Divided

by Kaesey Stobaugh

  I wonder if the forest outside of both our towns is better, if it’s free. Maybe, if you get far enough away from the world we’ve built here, things get better. The government tells us that outside of our towns, there’s nothing for miles and miles. They say there are probably small communities in different places, but they don’t live the same way we do. They tell us they’re primitive. I’m not sure I believe them anymore, maybe they only tell us what they want us to know.

  I go to move my feet and remember that my boots are still on. I quickly unlace them and shove them under the bed before anyone comes in. I’m reminded of what I saw last night when I followed the guards. I know that they’re taking young men, and I believe it’s probably to make them into guards. I also know that they didn’t take Nate. It occurs to me that the cries I heard were all relatively close to The Gate. I don’t know where Nate lives, but I’m willing to bet it’s farther in. Maybe they take them in stages, so people don’t panic and the chance of a revolt is lower. This doesn’t make me feel any better; all it means is they’ll come for him later. I wonder if he knows about this. I think about his family. If they take him away, what will happen to them? Maybe I could take care of them? Yeah, right. They don’t even know I exist and they wouldn’t trust me if they did.

  Raya comes in to take my temperature again, bringing with her a tray of food. For the first time, I contemplate what Raya’s life outside of us is like. Does she have a family? Does she live with the Workers, or us? I’m ashamed that I’ve never thought of her as anyone other than someone here to serve us. She’s just as important as Nate and his family is, and she’s been right in front of me for years.

  “Raya, where do you live?” The second it’s out, I know I’ve made a mistake.

  She looks up at me in surprise. It takes her a while to get her thoughts in order. “Well, my sister and I live in a little house on the other side of The Gate.”

  I know I should leave it at that, but the questions are bubbling up to the surface. “You work so much, you can’t possibly see her very often, can you?”

  “We walk to and from work together each day, so that gives us time to talk. She works in your town like me.” She explains. I get the feeling she’s never had to talk about this before.

  “Do you and your sister like working for us?” I see her building walls through her eyes.

  “Of course, I do, Miss Willamina. It’s my job.” She says. It’s like she’s reading from a piece of paper.

  “But you didn’t have a choice when you came to work for us, did you?” I know I’m really pushing it too far now, but I have to ask.

  She looks at me. I see her trying to delve into my mind, see what I’m thinking. I hold her gaze. Finally, she speaks, “No, Miss Willamina, I didn’t. No one ever does.” She leaves the room quickly.

  I know that I shouldn’t have done that. If I keep this up, I’ll be caught within the week. But another part of me knows that it’ll be okay, I can trust Raya. At least, I hope I can.

  It’s a few hours later and Georgie bounces into my room to see me. She hops onto my bed with an energetic grace that only she has.

  “Hi, Willa! Are you feeling better now?” I can see the concern in her face and it touches me.

  “Not completely, but I’m getting there.” I assure her.

  “Mother says I can’t come see you till you’re better.” She says despairingly.

  I raise my eyebrow at her. “And yet, here you are!”

  She giggles. “I snuck up here when Mother wasn’t looking!” She sounds proud of herself.

  “Well, aren’t you sneaky?” I laugh at her nerve. It takes a lot to disobey Mother, she sees everything.

  “How’d you get sick, Willa?” She asks curiously. I know she doesn’t know anything about it, but my heart still skips a beat.

  “These things just happen sometimes. No reason, really.” I try to sound casual. Who knew that the hardest part would be keeping secrets from my sister?

  “Your hair’s really messy.” She points out. She loves to tell me when my hair doesn’t look good because hers is always a wild fire.

  I come up with another believable lie. “Well, I haven’t brushed it today, so I bet it looks pretty bad.” She nods in agreement. I laugh. “Thanks a lot!” She dissolves into a fit of laughter as well.

  I look at her young, childish face. I try to imagine her in rags, covered in dirt with not enough meat on her bones. Just thinking about it kills me. I try to smile at her and keep up the conversation, but I still have that mental picture in my head and it hurts me. Eventually, she gets bored and leaves. When she’s gone, I sink down into my pillows. I feel so terrible inside. If Georgie had been born on the other side, that’s who she would be. I feel the tears slide down my face. How could anybody do that to anyone?

  In the silence, my mind drifts once more. This time, it lands on my new friend. I know that he doesn’t ever let loose and it makes me happy to be perhaps the first person to make him forget his troubles, just for a little while. A new thought appears then; he’s handsome. I think about it, and then agree. There’s a darkness about him though, but not an evil kind, just from the life he’s had to live. His very presence is commanding, but that’s only to hide his fears and insecurities. He keeps people out because he can’t risk getting hurt. He says he’s going to trust me, but I know he’s barely started to. It’ll be a long while before I have his complete trust. I hope it won’t be awkward on Wednesday. Maybe we’ll strike up a natural conversation, but maybe we’ll just sit there in silence for an hour or so. When he lets me in, I truly do enjoy being with him and feel like we could become close. But when he hides himself away, I feel like I’m talking to a wall. Granted, it’s a wall that looks a lot like a person, but it’s still a wall. I know I’ll never be more important to him than his sisters, but I don’t want to be. I just want him to care about me. I let that realization sink in. I hadn’t known that until just now, but it’s true, I want to be someone that matters to him. Maybe I already am. I’ll just have to wait and see.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nathan

  It’s Tuesday night, finally! It couldn't have come slower. I'm walking up to my house and I can already hear Leila crying. Her little voice in distress makes me frantic. I pick up the pace; my lazy walk turns into a run up to the house. I burst through the door, expecting to see a storm of chaos thundering through the room, but that's not at all what I find. My mother has Leila wrapped in her shawl as she's pacing back and forth across the kitchen, gently bouncing her and rubbing her back as she sings softly to her. I can tell she’s attempting to comfort her but she won't be still, she only cries more. Gabe is lying in bed watching her with irritation and discomfort. I know nobody will be sleeping until Leila calms down.

  "The girls wanted you to see them to bed." She says in an exhausted voice.

  I can tell it has been a long day for her, so without questioning her about Leila, I slip into the girls’ room silently. They're both wide awake staring at the door when I walk in.

  Cinda leaps to her feet, jumping from the bed towards me. I spring forward to catch her. She laughs and hugs my neck. Gabby simply sits up and greets me with a beautiful smile. Gabby is much more gentle and graceful than Cinda will ever be. I find it funny how different the two are; they make coming home after a day of misery enjoyable.

  I set Cinda back on the bed as I roll onto it with them. I sit towards the front in the middle of them. They tell me about their day, and when I say they, I mean mostly Cinda. She talks and Gabby nods in agreement. Cinda tells me what they ate for lunch, how much they played with their dolls, and how Gabe was a jerk to them. What else is new? I try to listen but the only thing I can really focus on is Leila. She's still crying in the other room, though it's a lot softer now. I can tell she’s drifting to sleep. It takes me a minute to realize how far away I am right now. I'm sitting here, watching Cinda talk, listening to Leila cry, and thinking about the Tecks, soldiers, medicine, and Willa. I can't
seem to focus on one thing. I know I'll be up later than planned tomorrow night. It's Wednesday. I'm finally going to see Willa again. Since we agreed to meet at night; I want to get as much sleep tonight as possible.

  Cinda is now rambling about her preference between dogs and cats when I lean forward and kiss them both on the forehead.

  "I'm sorry girls, but I’ve got a big day tomorrow and I need to sleep." I explain as I stand up and tuck them in.

  "Oh well, that’s okay. I'll tell you why I love dogs more than cats tomorrow!" Cinda says with an excited smile. I can't hide my laughter. She has no idea how much I'm not looking forward to that discussion. And the worst part is I know she's not going forget...ever.

  “Alright, and I'll tell you why I hate both.” I wink at her and she gives me a glare. I tell them goodnight and gently shut the door.

  Leila is asleep now, but she's still whimpering, so my guess is it's only a light cat nap. Gabe took the opportunity of Leila’s decrease of screaming and has fallen fast asleep. My mother looks desperate; she hasn't stopped her bouncing and pacing at all. I ignore the threatening looks she gives me when I start to walk towards her. I gently feel the baby's head and I can tell she's got a high fever. This scares me. I know fevers don't come out of nowhere. My worst fear is that it's the flu or something I don't even know about. But nonetheless...she is a very sick baby and any kind of sickness puts me on edge.

  "Get back!" My mother snaps in a whisper. I step away willingly, having all the knowledge of Leila's situation that I need. I send my mother one last glance of worry as I leave to my room.

  I get undressed and pull out some clothes for the morning. I plan on leaving before sunrise. I see my mother worked on laundry today when I find a stack of clothes on my dresser. I pull out my navy jeans and leather jacket. I also find the coat from Willa. It's just as soft as it was when she gave it to me and it smells fantastic again. Instead of putting it in a drawer, I put on some pants and throw the coat on top of me when I lay down. As I try to sleep for what little time I have left, I end up thinking about Willa again.

  I don't know why, maybe it's the coat, the scent of it. It makes me remember the night I spent in her shed, which was definitely the most anxious night of my life, but also the most memorable. I think about the forest on the other side and all the things I saw while sneaking around. I then think about how I left my bag on the street. And with that tiny little image in my head, I feel horrible again. What if Willa refuses to bring it? What if she thinks I'm using her to get things from her side? I just have to explain to her the shape Leila is in. She'll understand...right? She seems like a very understanding person and I think if she knows the situation, she'll help me out. I feel myself drifting off into a dark world. The darkest place I've ever been...my mind. The last thought I remember having before I let the weight of my eye lids collapse.

  I’ll have to pay her back for everything.

  The sun is getting lower. I can't help but watch as it goes down. I can't focus on the fence and that makes me mad because I'm so close to finishing it. A few more yards and I’ll be finished, and then I'll have to find a new job. I must confess...I'm gonna miss the old grouch. He's rude and arrogant but he makes me smile. He's the old man I'll probably end up like. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not.

  I plan on leaving for the woods just as it gets dark. It'll take about a thirty minute hike, so by the time I actually get to The Wall, hopefully Willa will be waiting to lift the ladder up for me. Then everything should work out great.

  At that moment, I have a horrible thought. What if Willa doesn't even show up? Or worse...what if she shows up with soldiers? What if this whole thing was one big set up, a trap? But I throw it away. If she had any intention of turning me in, she would've done it back when I was in the shed. She told me that. I'm just being ridiculous. I'm nervous. But at the same time, I don't think I've ever been more excited.

  The sun is just out of sight over the horizon. It's time!

  I pack away my tools and stick them under Mr. Thompson's deck. I grab my jacket from the stake I hung it on and take off running for the woods, turning behind me only once to be sure no one’s following me.

  I prance through the wood silently. I remember my father taking me fishing when I was really young and he could still walk. He would take me fishing and hunting in this forest almost every day. He showed me the easiest and safest paths, he taught me how to track animals and bait hooks. He's the one who showed me how to hide weapons. And with that thought, I leap over the fallen tree that my shotgun in hidden under. I stop and stare at the log. I debate for a second before shrugging. I dig up my shotgun and for some reason I decide to take it with me. Just in case I need it for anything. I check to make sure it's on safety lock –even though I never take it off unless I'm shooting– then I strap it on my back and continue on.

  I reach the river and leap through the shallow end. It's getting darker and harder to see. I hope Willa doesn't have trouble finding her way around. I don't know her side like I know mine.

  I slow down as it gets darker, for my own safety. It's another mile hike from the river to The Wall. Maybe I should go over what I'll say to her when I see her? No, no, no, that's stupid. I'm sure the right words will come to me. Although...practicing never hurt anybody. No! I'm a human being, I'm pretty sure I know how to talk to another one. Apparently time flies when you’re fighting with yourself, but that annoying argument I had with myself, Willa will never know about.

  After an agonizing walk, I reach The Wall. Once I see it, I'm afraid. All I can think about is how awful my experience last time was. I should turn around. This is dangerous. This is selfish. I can't do it. I have to. She could be waiting for me right now.

  I unstrap my shotgun and lay it on the ground by the fallen oak tree. That's my way over. I start climbing. The last time I climbed up this horrific thing, I was under the impression that Michele was going to get me over and back alive. That was my mistake. Right here and now, I promise myself that no matter what happens I'm going to trust my instincts. This is my fight. This is my choice. I'll ether succeed or I'll fail. But either way, it's gonna be out of my will and strength. Not anybody else's.

  Now I'm at the top. I can't see all the way over but I can see far enough to tell that the ladder isn't up. She must not be here. I call down in a quiet voice, "Willa? Willa!" I listen. There's no answer, so I sit on the top of the tree to wait for her.

  I wait for what feels like hours. Why am I here? I should just leave. This is crazy. I'm insane, a fool, an idiot. They all fit. I make up my mind, I'm going back. I did try after all. I came, didn’t I? That’s more than she’s done. There's no reason I should be here. This is a death sentence.

  I stand up and start to take the climb down when I hear a familiar and lovely voice call up to me.

  “Nathan! You came!”

  I stare down, almost not believing my ears. I see her hop out of the forest like a lost bunny. Her posture makes me laugh. I can tell she's struggling to walk through the mud. She's much better at being a princess.

  "I came? For a while I thought you stood me up!" I call back down to her with a grin. She stares up at me with wide eyes, smiling with humor.

  "Here! I'll put the ladder up for you." She announces.

  All of a sudden, my feelings about this place change. I feel much safer now. Maybe it's because I'm not the only one sneaking out to be selfish. Or maybe it's because I'm not the only one risking everything. But I know the real reason in my heart. It's just her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Willamina

  It’s Tuesday now. I’m in my room, trying to read, but my eyes keep glancing to every time measuring device I have, my clock, my calendar, the sun out my window. Something’s wrong with me. I mean, really! It’s not like I don’t talk to people. Nevertheless, I’m struggling with a case of nerves, I can’t deny it. It doesn’t help that I feel like I’m a completely changed person. I feel the urge to do something, but none of the us
ual things seem right. I stand, frustrated and start pacing my room. That’s when I see it. Hidden away in one of my desk drawers with the corner peeking out is an old lineless notebook. I think I got it for my birthday one year from a friend who didn’t know what else to get. I used to draw when I was little, and I wasn’t bad either, I just got out of practice.

  I pull out the notebook and hunt around my room for a pencil. I make myself comfortable on my bed with the notebook in my lap and stare aimlessly at the creamy white emptiness. I watch my pencil trace invisible lines of who knows what, mere centimeters from the page. How are you supposed to know what to draw? I decide to start with the obvious and begin the basic outline of a person. I relax. The pencil feels natural in my hand and I stop overthinking it. I glide along, concentrating yet peaceful. My hand tells me my character’s male. Then I adjust his height because I feel he needs to be taller. His body is strong without being bulky. His emotions are hidden, like he’s tucked them all away. His hair is dark, thick and sweeping, but not stylistically so. It’s natural, everything about him is natural. I clue in to who I’m drawing. But somehow, knowing that I’m drawing Nate makes it even easier. I finish up final touches and look critically at my handiwork for imperfections. It’s not a bad likeness. I’m amazed that it came back to me so easily. Suddenly, I can’t quit. I turn the page and my next subject strikes me instantly; the forest. This time it’s harder for me, not because I can’t do it, but because of the mood it emanates. It’s easy to draw Nate because you just have to make him look like he’s hiding himself from you. The woods are different. The textures and emotions are overpowering. I do my best to convey the feeling it gives me, the feeling of being stalked and protected all at the same time. I add in the little details, tree roots, under brush, drops of moisture falling from far away bows. Every time I stop to consider it I find something else that needs more adjusting. I spend hours and hours on that one picture. Luckily, my family’s used to me staying in my room for the majority of the day. It takes a long time before I admit that there’s not anything else I can do to improve this picture. I give it a final glance before I tuck it safely back in the drawer.