by Kody Boye
It’s all too much.
Too much to bear? my conscience offers. Or too much to experience?
Either way, dwelling on it now will do me no good. If anything, it will simply cause me to spiral.
And once down the hole you go, a storyteller once said, you never come back up.
Jamie steps forward, a bowl of soup in hand. “It’s a bit cold,” he says, “but it should be all right.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“Just some corn, chicken and broth. I… I hope that’s all right.”
“It’s more than all right,” I say, accepting both the bowl and spoon with thanks.
I eat in silence, allowing Jamie to watch without much thought, and listen as Mother Terra’s pained cries dissipate. Whether she has passed out from pain or simply allowed Carda to take care of her I cannot know.
It is only when I’ve finished with the soup that Jamie’s mother appears through the archway—hands bloodied, lips twisted into a frown.
“Is she—” I start to say.
“Sleeping?” the dark-skinned woman asks. “Yes, my dear. She is.”
I sigh.
The woman gestures her husband to dunk a washcloth into one of the buckets. Then she proceeds to clean her hands. “It would probably be best if you remained overnight. She is in no condition to travel.”
“The Countess will panic if she believes me dead.”
“Can your guard not call in? To let her superiors know that you’re all right?”
“I… I suppose she could.”
“Good. Then it’s settled. You’ll stay the night.”
“What—” Adrian starts.
“She’s traded supplies for services, Adrian. The least we can do is let them sleep in the living room.”
“I suppose so,” the man grumbles.
“I’ll fetch some blankets and pillows.” She pauses to consider me. “Do you need a change of clothes, dear?”
“No. I… I have some in the vehicle. I’ll go change now.”
“We’ll be back with the bedding by then. Come, Jamie, Adrian.”
The two men follow the woman down the hall.
Frowning, I turn and follow Diana Winters out into the warm night.
“You’re sure you’re all right?” the SAD asks as she closes the door behind us.
“I’m sure,” I reply.
“I… am sorry about your father. Any man who serves in this war willingly should be honored.”
“It’s not like they have much choice.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
Diana unlocks the vehicle via a touchscreen pad on the driver’s side door and opens the rear compartment so I can step in.
“You know,” the woman says as I begin to change, “you have a way with people.”
“You think so?” I ask.
“I do. It’s a gift.”
A gift? I think.
Since when is being a good, honest person a gift?
Maybe, I think, it’s because they do things differently in the city.
Maybe so, but at the same time, it makes me wonder what Diana might think of me, especially in light of the exchange between me and the owners of this homestead.
With a frown, I step out of the vehicle in my original blouse and loose pants, then say, “Miss Winters?”
“Yes?”
“You don’t think Mother Terra is going to die, do you?”
“No. She’s merely suffered a flesh wound. She’ll be weak, and she’ll have to undergo surgery once she reaches the capitol, but she’ll be all right. She’s a strong woman. She’ll make it through this.”
And me? I wonder.
Will I make it through this?
That’s the worst part: I don’t know.
I’ve lost so many things in my life.
My mother. My father. My friends.
I swallow.
My free will.
Closing my eyes, I tilt my head back to the sky, then look up at the horizon.
Though the moon shines bright on this night, I take no joy in its appearance.
No.
I feel only dread.
Fifteen
I awaken with the knowledge that my father is dead, and that my life has completely changed.
Lost and forlorn in a stranger’s home, and with no one to turn to for solace, I toss and turn in an effort to find some comfort beneath the blankets, but find that it is impossible to find any.
The horrible truth is that I’ve never experienced a loss like his before.
I don’t know how to process it.
Do I cry? I think. Do I fume? Do I scream?
All seem like viable options, but not at this moment.
No.
In this place that is not my home, in a land that is so very far away from any I know, I cannot afford to risk endangering us, no matter my feelings.
With that in mind, I open my eyes to face the light of a new day.
I am immediately struck with the feeling that I am being watched.
“You’re awake,” the woman named Carda says.
I turn my head to find that the woman is sitting in an old rocking chair, a roll of yarn spooled across her lap and a pair of knitting needles in her hands.
“Yessum,” I say, pushing myself upright, only to find that Mother Terra is still sleeping beside me. “How is she?”
“She did well throughout the night. It was you I was concerned about.”
“Why?”
“You kept tossing and turning—and crying, at one point.” She lifts her eyes to face me. “Did something happen to you last night?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, turning my head to the side so I can look at Mother Terra.
“Surely it does.”
“Let’s just say what happened last night changed my life.”
Carda says nothing. Rather, she removes the yarn from her lap, then sets the knitting needles on the end table beside her before standing and making her way toward the kitchen. “Your Dame has been waiting for you to awaken.”
“Where is she?” I ask.
“Sitting on the porch. Keeping watch.”
Watch, I think.
Is Diana still worried that we were followed?
The idea, chilling as it happens to be, compels me to stand.
Though the windows are shrouded by curtains, I can easily see Diana Winters sitting out on the porch—gun in her hands, eyes trained toward the north.
Surely no one would have been able to follow us, given the soldiers stationed in the Rita Blanca. Right?
You can, my conscience offers. You didn’t see what happened. For all you know, everything is gone.
I shake my head.
No. The Sector couldn’t simply be gone. There’d been so many men, too many guns, so much security. It—
I am shocked out of my thoughts by a hand brushing along my arm. “Kelendra,” a voice says.
I look down, only to find that Mother Terra has awakened. “Revered Mother,” I say. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore, but alive.”
A smile crosses my lips as she opens her eyes to look at me. “Miss Winters is outside,” I say. “I… I think she’s worried that we might have been followed.”
“Have you only just woken?”
“Yessum.”
Mother Terra angles herself upright with her one good arm and shoulder and lifts her eyes to look out at the Dame on the porch. A frown crosses her lips; and though her gaze is determined, Mother Terra doesn’t seem interested in considering what could or could not be happening. She simply says, “We should go.”
“Are you hungry?” Carda calls from the kitchen.
Mother Terra’s eyes settle on me.
I mouth, Are you?
And she shakes her head. “No. It’s time we left this place.”
“Are you not concerned for our hosts?” I whisper, leaning in so only she can hear.
“Not particularly, no.”
The
sting of the words is surprising. Like a bee’s assault it is hot, fiery, and throbs even after its stinger has split from its abdomen and the insect is in its death throes on the ground. I want to say something—specifically: to ask how we could simply leave if there is danger present—but realize now how foolish that would sound.
We are just three women—Diana, Mother Terra and I—and though I wish nothing more than to offer assistance to these people beyond what I have already given them, I know that there is nothing we could do if the war comes banging on this doorstep.
With that in mind, I help Mother Terra to her feet, then sling my arm across her back so I can carry her to the doorway.
“You can’t leave,” Carda says as we approach the doorway. “She needs to rest.”
“I can rest in the vehicle,” Mother Terra replies, turning her gaze on the dark-skinned woman before us. “I thank you for your patronage, and for your guiding hand during this difficult time. I will sing praises for your family to the Countess.”
The woman sinks her teeth into her lower lip, obviously troubled by the development. She nods, however, and leans forward to open the door before saying, “Godspeed, Revered Mother.”
Mother Terra simply nods before we step outside.
Diana turns her head immediately upon our exit. “Are we—”
“Ready?” the Gentlewoman interrupts. “Yes. We are.”
“You’re sure you’re fit to travel?”
“There’s no need for us to question this. Let us go. Now.”
With a nod, the SAD rises and makes her way down the short number of stairs to where the vehicle is situated in the front yard.
Though I want to say something more to the people who have helped us in our darkest hour, I realize that there is actually very little I could do to offer them my thanks.
With one last sigh, I amble toward the armored vehicle, Mother Terra in my arms.
“You did well,” the Revered Mother is quick to say. “The Countess will be proud.”
Truth be told, I’m not sure I want the Countess to be proud.
No.
Seeing this war for what it truly is, and losing someone as a result, has damned not only my conscience, but my soul.
We drive through the northern expanse of the Great South in silence. With Mother Terra’s wounds preventing her from remaining comfortable, and the medicinal tea that was served to her with the painkillers wearing off, she is becoming increasingly irritable, and beginning to complain.
“How much longer will it take us to get there?” she asks.
“We’re getting closer,” Diana replies, her voice heavy and filled with exhaustion. I can’t imagine she slept well last night considering what all we’d gone through yesterday.
Sighing, Mother Terra leans back and presses a hand against her shoulder, grimacing all the while. “Kelendra,” she says.
“Yessum?” I ask.
“See if you can find any medicine in the rear compartment.”
“But Miss Winters said—”
“Just look, dammit!”
I unbuckle my seatbelt and scramble into the rear compartment before she can say anything further.
Once inside, I allow my fingers to trail over the places where boxes used to be arranged upon and buckled into places along the shelves. Most were lost to the assault on the Rita Blanca sector. Those that remained were given to the family on the road to Wayfair.
“Mother Terra!” I call. “There’s nothing back here except clothes!”
She swears—long, hard, and with a rage I know is born of pain—before falling silent.
I tentatively make my way back into the backseat and settle down in my seat once more.
“Thank you for looking,” the Revered Mother says after several moments of silence.
“You’re welcome,” I reply.
“I should apologize for the outbursts. It’s been a while since I’ve experienced pain like this.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“Don’t be sorry. We all experience things differently. I am just one of those women who don’t handle pain well.”
I decide not to reply and instead turn my head to look back out the window.
The moment we cross over the hills, I am once again struck by the beauty of this country.
Blue flowers, extending for as far as the eye can see, bow in the wind and offer promises of home the moment I look upon them.
“We’re almost there,” I whisper, in a voice so low that I imagine no one but me can hear it.
As the realization dawns upon me, I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath.
In my current state of mind, I can only imagine how I will react to seeing Daniel.
Daniel.
What will he think when he looks upon me?
Will he see a shattered woman, I wonder? Or will he merely see that I have changed?
Either way, I can’t dwell on it.
The more I think on such things, the more likely I will react adversely to seeing him.
Besides, I am loathe to think.
Given the way news spreads, I will soon face a world of scrutiny.
The northern safe zone appears before us like a titan who’s descended a high mountain. Tall, imposing, and worn from the ages, its gates open fondly for the single vehicle that has returned from the wartorn Rita Blanca sector, and close solidly behind us the moment we pass through them.
“Thank the Great God,” Mother Terra says as a pair of SADs, accompanied by another pair of medics, rushes forward. “I can finally get this bullet out of me.”
“I’m not so sure that’s the only thing we have to worry about,” Diana Winters says.
“Why?” I ask.
She points.
I lean forward.
Distantly, I can make out an object flying over the high walls. Small enough to be easily missed, the object—if it can even be called that—coasts the vacant ramparts above and focuses what appears to be a lens of some sort in the direction of our vehicle.
“Is that,” I start to say, “a… Seeker?”
“No. It’s a drone.”
“A what?”
“Like a Seeker,” Mother Terra says, “but civilian grade.”
“Stay inside, Kelendra.”
“I wasn’t planning on moving,” I reply, still transfixed by the sight.
As the SADs open the back door, and as they usher the medical staff to come forward to assist Mother Terra out of the vehicle, I continue to watch the eager drone, which appears to have a mind of its own but likely doesn’t. It flies here, moves there, focuses its camera on the medics and the Revered Mother. Then it centers its cyclopian eye on the vehicle, and waits for what I believe to be our—and especially my—next move.
A SAD atop the northern ramparts lifts her gun.
The drone trembles, then spins, likely aiming to retreat.
However—a shot rings out, and a billowing plume of flame eradicates the drone before it can move beyond the safe zone.
“Can you do that?” I frown.
“Blow the drone up?” Diana asks. “It’s on restricted grounds. Anyone, or anything, who crosses into them is subject to hostile action.”
“I see.”
I don’t bother to question what would happen if a photojournalist came rushing onto safe zone property.
In all, it takes only a few short moments for the medics to relieve Mother Terra of her position, and for a sleek black vehicle to appear from a nearby garage. Here, I step free of the vehicle; and here, I wonder what my next move is supposed to be.
Will I speak to the Countess? I wonder. Will the commandant question me?
I frown as I consider these possibilities, and as such, remain silent as Diana Winters comes around and opens the backseat vehicle for me.
In plain clothes, I am not a sight to behold. Still, I know that there’s always a chance another drone could be nearby, and for that reason, hurry to the car and clamber inside.
Soon, the d
river is moving out of the safe zone and into the city.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“To the hotel,” the SAD driving this vehicle says, “where you’ll be reunited with your husband.”
Daniel.
I can only imagine how he must be feeling, because if he was alerted to what happened in the Rita Blanca sector, and he wasn’t told my position for fear of my safety, he’s probably been losing his mind.
I sigh.
Knowing that Daniel cares is enough to leave me content in the fact that I am returning to his side. While I understand that what I feel toward him is more friendship than love, I feel that his affections for me run deep, possibly even more than mine toward him.
Though it seems to take ages for us to pass through the city, we arrive at the hotel in less than an hour.
The procedure is repeated, just like it was when we first arrived.
SADs come forward. I step out. People wonder. People stare.
I am ushered into the hotel and toward the elevator, then wait as it carries me to the floor our room is on.
As the elevator comes to a halt, and as the doors open to usher us into the gold-wallpapered and red-carpeted hall, I inhale a quick breath and find myself losing my ground out of nowhere.
I don’t want to cry. I really don’t. I mustn’t, for if I do—and if someone sees—than they will see me as guilty for what has happened. I’m still reconciling my own feelings on the matter. I have no idea what I’d do if someone else offered their own influence.
The SAD’s simple knock at me and Daniel’s hotel room door is enough to cause me to tremble.
The door opens.
Daniel looks out. He asks, “Kelendra?”
And I step into his arms before he can say anything further.
“I’ll have food sent up shortly,” the SAD says before closing the door behind us.
A short moment passes as Daniel continues to hold me. Still trembling, and unable to stop, I bow my head against his shoulder and tighten my grip on his undershirt as all my emotions come flooding forth.
“Kel?” he asks, attempting but not able to push me away. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“I—” I start to say. “I don’t—”
Then the tears come, and a long, hard sob escapes me.