by Jamie Canosa
Five jam-packed boxes later the house was still full of belongings. Where did all of that stuff come from? Peter finally left around eleven with a promise to come back the next day and help me finish up. I taped shut one last box and hoisted it over to the pile by the door before giving up for the night.
***
A black and white, plastic cat blaring out ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’ on his tiny tin trumpet. That was what I got to wake up to each and every glorious morning. The clock was a gift from my father and I just couldn’t bring myself to replace it, but that didn’t stop me from rooting for the confederate army just a little bit more each time I heard it.
I considered calling in sick to work to get more packing done. I mean, what were they going to do, fire me? But, in the end I didn’t want to miss out on my last day there, even if it was the equivalent of hell on earth. It would appear that I was quite the little masochist.
I let Marcus know that it was my last day and he finally sprang me from register duty. I spent the whole day in the kitchen listening to Sal spout off recipe after recipe for me to take to colony E. He even wrote one out that he swore would make everyone love me as soon as they tasted it. Unless the ingredients included some kind of hallucinogenic drug, I seriously doubted it.
At closing time Sal seemed genuinely sad to see me go. Who knew he may have actually liked me all that time? Marcus even gave me a bonus check as a congratulation’s on my pairing. Birthdays didn’t rank high enough to get me off the stupid register, but me leaving? Now, there was something to celebrate.
Peter was once again a no-show for the walk home. I wondered idly if that was going to become a regular thing before remembering probably not, since that was the last time I’d be making that particular walk. About an hour and a half after I got home, Peter finally decided to grace me with his presence, bursting through the front door without even bothering to knock.
“Come on in.”
“Leigh, there’s something I need to tell you.” He was panting like he’d run the whole way there.
“What is it?” His eyes were serious, scared even. I’d never seen that look from him before, and it was freaking me out.
“Listen, I looked up Scott Maylee in the archives today . . .”
“Peter, your abuse of your access there is really starting to border on stalkerish,” I joked, but he didn’t laugh. He didn’t even crack his signature grin.
“Leigh, he doesn’t exist.”
Chapter 4
“What?”
“I looked, and there are no files on him, not one. No birth certificate or report cards or work assignment . . . nothing.”
“So, what does that . . .?”
“Leigh, would you just listen to me for one second?”
“Peter, you’re overreacting.” Now things were back to normal. “It was probably just a glitch or something, or maybe you weren’t looking in the right place. You’re hardly foolproof, you know.”
“I looked everywhere. What do you think I was doing there so late? He doesn’t exist.”
“Peter, slow down. Breathe, would you? If Scott Maylee doesn’t exist, then who is my mate?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on, but . . . I don’t think you should go tomorrow.”
Definitely hadn’t seen that coming. I was the one with authority issues. Peter was as straight-laced as they came. If he was advocating rule breaking—
“Listen to yourself, you sound . . .” like me, “crazy.” Hmm, probably not the best synonym.
“I’m not crazy, Leigh. Everyone has files. Everyone! It’s just not possible . . .”
“Stop. Just stop it!” He was really starting to freak me out. “What are you saying, Peter?”
“I don’t know.” All the fight seemed to go right out of him as he dropped into a kitchen chair. “Leigh, you are one of the most opinionated loud mouths I’ve ever met. You have a problem with just about everything, and have no problem telling anyone who will listen.”
“Which is just you,” I pointed out.
When he looked up at me, I could see the strain in each of his features. “What if someone else was listening? Someone who didn’t like what they heard.” He looked so distraught that I felt bad for the guy.
“Like who, Peter?” I took a seat beside him, so he knew he had my full attention.
“I don’t know, Leigh. Maybe someone like the Head of Security?” Okay, now he was just getting snippy.
What was his deal? Was he trying to scare me? Because, if so, he was doing a pretty damn good job of it.
“Peter, I have to go. What else am I supposed to do? You said it yourself, that’s the way it is.”
For once, the look of defeat on his face didn’t bring me a sense of triumph. For once, I didn’t want to win.
“I don’t like it,” he reiterated, just in case I hadn’t already gotten the message loud and clear.
“Listen, I’ll write you when I get there, okay? Just because we can’t visit doesn’t mean we can’t keep in touch. Then you’ll know everything’s fine.”
“Fine.” I knew he would relent, but I hated to hear him do it. “Just be careful, all right?” Shifting toward me, he grabbed my arm and his eyes met mine with such determination that they held me captive. “If anything seems off when you get there, just get yourself back here, and we’ll figure it out. If this Scott guy isn’t . . . Remember what you said, how if your mate was awful, you’d refuse to marry him? Don’t forget that, Leigh.”
“All right, Peter.”
“Promise me.” His voice was stern as his fingers pressed into my arm.
“I promise, okay?”
“No, but I guess it’ll have to do.”
Despite his adamancy that he didn’t want me to go, he still helped me pack. Once again, the entire night was spent going through every last thing I owned, but this time around it was much more subdued. The laughter and horseplay from the night before long forgotten in light of more serious circumstances. Peter’s words echoed in my head like a relentless taunt. Don’t go? How could I possibly pull that off? They would be coming for me . . . soon. A train would be here tomorrow to take me away to colony E. What would happen if I wasn’t there? Would they look for me? Most likely, and there were only so many places to hide within the colony. Besides, even if I did manage to elude them, what would I do? After tomorrow, my home and apprenticeship would be reassigned. There really was no other option, only wishful thinking.
I wished like hell Peter had never opened his big mouth. That we could just pretend everything was fine, and I could spend a little more time having fun with my friend, instead of watching him sulk around my living room. It was almost three in the morning before the last of my belongings were safely tucked away in boxes and piled by the door. Neither of us was ready to say goodbye, so Peter opted to crash on my couch rather than go home.
***
The clang of pots and pans coming from downstairs roused me first thing in the morning, and the enticing scent of cinnamon lured me into the kitchen where I found Peter standing over the stove, attempting to make French toast.
“I thought you should have a good breakfast on your big day.” He reached into the overhead cabinet for something, and knocked out no less than three bottles of seasoning.
“I think you missed your calling as a chef,” I teased, watching him splatter batter across the counter in an attempt to wrangle the wayward bottles.
“Let’s just hope my mate can cook, or we’re both going to starve.” A grin lit up his face as he shoved the bottles back in the cabinet and turned to me over the pan spitting butter at the both of us.
Almost all traces of the previous day’s apprehension were gone. He’d buried it deep where I wouldn’t have to face it, but he couldn’t quite disguise the anxiety in his eyes. I chose to ignore it. If he could play this game, so could I.
Regardless of our jokes, he actually made a pretty mean French toast, and I indulged in one of the best meals I’d had
in a while. The company didn’t hurt either. We lingered around the table, taking small bites and talking, but no matter how slowly we ate, we couldn’t hold off reality forever.
At precisely nine-thirty, our little world of make believe came crashing down when four men arrived to collect my belongings. Apparently they were going to be taken to the train station for me. Peter helped them load the boxes into the back of an old blue pickup truck. I’d only seen a car twice in my life, so I couldn’t help but stare at it. They were used primarily for official business, so it was kind of rare to have one sitting outside your house. The men offered me a ride, but I opted to walk with Peter instead. As intriguing as the vehicle looked, something about the idea of moving at forty miles an hour was terrifying.
“You’d better get a move on then,” one of the men told me as he climbed up into the back of the truck, surrounded by my boxes. “You wouldn’t want your belongings making the trip without you.”
That would actually have been perfectly fine with me, but I just nodded. The house looked sad and lonely with nothing left in it but the furniture. Peter waited patiently for me by the door as I took one last look around. It had been a good home, but there was no use dwelling on it. It was time to move on. Pulling the door shut behind us, I said goodbye to the only home I’d ever known.
The closer we got to the station, the harder my heart beat. I was absolutely terrified and it had very little to do with anything Peter had said. I just couldn’t believe I was about to leave behind everything I knew. Besides Peter, there wasn’t much I would specifically miss, just the comfort of the known, I guess. Going alone to some place where I wasn’t sure what or who was waiting for me was one of the scariest things I could imagine. I didn’t notice I was wringing my hands together until Peter pried them apart and wrapped them in his.
“Don’t go, Leigh.” His eyes pleaded with me to stay.
“Peter . . .”
“I know . . . you have to, but I had to ask one more time. Don’t forget, anything goes wrong you get back to me, all right?”
“I’ll write you.” I had to force the words out over the lump forming in my throat.
“I’m going to miss you, Kaleigh Maylee.”
A pained smile crossed his face, and I forced myself to return it. Without meaning to, I started laughing, and then we were both giggling like school girls. Sometimes you just have to laugh or cry, and I’ve never been big on tears.
“I’ll miss you too, Peter.”
He pulled me into a tight hug, something I rarely tolerated, but then I allowed it. I even returned the embrace. He didn’t release me until an irritated looking man stepped out onto the platform and conspicuously cleared his throat. Every step I took hurt just a little bit more until I was inside the train and waving to Peter from the window as we pulled out of the station. I kept standing there, staring out the window, unable to move, until both he and colony D were long out of sight.
“I’ll show you to your compartment now.” A man in an all-black guards’ uniform was standing beside me.
Now that I thought about it, the men at the house who took my belongings were also in uniform. Not what I’d expected, but no one was acting like it was anything out of the ordinary for them, so I brushed it off.
We passed through several passenger cars as well as a small dining car before reaching a row of individual compartments closed off from the main corridor where the guard stopped and held open a door for me. The interior was impressive: a large bed, curtains on the windows, even a small closet with a full length mirror on it.
“How long will the trip take?” I caught the guard just before he left.
“Not long.” His voice was rough, all pretenses of politeness gone. “You’ll finish the trip in here.”
“But, what if . . .”
“Here,” he barked, slamming the door shut behind him.
Even before I heard the lock slide into place, I knew something was wrong. The lock . . . on the outside of the door.
I threw myself across the small room, and yanked on the door knob until my hand cramped, but it refused to budge. I was trapped. My hands throbbed from pounding on the door as I demanded to be told what was happening. I wasn’t sure if there was anyone out there, but if there was, they weren’t answering.
Waves of panic crashed over me as I tried to steady my breathing. Hyperventilating was not the ideal solution. A faint hiss resonated throughout the room and I focused on that. I needed to solve at least one problem in order to hold it together, and locating the source of the sound seemed like the easiest challenge in front of me at the moment.
I followed the noise, listening intently, to a vent near the base of the wall. As I watched, a pale white vapor started pouring from it and crept like a thick fog across the floor. Attempting to keep out of its reach, I backed across the room, but the space was only so big. With my back pressed against the door I was suddenly finding it difficult to stand. My eyes felt heavy and the edges of my vision were beginning to blur. I was only vaguely aware of my knees and then my face hitting the dark green carpeting. The pain barely registered as the door swung open, slamming right into the side of my head.
“Get her up.”
The voice sounded dull and garbled, like it was coming from underwater. I struggled to pick out the speaker, but my eyes refused to stay open long enough. There was pressure under my arms as my body was lifted off the floor and then dull comfort as I was dropped onto the bed. A blue comforter with red roses was the last thing I saw before everything faded to blackness and silence.
Chapter 5
Beep, beep, beep.
I cracked my eyes open and peered at the glowing red numbers beside my bed. Five-fifteen. Time to start another day. I reached out to switch off the beeping monstrosity and froze, my hand hovering inches above the offensive piece of technology. I was suddenly noticing a distinct lack of anything patriotic. Not that I was complaining, but where the hell was my cat clock?
I flipped the switch, and the room slipped back into the pressing silence of the early morning hours. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes while simultaneously trying to convince them to remain open, I decided that the mystery of the missing clock would be better left until my brain was operating on a higher level of coherence.
A shower was of the utmost importance at the moment and a cup of that dark, steaming liquid they called coffee in all of those old movies wouldn’t have been too bad either. Too bad it didn’t exist anymore. I had to physically force my body out of the bed and into the bathroom. I fumbled around under the hot spray for nearly ten minutes before I noticed that something was off. The light was dim, tinged a greenish shade because of the hunter green shower curtain that was muting it. My shower curtain was not green. It was clear, so that my shower was usually brightly lit, with little yellow duckies on it. Seriously, first my clock and now my shower curtain? I was definitely too tired to deal with this.
After my shower, I felt about a million times better, although my brain continued to cling to a certain degree of fuzziness. Of course, by this point, I was officially running late, as usual. I grabbed a quick piece of toast and shoved it in my mouth, as I fumbled to lock the front door behind me. In my haste, I would most definitely have overlooked the large manila envelope lying on the porch had it not been right at the top of the stairs and nearly sent me spilling down them. Great spot for it . . . if the mail carrier had been trying to make me break my neck. Who knew, maybe he was. I couldn’t think of anything I had done recently to anger him, but who could really tell with postal employees.
The heft of the envelope surprised me when I snapped it up, planning to toss it closer to the door so that exact thing didn’t happen on my way back in later. But that was before I noticed the stamp in the corner. U.S. Employment Dept. Well, that couldn’t be good. I slipped my finger under the seam, deciding the muffins and cakes could wait another minute. Inside was an officially sealed sheet of paper. I had to read it three times before I was sure of what I was
seeing. I’d been reassigned . . . to maintenance. Were they kidding me? This had to be some kind of bad joke. I glanced around for Peter, half expecting to see him rolling on the ground in a fit of laughter somewhere, but I was alone. I tried to think back and recall what I possibly could have done to Marcus to make him request a reassignment for me, but my memory was coming up kind of blurry. Well, just great! Now what was I supposed to do? Follow this clearly erroneous letter and report to the maintenance office, or dismiss it as the blunder it was and go to the bakery as usual?
That was hardly a tough call. Seriously, who wants to spend even one day cleaning up other people’s messes? Not me. I started down the stairs, my mind made up, but my feet seemed to be working against me. I really did need some caffeine . . . or sugar. I’d have to grab something at work. I made it all the way to the end of the walkway before the stomach cramps set in. I took another step out onto the sidewalk and they tightened. What the hell? Every step made them worse and worse until I felt like I might vomit right there in the hedge. Maybe I wouldn’t be going to work anywhere.
A few deep breaths and I was able to stand upright again, but the very thought of going to the bakery made me gag. Maybe maintenance wouldn’t be so bad for just one day. I could get everything sorted out after that, and resume my old position punching keys on the register tomorrow morning.
Naturally, the maintenance office was on the exact opposite side of town, and with a quick stop off at home to change back out of my bakery uniform, I was running insanely late. By the time I arrived, people were already pouring back out of the building to report to their daily assignments. An older man with scruffy facial hair pulled me inside and immediate chewed me out. There’s a way to start the day. I could thank my tardiness for my crap assignment, and he meant that literally. My job for the day was to scrub the public toilets in the park and the town hall building.
Before ten a.m., I was up to my elbows in my third toilet of the day. The smell alone was enough to knock me out. I grabbed the bottle of toilet cleaner, which was hard to grip with those oversized rubber gloves I was wearing, and squirted it into the water. How hard was it to pee inside the toilet, people? Disgusting. Standing over the stinking mess, I used a bristled brush to scrub it until it shined. What was I thinking coming there? I must have lost my mind. I sighed as the brush came out of my grasp and dropped with a splash into the nasty toilet water. Now I got to fish it out, fantastic. I had definitely lost my mind.