Manifest Destiny: Part One: Lost In Limbo

by Kay, Sabra M.

  She rubbed the still-tender part of her face that Ruthie had viciously pounded just a few days before.

  “What happened to your face?”

  “Ruthie and her friends.”

  Nieve looked away from her and then down at the newborn in her arms. She swallowed. Selah wished she had made something else up. She tried not to think about the fact that the baby was Garrett’s, about what Nieve had gone through. About what she herself may have to go through if something didn’t change soon.

  “I’m sorry, Selah. I am. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Selah looked at her sister carefully. She appeared well-fed and healthy, her smile was genuine, but her furrowed brow and darting eyes led her to believe that all was not well. Maybe it was guilt for leaving, or worry for her safety in Limbo. Selah thought back to conversations with her father around the campfire before his death. There was talk about the Skirts, of abuse and control and lack of freedom, the price you paid for protection from the Voraks and their human henchmen, the Black Soldiers.

  Selah took a deep breath and changed the subject. She didn’t want to make her sister feel bad, or harp on her problems. Or maybe she did. “What’s it like here? Are you happy?”

  Selah looked around, straining to see any sign of surveillance, or any sort of threat. While there was no soldier hovering over her shoulder, she felt certain that their interaction was being monitored. It had to be.

  “Things are good here. I feel…safe.” She swallowed again and stroked her son’s cheek. “We’re safe.”

  “Good.” She thought for a moment. Nieve wasn’t being totally honest with her, she knew this.

  “So, Kent thinks maybe it would be better if I came to the Skirts to live, too. With you.”

  Nieve kept her eyes firmly planted on the baby, she worked her mouth for a moment and spoke in a shaky voice.

  “Well, if you did that then who would be around to look after Kent? Make sure he eats and takes a bath once in a while?” She laughed lightly. Or at least she meant to. Her answer told Selah everything she needed to know.

  “I love you, Nieve. And I miss you.”

  Now Nieve’s tears flowed in earnest. A faint beeping sound in the background caught her attention. A fleeting look of alarm crossed her face.

  “I miss you too, sister. I have to go now.”

  “Wait, why? Why so soon? I just got here!”

  Nieve shook her head. “I’m sorry, Sis. I just need to go now, okay? We need to say goodbye.”

  She held Daniel out again, closer to the camera. Selah pressed her fingers to her lips, and then held them out to her sister and nephew. Nieve returned the gesture, tears streaming down her face.

  Selah stood up to leave. There was nothing more to say.

  “Selah.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Take care of yourself. Take care of Kent.”

  “You too.” She shot a look at her sister, a look meant to say, I know you are full of shit, I know things aren’t okay.

  “I’ll be back next month, okay?”

  Nieve smiled bravely. “Okay, sis, we look forward to it.”

  Moments later, the screen went black. Selah buried her face in her hands and sobbed once again.

  Outside, the sun was blinding. Lines of people waited to board buses taking them back to their various settlements. During visiting times, there was the option to apply for residency to the community, but you had to wait in a holding area for a month first. Selah had considered it for a split second when she saw her sister and her newborn nephew, but she realized that Nieve had only traded one hell for another. And now she was stuck there. No one who went to the Skirts came back.

  For the time being, she would remain in Limbo with Nat and Kent. It was where she belonged.

  As the bus pulled away, Selah tried to take in as much of the scenery as possible, looking at the guards, the locals wandering around, the buildings, looking for signs of the oppression and trauma that her father had told them waited beyond the fences. She saw nothing.

  She settled back into her seat, feeling conflicted. Nieve had made a choice that she somewhat understood: she wanted to protect her child. The decision probably seemed right to her at the time, but Selah felt sure she was regretting it now. She wondered what she would have done in her situation. Seeing her baby nephew, helpless and new and full of promise, brought a new feeling, something she had never felt before. A sense of duty.

  She needed to find a way to help make his life better in this screwed up world. But how?

  Her mind wandered to the resistance. Their mission was twofold: find a way to send the aliens packing, and be prepared to defend themselves against the force that was Worldcorp.

  While most people had no love for the corporation and their controlling ways, they were dependent on them for food, medical care and protection, which had been seen less and less. Still, no one wanted to believe that their intentions were just as bad as the Voraks, that they ultimately intended to extend their reach to the remainder of the free world. Selah’s father had believed that, before he died.

  Selah thought for a moment. Was she prepared to die?

  Better to die doing something than to rot away in the settlements, bringing hungry children into the world and cowing to the likes of men like Garrett. She could join with Kent. Nat wouldn’t have to worry about her anymore. Maybe she could go with Frank and be happy and peaceful reading her books and drinking her wine with no worries.

  Selah didn’t believe for a minute that Nieve was happy where she was. It was an illusion. Granted, staying in town and having Garrett’s baby might not have gone well either, but better for the baby to grow up free and not under the thumb of the Corporation. She thought of the resistance, of her father and of the losing battle the humans had been fighting. She felt, for the first time, like she understood why Kent was so set on going, on fighting. What else was there to do? Either the settlement or the Skirts? This was not living. At least joining the fight was doing something. And if they could find a way to defeat the Voraks, to drive them back to their home, or at least away from Earth, then things could be back to normal.

  Selah’s side ached. Her head ached from crying. Something had to change. She wasn’t sure what, or how, but there had to be something she could do. She had been hiding, barely existing, but that wasn’t going to cut it anymore.

  She sat with her thoughts, feeling impatient to get back to town. Get back to Kent and tell him she was ready to fight. She didn’t need to wait around, to choose a man, to settle. She was going to take action. The ride back to Limbo would be shorter; she would be back before nightfall. A sudden rumbling in her gut reminded her that she had not eaten in hours. She opened her tattered backpack and rummaged until she found the fruit and nuts that Nat had packed her.

  Nat had been more of a mother to her than anything else. It had been two years since her father had died. She was a broken girl then, and she needed Nat to help put her back together. But she had become too reliant on her care. It was time to let go. Selah’s mind was awhirl with these thoughts, thoughts of her father, of her Mother’s death, of Kent’s shutting her out. How abandoned he must feel!

  Selah flew forward, hitting her head on the seat in front of her. Dazed, she rubbed her head and felt the fresh pain that comes from disturbing an unhealed injury. The bus stopped abruptly, the guards silently gestured to each other, alert, weapons drawn.

  Chapter Five

  She crouched down between the seats. What happened? Maybe there was an obstruction in the road, or maybe, bandits or freedom fighters opposed to the corporation were staging an attack on the enemy. If that was the case, she was in deep shit, because being on the bus made her the enemy, too.

  The bus shuddered once, then again. Selah envisioned a battering ram, but she wasn’t about to take a peek to see what had caused the impact. A window cracked and the guard nearest Selah opened fire. All hell broke loose. Shots riddled the side of the bus. Scurrying across the aisle to
the other side, she knew there was little protection for her. One of the guards got hit and she could hear shouting from outside.

  More shots. There were a total of four men on the bus, the driver and three guards. One was down and Selah couldn’t tell if the driver was armed. More shots from the outside, shouting and a moan of pain from one of the guards. She couldn’t tell if it was another one getting hit or the same one from before.

  Still trying to keep down, she scooted up on to the seat on the left side of the bus. There was no sign of anyone or anything coming from that side, the gunman and guards were concentrated on the right.

  I’m going to die. It’s over. She crouched down between the seats, paralyzed. She knew the fight was lost, it just wasn’t over yet. What’s going to happen to me? It occurred to her that she could get out of the bus, run and maybe, just maybe have a chance at escape. But she couldn’t move. I have to move. Move, dammit! Once again, fear had her in its grasp, and once again, she felt helpless to do anything about it.

  A voice in her head seemed to scream at her. Who was it? It didn’t matter. Get the hell out of there, move or you will never see Daniel or Kent or Nieve again. Go! Survive!

  She pulled the emergency latch and pushed out the window, diving face first to the ground. Crouched and trembling from fear and pain, she knew it was only a matter of seconds before someone might see her and either capture her or shoot her on sight. She looked for cover -- just some low brush and a couple of rocks. Nothing substantial, but still better than nothing. She headed for the nearest shrub in a crouch-run, and silently prayed no one would see her. Luck was on her side, and she kept her belly on the ground, peering through the branches.

  Shouting continued, and there were more shots fired. Minutes passed and finally there was silence. Selah stayed put and kept her eye on the bus. After what seemed like an eternity, the men who attacked stepped out from behind and began walking back down the road to an unknown destination. She breathed a sigh of relief, and continued to stay put.

  A rough hand on the back of her neck ended her momentary relief. She was jerked to her feet and spun around.

  A grimy, weathered face peppered with uneven stubble met her terrified gaze. She flailed about, trying to squirm free, then froze. Three more men materialized, grinning and holding shotguns. One was covered in blood, and it didn’t appear to be his.

  Her chest constricted and she felt the blood leave her face. This is it. She thought.

  The men grinned at her. The blind panic she had felt initially subsided and turned into something that felt like angry dread. I’m screwed. This is bullshit.

  The thought that this wasn’t fair had come into her mind, but she dismissed it. Nothing was fair, and what did she expect, anyway? People left Limbo all the time to go visit other settlements, or go out searching for supplies, and people didn’t come back. People died. They were robbed and stabbed, raped and left for dead. Or, sometimes they just got hurt or sick and died because there were no more hospitals, and no doctors anywhere nearby.

  The men looked at her in a way that made her stomach turn, and sure enough, she vomited uncontrollably, bringing good-natured laughter from the group. The man who had hold of her even patted her back and offered her a tattered but fairly clean handkerchief to wipe her mouth with. For an odd, split second she imagined that they meant her no harm, but that was a fleeting fantasy. Once she collected herself, reality set in.

  “You’re a pretty one,” the stubble-faced man mused. He stroked her cheek with his hand and the other men chuckled as Selah squirmed and turned her face away.

  He frowned and then grabbed her chin, squeezing just hard enough to hurt. She thought to herself that he could crush her jaw with that one, giant hand.

  “If you struggle, if you piss me off, you will hurt and then you will die. If you’re nice, and behave, you might get to walk away. Easy choice, if you ask me.” He stepped back and looked her up and down. One of the other men was behind her and held her by her arms.

  Selah noted that for once, she wasn’t crying. In fact, she felt curiously devoid of emotion, with exception of anger. She was angry. Who did they think they were? Just more assholes who thought they could do whatever they wanted. Like Garrett and the rest.

  She knew she was outnumbered, outmuscled and way out of her league, and that it wasn’t going to end well, but she just didn’t care anymore. She envisioned “walking away”, as he had put it. No. She couldn’t see herself just “walking away” from this, no matter how well she “behaved”.

  He reached for the buttons on her shirt and she flinched. He laughed again, joined by his friends. The laughter pissed her off even more. She didn’t know what she could do, there was no out, no escape. No way for her to fight, but something inside her told her she must, even if it meant death. She leaned her head back for a moment and closed her eyes, took a deep breath and, summoning all her strength, kicked the man in front of her as hard as she could, right in the crotch. He went down on one knee first, then toppled over on to his side, in the fetal position.

  The other men looked shocked first, then amused. They laughed, this time at him. Then they turned their attention to her.

  “Get her down,” one said, coldly.

  She struggled, but was pushed down to the dirt, on her back. One of the men straddled her and drew his fist back. She closed her eyes again.

  Chapter Six

  When she next opened them she was vaguely aware of being gently lowered into some kind of makeshift gurney, and could somewhat recall the rough hands pawing at her, the sharp pops of gunfire and the voice of a man telling her everything was going to be okay. Now she lay with her eyes closed and tried to piece together events as best she could. All she knew is that she was far from home, that night was falling and that the men who saved her from the bandits who shot up the bus were on their way back to their home. She caught snippets of their conversation as she drifted in and out of consciousness.

  “I don’t know what you were thinking,” one of them said.

  She had caught that of the four men, at least two of them weren’t pleased that she was along for the ride.

  “Yeah, we would be back already if we weren’t carting extra baggage.”

  “Shut up. Wasn’t just going to leave her in the desert, unconscious. She’d have died.”

  “Dude, not our problem.”

  “Who are you?”

  “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, who are you? Are you like those assholes we just took out, or are you better than them? 'Cause if you are willing to let a girl bleed and freeze to death in the desert, then you are no better than they are.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  They got quiet after that. Selah continued to drift in and out, and after what seemed like a long time, she heard the sounds of talking, shouting and laughter, and heard the crackling of a fire. They passed by the sounds and she was aware of being brought into a building. After some muttering and shuffling around, she was lifted onto a bed. A woman’s voice spoke to her.

  “Hey, you in there?”

  Selah opened her mouth to respond, but only a dry sounding croak escaped her lips.

  “Give her some water.”

  It was the voice of the man who had defended her rescue. The others had exited after helping her onto the bed.

  The woman raised Selah’s head and tipped a tin of water for her. It felt cool against her bruised and chapped lips. Some of the fog had cleared, as well as her fear. The woman seemed kind, albeit a bit rough around the edges, and the young man genuinely concerned. Selah struggled a bit to form words, her body and mind exhausted and wracked with pain.

  “Thanks,” she managed.

  The man sat himself gingerly on the side of the bed. Even in the dim light, she could see the concern lining his face. The woman stood over her, water at the ready, more curious than concerned. She looked tired.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “S-Selah
.”

  She had questions too, but was convinced that she wouldn’t remember any answers. She felt oddly safe in these strange surroundings. She took a mental inventory of her body, feeling the places where the pain was the worst. Her head, her ribs, her left arm throbbing — bad.

  “I’m Dillon—this is Rita.” He gestured to the woman. “Do you remember anything? You’re banged up pretty bad.”

  Selah looked around the candlelit room. The woman, Rita, reached down and pulled a metal box from under the bed. She opened the box and produced bandages and a dark brown bottle.

  “I’m gonna clean up her face a bit,” she said. She pulled a bowl off the side table and dipped a washcloth in the water. Gently, she dabbed water over Selah’s forehead, cheeks and mouth. The water stung, and she saw the cloth turn brown with her dried blood.

  “I was on the bus.”

  “Yeah, she was on the bus, Dill.” The woman’s voice was soft, but had a knowing, scornful tone.

  “Why?” Dillon’s voice was flat, but there was no edge to it.

  “My sister. She had a baby. I went to visit.”

  Selah didn’t care what they thought. It was the same everywhere. People were suspicious of anyone who had contact with the Skirts.

  “They came and shot up the bus, killed everyone I think. I don’t know why.”

  Dillon looked at her funny. “Why not? Just to do it, I guess.”

  Selah felt silly. Of course they shot up the bus. Taking out a bus from the Skirts was a good thing. If you were lucky, it netted you weapons, food and supplies. The buses had medical kits, tools and other valuable gear.

  “Where am I?”

  “Safe. East of the city.” Dillon paused for a moment and looked her over. “Where are you from?”

  “Limbo.” She looked at Dillon, then Rita, wondering if they had any idea what she was talking about.

  Rita laughed. “We’re all in Limbo, kid.” It got a smile out of Dillon, too.

  “That’s what we call the settlement.”