the question as a tactic. He slowed Pip to a walk a quarter of a mile away from the station and tied him in the thick trees that lined the path. He’d learned long ago how to approach someone undetected, and on this night the heavy wind was his friend. He looked through the trees. Two guards. One would leave every few minutes to patrol the perimeter, then back to the guardhouse. While one guard was out of the guardhouse, Sam silently locked his arm around the neck of the other guard, held just tight enough and long enough to knock him out. He positioned the guard in a sitting position against the wall, poured some whiskey down the front of him, and placed the half-empty bottle in his hand. He hid behind the guard shack and waited for the other guard to give him the same fate. They’d be reprimanded sharply by their superiors, maybe even transferred. But no one had to die tonight.
* * * * *
A Light From the Ashes Page 23