Ruin

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Ruin Page 8

by N. M. Martinez


  Wild patches of brightly colored plants grow in the yards of small houses on the outskirts of town. People buzz around, and I watch them closely as they do. Unlike in the city where the people eyed us suspiciously as we passed, these people don't watch us at all. They each go about their day, talking with neighbors in the street, or walking with purpose. These people aren't scared. They're comfortable. And for the first time I can breathe a sigh of relief myself.

  The road we walk on is still patchy. After I nearly trip in a pothole, Brandon tells me that they're working on either patching the road or getting rid of it all together.

  We walk along the edge of town until we get to a dirt road. At the end sits a building that looks like it was built from scratch out of rocks. In the back a simple wooden fence with enough space between the slats that flowering plants, grass, and weeds pour over the rails as if reaching out to greet us.

  He doesn't tell me where we're going, and I don't think to ask. As we step in the door, Brandon in the lead, air from inside the building slips past Brandon and tickles me with warm tendrils. Right away I catch the scent of a stew and it makes me hungry even though we had breakfast not that long ago.

  I stop right after entering. The heavy door shuts itself behind me. The room is warm with bodies, a low murmur rising from the spot furthest away from the door. These people are relaxed and at ease, each nursing a drink. They see us, and some of them call out to Brandon with a smile. I notice Maria and that tall quiet guy from the other night right away. She even gives me a nod when she notices me.

  On the other side of the room are the bar and a small counter with bar stools made of wood that look hand crafted. One man sits at the counter, chatting with the dark skinned woman who pours his drink. Her smile is so warm it's easy to believe that she's the source of the temperature in the room and not the stew cooking on the stove behind her.

  Then she sees Brandon. Her warm smile spreads across her face, brightening her eyes and plumping up her cheeks. I catch a flash of her pink tongue as her mouth drops open in sheer happiness. She steps out from behind the counter and over to us quickly scooping Brandon's face up in both of her hands though she has to reach a bit above her head to get him. "Brandon! It's so good to see you!"

  Some of the others in the back snicker, but there's no maliciousness to it. I catch Maria's grin and get a sense that this happens regularly. Brandon isn't ashamed. He doesn't move her hands, just lifts his and places them on top of hers.

  "You're looking at me like I've grown."

  She laughs. "No, I'm just surprised at how old I am." She takes a step back from him, removing her hands, then catches sight of me standing a little behind Brandon. I'm no mind reader, but even I can guess the question on her thoughts.

  "Rita," he says as he takes a step to the side leaving me exposed. "This is my little sister, Paula."

  She looks from me back to him. "Sister?"

  "Henri's."

  Rita nods as if that's all she needs to know. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, dear." If she knows what I am or where I'm from, it doesn't seem to stop that smile of hers from reappearing. I'm not quite sure what to say to her, and so I stand still, frozen by her warmth and genuine kindness. "Well, I know why you're here. They're both out back tending to the garden."

  I hadn't seen anyone out in the back when we walked up, but Brandon thanks her anyway and heads towards the back of the bar with me following after him. We walk through a door that leads to a stairwell with one staircase going down into a dark cellar and another going up to a room filled with natural light. Past the stairs there's another door and Brandon opens this one out into the garden.

  The plants I'd been admiring on the walk in are nothing compared to the entire garden. The space by the door is clear, but everywhere else there are plants growing, flowers blooming, and some with fruits dangling. Worn paths lead out from the door to the plants and all the spaces between. It's wild, but tamed by the hands that work on it.

  There's a loud screech a second before Brandon is attacked by a little girl who jumps at him hard enough to knock the breath from his chest.

  A woman steps over to us with a hand on her hip. "I know that screech. The whole village probably knows it by now." She has the same dark skin as the woman inside and looks very much like her, but she's younger. And instead of a warm smile, she looks mildly annoyed.

  The little girl in Brandon's arms shoots words out so quickly that I wonder if he can even understand her. She ignores the annoyed woman and carries on distracting Brandon so that he doesn't hear either. The woman sighs. The muscles in her face relax ever so slightly as if she might dare to smile while Brandon and the little girl are distracted, but then she sees me.

  I haven't got much else to do other than to introduce myself. "Uh, I'm Paula. I'm his sister." The words are difficult to say and I hesitate as I say them, trying them on out loud for the first time.

  The woman looks from Brandon to me before she introduces herself. "I'm Patrice, or Pat. That is Melissa."

  At the mention of her name, the little girl stops and looks at us. Her skin is tanned, her hair a light brown almost blond from the sunlight, and her eyes are blue. A very pale blue that stands out against her skin and hair. She grins and I have the very distinct feeling that I've seen that grin before.

  Brandon smiles and that seems to jog my memory. Side by side, the small bit of resemblance is uncanny. The eyes and the smile are bits of him in miniature, hints of what he might have looked like at the same age. But the rest of her face obviously belongs to the woman standing nearby.

  "Can Brandon stay?" The little girl says, the words so practiced that they come out of her mouth perfectly.

  Pat's eyes flitter up to Brandon. "I don't think so, honey, he has things he probably needs to do."

  Melissa lets out a very long sigh of disappointment that makes Brandon laugh. It's awkward for me to stand here, and I'm not quite sure why Brandon brought me. Pat quietly moves close to Brandon without touching him as she tries to coax Melissa back into her arms but Melissa won't have any of it. She smiles as she refuses as if aware of her own charm. Then she wraps her arms around Brandon's shoulders and laughs. She hasn't called him "father" but maybe that's just a thing here because their relationship is clear. The little girl loves him, and he obviously loves her. He holds her protectively, close to his torso, his arms around her firmly the same way she holds onto him.

  Pat puts her hands on her hips again with a shake of her head. "Trying to pull you two apart is impossible."

  I have to look away, staring at a tree heavy with little blooming flowers covering every branch as I tell myself that this is an important time for Brandon with this girl. He couldn't miss it, even with me in tow, and that's the only reason I'm here now. This wasn't something he did intentionally to hurt me. Maybe he even intended to show me that I have more family.

  The back door opens and the three of us turn to look as Maria pokes her head out. At all three of us staring at her, she grins widely and then looks at me. "So, hey, can I show her around the village?"

  Brandon glances at me, his brow furrowed just a bit as if he worries that I won't feel comfortable alone with her. It is strange that she's come now to take me on a tour of the village when she only met me last night and I don't know what to make of it. But if she was up to anything, I doubt she'd talk to Brandon.

  Brandon leaves the choice in my hands. "If she wants."

  I wasn't fully expecting that. It probably comes partially from our talk this morning. If I think I'm ready to hear the truth, then I'm ready to make my own choices. And I do think about it.

  "Sure."

  Maria steps out and grabs me by the arm as Brandon warns her not to take me to The Edge because he wants to. Maria huffs, “Fine. We'll come back in a bit and we can go together.”

  Eleven

  Maria walks me to the outskirts of the village towards a meadow filled with blooming flowers. She plops down in the grass and says, "You can let
it all out here."

  I stay standing, looking down at her and completely unsure of what she means.

  She brings up her legs as she leans back. "You were about ready to cry over there. I saw it," she says as she taps her own head.

  But I still don't know exactly what she means, and I'm too exhausted to figure it out.

  Maria gives a sigh. "I saw you starting to cry. Not like bawling or anything, but still enough to be uncomfortable. Wanna talk about it?"

  Not really. Not too far away there is a forest and those hills we saw from the other side as we were walking in. Up close they look even larger and steeper than I had thought.

  I take a deep breath intent on denying that I was going to cry. It's only been a week since that night, and I don't even think about it. I don't think about Mom's screams or the fact that she's trapped there with nothing Henri is able to do. I don't think about my future or her future.

  Maria waits. I cross my arms and try not to think about Brandon and his little family or the way he cares for the girl, his daughter obviously. The way he held her and looked at her. He probably only sees her when he comes to the village.

  "No. I really don't." The brim of my eyes fill, tears sitting heavily on them. I don't reach my hand up to wipe them. From Maria's spot on the ground, she wouldn't be able to see them unless I wiped at my eyes and brought attention to them.

  She shrugs. "Okay. But if you want to talk, I'm all ears."

  Maria toys with a blade of grass near her foot, wrapping the long blade around her finger, her eyes observing as it bends like a ribbon. I don't know what to say to her or if I should trust her and take her seriously. There isn't a lot of time, and I could use a friend other than Mitchell. But Maria isn't like him. Something about her is different.

  We're alone together in this meadow with no sign of a protector for her or me. "Is it safe for us here?"

  She glances up at me and smiles. "Yeah, why wouldn't it be?"

  I don't know how much she knows about me or where I'm from. Maybe it's safe for her, but it's not always safe for me. So far, the only reason I haven't been attacked yet probably has more to do with Brandon than anything else. But now together, we're standing here exposed.

  I sit down next to Maria. "I'm Neutral. They don't like Neutrals here, right?"

  "No. We don't. But, I dunno, you seem all right to me."

  My lip finds its way between my teeth and I give it a slight nibble as the realization slowly creeps up. "You're not a stray?"

  Maria laughs at that. "Nah. You thought I was a stray?" Her disbelief sounds in my ear and I lean heavily on my one hand away from her. "Hm. I guess in a way. Mike found me. But I have powers, so he started training me." She turns her back towards me. Over the edge of her tank and between her shoulder blades there's the top of the skull with its eyes peeking out. There are no designs around the skull from what I can see.

  I manage to keep quiet about it, but I see her grin as she turns back to me. A girl my age already a part of the tribe can't be a good sign.

  "What's your power?"

  "I told you earlier, stupid. I can see into the future. Only twenty or thirty seconds, but it's enough to help me when I'm fighting. It's rarely ever enough to change anything. This time was different though." Maria lifts her eyes to look up at me. "Normally I see things actually happening. Someone tripping or an opening when I'm fighting. But seeing you possibly start to cry had to be the lamest future I've ever seen."

  I should be insulted, but she smiles, open and friendly, and I can't help smiling back, thankful that she saw this future and acted on it.

  "Mike says it probably means something. Like we're meant to be good friends."

  It's hard to believe, but somehow I can see it. "Who's Mike?"

  "The tall dude with Brandon last night. The one who doesn't speak a lot. Don't let that fool you. When he has stuff to say he says it."

  I remember him. I thought it was weird how quiet he was. He stayed near Brandon that night, and when Brandon went to talk to Jimmy, he was right by his side.

  Maria and I sit quietly as a breeze blows over the two of us, shoving my hair over my shoulder and a few strands into my face. Far off, people bustle around the village. It's still not as busy or as filled as at home. There are just enough people for it to be a lot but still know each other. Back home, my city had been so filled, everyone was a stranger.

  "So," Maria starts as she picks at the grass again. "They really don't know anything about us? They haven't told you anything, not even stories about us? Because Jimmy says they do, and that it's not nice."

  I want to ask her what Jimmy would even know about it. But Jimmy was there that day in the Judgment room on the Neutral Side of the fence. No one was surprised to see him or Henri, and I was just handed over to them, a message of some sort in the same way that Mom's probably a message.

  Maria doesn't look at me or force me to answer. She just waits patiently while I scramble to find the words, thankful that with her my thoughts are at least my own.

  "They say you have to fight for resources. That's true, right?" I pause, and she turns to me and gives a little nod. I don't continue until she prods me some more.

  "They also say that you--" There is no nice way to say it. It comes out quick. "That you all kill people. Especially humans."

  Maria's dark eyes are easy to track out of the corner of my eye. She pulls her knees up carefully and lifts a hand to cover a tiny laugh. "Stupid. Aren't those humans down there?"

  She points down to the village where the people bustle around for the midday. "But those people are useful to you."

  Her eyes twinkle. "You're not."

  It doesn't come out any meaner than when she calls me stupid, though it still stings. "But Brandon considers me family." The girl we passed on our way to the bonfire rises to the surface of my thoughts. "What about others? Real strays with no family or powers?"

  Maria doesn't laugh. She draws her legs underneath her body as she nods. "Real strays are screwed. They aren't always killed right away though sometimes they probably wish they were."

  Her voice grows so soft as she speaks that I get a sense right away that there is something more there. If she were a normal friend back home, I'd pry, but our friendship is much too young for me to start picking at it.

  I swallow. "So Mitchell?"

  "No. Please." She waves a hand at the thought. "Angel loves Mitchell."

  The way Angel had his hand on the back of Mitchell's chair made him seem more like a possession than love. Mitchell is trapped. Where would he go if he wanted to leave? How would he ever get away from Angel? That doesn't seem like love. But I don't bother mentioning it. It probably isn't a good idea to talk that way about neighbors even if I do feel at ease with Maria right now.

  Maria's face brightens again and she hops up. "I know. The junk shop. Maybe you can tell me if some of the things there do what Vic says they do."

  She waits for me to stand and then she starts off towards town. When I don't follow fast enough, she turns and grabs my arm and drags me off after her.

  "Maria." I say her name softly, scared to ask, but absolutely needing to. "Have you ever..." I let my voice trail off. The question is so obvious it doesn't need to be spoken.

  Her head turns slightly and I catch the dark rim of her brown eyes before she looks forward again. "No. Not yet."

  "Has Brandon?"

  She stops and wheels around with her arms crossed over her chest. "Would that change things?"

  It's a good question. Would it? Something about Brandon in comparison to Henri and his brother, Jimmy, is so different, pure in a way. But it could just be my mind wanting to see it so badly that it ignores anything that doesn't fit that perfect image of what I'd always expected a big brother to be. And maybe he's even played into that a little if he can read my thoughts.

  Maria shifts and puts a hand on her hip. She isn't going to answer me. If Brandon has, I'm sure it's part of his past and off limits for discussio
n anyway.

  "Yeah. It kinda would." The words slip as background noise to my thoughts. I can guess that he has. Unlike his brother, it wouldn't be something Brandon would relish or brag about. Not when he holds his little daughter with those hands, touches her human mother who lives here in the village. Is that a theme with men like Brandon and Henri? Sleeping with women they don't take home and then having children they don't need to take care of? But Brandon is different. He actually loves his daughter. It was all over his face when he was holding her.

  I start walking again and Maria walks alongside me, leading me towards the shop. She doesn't argue with me, nor does she answer me. Not even to deny it.

  "If it makes you feel any better, we can't all kill." She says quietly as we walk. "There wouldn't be anyone left if we all did it. So some of it is just talk."

  "Unless they get a stray, right?"

  She shrugs. A tiny muscle twitches her brows.

  The junk shop is filled with all sorts of little oddities. Some are stored in crates and on wooden boxes. Displays are created on old shelves and worn and faded tables. Clothing hangs on racks with some items folded on a nearby table.

  The woman who runs the place watches us closely with an unchanging smile plastered on her face. If it's supposed to make us feel at ease, it doesn't. She examines me the same way Angel had last night and Jimmy had before that. Before we stepped in, Maria warned me. "Junk shop owners collect information," Maria had said when we were walking in. "So don't say too much. Information is a commodity."

  Maria ignores the woman as she pulls me to various tables asking me about things that had been regular everyday things in my old life. Cables, remote controls, tools. Everything we look at is in some sort of disarray. There's the rusted tool box with the battered tools and the stack of non-matching plates. These are all items that once belonged to someone and have now come here to wait for re-purposing. From one owner to another.

 

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