by Valerie Puri
Victor had instructed the Order to install the unbreakable blue glass separating each row of filing cabinets. Every row held a specific type of record, and there were hundreds of rows. All he had to do now was go to the end of the appropriate row, open a little door at waist height, and insert the paper. From there a docile would take the document and file it away.
The dociles worked out to be perfect for Victor in his grand plan. He now had just over a hundred dociles doing menial tasks down here. The records department was only the start - with its success, the Order had started to plan for other docile work assignments. Their ability to complete mindlessly repetitive tasks made them perfect for plowing the fields, harvesting the crops, boiling the stews.
The dociles were well suited for these types of jobs, and most importantly they were passive. The lemerons had an unending hunger for living flesh, whereas the dociles did not. Dociles only needed to eat about once a month, so there would be plenty of food for all of the remaining humans in the Commune. Soon, dociles would replace the farmers, the cooks, and every other type of job that did not require higher cognitive faculties, all the work that living people – the undesirables - currently did. The undesirables were nothing more than a drain on resources.
The Commune could then re-route the electricity. Dociles could see exceptionally well in the dark. In contrast to humans, they could hardly see at all in daytime due to how their cloudy eyes processed the light. The Commune would no longer need to route electricity to where the dociles would be working. This meant Victor could finally get electricity in his quarters at the tower. What was the point of holding such a high position of power if he had to live like a common undesirable?
It always cheered Victor up to think about his perfect little world, where the only humans would be the Order members and those by special right – the scientists, the doctors, the inventors. He walked down the long records room and came to a stop by the row of filing cabinets labeled “Death Certificates.” He opened the little door, inserted Eleanor Townsend’s death certificate, and watched a grey-skinned figure with yellow eyes slowly materialize from the far end of the row.
“Hello, James,” Victor said, for his own amusement. Dociles did not have names, nor did they have memories, but Victor remembered who each docile had been when they were still humans. “Your wife, Eleanor, will be joining you down here soon.”
Victor smiled triumphantly as the docile picked up the document to be filed, turned and vanished into the darkness.
17
The amber glow of morning spilled through the gaps in the green leaves above him, creating vertical stripes of light all around. He was looking for something, but he couldn’t remember what. He could see the trees moving, but he couldn’t hear the leaves rustling in the gentle breeze.
“Travis,” a far-off voice was calling to him. It familiar, but he couldn’t place who it belonged to. “Travis. Over here.”
He looked down at his hands and saw he was now holding a cloth sack. He knew he had to find something to fill it with. He still couldn’t remember what he was searching for though.
“Travis, I found some,” the voice said.
He picked up his foot to begin walking, but the forest blurred around him. Within one step he had already traveled the distance and reached the owner of the voice. He looked down at a girl, hunched over and filling the same kind of sack he held. He bent down next to her to see what she was collecting. When he saw the girl’s face he recognized his sister, Jennie, only she looked much younger.
She was gathering mushrooms from the forest floor. Damp soil clung to her fingers. With each mushroom she picked, he got a whiff of its earthy scent.
Jennie smiled at him and said teasingly, “Your bag isn’t going to fill itself.”
Travis reached out for an enormous mushroom by his foot, but his hand couldn’t reach it. The more he stretched his arm, the further away it became. He felt like he was being pulled into the sky by a thread attached to his back. He was floating now, light and carefree.
He heard a woman scream. The thread snapped, and he plummeted to the forest floor, crushing the mushroom he had longed to pick only a moment ago. Another scream, only this time it was louder and closer. He looked in the direction of the sound. A woman ran toward him. She was shouting something, but he couldn't understand what she was saying. The desperation in her voice ripped through his entire being. Her fear alarmed him. She kept running toward him, but she never got any closer.
Travis was being carried over Jennie’s shoulder, still looking back at the woman. He wanted to do something to help her. He stretched out his arm, but just like the mushroom, he could not bridge the distance between them. Desperation took hold. He stiffened his arm, hoping to further his reach, but it didn’t help.
Jennie was carrying him away from her. No. This was wrong. The woman was getting too far away. He began kicking his legs. He had to get to her, but his sister was taking him in the wrong direction. He couldn’t leave this woman. He had to help her. Why didn’t Jennie understand this?
The golden glow of the forest changed to red as flames sprouted from the ground. The green leaves on the branches browned and crumbled away as the trees turned black. He felt terror as the peaceful forest transformed into an inferno. Travis never took his eyes off the screaming woman. Fire surrounded her. All of a sudden, the flames became grey and took the shape of monsters. The woman was surrounded by lemerons, their grimy fingers grabbing at her.
Travis watched as the lemerons took hold of her and dragged her away. She struggled against their grip and kept screaming. He reached out to her, extending his arm, hoping she could grab his hand. But she was too far away now, her screams becoming faint cries in the distance.
He could finally hear what she was trying to say to him. She was crying out for him to run. She wanted him to be safe. She was his mother.
Travis woke up with a start in a pool of sweat. He sat up and hugged his legs to his chest, burying his face in his knees. His body trembled as he let himself cry.
After a while, Travis wiped his tears and looked around. He was back in his house, in his bed, with his warm blanket. He could not remember how he got here or when he fell asleep. All he could remember was how the lemerons took his mother and how he would never be able to eat mushrooms again.
18
Jennie was busy working in the kitchen of their cottage home when Travis entered from the hall. She had a small table cover laid out and was piling bread, jams, dried meats, and canned fruits and vegetables in the center of it. She brought the corners in and tied the bundle together with a rope, creating a makeshift sack.
“What time is it?” Travis asked, rubbing his bloodshot eyes.
“Probably somewhere around three in the morning. You should get some sleep, you only had about two hours,” Jennie said.
“When did we get back? I don’t remember coming home,” Travis said.
“You went downstairs while I was cleaning up in the loft. When I went in my office to put the supplies back, I found you asleep at the table. I carried you home.” Jennie wrote a note as she explained, and left it on the table. “We got back to the house around one in the morning, I’d say.”
“Did you get any sleep?” Travis asked Jennie.
“No. There is too much to do,” she replied.
“I can help,” Travis offered. He wanted to help out, but he also wanted to sleep.
“You can,” Jennie said, “but only after you get some sleep. You can meet me in the stable after you get up.”
“But I...” Travis started to protest, but stopped when he realized how tired he was. The previous day had been long and draining.
“Make sure Father reads the note when he wakes. I’ve written that we were working at the stable late due to Misty’s pregnancy.” Jennie picked up the bundle of food. “Don’t mention anything to him, or anyone, about Ethan. There has never been an outsider in the Commune before, and we don’t know how people will react if they f
ind out. Remember, we were all taught the only remaining humans are within the Commune. Father included. Ethan is a direct contradiction to that.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything,” Travis said, and he meant it. What could he say about Ethan? He didn’t know anything about him other than the fact that he faced a lemeron and lived.
Jennie smiled and tousled Travis’ already disheveled hair. Travis watched her walk out of the house through the kitchen door and disappear into the night. He walked back into the bedroom and lay down in his bed. Pulling his blanket up to his chin, he closed his eyes and drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep. He did not dream.
19
Ethan woke to find himself alone. He gazed out of the window as he tried to collect his thoughts. He remembered Jennie and her friends being there, and Jennie looking at his wounds. His bandaged arm was still painful. He hoped his fever had finally broken since he was no longer suffering from a cold sweat. He suspected it had been Jennie who patched him up. He would have to remember to ask when he saw her next. At least, he hoped he would see her again.
The fruit trees growing in the little meadow next to the stable were so still at this hour. The wind had ceased, but an autumn chill hung in the air, which made him glad for the blanket clutched around his shoulders. He had no desire to be anywhere else as he sat there watching the fog form slowly across the silent ground below. Everything had a blue pallor to it from the light of the moon above.
He was happy to see the slender figure of a girl roughly his age making her way through the apple trees. It must be Jennie, he thought. She was carrying a large sack over her shoulder. It looked heavy, but she managed it with ease. As she got closer, he could make out her oval face – it was indeed Jennie. Ethan felt a strange sensation as he watched her that he had never felt before. His legs were tingling and his stomach fluttered.
Ethan heard her climbing the ladder, and watched as she made her way over to where he was sitting. It was quite late, or rather early, for her to be coming back to the stables. Having not been awake when she left, he had no idea how much time had passed, but he found he was glad for the company regardless of the time.
“I didn’t expect you back so soon. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Ethan asked.
“I couldn’t sleep tonight even if I wanted to,” Jennie said. “I’m usually up in a couple of hours anyway. I thought you’d still be sleeping."
Ethan watched as she settled down in front of him. She took the large bundle and set it between them. Unfastening the knot in the rope, she let the fabric fall away revealing a wide assortment of food and a canteen of water.
“I thought you might be hungry. You’re looking much better now, so the infection must be under control.”
Ethan didn’t know what to say; she was so kind and thoughtful. “Thank you,” was all he could manage to get out.
“I brought you bread and jam, fruits and vegetables, some dried meat. I hope there is at least something here you like.”
“It’s all wonderful.” Ethan picked up a piece of dried meat.
After tasting the first bite, he realized just how hungry he was. He hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in days, and he was very happy to have such an assortment. The dried meat tasted delicious and was coated in spices to enhance the flavor. He took the canteen, unscrewed the top, and put it to his chapped lips. The cool water felt like new life, rejuvenating him as he drank.
They sat together silently as he ate. Jennie’s soft features were accentuated in the light of the moon. He noticed she was looking him up and down as if she were trying to read or understand him. Ethan became aware that he was not wearing his tunic and only had the horse blanket to cover his upper body, which he pulled tighter around his shoulders. No wonder he felt a little chilly; he was missing a vital piece of clothing.
Jennie broke the silence. “Your tunic is hanging just over there,” she pointed to a makeshift clothesline above his bed of hay. “I was able to wash most of the blood out and mend the holes. It should be dry in the morning. Things take longer to dry in the cold air.”
Ethan looked to where she had been pointing and saw the dim outline of his tunic. “Thank you,” he said. “You have been very kind to me.”
“You’re welcome. It’s not every day that we have strangers here to visit,” Jennie said with a teasing smile. Her expression turned somber. “All my life, I’ve been taught that we are the only humans left in the world, and that our Commune is the last remaining refuge of humankind. Your presence here directly contradicts that. I need to understand more about the outside world and why we are taught this lie.”
“Well, I may not have the answer as to why you and your people were misled,” Ethan broke off a piece of bread and dipping it in the jam. “But I can tell you that it’s not a very friendly place out there beyond the wall.”
Jennie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I need to know if I can trust you. My teacher, Mrs. Townsend, was trying to reveal the truth to us, and then suddenly disappeared under suspicious circumstances. Your being here exposes the lie that we are the only humans left. This means you are in the same danger she was in.” She paused as if to let her message sink in. “You are no safer inside this wall than you were outside with the lemeron who attacked you.”
Jennie confirmed his suspicions that there were people here who would keep the truth silenced at all costs. He wondered how many of them there were and what they would do if they found him. Jennie didn’t seem to be one of them; she had taken care of him, patched up his wounds, brought him food, and even cleaned his stained and dirty tunic. Ethan trusted her, and in turn, he wanted her to trust him.
“If what you say is true, I won’t be able to stay long,” Ethan said regretfully, not wanting to think about leaving Jennie behind. He had just met her, but he enjoyed spending time with her and didn’t want that to come to an end. “During my time here, I will do whatever I can to help you find the answers you seek.”
Jennie reached into her shoulder bag and extracted an old leather book. “I think this is the reason why Mrs. Townsend disappeared. You may be able to help me make sense of it all.”
Ethan leaned in as Jennie showed him a series of pictures that she took out from between the book’s pages. She explained the twenty-five-year intervals since the Commune’s founding roughly two hundred years ago. In each photo, she pointed to a woman with blond hair and green eyes. It was indeed strange to see her in every image, never aging. Ethan peered closer at one of the photos of the woman where other people didn’t partially obstruct her from view.
“She looks familiar,” Ethan said distantly, trying to place her. “She looks like…” he paused and furrowed his brow as it came to him. “…my mother.”
20
“Your mother?” Jennie exclaimed, with disbelief. “How can that be?”
“I don’t know,” Ethan said. Jennie saw emotional pain registering on his face. “My mother abandoned me in the woods when I was only a baby.” He paused, took a deep breath, and then continued, “A ranger found me, and took me in. When I grew old enough to understand, he told me how I was found and gave me the only thing that I had in my possession at the time.”
Jennie watched as Ethan reached into his back pocket and took out a folded piece of heavy paper. He held it in his hand for a moment, then outstretched his arm offering it to Jennie. Curious, she took it and began to unfold it. It was a colored photo with worn creases running horizontally and vertically down the center dividing the image into four sections. The color was all but gone in the creases, probably from Ethan folding and unfolding the picture so many times.
Jennie’s hand shot to her mouth. “Marlene.”
Holding the photo in the light of the moon, Jennie could see a beautiful woman with strong features, blond hair, and green eyes. She was smiling and looked genuinely happy. In her arms, she was holding a happy baby with cheerful green eyes and a tuft of dark hair on its head. She glanced from the image to look at Ethan and s
aw he had the same green eyes. It had never occurred to her that Marlene might have a family. Marlene rarely spoke and Jennie realized she didn’t know anything about her.
Jennie could see that this was hard on Ethan. His eyes now held pain instead of the blissful happiness captured in the photo. She didn’t know which was worse: being abandoned and never knowing your mother or having a loving mother who was taken away by lemerons. All Ethan had left of his mother was a photo; at least Jennie had memories of her mother.
She suddenly felt hopeful for Ethan. His mother is Marlene and an Elder in the Commune. She could reunite the two of them after just shy of two decades of separation. Jennie knew that there was no hope of ever seeing her own mother again, but helping Ethan find his mother encouraged her.
“This woman, your mother, she is one of our two Commune Elders. I can take you to her,” Jennie said, with excitement in her voice.
“No,” Ethan said sternly.
She noticed that when he spoke, his voice trembled slightly with pain - or was it anger? Jennie slumped and her arms fell to her side. She was sure he would say “yes.” She thought he would be glad to have an opportunity to meet his mother. He must have noticed the shock on her face, because he spoke again.
“Read the back,” Ethan said.
Jennie turned the photo over in her hand and noticed that there was something written there. The penmanship was neat and fluid. The ink was faded and hard to make out. Jennie held the thick paper closer to her eyes, squinting in the dim light.
My dearest son Ethan,
You have brought me so much happiness in your short life and I wish our time together could have been longer. The world in which we live in is no longer safe and I am unable to keep you from the growing dangers. I can only hope that you are found by someone who will care for you as much as I do.