by Celi, S.
“The worst part is I don’t know what happened to them. I don’t know. It kills me. Farrah’s so young.” He focuses on the wall and not on me. “I don’t think she can make it through a camp. She is the youngest one they took.”
Deep inside, I fear I can’t bear the force of this news.
“I snuck away that night, like such a coward. I took off the uniform and stole some clothes from the back of the store. I made up my mind. This is not for me.” His jaw flexes and his eyes take on hardness. “All of it’s a lie. Mom and Dad weren’t bad people. They didn’t do anything wrong. They weren’t Undesirables. And neither are you.”
I swallow my emotions and he continues.
“I was really mad.” He shrugs. “I never wanted to see you again after you left. You just— well, none of it made any sense to me. I couldn’t understand why you would leave, and then The Party kept saying you were the enemy, an Undesirable. No, the ultimate Undesirable.” He stops for a second and rubs his hands over his face. “But I’m okay now. I know— I know more now.” This his voice breaks. “And all I can think about is my sister. She’s probably dead. Maybe it’s better if she is.”
“God, this is so awful.”
“I’ve thought a lot, and it’s not you. It’s not you at all. It’s them. It’s The Party. They’re the problem.” He scoots a little closer to the chair where I sit. He’s close enough to touch me but he doesn’t yet. “We always were on the ragged edge, Char.”
God, I love when he uses my nickname.
“Now we’re both orphans,” I say. “And we really are Undesirables.” The word makes me shiver.
“I may be, but you’re not, Miss Regime Royalty.” Fostino raises an eyebrow and smiles a little bit. “And you’ve never been an Undesirable to me.” Then he pauses. “Did you really think leaving me would protect me?”
“At the time, I did. Yeah. It seemed like it made sense. They wouldn’t be able to find me, and then no one else would get hurt. I’d remove myself from the danger, and keep everyone else safe. I’m the main target they want. I figured they’d move their search on to another town.” I shrug as acknowledgement of how wrong that turned out. “Ugh… so stupid.”
“So,” Fostino says after a few seconds. “You didn’t mean what you said that day at all, right?”
“Right.” As we sit together in the shelter, I grow even more aware of how much my feeling for him intensified over our time apart. “I didn’t mean any of it.” I emphasize my next words. “Please believe me.” I don’t even need to think any more about it. I know I love him, and being in this room with him again has made me love him more. I never want to know a life without him again.
“But then you came back here.”
I shrug. “I had to try to save you. The SSR had information that The Party was going to kill everyone in Harrison Corners. Everyone. Even you.” I run my hand through my hair. “I couldn’t let that happen to you. It wouldn’t have been right.”
Fostino’s mouth scrunches and twits as if he is considering what I just said. Then he shrugs. “When I think about what I know about you, it fits. You take risks and you question authority. You’re not like any other girl I’ve ever met.”
“You’ve known plenty.”
“Well, yeah. The thing is… all the girls at school I used to know seemed only interested in being the best thing, the best person, for the government. They dressed the way the teachers wanted, they did what the school demanded, and they never questioned anyone. Followers. I was a follower. Not you.” Fostino yawns. “And since we’re confessing here, I had a crush on you for a long time, you know.”
“You did?” My head cocks to one side. “How long?” I ask in a small voice, figuring I’ll go ahead and find out the whole story.
“I don’t know.” He sighs. “Years, I think. I had a crush on you for years. And now it’s more than just a crush.” He tosses me a weak smile.
I can’t help but grin back in relief. “All those times when I caught you staring at me in the lunchroom or the hallways make sense now.”
“I guess so.” Fostino runs an index finger over his upper lips as he studies me. “And don’t think I didn’t notice that all those times, you stared right back.” I don’t have to look in the mirror to know I’m blushing. Then he yawns. “What time is it?”
“11:15.” My mind wanders. “How long did you plan to stay in here?” I motion to the supplies I see stocked on a small bookcase on the far end of the shelter. Peanut butter, canned beans, granola bars, bottled water and a few canned fruits all live there. “That’s enough food for just a few more days.”
“I hadn’t thought all that out,” he admits before he yawns again.
I state the obvious. “You’re tired.”
“Yeah,” he says, and stretches his lean back against the wall. “We should get some sleep.”
“Agreed.” I stand up, unlace my boots, and throw them into the corner of the shelter next to the ventilation grate. “Is it weird to see me wear The Party uniform?”
He doesn’t have to reply. We both know it is.
“I bet not as weird as it is for me to see you without the Homeland Guard uniform.”
Fostino laughs. “I wish we hadn’t waited so long to figure all this out.”
The mood shifts again. I don’t know what to say as I feel the air thicken around us.
“So, uh, where do you want me to sleep?” I take off my outer jacket and stand in the center of the small room in a black tank top and pants. Feeling awkward, I blush a little.
“Don’t be silly.” Fostino gives a quick response as he hands me a blanket and small pillow. “You’ll sleep on the cot.” He motions for me to get on it, but when I do, he makes no move to join me.
“Wait a minute,” I whisper. All of the sudden, the air between us changes again. Now, there’s another charge. I know the next few words count. My stomach twists, but in a good way, as I ask the next question. “So, where will you sleep?”
“Depends,” Fostino says as he looks down at me. “Where do you want me to sleep?”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
“Well, I don’t want you to sleep on the floor,” I say, even though I’m shy to admit it. I position myself on the cot so my back lines up with the metal wall. “I want you sleep next to me.”
“Good.” Fostino places the flashlight on the ground next to the cot and the blue light hits the shelter door and illuminates a section of the room. He straightens the blanket and then lifts the end of it up from the cot.
I stiffen a little as he lies down next to me on his side. I suck in my breath through my teeth. His nose is a few centimeters away from mine; I watch the rise and fall of his chest. The weight of our bodies makes the cot creak.
“You said you loved me once…” I say after a long moment.
“Yes.” He says in a firm voice but he keeps his hands against his side. “And I still love you.”
I shake my head and allow myself to confess all. “I love you, too. I love you so much. I should have said it before, but then when I heard The Party wanted to kill everyone, I had to come back and try to save you. And I needed for you to know how I really felt.” Now I’ve said it, it comes out easy. Of course, I’m not finished with what I need to say. “I should have told you the night you said it, Fostino, and said it a thousand times. I never want to stop saying it.”
“I’ve waited to hear you say you love me, Charlotte.” Fostino takes my hand and squeezes it. Then he bites his lip. “Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if we’d met some other time, if it hadn’t been this way?”
“Yes.”
“Easier, I think.” Fostino’s left hand creeps up through the blanket now, and it finds the bend in my neck. He massages the weary muscles underneath my pale skin. I moan a little. He knows what he’s doi
ng. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can smell him all around me, and it’s delicious.
“I will always love you, Char,” he whispers into my left ear. “No matter who you are, no matter where you go. That won’t change. Ever.”
His lips crash into mine seconds after he speaks. His breath is hot in my mouth, his tongue fills the space, and his arms haul me to his body. This kiss goes deeper than any he’s ever given me before. I return it because I need it. Deep underground, hidden from the hell that awaits us, the moment is ours and ours alone.
He moves from my lips to my jawline, then my neck and back again. Each kiss pulsates and I tremble with a desire that no longer scares me. I want him to explore me, I want him to touch me, and I want him more than I’ve ever wanted him. I don’t try to resist; I give myself over to my emotions and embrace him as deeply as I know how.
Fostino pulls away and meets my eyes when I tug on the bottom of his white shirt and graze my hand over the muscles of his thin stomach. “So… you okay with this?” He holds his head away from mine. His left hand rests between my breasts and my stomach. His right hand cradles my neck as he keeps his position above me.
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
His eyes crinkle at the corners. He kisses me once more before he pulls the shirt over his head and tosses it onto the concrete floor. I pull the tank top over my stomach; he helps me and kisses me with a force I’ve never known before. His hands and arms encircle me, and we kiss with abandon. Then without warning, Fostino breaks away, slides a hand in his back pocket and pulls out a small red square packet. I know what he wants. He knows what I want.
We both want it.
“Please,” I say after a few seconds. “Don’t stop.”
“I’m so glad you came back,” he replies, and then his lips pick up where the words end.
*
Hours later, we’re a mess of limbs, clothes, and the blanket. I wouldn’t know it was morning, but the Hologram Watch screams at me from its important place on my arm.
10:30.
I rest my head on my arm. Fostino’s asleep. I can’t believe I lie here like this next to Fostino Sanchez. As my eyes examine him, a small amount of light from the ventilation grate hits Fostino’s face and paints beautiful lines of light over his Roman nose and his square jaw. Within seconds, I smile.
How much I love his features. How much I love this boy. He’s so beautiful.
I watch him for ten minutes or so before he wakes up. When he does, Fostino groans and then pulls me closer toward him. I love that he lies so close to me.
“Mmm,” I croak out. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” he says into my forehead. “I love you even with this brown hair.”
“It’s after 10:30.” I giggle.
“I slept well,” he says. He pulls back a little from our embrace. “Better than in a long time.” He gives me a quick peck on my cheek. “Sleep is good. Very nice.”
“It’s so quiet in this shelter,” I agree and then sprinkle my next words with sarcasm. “You know, we’re late for the factory.”
He gives me a wide, wolfish grin. “What will the regime think? What will Maxwell Cooper say? Guess we can’t be called good workers anymore, huh?”
“Fostino, I like that. I was never a good worker.”
“Who gives a shit about them, anyway?” He laughs a little and it makes him even more handsome. I didn’t think it possible. My stomach rumbles. I realize I haven’t eaten in at least 24 hours.
“You’re hungry.” He gestures over to the shelves. “That’s all. No oranges this time, but you’re welcome to whatever.”
I get up, and then grab the jar of peanut butter and the spoon from the shelf. I never thought I’d want to eat peanut butter again, but here I am. I offer him some once I scarf a bite down.
“No, I’m not hungry.” He waves it away before he sits up on the cot. “Tell me about the SSR. What did they tell you? Where did they take you?”
“Well, they took me to Canada.” Holding the peanut butter jar, I sit in the chair to take a few more bites. “They’ve some allies there, and some safe houses up on Lake Erie.”
Fostino slips his white T-shirt on and folds his arms across his chest. I can tell he listens hard.
“They trained me, they taught me how to shoot, and they took care of me.”
“What did they tell you?” I can’t read his expression. “What did they tell you about Maxwell Cooper?”
“It’s not like what they told us at school, Fostino.” Based on last night’s conversation, I know he’s ready to hear and understand what I’m about to reveal. “So much of what the government and The Party tell us is made up. It’s fake. Life in Canada’s not the way they say it is. It’s not bad. It’s not—”
“It’s free,” he interjects. “They have freedom.”
Do we even know the true meaning of the word?
“Whatever it is, Fostino, its better. Life there is better.” It is so good to tell him the truth about Canada.
“Come here.” I get up and take my place next to him on the cot. Fostino wraps his muscular arms around my shoulders and pulls my head to his chest. I rest there. “My beautiful Charlotte,” he says.
I lift my head. We kiss again. He pins my face against his, and I lose myself in the moment once more.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
I hear the footsteps before I hear the voices. The noise crashes and echoes above my place on the cot.
My eyes fly open from the half-conscious sleep. Fostino lies next to me near the outside rung of the cot. He’s awake too. He adjusts his clothes. I smooth mine. Within an instant, all my muscles tense. The blood in my body runs hot. My ears hone in on the sounds.
I know who’s above us, and it horrifies me. Three voices ring out.
“Do you think she came here?” says the first voice.
“No. We will search the store. I bet she’s in there,” replies the second. “That’s where she can get supplies.”
“Um… you sure she is not headed back to this place?” questions the third. “Didn’t she live here?”
Fostino and I both hear the stomps of boots above our heads. He reaches out and grips my arm. Tightly.
“I need to secure the hinges on the door,” he says in my ear with a hushed voice. Fostino slides off the canvas and puts a finger to his lips. He takes a few steps. Once he reaches the hinges of the shelter’s door, he makes a few quick movements to the beat of the boots pacing and searching overhead. He tightens a few screws that jut out from two of the four edges of the door. When he’s done, he smiles at me before he places a finger to his lips once more.
My eyes focus overhead as we listen to the conversation above us. The rest of my body freezes.
“That little bitch. She thinks she can evade us,” says a voice I can just make out. “I knew that other guy had to be with her.”
“Thank God the Millers spotted her over on Metamora and alerted us,” remarks someone else.
My heart sinks. They know I’m in town for sure. No denying this now. I am a marked woman.
“Come on,” says a much gruffer voice. This person is much closer to the door of the shelter. “We’ll go check the store.”
That’s the last of the conversation we hear. I stare at Fostino. We don’t talk until we hear the apartment door slam. Fostino pulls me up off the cot and against him.
“They really want to find you,” he whispers. Somehow, he sounds amused despite all the danger we face.
“They want to find me and kill me, Fostino.” I’ve used these words so many times they sound hollow now. “They mean that.” I swallow. Out comes the question I’ve wondered for hours. “How long do you expect to stay here? How long do you want to?”
“You were right last
night. I don’t have enough supplies to sustain us much longer,” he admits. He regards the supplies on the shelf. Then he looks down at me. “But where would we go?”
“When I came back to get you, the SSR said they would leave a getaway car on the right side of the grove of trees on the outskirts of town — the ones on 295.” I tighten my grip on his left bicep. “And Glenn told me there’s an escape shaft not far from there, in the wall The Party built.”
“Who’s Glenn?”
“He’s the one who came with me here to get you. One of the people in the SSR.”
“Where is he right now?”
“He’s dead. The Party found him, and they shot him.”
“Right in front of you?”
“Yes. I was hiding around the corner, but I saw.” I place my head in my hands. I don’t want to remember it at this moment. Fostino gives my neck a gentle rub. He doesn’t say anything. No need.
“My thought is that we leave here tonight and try to get to the car, to the Humvee,” I tell him. “It’s our best chance at getting away before they find us, or burn down this building, or do worse.”
“We might die if we stay here, Char, but we’ll also die if we go.”
“We’ll die if we stay here for sure. We’ll run out of supplies. We’ll reveal ourselves in some way. They’ll find us.” I take a step back and look Fostino square in the eye. “I’d rather take the chance and see if we can make it to the Humvee. At least we would take our future into our own hands.”
“But it’s like a suicide mission.”
“So is staying here to die.” I reply in disgust. “Besides, I’m tired of people saying that.”
“Who else said it?”
“Glenn,” I remember. “But he still wanted to come here and save you anyway. Even if it was suicide. It was the right thing to do. I had to warn you.”