Manifest Destiny: Part One: Lost In Limbo

by Kay, Sabra M.

  “Mmm. You guys must be more creative than we are. You are in a settlement that we affectionately call ‘Town.’

  “Do you know how to get back home?” he asked.

  Selah gave this some thought. She could probably figure it out. Limbo was about 100 miles to the East and down a bit from the Skirts. There wasn’t much between settlements, just burnt-out towns and small clusters, or camps here and there. By bus, it wasn’t really that far. On foot though, it would be dangerous and slow going back.

  “You got lucky, girl,” she clucked and shook her head. “Those assholes had it out for you. First being on the bus, second, being a woman. You are damn lucky my boy found you and decided to get in between you.”

  “Thanks for saving me.” Selah felt the weakness of her thanks. What else was she supposed to say? ‘You’re my hero!’ She almost giggled out loud thinking of saying something so lame.

  “Dillon’s a regular knight and shining armor. Or, just an idiot.” She seemed exasperated.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “You could have been killed. A hundred times just in the last month, you could have been killed. You stick your nose in other people’s business, and…”

  “I know, I know. It’s going to get me killed.”

  Selah listened to the exchange between mother and son. She thought of her own mother. She missed her, but in a far off way. She missed her father as well, but in the moment, lying in a strange bed being tended to by strange people, she missed Nat most of all.

  “Okay, this is as cleaned up as you need to be right now. You should get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll get a better look at you.” Rita gave her a brief pat on the hand and left the room.

  Dillon stayed. Selah was surprised to find that she was happy about it.

  “Seriously, thank you for what you did back there. I honestly don’t remember much.”

  “That’s probably a good thing. You got knocked around pretty good. But, it looks like you are no stranger to that sort of thing.”

  Selah didn’t understand for a moment, then realized he must be talking about the lovely purplish-yellow bruises on her face and arms from her encounter with Ruthie.

  “Oh. Yeah. I had a disagreement with some girls from my settlement.”

  “Aren’t you a bruiser.”

  “Not really. What’s going to happen to me now?”

  “Uhh…I don’t know. I didn’t really give it much thought, but I guess you can at least stay here 'til you heal up a bit. I’m guessing you will want to go home?”

  “Yeah, just cause my brother and my friend are there. Nothing else for me, but I know they are worried.”

  “Parents?”

  “Dead.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  A few moments of uncomfortable silence filled the room, and Dillon excused himself. Selah was alone. The light from the single candle flickered, giving a surprising amount of illumination to the small room. Outside the window, she could still hear the sounds from the campfire. She wondered what kind of place she had found herself in and then drifted off to sleep.

  *

  Selah awoke with a parched mouth and drenched in sweat. It was blazing hot in the room, and she had finished off her water hours before. It felt like noon…she couldn’t believe she had slept so long. Sitting up was a challenge. Her entire body ached and she couldn’t put any weight on her right arm. Having no luck with sitting straight up, she improvised by rolling off the bed. It was further off the floor than she thought and she ended up flat on the floor.

  The door opened and Dillon walked into the room. He took one look at her and laughed. “Need some help?”

  For some reason, this irritated Selah greatly. She craned her head to look up at him. The sunlight was streaming through the small window, and finally she caught a better look at him. He was tall and lean with a head full of wavy blonde hair, large brown eyes and olive skin. He was clean shaven. Don’t see that every day.

  “I’ve got it, thanks.” She hoped she hadn’t been caught looking for too long.

  He reached out a hand anyway, and she took it gratefully. She eased herself back onto the bed.

  “You want some water?”

  “Yeah. I mean, please. Yes.”

  He spun around and left the room. Selah raised up as much as her pain would allow and looked out the window. Nothing much to see, just the curtained window of a double-wide trailer. It looked a bit greener outside than where she was from. Selah cradled her arm. It was throbbing more intensely by the minute. She wondered if it was broken.

  Dillon came back into the room, smiling and holding out a cup of water like it was straight from the fabled fountain of youth. His smile was warm and somewhat goofy. She took the glass and gingerly lifted it to her lips. Just as she feared, her chapped, swollen lips betrayed her, sending a stream of water dribbling down her chin. Irritating.

  “So, how are you feeling?” She could tell he was doing his best not to laugh at her.

  “Oh, great. I feel awesome.”

  “Awesome? That’s not a word I hear much.”

  “Yeah, my friend Nat says it a lot.”

  “She old?”

  “Mmm-hmm. Older than anyone else in Limbo.”

  “How long have you known her?”

  “I met her after my Dad died, we traveled together out of the mountains. We came across the town we live in now when it was still mostly abandoned after the first Death Strikes, and found a little house with my brother. Been living there ever since.”

  There it was, the awkward silence again. She didn’t want to meet his eyes, and even though she could think of a million things to talk about, the truth was, she didn’t really want to tell him anything. More than one person had accused her of being a whiner, and she had a tendency to cry when talking about her mother, her father, her sister. Hell, just about anything made her cry. And she really didn’t want to start crying in front of this guy.

  He nodded, and seemed to sense her reluctance to start an in-depth conversation. “So, are you hungry?”

  She realized that she wasn’t just hungry, she was starving.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, well Mom is fixing up some stuff…I’ll go get you something.”

  He left again, and Selah sat on the bed, feeling overwhelmed with memories, sadness and a gnawing concern for what her brother and Nat must be thinking right now.

  Most everyone she knew had lost at least one friend or family member in the Death Strikes. Nat lost her daughter and her husband, she her parents. At this point, all these years later, people had taken a cynical view. You couldn’t go around whining about who you had lost. No one cared anymore.

  The Death Strikes began about two years after the Voraks arrived. They had kept a low profile, only appearing in public a handful of times. The first time Selah had seen them on television, she was mesmerized. It was like watching a science fiction movie, but it was real life. She thought the aliens were “pretty” and her parents laughed at her. She could barely remember what they looked like now. Back in Limbo, there were posters with pictures of the alien monsters on them. Hideous, angry-looking creatures with steel-blue, scaly skin and bulging eyes. The posters were warnings, propaganda displayed to make sure no one forgot who the enemy was. It was easy to, since no one had seen a Vorak in years. They had a good system, using human soldiers to do their dirty work. Selah wondered if she could see the ship from here, too.

  Of course you can, dumbass. She sighed and closed her eyes, remembering once again how her world had crumbled. She remembered when they first arrived.

  It was terrifying and sent the entire planet into a frenzy. There were riots and looting and a variety of demonstrations, but once the dust cleared, the verdict was that they had indeed come in peace. They were said to be in constant talks with the various world leaders, who continually reported positive developments. Then it all stopped. No one really knew what happened, but somehow everything went sideways. The world leaders vanished, a few statement
s by alien supporters maintained that the Voraks had nothing to do with the disappearances.

  Then, the bombings started.

  An army came out of nowhere, mass executions began, whole cities and towns were destroyed. Military bases were obliterated. Selah’s mom was one of the early casualties. She had left to tend to her own mother, who was in a Los Angeles hospital awaiting surgery. The hospital was destroyed in an early round of bombings.

  Humanity scrambled to make sense of the sudden turn of events. Military efforts began, and groups of scientists made a mad dash to figure out a way to get around the Voraks' defensive technology. Viruses were used against them to no avail. Somehow they managed to recruit a huge human army to carry out their plan to drive away and eventually exterminate the human race.

  The army became known as the Black Soldiers. Ruthless and terrifying, they became an extension of the aliens and the face of the invasion.

  As the death tolls continued to rise, ragtag bands of citizens formed resistance groups to aid the dwindling military. They recruited anyone who was able-bodied and willing to fight. Once Worldcorp formed they took control of the military, what was left of the cities and started pushing people around, making rules and enforcing them. The resistance groups went into hiding, and began to see Worldcorp as much an enemy as the Voraks.

  Dillon brought back some soup and a corn muffin. He perched himself on the edge of the bed while Selah scarfed down her food, talking to her between bites of his own.

  “So, your sister lives in the Skirts?”

  Selah nodded. Here it comes, she thought.

  “Why? I mean, what happened that made her want to go?”

  Selah swallowed her food and thought about it for a minute. She remembered finding the flyer in Nieve’s room after she left.

  “She was pregnant.”

  “Oh.”

  The caravan that brought rations to authorized communities also brought medical supplies and a mobile clinic. There had been flyers passed out to unmarried pregnant women, encouraging them to come to the Skirts. There would be prenatal care and you could have your baby in a hospital. Food and housing was guaranteed.

  “But, what about the father? Her husband? Did he go, too?”

  She shook her head and wished he would choose a different topic. Since the invasion, Worldcorp had encouraged a return to “family values”, including marriage and as many children as possible. The flyers were aimed at single mothers.

  “So, she was on her own?”

  “She wasn’t on her own. She had us. I don’t know why she left.”

  Selah felt herself tense up at his questions. She still hadn’t resolved her feelings around Nieve’s decision to flee Limbo and head to the Skirts without so much as a goodbye.

  “Hmm. So do you think she left because she was pregnant? Was she scared?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She couldn’t remember Nieve being scared of anything. She supposed she was frightened of Garrett, but more for Selah and Kent than herself.

  “Can we talk about something else?”

  In truth, she kind of wished he would leave. She was a mess, she was starving, and his presence made her slightly nervous, which translated into a tight chest and nausea. She felt even sicker at the thought; she was strongly opposed to losing her lunch all over him.

  “Sure. I guess I’m just curious. A couple of the girls here left for the Skirts. They were pregnant, too. They sent those flyers out, you know?”

  Selah nodded. He chewed for a moment. Selah wondered where he was going with this.

  “I guess I just wondered why they wanted the pregnant girls. Don't you wonder about that?”

  Selah thought for a moment. She hadn’t wondered. It didn’t seem strange to her at the time. It still didn’t seem strange. Was she missing something?

  He looked at her for a moment then shook his head. “It’s nothing. I dunno, I guess I just thought that particular round of propaganda was odd, that’s all.”

  He took Selah’s empty dish and waved, mouth still full of biscuit, leaving her to process what he had said.

  *

  The next two days went by slowly and painfully. Selah’s arm continued to throb and swell, and Rita made her a makeshift splint. Her ribs only felt worse as time passed, but her face began healing and her head started to feel less foggy. She started walking around at Rita's suggestion that the movement would help her heal faster. She took short walks and explored the small settlement which consisted of a main street and a few small, scattered neighborhoods. The difference between Dillon's town and Limbo was mind-boggling to Selah. It was much smaller and more tight-knit. It was also very self-sufficient. Where Limbo seemed to dwell in scarcity, with a select few controlling most of the resources, and everyone else left to scrape by, this town was abundant. They grew their own crops, all pitching in to care for them. The town was surrounded by wooded hills, with plenty of game available. No one looked hungry or frightened. She walked the streets and soon children were tagging along with her, full of questions and eager to show off their home. Selah felt comfortable, safe. When she was exhausted and in too much pain, she returned to the little house and rested in what was Dillon's bed. He slept on the floor in the next room while she inhabited his.

  Dillon would disappear for a few hours here and there, but he would always return and inquire how she was feeling, bringing her snacks and water. Selah felt comfortable with him, and he seemed to enjoy spending time with her.

  The home Dillon shared with his mother saw visitors in and out at all hours of the day and night. She found that Rita, who had been a bit standoffish that first night, was a warm and generous woman, and the town's go-to for first aid, hugs and cornbread. Even Dillon's friends came around to check on her and to ask her questions about the Skirts, Limbo and whether she had any word about the Resistance efforts.

  On the fourth day after the attack, she began planning her trip home. She walked with Dillon around the small town, just as the sun was setting. They talked about their memories of life before the Voraks, before the Death Strikes.

  "What do you miss most?" Selah asked as they strolled down the main street. They passed by his friend Alan. He smiled and waved, his young son riding on his shoulders and his wife at his side. Alan's brother Sid had been over at the house a lot, and despite his cocky attitude and crude sense of humor, Selah had come to think of him as her friend, too.

  "Miss most about what?" He looked puzzled.

  "You know, before? Before them." She pointed at the sky. The ship wasn't visible all the time, but everyone knew it was there.

  "I don't know, really. I wasn't much older than you when they came."

  "There's gotta be something you remember that you miss" She insisted.

  He scratched his chin and squinted. "I guess I miss my Dad's car."

  "Huh." She said.

  "What? Is that weird? Don't you miss cars?"

  "I guess. I don't know. I really don't think much about cars. I do think of television. And ice cream."

  Dillon laughed. "Okay, I will second the ice cream."

  "Tell me about your Dad's car."

  He grinned and slowed his pace. "It was a 1967 Bolero Red Camaro. Convertible."

  "Oh, cool." Selah smiled.

  Selah didn't know much about cars, nor did she want to. There were plenty of them in Limbo, dusty, rusty and just a part of the landscape. She loved how Dillon's face lit up when he talked about it though, it made her want to know more.

  "More than cool." He said. "Dad would take me on the weekends, he would pick me up from school on Friday's. I could hear it coming down the street while I sat in my classroom. We would head off, wind blowing through our hair, not a care in the world."

  Selah smiled and patted his shoulder, an awkward gesture. She never had a boyfriend and honestly never wanted one. Nat said she was a "late bloomer" but Selah just didn't feel good about her options. Until now.

  "So, you miss television and ice cream?
That it?" He laughed.

  Selah thought about it for a minute. Back home people just didn't talk about the old days much. It was kind of taboo. If Selah had anyone to listen to her, it would be all she talked about.

  "I miss being safe." She said. "I miss my family, of course, and with it just feeling comfortable and safe."

  Dillon looked at her and nodded. "Yeah, I guess. But, really, it wasn't like things were safe back then. My Dad was killed in a robbery. My brother got jumped and really messed up walking home from school. Our house got broken into. Twice. I don't really think I felt much safer back then than I do now."

  "Oh, shit." Selah responded. She felt heat rise to her face as she reflected on conversations with Nat about this very thing. Nat called her naïve, and Selah was beginning to see why.

  Dillon waved at two women carting baskets of corn, probably on their way to Rita's, Selah thought. She looked at Dillon, admiring the ease and confidence with which he carried himself. She thought of something.

  "I feel safe right now."

  He turned to her and reached out a hand to smooth her hair. "Good."

  They took a side road out of town, walking amongst the pine trees, up a gentle hill. They stopped at the crest and looked down to the sloping valley below. The sunset was magnificent, and Selah thought that it had been a long time since she had even noticed one. Now she had noticed two in one week. Maybe I needed to get away from Limbo. Maybe I shouldn’t even go back.

  But she had to go back, had to get back to Kent and Nat, if for nothing else but to let them know she hadn’t been killed, or abandoned them the same way Nieve had.

  She felt Dillon’s hand close around hers as they stood side by side. She didn’t look at him; instead, they both looked ahead, waiting for the sun to do its disappearing act, bathing in its fiery glow. Her heart quickened a bit when she felt his hand, but her she felt an overwhelming sense of calm and safety. As the amber glow of sunset faded into twilight, Selah squeezed his hand, looked up at him and smiled.

  “Time to walk back?” she asked.

  “Yeah…Hey, I wanted to run something by you.” His face was at once earnest, serious and playful, if that was even possible.