by Miriam Bell
“See ya, soon,” I say.
“Yeah, one hour Millie,” he calls, taking a step back.
As the dark metal door swallows me up, I try to revel in the safety and security of home but the old feelings don’t surface. Instead, I feel alone and hesitant.
Chapter Sixteen
The welcoming scent of the library almost knocks me down. I have always loved the smell of books. All those words for the taking. They calm me with their poems, give dreams on the wings of fairies, but also frightens with stories of vampires and monsters. I grew up within the world in which these books formed. I grew up here, right within these sturdy walls of the prison’s library.
I enter into the large space cautiously, searching all the large oak book shelves and tables. The repulsive green carpet covers the cold concrete floor. Faded posters of long ago books grace the tan walls. I run my fingers lightly down the slick surface of a poster, it’s picture of a hot air balloon floating in a blue sky warms my insides with the familiarity.
Out in the redzone, the thought of never seeing this place again had crossed my mind frequently. I’d longed to come back and declare some kind of truce with Dad- to apologize for anything that would make it right between us.
“Dad?” I call out into the empty space. The room remains quiet.
“Dad?” I yell a little louder without response.
I proceed through halls of uniformed books to a door hidden in the back. When I open it and step into the well lit room, I can see him on the far end sitting at our game table. The old worn wood brings back memories of sitting for hours playing chess, checkers, or any game he could get his hands on. We would spend nights in this cozy room by candle light talking and playing. The space was living quarters assigned to our family by the prison leaders because of my Dad’s fondness for literature.
Dad had became the librarian when he was only a teenager. The last librarian having gotten sick with the flu, asked if my dad, Micah, would take over his duties. He had died a few days afterward. My dad mournfully accepted the position as permanent, having been close with the sick stricken scholar. Sadness aside he was a good fit for the job. Dad had always occupied the vast room with it’s ugly green carpeting, learning all the knowledge a textbook or novel had to offer. He never tired of books and every time the scouts brought back new editions, his eyes would light up. At moments like that I was jealous of the books and the scouts who had brought with them treasures from another lifetime. I wanted to be able to bring the same kind of light to Dad’s expression.
His eyes are now locked onto the pages of a worn book, staring blindly at it’s black print. Dad’s face indicates no interest in the world around him or his latest novel. His messy light brown hair hangs dirty from his head. I can tell he hasn’t shaved since I left.
“Dad?” I say calmly as I walk toward him. He doesn’t hear me.
“Dad!” My loud voice seems to break the barrier around him, reaching into his state of oblivion. He hesitantly turns toward me dropping his book on the floor. It lands with a thump.
“Oh thank God!”
He stands up abruptly and pulls me into his arms.
“Oh thank God!” he says again and hugs me so tight I can barely breathe.
I latch onto him smelling his sweat mingled with a stale odor- an uncommon duo for him. Moisture builds in the corners of my eyes as worry grips my heart. I missed him so much these last few days, wanting the chance for one more conversation, one more story time before bedtime.
“Dad, you’re suffocating me,” I joke, attempting to break away so we can talk. From his appearance I can tell he has been punishing himself because of how we left things. He lightens his embrace allowing me to breathe.
“You didn’t come back. No one came back,” he says.
Dad steps back and tries to run a hand through his tangled hair- one of his nervous gestures.
“I was so worried,” he whispers.
In an unsteady motion, he beckons for me to sit on the bed.
“Dad, you look like crap,” I say wanting not to weep.
I didn’t think I was capable of so many tears. What would Tom say? Was I too soft? I glance around the room and notice my old bed still in the corner surrounded by books I had left behind. Dad had kept my corner untouched even though I had moved out into my own room. A cell masquerading as a bedroom in a cell block newly restored for growing families.
He sits his chair in front of me as if the questions will begin shortly in which they do.
“What happen Millie? Are you okay? How did you get all those scratches? Why were you late?”
His eyes are focused on me so intently I have to peer away.
“Dad, I only got an hour before they debrief me. So don’t freak out, just listen.”
I take a deep breath and fidget with the strap of my supply bag still strapped to my shoulder.
“Tom is dead. We were attacked in the woods. I survived with the help of two people that I ran into. They’re cousins and believe it or not, they are Tessa’s family.”
I look up at him and register the disbelief on his face. I continue quickly not giving him a moment to interrupt.
“I stayed with them for a while and gathered supplies. We ran into what we call infected people. They are-” I stop, not knowing how to describe them. “You don’t want them around. They try to kill you, no questions asked,” I finish, attempting to mask my emotions. “We survived through a horde of them and stumbled across Lonnie and Jay.”
I take another breath and focus on the glassy eyes of my father. He falls back into his chair. I can see the lines of concentration appearing on his forehead.
“I survived, Dad. I made it back. I just- I had no idea,” I say and search for more words to fill the empty space between us. Nothing comes.
He sits still a while before he speaks.
“I told Tom one day he wouldn’t return. I told him that the red zone is not a place for him or for you. Outside these fences the world snatches up anything or anyone that’s good.” He leans forward in the chair taking a deep breath. “After all I’ve lost, I can’t bear the thought of losing you too, Millie.”
I reach for him, placing my hand on his shoulder.
“You didn’t lose me, but I can’t not go out into the red zone. I was trained for it. There are things we need. Things left behind for us to find. We can’t cage ourselves up behind these fences forever.”
He shakes his head nestled in his trembling hands.
“Millie, please,” he hisses and glances at me, a flash of anger in his eyes.
I stand, not wanting to have this same argument again, and walk to the door. As much as I long to stay with him and apologize for my actions before, I can’t. Saying I’m sorry would only encourage his efforts to banish me to my old corner of the room- an area I have no desire to be in again.
“I’m going to go now. I got to go talk to Mr. Herdon and the others.”
I hold back my disappointment and open the heavy door to leave. I halt in the door frame. When I turn, Dad is tense and still, watching my escape. I can tell he wants to say something but he keeps himself quiet.
“I know you don’t think this but my mother would be proud of me today. Unlike her, I came back alive.”
The words burn my tongue when I say them but I don’t care. I’m tired of always having to justify my actions. I want him to trust me and trust in my decisions even if he doesn’t agree with them. His emotional grip on me is too constricting and I’m too stubborn not to resist. With a heavy heart, I decide making things right with him will be a process not fulfilled in a few moments. I let the door close behind me.
I make my way through empty halls to my cell block and enter my newly assigned living space. I drop my supply bag on the floor and feel utterly cold. I should have turned in my bag already to be checked and categorized but all my energy has faded. I’m a little surprised Tyrus let me get away with the breach of protocol but he was distracted. Not having adjusted to my new ro
om yet, it seems unfamiliar and hollow. I’m lucky in a way though. For lack of a better term my cell is more cozy than most. The room sits on the top floor overlooking the cells below and nestled on the end. Usually the location comforts me, allowing me to embrace my new found freedom away from my father. Now, I feel differently- cut off from those who might distract me from my thoughts.
Our community tries to space out people until the cell blocks are full, leaving an empty cell in between living spaces. Using wood the scouts brought in from abandoned houses nearby, I’m able to have a wall built behind the iron bars. It isn’t much but with a sheet over the doorway, I have as much privacy as I am going to get.
This prison block is one of the newly opened, cell block E. As families grow and our community expands the leaders allow unused cell blocks to be prepared for us to occupy. Members of the community wall up areas and clean up dirt that covers the floor. I’ve only had to participate once before in opening up a new cell block. My chore had been to sweep the floors of the whole block. My hands had ached for days.
Letting my curtain door flutter close behind me, I leap onto my lumpy bed. The mattress is thin and the pillow is hard but the rough material beats the last few days. I promise myself I will never complain again as I listen for sounds of my neighbors. So far only four families live spread out in the space- me and three others. The ones closest are Megan and her husband David. They’re the newest married couple of the community. The first few nights they moved in were horrible. I tried everything to cover my ears and mask their honeymoon sounds but after awhile I gave up and yelled practice makes perfect in frustration. They quieted down after that but as a result every time Megan greets me, she blushes.
Beneath us is the Collins family. John and his wife Nicole with their daughter Joy who is thirteen. They moved in the day I left to go into the red zone. Nicole’s sister lives one cell block over from them but I can’t remember her name. She is mostly quiet and doesn’t acknowledge me. I’m not sure why she doesn’t like me, she just doesn’t. The whole family was kicked out of their last cell block due to Joy’s behavior. I didn’t bother to ask what she had done but whatever it was the ordeal was enough.
I lay motionless, trying to settle my racing mind. My eyes become heavy with exhaustion but I will myself to stay awake. I’m aware I need to be heading to the debriefing soon but my body is weighted down by all the events of the past few days. I don’t think I can hash out every detail for them- relive every moment in front of their unaffected faces. I have been steadily building sturdy brick walls around all those memories for days. I hate thinking I wasted my time fortifying my mind to only fall apart when left alone with silence.
Tom’s voice hovers at the edge of my brain.
“Soft can get you killed.”
I study the words wanting to pick out some kind of hidden meaning that I know is not there.
“I’m not soft,” I mumble defensively to the cell walls.
My body sinks into my worn mattress below.
I’m in a field of fresh green grass. The softness cushions my bare feet while the smell of rain enters my senses. I hear the laughter of young girls playing and I listen to the song they sing. It is familiar but I can’t remember the words. They’re lost in the warm breeze that scurries through my loose hair.
In the distance, a bright flash of color flickers. A deep red fades in and out as if it is a dimming star. I’m thrust forward without moving, halting yards away from a young woman. She wears a simple white cotton dress. Her arms are thin but not boney. She sits with her legs tucked underneath her, humming a distant familiar tune. What startles me the most about her is her hair. The long wavy locks the color of the brightest rose in the garden, the one that stands out above them all. It reminds me of my own. Her image flickers in front of me.
“Hello?”
The word catches in my throat before echoing off the stormy sky.
The strange woman lifts her head to peer at me. Her eyes are the most beautiful blue- her smile warm and loving.
“Mom?” I whisper.
The sound of static tickles my ears. I was too young to remember my mother but if I had to imagine what she looked like the image would be that of the woman in front of me now. I step toward her only to slam into an invisible wall. My fingers stretch out on a hard transparent surface separating me from the one person who haunts my every day.
“Mom.”
I recognize the desperation and agony in my voice as the static grows louder. I gaze longingly as she stands facing me, an arm reaching. Her hair curls in the wind mirroring my own. She doesn’t walk forward or moves in the slightest. She just stands there studying me, her arm frozen in the air, forever reaching. For awhile, I feel as if I’m stuck- silent and never able to make myself turn away. My stupor is broken when she finally speaks. Her voice deterrent but soft.
“Her feet go down to death, and her steps to the underworld; she never keeps her mind on the road of life; her ways are uncertain, she has no knowledge. Hear me now, my child and depart not from the words of my mouth. Remove thy way from her, do not come near the door of her house. Lest thou give thy honor to others, and thy years unto the cruel; And thou mourn at the last, when thy flesh and thy body are consumed.”
My legs fall away as my whole being slips down the invisible boundary. She watches my slow decline with the expression of pure defeat- her arm lowering. Instantly, she seem frail and sickly. I seize in horror as she begins to decay in front of me.
“No!” I plead.
The pronounced bones of her face sharpen as her beautiful eyes hollow. The soft porcelain skin of her body hardens and then deteriorates at a fast pace. My scream is caught in my heart begging to escape as I watch my mother’s young figure rot into a pile of bones. The only thing remaining is a glimpse of a plain silver cross in the softness of grass.
Chapter Seventeen
Heart racing, I shoot up from the warmness of my bed. My breath is erratic and heavy. Dizziness blankets my whole body as my mind hurries to catch up. I wipe a sheen of sweat off my forehead and let my feet descend to the cell’s stark floor. Breathe in and out. I chant the words over and over. Unhurriedly, the world seems to reappear. I’m made aware of my lumpy mattress and the cold cement walls.
“Oh, no!” I howl, realizing I’m more than likely late to the debriefing.
Unable to tell what time it is, I grab my supply bag and dash toward the cell block’s exit. I’ll never hear the end of this from Lonnie. My first debriefing and I couldn’t even be on time. I dodge and weave my way through the common areas toward the conference rooms.
“Excuse me ,” I say, bumping into a familiar man.
He works most of his days out in the fields. Peter? Phillip? His name eludes me.
“Slow down,” He commands, scowling at me.
I quicken my pace. Crap. Crap. Crap, I think as I reach the double red doors leading to the scout’s training area.
I fly through the entrance and gain access to the substantial gymnasium. The sound of the slamming doors echos through the emptiness and bounces off the tall ceilings. The large top windows shine beams of light into the space. Floor mats lay unused across the aged floor and block my straight shot to where I should be. When I burst through another set of doors, I run straight into Connor’s unyielding body and bite my tongue on the impact.
“Damn it!” I roar frustratedly, grabbing my throbbing tongue with my fingers.
His hand reaches to steady me but I slap it away and proceed to trip on my own feet attempting to get away. He catches me, amusement sparkling in his eyes.
“Can this get any worse?” I growl.
“I’m going to say yes.”
My temper bubbles then subsides when I recognize Jay’s voice. He chuckles from the other side of the hall, his smirk apparent.
My attention flicks back to Connor as I realize I’m still caught up in his embrace. I try to untangle myself from him but his grip constricts around me.
“
Hey. Not so fast,” he says sneeringly. “It isn’t every day a beautiful redhead throws herself at me.”
I stare at him- fingers tangled in his shirt for balance.
“Um. No,” I say scornfully but after a moment add, “If I’d thrown myself at you we wouldn’t be standing upright, now would we?”
His eyes widen.
To my astonishment, I manage not to trip on my feet as I disentangle myself from his strong arms.
“You’re an hour and a half late,” Jay states bluntly.
Clover, who’s standing beside him, gives a sympathetic smile.
“Thanks Jay. I didn’t realize that, and they say Lonnie is the smart one,” I remark, annoyed.
His brows furrow at me as I wait for his retort. The opening of the conference door brings all discussion to a halt. Lonnie steps from of the doorway. His eyes latch on to me as soon as he detects my wavy red hair.
“It’s your first debriefing,” he pauses. “Really, Millie?”
The tone of his voice shames me.
“Sorry, Lonnie. I fell asleep.”
Lonnie steps back beyond the entry of the doorway.
“She’s here.” A moment passes with nothing but low mumbling. “Yes Sir,” he replies.
I lean forward wishing to understand the discussion being held behind the daunting door. Lonnie shifts slightly and motions for me to enter. I study his face, now drained of any earlier humor. I never realized before how fast emotions change- how fast we change in an instant. I pass cautiously, aware of the situation.
“You’re in trouble but I doubt it’ll be too strict, not with all that’s happened,” Lonnie whispers and nods his head toward the unknown.