by Martha Adele
“Wait.” He looks up from the board to me. “You mean the night that she supposedly killed Sam?”
I nod. “I had called her earlier that day, and we agreed to meet up. The rain cut us off before we were able to decide where, so after work, I made my way over.”
Derek shakes his head and looks down to the board. He moves another piece. “It looks like you two just weren’t meant to be.”
“You think so?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe you just tried to make your move too late.”
I shrug back. “Maybe.”
We play the rest of this game of chess, and Derek decides it is time for him to head home. He does me the favor of refilling the thermos with hot water from the tea kettle before he leaves.
Finding that I enjoy Derek’s company, I am excited to have him over again. I guess I was just getting sick of having Eric around me all day every day, trying to cheer me up and trying to baby me. I can do things for myself, and Derek seems to get that. He didn’t offer to help me every five seconds but instead did one thing he knew I couldn’t do without asking me if I wanted him to. He just did it without making me feel helpless.
About twenty minutes after he leaves, I hear the paper boy on his bicycle ride by. I roll out onto the driveway to retrieve the paper and feel the sun’s warmth for the first time in a long time. I sit in my chair and look around the neighborhood, soaking in the vitamin D.
Our bushes have begun blooming a deep-pink flower of some sort, along with a deep violet, which looks really stunning together in front of our house. I reach into my shirt and pull out Sam’s necklace. I really wish he was here to get to see the first spring of Frieden. I feel as if he would have enjoyed it.
Picking up the newspaper, I feel the sun’s warmth on my back and find that I don’t want to straighten up. I dangle here for a moment before rising and looking around to see if anyone saw me. Nobody seemed to have taken notice, so I casually roll back to the house and toss the paper down on the table.
My honey and lemon tea meets my lips as I flip through the large pages to read about Oswald and his administration being praised for cutting back on illegal vial distribution, making sure that the transient population of Frieden is less than 1 percent, and continuing to create jobs for those in need.
I then flip to the next page to reveal that there has been another explosion in a restaurant, this time in State Three. One clip of the article says, “Though the casualty count is only seven persons, there is more mental and emotional damage here today than we can tally.”
The pictures shown are of the outside of the restaurant, which looks perfectly fine; but the people being pulled out by emergency response vehicles seem to be in shock. There is a little bit of smoke coming out of the windows and doors of the restaurant but not much. I assume that the bomber had a very specific target; and rather than blow the entire restaurant to bits, he managed to only hit what he was aiming for.
Another set of knocks at my door brings me back to reality. Somehow, after reading about the bombing, this knock seems much more intimidating. The fact that anyone could be behind the door waiting makes me a little bit anxious.
But then again, if they wanted to do any harm, they probably would have just barged in.
“Who is it?” I call out.
A joyous voice echoes from behind the barrier, sending a small shiver up my spine. “Amanda Learwood!”
I wasn’t ever planning on visiting them again because of her; and now, she comes here?
“May I come in?” she asks through the door. “I bring ye fresh food! Just came out of the oven.”
I sigh and wish I hadn’t asked who it was. I should have Eric install a peephole down where I can see through it. “Come on in. The door is unlocked.”
She slowly peeks by the side of the door and smiles at me. “Good afternoon, Logan!” Amanda enters the house with a large glass dish of what looks like dog food from the sides and a sort of mold on the top. “I brought you some meat lasagna.”
“I see that. Thank you very much.” I clear my throat as she sets it down on the counter.
Amanda rummages through my cupboards and drawers, pulling out eating utensils as she goes. “I’ll go ahead and put some on a plate for you, not that you have to eat it right now but just so that you can eat it when you’re ready, you know?”
“I see.” I clear my throat. “Hey, um, Amanda, not to be rude, but why exactly did you bring food over? Again, I’m appreciative, but your visit was completely unexpected.”
She shrugs and opens the lid off the dish, releasing one of the best smells I’ve ever experienced. “I don’t know. I made some extra food over at the Pages’ house and didn’t want it to go to waste, so when Derek got home and told me he was just over here, I got the idea to come and surprise you!”
“Oh, um, thank you.” I roll back over to the table, following her as she sets my food down with the fork already in it. I look at it to see the white cheese on top has hardened enough to where it isn’t falling off but is still gooey looking. There are layers of meat and cheese throughout the entire slab of food she gave me, and every bit of it smells and looks more appetizing the longer I stare at it.
“Go ahead.” She heads over to the cupboards and pulls out a plate and fork for herself. “You look like you’re hungry.”
I chuckle at the fact that I didn’t want anything to do with her, but now I’m shoveling in the food she brought me. The taste is not near as good as the smell, but it still tastes decent. “It’s very good,” I tell her. “Thank you again.”
Amanda nods and takes a bite of the food as well. “No, thank you for having me over. I didn’t mean to just barge in like that, but I felt like you could use a nice home-cooked meal.”
I don’t say anything. I just eat.
“So you look like you’re doing well.”
I nod. “I am. I’m doing much better than I was when this first happened.”
She looks back down to her food. “I am sorry, Logan. I can’t imagine how it felt to lose—”
We both pause.
“Yeah.” She continues eating and picks up the newspaper on the table that I had left. “I see you were reading about the bombing in State Three.”
I nod. “It’s crazy, isn’t it?”
She nods with me, swallowing a mouthful of food. “Yes. These rebels are getting out of hand. They are bombing people who are just trying to make our country better or who are taking part in keeping the peace. It drives me nuts.” Amanda plops another piece of the food into her mouth. “Some people just can’t accept change.”
I shrug. “I’ve heard some theories that say these bombings aren’t rebels. Well, not Amiable rebels anyway.”
Her blue eyes pierce into my soul the way she stares at me. Her face drops into an expression of pure seriousness, and her perfect skin and teeth, now seem somewhat threatening in the way they rest. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I, um”—I swallow the bit of food in my mouth and take a sip of tea—“someone told me that they heard Frieden’s government is sending people to bomb people who don’t agree with them in order to remain in charge.”
“Well”—Amanda gives me a little smile—“you don’t believe that, do you? It is obviously some crazy conspiracy theory.”
I shrug. “I’m from Bestellen. When I believed everything the government and the news was telling us, I was believing lies. Who is to say we aren’t being subjected to the same type of lies now?”
She wipes her mouth with her napkin and clears her throat. “Well, I don’t know about that.” Amanda looks to my clock behind me and quickly rises to her feet. “I actually have to go, Logan. Sorry about this.”
“Wait.” I swallow the large chunk of food in my mouth as she heads to the door. “Do you want your dish back?”
She shakes her head. “I can come
and get it later. I have to go.”
Amanda closes the door and walks outside, pulling out her cell phone to call a cab I assume, leaving me with a few sets of dishes to clean and an icky feeling that I said something wrong.
Werner
Sitting up in my favorite spot to hunt, I look around and watch for more than just squirrels and birds. Now, I feel as if I am the one being hunted.
Ever since I read Mac’s note yesterday, I have been on edge. I feel as if I am just waiting for a sign for me to leave. Maybe I’m not on the list that Mac was on. If I was on it, wouldn’t she have told me in the note? But if I wasn’t on it, why would she have said, “Burris knows a lot more than you think”?
As I sit and prepare myself for the worst, it actually happens. My messenger buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a message from Burris.
“Come to my office. We need to talk.”
I slide the messenger back in and take a few deep breaths. The cloudy afternoon weather makes me think rain is imminent and that I could get away if I needed to. I know all the exits in that building, and I know how to not leave a trail. I decide it would be best to go in to see what she needs first, and I climb down the tree.
I stop by my house, put my bow away, call a cab, and head to my offices. I walk through, never making eye contact with anyone, and notice that no one is making eye contact with me. I get into Burris’s office to find her sitting at her desk as she always is, reading the paper in front of her. I look around to see that she has redecorated and moved her tacky oil lamps to where you can see them even better now.
“Rhodes,” she says without looking up, “thank you for finally joining me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I step into her room and continue looking to her, trying to read some of what she is reading. “What can I help you with?”
“No, sir, it is what I can do to help you that we are here to talk about.” She looks up to me and gestures to the seat in front of her. I sit, and she folds her hands in the boss-like way that makes me think she is about to confront me about letting those people pass. “Tell me, Rhodes, how have you been?”
“Been?” Her question catches me off guard. “I’ve been decent. How about you?”
“Not too good. I actually have some bad news for you.” She leans back and pulls out a file with pictures of Mac in it. She spreads them out on the table for me to see and shows me all pictures of Mac that look as if she had no idea they were being taken. “Do you remember this woman?”
I nod. “That is Ruth Mcananich. We were partners at one point.”
She nods back. “That’s right. I regret to inform you that Ms. Mcaninch is now on a list of top-priority fugitives.”
I look over the pictures, and my eyes get caught on one specifically. This photo of her must have been taken as she exited the Marvelous Cafe. “What did she do?”
“That is not your concern, Rhodes.” She slides all the pictures back into her folder. “I am telling you this because I know you and her were friends. I want to know if she told you where she was going.”
Without hesitation, I tell Burris, “I don’t know where she is going.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “We were friends. Yes, that much I can tell you, but we were agents above that. We never shared intel, we never shared our mission assignments, and we never spoke of anything we weren’t supposed to speak of.”
Burris’s eyes narrow on me.
“You can check the security footage at her building. I went to go visit her today, but her door was unlocked, and her apartment was completely empty. That’s all I know.”
Her eyes continue to stare into mine, but I don’t give in. I don’t look away, and I don’t let up. Burris stares at me for what feels like minutes until someone enters her office and interrupts us.
“Excuse me,” the short blonde girl says over me to Burris, “I have something I think you might be interested in.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Logan
I continue staring at them. Their limp and lifeless ways drive me insane. Losing my legs isn’t something I would have chosen; but the more I think about it, the luckier I am. I could have lost the use of my arms. I could have been paralyzed from the neck down.
I could have died.
But instead, I just lost my legs. Not even the full limb, just the use of it. Don’t get me wrong. I am not happy about it. I am just forcing myself to look at the bright side. At first, all I was doing was wallowing in self-pity. Yes, I had the right to. I lost my grandfather, who was my only living family member left; my two best friends; my job; and my legs. I had many reasons to be upset; but since Derek came over this morning and Amanda this afternoon, I have realized I still have people who care about me. Eric certainly does. He stayed back from his dream job to help me.
I force my mind off the fact that I can’t walk and keep my focus on the things I can do. I can move around myself, I can feed myself, and I can do so many different things.
I roll myself out of my room and back into the living room where the scent of the meat lasagna has dissipated and become much less apparent. Making my way over to the table to clean off the dishes, I bump into the corner of one of the side tables. The lamp topples over, and I manage to catch it before it hits the ground. I place it back onto its spot and slow my roll to the table.
Nice and easy now, Logan, I tell myself. I was rushing too much to try to do things myself.
I get to the table and analyze its contents. Two plates, one with food still left on it, two forks, my thermos, and my tea mug. I slide the two plates on my lap, along with the forks and roll into the kitchen. I set them on the counter and stare at the side of the sink. I can’t do anything to clean the plates without the imminent threat of breaking them, so I just leave them there.
It’ll be fine. Eric won’t be mad. He will be okay with doing them.
I roll back over to refill my tea with the hot water still left in the thermos and hear a noise from the back of the house. I stop pouring, set the thermos down, and turn around to hear no other noises. The house is still and silent with only the noise of my breathing.
“Hello?” I call out like an idiot.
A few moments of silence pass, and a loud noise booms through the house. Three men rush over to me from my room.
“Hey! Stop!” I shout at them and throw punches, squirming and thrashing about, trying to get them to release me. One grabs my legs, and the other two grab my arms. A fourth man runs out from another room and stabs me in the leg with a large vial as I scream for help. My body quickly becomes weak and relaxes as their grip on me tightens.
Mavis
Every shot I take, I hit my target. I hit the steel dummy in between the eyes. I hit him in the chest, right where his heart would be; and I hit him in the throat, forcing the bot down onto the ground, clutching his neck.
I pull back and reload my gun and do it all over again.
I practice and I practice because it’s the only thing I want to do. Anything else leaves me too free to think about what is inside of me.
It’s a child.
It’s a baby.
Not my baby.
I don’t want it. I don’t want to keep it. I don’t want to raise a child. This world is too harsh for one, so why would anyone want to bring one into this mess?
I don’t want to keep it. Every time I look at its face, I will see the monster who did this to me. I don’t want to keep it, but I don’t want it to have a bad life. It isn’t its fault it was made. It shouldn’t pay the price of having a mother who can’t even look at it just because of what its father did.
What if I have it in the bunker? Will someone else raise it? I mean, I will step up if I need to, but I want the kid to have a good life, and a life with me won’t be good.
I take down every target I hit with one shot, except for my last one. I
look at the target in the back of the room and realize I shot too low. With my streak being broken, a small amount of anger bubbles up within me. I spin around and head back to Grayson to ask for more ammunition when our eyes meet.
He looks down to my gun and grabs three more boxes of ammunition for me. “With the way you go through these, we might need to get you to come help refill the bullets.”
I take the three packs and shrug. “That sounds fair to me. I wouldn’t be opposed.”
He chuckles. “I was just joking, but if you’re really up for it, I will talk to Ludley.”
I nod and head back to empty the next three boxes. After my allotted amount of time for the gun range is up, I head out of the room and into the commons area for lunch. When I get in line and have the lady behind the food plop mash onto my tray, I can’t help but smile at the fact that I didn’t have to help prepare it. The only reason I ever slightly enjoyed working in the kitchen was because of Sam.
And now he’s gone.
I don’t ever want to go back to working in the kitchen.
When I make it to my usual lunch table, I am soon joined by Bram, who sits quietly in front of me.
Without looking up from my food, I ask him, “What’s wrong?” He is quiet a lot nowadays, but this is a different sort of quiet.
When he doesn’t answer, I look up to see him clenching his jaw and staring at his food with a large mixture of emotions.
“Bram,” I say to him, not knowing what to do.
“Samantha died this morning.”
“Oh.” My shoulders relax as I stick my fork back into the mash. “I’m sorry. I know that must have been hard on you.”
“Why?” He looks me in the eyes almost angrily. “Because you think I think it should have been me? Because you think I look at her and draw lines between us and think, ‘We’re the same’?”
I shrug and snap back at him, “I don’t know why exactly this was hard on you. I just know it is by the way you looked just now.”