by Lisa Jade
"Anyway," he says, "I don't actually have another job for you. I just think it was getting a little tense and I thought I'd best create some distance. For now, just stay in the hospital."
My expression must be reproachful because he holds up his hands in a mock surrender.
"Hey, it's alright. I'm not about to throw you to the wolves. I'll talk to Minni, alright? We'll figure this out."
I fight back a snarl. I would do anything to not have to go back in the room with her. I feel like that tension is never going to completely go away. But I've troubled him enough for one day. I should just shut up and keep my head down. After all, I should be hearing from the Scouts later today. My heart swells with longing at the thought of it. I can't wait for the HT to crackle into life and Adam's reassuring voice to buzz down the line. I'll feel infinitely better once I know they're safe. No doubt Dr Newton will have to check them over first, and they may need some rest, but within the next two days I should be going home. I briefly remember sitting on the watchtower by the gate, poring over my books, gazing out over the city on a cold, dark nighttime. I used to hate Fairground, but right now I would do anything to be back there.
We head up to the hospital to find it quiet and still. Most of the people who were here earlier have gone, wandering about despite their various injuries, but two or three remain. My eyes are drawn to the dark figure from earlier. It doesn't look like they've moved at all. The little girl and boy sit in the corner, the girl curled up in her brother's loving arms. Minni is sitting crouched against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chin, her fingers working away as she writes something into a scrappy old notebook.
"Minni."
She looks up and sees Max, and for a moment her eyes fill with happiness. But then she spies me behind him, and her smile is immediately replaced by a bitter scowl.
"Oh, great. Did I not make myself clear earlier, Max? I can't be around that girl."
Max just shakes his head.
"Sorry, but it's not your say. I need somewhere for her to stay."
She simply crosses her arms and pouts. Max turns to me.
"Minni is our resident nurse," he tells me, "I bet you two would get along pretty well given half a chance."
"I'm not a nurse!" she snaps, "I'm only here because nobody else would help. And she…"
She points at me with a frown.
"She is not a doctor. I don't care what you say, Max. Look at her. She doesn't know anything about medicine. She's lying."
Max's eyes lower, and I notice him staring at the children in the corner.
"She seems to be doing better."
Minni shrugs, clearly agreeing but not wanting to seem like she might like me.
"I suppose. Looks like it was a couple of broken ribs in the end."
"And Ashley treated it?"
Her eyes narrow, and I can tell she wants to say no. She wants to snap and tell him that I didn't do anything, that I'm useless, that I'm just lying to get him on my side. But she can't. She stares at him for a moment, then nods.
"Yeah. Guess she did."
Max hesitates, and I can almost see the wheels turning. Then he glances back at me, opens his mouth, closes it again, then speaks.
"Can I ask a favour?"
I nod.
"Listen," he tells me, "I don't want to make you feel unwelcome, but there's clearly some issue with trust right now. The others - as we've just discovered - don't respect you because they think you're dangerous. I'd like to think none of them would act on that, but… maybe it's a better idea to keep you out of their reach for the days you're here."
I outwardly agree, but inside I feel sick. Great. One mistake and I'm locked away. I have to spend two days hidden in here with her. But then he scratches his head, and I can tell he's got more to say.
"Thing is, we have a lot of injured people here. Practically everyone needs help at some point or another. We have Minni here, but she's not a doctor. She doesn't know medicine like you do."
Minni scoffs loudly and rolls her eyes, but he ignores her.
"I don't suppose you'd be able to help out a little here in the hospital?" he asks me, "it would be a massive help to us, and it would definitely count as earning your keep."
Initially, the idea appeals to me; but then I spy Minni glaring at me from the other side of the room. She narrows her eyes at me and bares her teeth, again reminding me of a small, angry dog. Clearly, it won't be easy to live with her. But then Max glances back at her and fixes his gaze on hers.
"Minni, Ashley has a medical background. If she stays here, she can patch people up. Watch and learn - you have two days to pick up as much as you can."
She crosses her arms and pouts.
"I don't get why you want me to learn medicine from a stranger," she mutters, "besides, please tell me how you expect me to learn anything when my teacher is mute? Not to mention when she's so insufferable.”
My fists clench and I fight the desire to growl at her. Max simply shakes his head and strides past me, turning back towards the door.
"Whatever. You two are the only ones who can do this, and whether you like it or not, for the next couple of days, you're a team. I'll start sending up anyone who needs treatment. Play nice with each other, okay?"
The door closes behind him and for a moment the two of us stand in silence. Our eyes meet and for a brief second I wonder if she's going to launch herself at me, but then she just sighs heavily and leans back against the wall.
"For the love of… there's no arguing with that boy. Fine. I'll work with you. I suppose I've got no choice."
A wry smile plays on my lips. I'm the one who should be saying that.
We stand in perfect silence until someone comes up. It's an older man, and as he enters I wince at the large gash across his face. It goes from one cheek, over his nose and right up to his eye - and as Minni looks up, I see the colour drain from her face. I wonder if she hates blood.
I take a step forward and reach out slowly, feeling the cut for warmth. Minni steps up behind me, and I can hear her making small talk with the man. It’s a good plan; I can set to work without the awkwardness of having him stare blankly into my eyes, confused and unnerved by my silence. I set to work stitching the cut, stopping every few minutes as he winces back from the pain. Behind me, I can feel Minni growing more and more tense. I reach out and snip the end and she gasps a little. Yep. She definitely doesn't like it.
Throughout the day, more people come upstairs. Initially it's a little clunky - I don't bother to stop and communicate with them. They don't know or care who I am, and I know from experience that it's easier to just treat them and let them go than try to be social and make them more uncomfortable.
Minni watches for the most part, filling the awkward silences with casual chatter, and now I see how she acts towards others. She's surprisingly friendly, cracking the occasional joke and making quiet, sympathetic noises whenever they grunt in pain. At one point I find my hands full, and I turn to grab some more bandage - but she simply presses a roll into my palm. I blink slowly, wondering if that really happened, but she remains silent so I decide not to react. The habit continues, though, and after several hours I find we're acting like clockwork. They enter and she greets them, has them explain, and then does all the talking while I treat them. She passes me things and one time, she even casually leans on my shoulder to get a better view. To anyone coming in, we almost look like we're working as a team.
But she doesn't talk to me. I don't look at her, don't meet her eyes - we're both working together, but it's out of necessity. There's nothing to state that we have to be friends or even communicate in more than the most basic of ways.
But then the last person leaves, and the sun begins to lower outside. She shudders a little as the temperature plummets, and I feel a pang of sympathy. At least at Fairground we have the bunkers. They're cold and dark for the most part, but they warm up fast when we're all sleeping side by side. But here, there are endless dark hallways and
only a few people. The whole place is empty and cold and lonely. One night in here has told me that.
She reaches over and starts helping me pack up. When she speaks, her tone is annoyed.
"You know, it's pretty great that they gave you so many supplies. Seems kind of… ridiculous though. You've used a lot but you still have loads left over. I mean, it's not like you'll need it once you get back, right?"
I look at her; she seems uneasy, embarrassed, unsure. Like she wants to say something but doesn't know if she should. I simply tilt my head and put on what I hope is a kind, welcoming expression. She heaves a sigh.
"Fine. Look. We don't have much here. This is the most we've had in twelve years. And since we're going out of our way to protect you right now, maybe you'd consider… leaving some here?"
I consider this. While it's true that I owe these people a lot, I don't know if I should go handing out Fairground's supplies. True, I've only got a tiny portion of what we have in the infirmary. Not to mention that we can always get more. I bite my lip. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give them a few.
I nod at her and her face breaks out in a smile. It's the first time I've seen anything resembling actual gratitude on her face - it's a little unnerving. I wave at my pack, which sits over in the corner, and she walks over to it.
"Thanks. I suppose to a point, you're actually being useful. I mean, only a little. And I'm serious, if you betray Max you'll have to deal with me chasing you down. But, I mean… what the hell is this?"
I whip around; Minni sits on the floor next to my pack, something clutched in her hand. It takes me a moment to recognise the frame that I found in that old office building. Huh. I forgot I even had that.
She grips it tightly, and even from here I can see her fingers shivering. As I watch, she raises her hand and wipes away what’s left of the dust, and her eyes widen. I swear I can see the sparkle of tears in them.
"Where did you get this?"
Chapter Twelve
"Where did you get this?"
Her voice is louder now, angrier. I shrink back. She stands and steps towards me. Her confusion is tinged with rage, and I can feel myself pulling away from her glare. But then her resolve breaks and she sinks to her knees, the frame still clutched in her palm. I take a step back, confused and unnerved by the sudden change in her behaviour. She meets my eyes, black meeting hazel, and her expression changes. Now she just looks sad.
"I knew there was something about you," she whispers, "something strange. Somehow... You know me. Don't you?"
I watch, utterly confused, but she ignores me and keeps talking.
"Who is it that sent you here? I know it was someone. There's no way you picked this up by chance. It was given to you."
I hold up my hands in surrender and shake my head wildly. She lifts the frame to her face and smiles sadly.
"I remember this. It was the most exciting day ever. I was just a brat but..."
My chest tightens. I step forward and lean over her to look at the little girl in the photo. Dark hair, sharp eyes, a deeply unimpressed expression on her face; of course.
Minnie lifts her eyes to mine and smiles tearfully.
"I never thought I'd see this again," she says, "I can't believe you found this."
I gently touch the frame and she turns it over in her palm, pointing to each of the people in turn.
"That's Mama, Papa… my little brother Tiny…"
She gives a high pitched giggle that’s somehow more fitting for an infant than a grown woman.
"Our parents weren’t the best at picking out names, were they?"
She lets out a laugh, and the sound is soft and fragile.
But then a though strikes me and I find myself biting my lip. Is it really her? It's not unusual for people to project; the girl in the photo looks like her but that doesn't mean much. It's a big city.
But then she wipes a tear from her cheek and I feel myself weaken. I can't be mad. I can't even be irate. This is important to her. I've never seen this side of her. Minni always struck me as a hard-ass, grumpy and short-tempered and argumentative and difficult. A little like me, I suppose. But there's something both strange and pleasant about seeing her like this, all smiles and tears and warmth. My hate for her dissipates in an instant - and my anger is replaced with understanding.
My own parents died twelve years ago, too. I don't pretend I remember much about them. I was just a kid. I remember that my Mother was pale with curls and that my Father had brown hair and soft eyes. Or maybe they didn't. Maybe I'm just imagining them that way because those are the traits I see in myself and I like to think I look like them.
Minni cries quietly for a few minutes, and I sit next to her. At one point her joy devolves into sadness and I find myself looping an arm through hers and pulling her close. It's a surprisingly intimate gesture, and one that I instantly regret, but she leans heavily on me and bawls. I wonder if this is the first time since then that she's cried about her family. With so much to do and so many people around, it's hard to find a moment to stop and reflect. I know that; though I threw myself into my studies mainly to avoid having to think about it.
She wipes her eyes on a dirty sleeve and sniffs loudly.
"I know," she mumbles, "I know you're not here for me. I'm not stupid. This is pure chance. I guess I just…"
She winces and her voice cracks.
"…I just always held out hope that they were still somewhere in the city."
My chest hurts at that. So she never saw her family die, or found their bodies? In a way, that's worse than what happened to me. Because as unlikely as it is, she will never know for certain. She leans back against the wall and takes in several long, rattling breaths.
"I know it's stupid. But when we got separated, I kind of figured that eventually they'd find me. I’m not thick. I know they won't. They're dead. But it's hard to let go, you know?"
I meet her eyes, and she stares at me for a brief moment before leaning forward and wrapping an arm around me, pulling me into an awkward half-hug.
"For what it's worth, thank you. I know you didn't mean to do it, but it means the world to me to see this again."
She tries to hand it back to me, but I push it toward her. I didn't want it in the first place. She takes it and holds it to her chest, and a final tear streams down her face.
We sit in silence until the sun has turned the evening sky red and pink. Then she stands, walks over to the table in the corner. There she places her frame, carefully leaning it up against the same book she was writing in earlier. She watches it for a moment, then turns to me.
"Come on. We'd best go eat."
I tilt my head.
"I mean it," she says, "last night was an exception. You eat with us tonight."
The hardness has returned to her voice, but the aggression has eased. It's as if the memory has relaxed her, calmed and soothed her like a bawling child. I find that as I climb to my feet, my own anger is gone, too. Suddenly I feel like I can forgive her for what she's said and done - and while we're not the type to be friends, I finally feel that there’s a trust held between us.
"Apparently one of the guys found a salted pig they're going to cook up tonight," she tells me, "this will either be absolutely revolting, or totally delicious."
My stomach twists. Twelve year old meat does not sound like a delicious meal to me. I turn to head out, but she reaches for my sleeve and holds me fast.
"Listen."
Her face is stern, her jaw set. I meet her eyes but she looks away, pointedly avoiding my gaze.
"What happened today was embarrassing by anyone's standards. I don't cry. Not in front of anyone, not even Max. This was a one time thing, okay? Don't expect me to open up like that again. Also, don't you dare tell anyone or I'll flip."
I feign a chuckle and she smirks.
"Well, I suppose at the very least I can trust you not to tell anyone," she says, "but seriously. I know that I've been hard on you and maybe that wasn't one hundred p
ercent fair."
I shake my head wildly. No. It was fair.
"I just couldn't risk it again. So many people have come here, earned our trust and then stabbed us in the back like we were nothing. I've had more than my fair share of heartache, so I'm really just over the whole ‘caring for people' thing."
I smile, but inside I burn. I can understand it now. What she did and what she said still bother me, and I don't suppose either of us will forget, but I've already forgiven.
"Oh, but I forgot," she mutters, "you're not staying, are you?"
Our eyes meet now, and for a moment I'm happy that I can't talk. I lift my hands and sign instead, knowing she can't understand. I'm sorry. But I want to go home.
She raises her hand and mimics my movements with surprising ease, then smiles.
"I suppose you're used to hearing this by now," she says, "but the whole sign language thing is total nonsense to me. Sorry. Come on. Let’s go eat."
The moment we open the door, a great yell rises up. I jump back a little, startled by the sudden noise, but Minni just beams. Arms wave at us from all directions, smiling faces from people we saw earlier.
"Hey, Minni! Mutie!"
"Good job today girls!"
Minni waves back at them, unusually happy; but I find myself stepping back. How has their attitude changed so suddenly from this morning? How have they gone from hateful stares to friendly waves? I glance at Minni, who's beckoning for me to follow her. Perhaps she's the reason. She seems the type who is kind to everyone - unless you're a stranger. Maybe my standing next to her is enough to make me somewhat accepted, too.
We follow the calls and sit on the floor around one of the fires. There are several of them now, each one lit up, surrounded by a few people. In the corner I can see a pig roasting on a spit; and despite my initial repulsion, it actually smells pretty good.