by Hannah Ross
"We have no choice," Tony said after swallowing a spoonful of soup. "We have to abandon the car and trek back to the Boundary, or at least to an area where our phones are still able to pick up a signal."
"What!?" Daniel's head shook in disbelief. "We can't just leave the car here."
"Are you afraid someone might steal it?" Tony's voice harbored a hint of sarcasm.
Daniel ignored it. "Besides, do you realize how much distance we've covered? It will take us weeks to go back on foot. It might be dangerous. And our supplies most certainly won't last."
Tony smiled. "It's not as far as you think. And we don't have to go back the way we came." He pulled out the map. "Look. This is the gate we came through. We followed the winding river so we should be around here. Instead of going back the way we came, we can head across this way in a straight line back to the gate. Watch." He set a compass on the map and turned the map a bit to align north. "See how much shorter it is? I bet we can get back in two or three days, tops. Or we can just camp here and wait until someone stumbles upon us."
"Wait," Kate said. "I have an idea. Why don't we head toward the ghost town. Maybe we'll find something that can get the car running."
"I wish we could. But anything there would be from before the war. This was built eighteen years ago. Nothing in that town will fit it."
"At least we could sleep in one of the buildings," Rebecca said.
Tony shrugged. "True. But that will add hours of extra walking. Maybe a whole day. It's up to you guys. I don't care either way."
In the end, they decided to go straight back to the Boundary.
"Aren't you all glad we have hiking boots?" Tony grinned at Kate, who just stuck out her tongue.
"I wasn't sure we needed them either," Daniel said, "but I'm glad now to have them. Walking in those dress shoes would have ruined my feet. What did you say the name of this thing I'm pulling is?"
The thing was two long, thin birch poles joined together with rope and cloth to form a sled of sorts on which they were able to bring with them much more than if they had to carry it all.
"A travois. Indians used them a couple of hundred years ago. Of course, they had horses to pull them. Want me to take over for a while?"
"Not yet. I'll let you know when I get tired."
28
________________
____________
________
It was a little before sunset when Scott, Bob, and Ben stopped to make camp. They could have stretched the day a little further, put in a few more miles, but there was no hurry. The weather was mild, they had good tents, and plenty of firewood and food to make a comfortable meal.
"It's hard to believe you kids lived in that city," Scott said as Ben set up a cast iron pot above the campfire to boil some potatoes while Bob roasted sausages.
"It was in better shape, then," Ben said. "Lots of buildings were undamaged, or mostly so, until the earthquake hit. I was glad to see most of the camps moved out. Too bad we didn't have time to find them all."
"The few that were still there gave us all the information we needed," Bob said. "Maybe we'll go back one day to find more of them."
When the potatoes were done, Scott produced a chunk of butter and added it to the drained and chopped potatoes along with some salt and pepper.
"Where did you get butter?" Bob asked Scott as they all settled down near the fire.
"Elisa makes it from goat milk. She gave me some before we left."
"Sidney's a lucky guy. That girl will make a fine wife."
"What!?" Ben seemed shocked.
"Seriously? You haven't seen how the two of them are together?" Bob asked.
"I… I know they're friends but…"
"They're a lot more than friends, Ben," Scott said. "Who knows. Maybe they'll be married by the time you get back." He turned his attention to the potatoes and sausages. "I do so love a nice meal." He sighed, anticipating the first bite. "This is the good life. When you're away from the ruined cities and ghost towns, you can forget that the War ever happened. Look there, at that ridge of mountains. It cares nothing about us. You just look at it and never tire of it."
Bob rolled his eyes. "You only like being out here because it gets you away from your wife."
"Yes, well, if you had a wife like mine… Anyways, it's healthy to get a bit of space once in a while."
Scott only sighed again and took a bite of sausage. Ben loaded his plate without a word, but a twitch of the mouth and a crinkle at the corner of his eye betrayed his amusement.
Benjamin disappeared well before sunrise and returned carrying a pair of nice, fat catfish from the nearby stream. He cleaned the fish and set it up to roast above the fire he started.
Scott, who was busy taking out pots and pans for breakfast, sniffed the air appreciatively. "You've got a knack for that sort of thing."
"Not a knack," said Ben. "It's just what we do. We had to learn."
Breakfast became a feast of roast fish, canned beans and bacon, pancakes, and pot of strong coffee.
"Almost home," Scott said. "I'll bet you didn't think you'd ever set foot in the Boundary again."
Ben nodded. "It will be strange going back to the old place. Though I grew up there, I can hardly remember it. It seems almost like a dream, and not a very pleasant one."
"Well, you have nothing to be afraid of now, son," Bob said. "We'll just swing by the orphanage for a spell to pick up a few old records. Then you'll be coming with us to get food cards and a temporary Residential Permit, and to give a couple of interviews."
Bob tried to downplay the importance of the last few words, but they did not escape Ben. "Interviews?" he repeated with raised eyebrows.
"Well, yes," Scott said. "You see, Ben, you're among the first orphans to return to the Boundary. A pilot program, so to speak. Our supervisors will want to speak to you."
Ben looked doubtful, but said, "Alright then. But after that, I can do what I want, right?"
"Sure," said Scott. "There'll be plenty of time for going to the movies and other civilized entertainment."
"That's not what I have in mind."
"What are you were planning to do, then?" asked Bob.
Ben hesitated before saying, "I'm going to look for my mother."
Bob gave him a quick, half-pitying, half-alarmed look. Gently, he said, "They don't keep that information in the records, Ben. I'm sorry, son, but even if we wanted to, we'd have no way of finding out your mother's name."
Ben just nodded. Her name had been branded into his memory since the day he found his mother's letter in his backpack. And soon he would meet the person who put it there.
They drove through the gates of the Boundary, and a short time later, Ben found himself in a live city again. He pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the car window, intent on absorbing the sight of streets teeming with people, cars and buses honking, and neon signs blazing. Sights that were once ordinary now seemed so strange. It's all like a massive anthill. Ben suddenly wished they were back by the little stream where he fished that morning. So many more people packed the post-War Urban Islands than ever lived in the old cities and the crowdedness felt suffocating.
He did not expect to be thrilled at the sight of the large, peeling, depressing-looking façade of the orphanage, but the sense of dejection that engulfed him was surprising. He felt lost, friendless, and weak in the face of the great powers that once had complete control over his life. I feel like a little boy again. But I'm not. I'm an adult, if not by the standards within the Boundary, then by right of all I accomplished in the past five years. There's no reason to fear Madam Hart. She has no power over me anymore.
Thoughts of getting detention, poorly lit corridors, shabby, musty-smelling bedrooms, barely edible food, and so much more swirled through his head until Bob's voice brought him back to the present.
"They're supposed to know of our arrival," he said.
Minutes later, they were walking up the narrow path to the orphanage
gates. As usual, a guard lazed in his booth, poring over the crossword.
Ben grinned and shook his head, but then saw something else, a woman, short and plump, rushing forward to meet them. As the gate was opened he found himself standing right in front of her and took in the kind, anxious face, the powdery-grey hair. She's the same as I remembered, only so short! He held back a chuckle. He was a head taller than her now.
Her eyes were filled with tears and her voice broke as she spoke. "Benjamin Grey. Dear boy. Dear, dear boy."
"Mrs. Stocking." He felt a little embarrassed but not displeased at her emotion.
She stretched out a hand, as if meaning to shake his, but then flung her arms around him instead.
Ben felt his cheeks warming as he returned the hug and patted her awkwardly on the back.
"I'm so sorry," Mrs. Stocking said a moment later, releasing him and wiping her eyes. "It's just that meeting again, like this…"
"Quite understandable," Bob said. "I take it you were in charge of the children while Benjamin was growing up here?"
"If you just point us to the record-keeping room," Scott said, "we'll start on the paperwork and give you two some privacy."
"Of course. This way. Come on, Ben dear. Let's sit in my office. Madam Hart is away for a couple of days, so things are nice and quiet."
As they walked down a corridor, Ben caught a fleeting glimpse of several children in their mouse-grey school uniforms. A jolt of recognition and sadness went through him. It was all familiar beyond words, but at the same time he could hardly believe he had once been so young and frightened.
He remembered Mrs. Stocking did not have her own office in his day and this one was not much, just a tiny, cramped room with a single small window that did not let in much light. She made it cozy, though, with flowery wallpaper, white lacy curtains, and a thick shaggy rug. There was also a little gas stove with a fat, shiny copper kettle on it. Mrs. Stocking poured water into the kettle and lit the fire beneath it after she steered Ben toward one of the well-worn chairs.
"Just look at you!" she exclaimed, staring in disbelief. "So grown up and handsome! When we said goodbye, who would have thought we would meet again? But tell me, dear…" She stopped, as if afraid to utter the question she longed to ask.
Ben guessed what was on her mind. "Everyone's fine, Mrs. Stocking. All the people from our year are alive and well."
Mrs. Stocking exhaled with relief. "Oh, Ben. If you only knew how many nights I lay awake, remembering, wondering, blaming myself."
"It wasn't your fault, any of it. You always did all you could."
Mrs. Stocking shook her head. "It was too little, Ben. The guilt and all the memories…they eat away at one's soul, a bit at a time. I won't stay in the orphanage much longer. It's time for me to retire. But I'm afraid. I don't know what will become of the children."
The kettle began to sing. Mrs. Stocking rose, took it off the stove, and pulled a tin of biscuits from an upper shelf. "Help yourself, Ben, dear."
Ben took one, but his hand hovered halfway to his mouth. "Mrs. Stocking. Soon after we left school, I found a letter in my backpack."
She froze, tea-cup in hand. "I wondered how soon you'd read it," she whispered.
"All this time, I've been thinking about it. It was why I agreed to come with the government workers. Otherwise I wouldn't have bothered."
"You didn't want to get back into the Boundary?" She sounded surprised.
"I don't think many of the orphans do. But I… I was just thinking of finding my mother. I want to meet her."
Mrs. Stocking's face lit up with a smile. "This will make her so happy. If you only knew how much she suffered after you left. In her heart, she was never able to let go of you."
"Do you know where she lives?"
"Why, yes, dear. We've visited a couple of times. We haven't been in touch in recent years, but I don't imagine they moved."
The word they stirred a new awareness in Ben. Usually, when he thought of his family, it was mostly about his mother. But now he recalled with further clarity the other people mentioned in the letter – his father, brother, and sister. Can it be true that I'll soon meet them all?
He stayed with Mrs. Stocking for a while longer, filling her in on details of their life beyond the Boundary. He told her about repairing the old farmhouse, fishing and hunting, their new friends, the young families, and the little children until they were interrupted by a polite knock.
"Well, I think we're just about done," Bob said.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" Mrs. Stocking asked.
"Thank you, but no. We really ought to get going. Ben can visit another time, of course."
"Thanks for everything, Mrs. Stocking," Ben said, getting up and pocketing the slip of paper with the address she had written out for him.
"You are welcome, dear." She patted his arm and raised her eyebrows as she smiled and added, "Say hello from me."
The next few hours were tedious, involving a meeting at the government complex with Bob and Scott's supervisor, Chuck Winthrop. Ben had to answer what seemed like hundreds of questions, about visible signs of pollution, living conditions beyond the Boundary, available resources, social structure of the various groups, numbers of new children born to the young exiles, and on and on. A plate of doughnuts was brought in at some point, and Winthrop ate at least half of them by the time Ben finished one.
"Well," he said, chewing and frowning at the report Knightley and Davies presented him with, "I suppose you're the first out of many, lad."
"I don't think so," Ben said with a hint of coolness that was entirely missed, as Winthrop did not seem to be really listening.
"Arrange a room for him at the guest quarters," he told Bob and Scott. "And take care of the papers. He seems to be an able-bodied young fellow. There shouldn't be much trouble getting him a Class B citizenship. Then he can find work easily enough at one of the factories. I hear the Van Wullen enterprise is recruiting now."
Ben bit his tongue to refrain from saying just what he thought about the offered citizenship, but when Bob and Scott led him to his room, a small, oblong, dingy space with a single narrow bed that reminded him somewhat of the orphanage, his indignation burst forth.
"I'm not going to work at any factory. And I don't think I'll stay here very long."
Bob and Scott exchanged a glance. "It's your choice, Ben," Scott said. "If you'd rather be out there…well…you know the drill. You're not a prisoner."
"You can get out and about," Bob said. "Here's a bus pass, and here are some food stamps. You should be alright for a while."
"Thanks," Ben said, stifling a yawn.
Scott nodded. "We'll check on you tomorrow. Goodnight, Ben."
Finally alone, Ben went flipped the light switch and plunged the room into darkness. He pressed it again, and bright light filled the small space. Somewhere nearby, he could hear the sound of a flushing toilet. Electricity, running water, an ongoing supply of food they don't have to hunt for. So many luxuries are taken for granted within the Boundary! The security of it all was tempting, but he longed for the farmhouse and the quiet, soothing wilderness around it. The thin walls around him now offered only partial isolation from distant footsteps, muffled telephone conversations, and cars rumbling somewhere out there. It took him a long time to fall asleep.
It was late in the morning when Ben woke. He stepped into the shower and amused himself for a while playing with the tap, making the water hotter or colder with a single flip of his finger. After toweling himself dry, he donned his clothes. Under the door he found a note from Bob Knightley saying he would be in touch soon and suggesting that Ben might want to take a tour of the city to keep amused. This suited Ben just fine. He stuffed his food vouchers and bus pass into his backpack and walked out of the guest quarters.
When he lived at the orphanage, his only experience with the city was from inside a school bus taking them on a rare outing to a museum or factory, so he was completely unfamiliar with it an
d its workings.
He had never been on one of the city buses before, and felt almost like a delinquent as he climbed aboard and showed the driver his pass. The driver, however, gave him only a fleeting glance and nod, and none of the people on the bus paid him the slightest bit of attention. He found himself a seat by the window and watched the city views roll by.
The first few streets were dingy and relatively empty, but soon the bus approached the city center with its busy shops and broad sidewalks. Skyscrapers nearly obscured the skyline. Streets and sidewalks teemed with cars and people. Ben watched, fascinated, and decided to get off a few stops early to experience being among so many people. When he found himself in the middle of the packed sidewalk, he discovered it took willpower and effort to keep from being carried in the direction the crowd flowed.
Despite the recent riots, the district looked affluent and prosperous. Standing in a doorway, he soon realized there were two basic types of people passing by. First, there were the hurriers, people who were working or on their way someplace important and were only focused on getting there as fast as possible. Then there were those who walked more casually, chatting and laughing as if they had no care in the world. They went into shops and came out again, with bulging colorful bags in their hands. Others walked into fancy-looking restaurants and sat there behind polished tables, looking at glossy menus as they chose their lunch. When he looked in a few windows, he saw efficient-looking waiters cruising with trays of drinks and apéritifs. Inexperienced though he was, he guessed these were not the sort of places to accept food vouchers.
He passed the window of a jewelry shop. Gold necklaces and bracelets nestled on their dark velvet cushions, sparkling in the bright lights. Diamond rings caught the sunlight and cast small rainbows. He was immune to the appeal of precious metals and stones since they were not much good across the Boundary. Gold and diamonds would not keep you warm and fed in winter, after all. But from reading, he knew the cost of jewels in peaceful times. Only rich people who had plenty of money to buy all the food and clothes they would ever need could afford to splurge on shiny, pretty trinkets. They really have gotten over the War and are doing well. Even as he thought it, a man in a pinstriped suit brushed by him and entered the shop. Before the door finished closing, he heard him ask in a nasal voice to see their engagement rings.