“You left early his morning. I left Orry with Odval at home,” and then, like Rash had appeared from nowhere, “Oh hello, Rasheed.”
Rash waved. “Hey Jo…” When Joseph narrowed his eyes, he finished with “…seph. Um, err, I’m gonna go. They need help repairing the façade of the hospital.
“Stay away from the glue,” I shouted after him.
He barked a hard laugh. “Haha! Yeah, very funny, Soar,” he said sarcastically.
Joseph looked at me questioningly. “Inside joke,” I said lightly.
He shook his head. “I hate those.”
I ignored him and turned to touch my nose to his. Looking into his eyes, I felt myself spinning. I reached my lips to his and tugged on his bottom one with my teeth. When I pulled back his eyes were still closed.
“I’m going to go visit Pietre today.” I groaned. I had put it off long enough.
A voice carried across the ward.
“Ooh, my turn then.” Careen bounded towards us and placed her hands on the wheelchair handles. I cringed as she crooned to Apella, “Matthew said you could go outside today.”
“Are you sure?” I asked warily.
“Yes, Nurse Rosa, I’m sure.” She rolled her eyes at me.
I bent down, trying to connect with Apella’s listless eyes. “I’ll be back later.”
She nodded.
I reluctantly let go and left her to it. Joseph and I walked out of the hospital. The air did feel a little warmer. It had that sweet, heavy smell of spring. I inhaled and tried to remember when this place felt like home. But with every foot placed gently over a crack in the cobblestones, I felt the trudge of thousands of soldiers surging towards the hospital, the panic of the people as they ran. The way the air seemed cut up and filled with screams. I didn’t feel safe here anymore, not when I knew they could come back. And they had Deshi.
The records showed we had lost 281 people. That included Gwen and the others lost on the retrieval mission. The rest were mostly elders.
I stopped walking, my sneakers rubbing over the rounded edge of a cobblestone, and heaved a difficult breath. Everything kept getting stuck. My moments of happiness were shreds that twisted around a much bigger knot of fear and grief.
“What’s wrong?” Joseph had his hands on my shoulders, but I was looking past him. I was in the mess of bodies, searching for Deshi. I wasn’t here.
He shook me a little. “Rosa?”
I blinked, the shutter rising a little. “I miss Deshi,” I said, which was only half of what I was feeling, but I was trying to let it out in small bits.
Joseph found my hand and wrapped his warm fingers around my balled-up fist. “Me too…” His eyebrows rose, and he smiled at me. “I almost forgot. Um, before you go to see Mr. Sunshine, come home. I want to show you something.”
I shrugged. I was in no rush to see Pietre. Joseph had been seeing to his medical needs since he was released from hospital and, from all accounts, he was being the same surly, self-pitying ass he always was.
Joseph dragged me up the hill.
*****
Our home was still our home but, now that I knew Woodland soldiers had picked their way through it, it felt stained. Tainted. I couldn’t stand that they had been here, peeking into our lives. I knew Joseph felt it too. He always stepped over the threshold uneasily, like he was waiting for someone to jump at him. But today, when we got to the front door, all we could hear was Orry making nonsense sounds and Odval clapping her hands.
I was starting to wonder how Orry could do the things he did. How he could bind and break me at the same time. Was this what it felt like to be a mother, or was there something wrong with me?
Joseph took my hand and led me inside. Odval registered our presence, and then returned her gaze to Orry, who lay on the floor with his head up. He saw me and mumbled, “Mm, ah, mm, ah.”
I put my hand over my mouth, my teeth grazing my fingers. Joseph placed his hand in the small of my back and pushed me forward. I knelt down at the edge of the rug and watched Orry rock back and forth on his knees. Odval started to clap. I eyed her suspiciously, wondering what she was clapping about. Then Orry rocketed forward, his face adorably stern, as he concentrated all his strength on pulling himself to me.
Before I could stop myself, I was clapping, squealing, and talking in an annoying voice, beckoning him to come closer. He made it to me. I scooped him up in my arms and held him above my head. “Look at what you did,” I said, rubbing my nose against his. He beamed and copied the clapping around him.
There was a swell. Something small at first, that climbed higher and took over. It was sweet and filled me to bursting. It was pride. I swung him around and around and laughed. I was really getting it now. This was why. If nothing else, we had to preserve this.
I hugged him close to me and breathed in the soft smell of his hair. His unique baby-ness. Joseph went to take him from me, but I wouldn’t let him go.
“Not yet,” I said, clutching him closer. I looked into those weird eyes of his and cocked my head to the side. “What other amazing things can you do?”
A big blob of dribble fell out his mouth and landed on my toe. I laughed loud, my ribcage rattling from it. “Oh, that’s very impressive!”
Odval patted my shoulder, “It is. Very.” She crinkled her kind eyes at me. “Making you laugh like that is a true talent. We need more laughter.”
The fridge opened, and Joseph’s voice carried over the door. “You staying for dinner, Odval?”
“No thank you, Joseph. I’m having Pelo over for dinner tonight.”
I paused and chose not to react. I hadn’t seen Pelo since we had found Apella. Joseph was oblivious. “Oh, that’s nice. Tell him hi from me.”
“I will,” she said shyly, looking to me for a response and receiving nothing but silence. She left.
I swung Orry onto my hip and told Joseph I was going to take him with me. I needed a buffer between Pietre and me. Joseph frowned but let me go.
*****
The door was ajar, warm air tunneling its way out through the crack. Orry grabbed the frame and slammed it shut before I could stop him.
“Who is it?” Pietre’s voice growled.
“It’s me, Rosa,” I squeaked.
I heard a groan and a shuffle as I pushed my way inside.
He sat up on a crusty, old couch, his face as squished and contorted as the cushions. One leg was up on the coffee table, the other a stump covered in bandages.
“What do you want?” he scowled up at me.
I searched for somewhere to sit and found a chair covered in dirty laundry. I pushed it to one side with a look of distaste and squeezed myself in.
“I just came to see how you were doing since the…” Don’t say leg being chopped off, I warned myself. “Um… since the surgery.”
“Stupid question,” he snarled, looking down at where his leg used to be.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I said, staring at the floor, which was covered in fluff and other indescribable bits of dirt.
Silence floated between us for what seemed like ages. Everything was filthy, the whole place screamed to be cleaned. It smelled like rotten cabbage, and Pietre himself looked like he could use a wash down but I wasn’t going to volunteer for that job. I tapped my chin, wondering what I could say to make him feel better.
“Pietre, it stinks in here,” I said, abandoning pleasantries. It was our way, so why pretend now? “Here, take Orry,” I said, plopping the clueless child in Pietre’s lap. Pietre’s face was misery and self-pity, and I couldn’t stand it. I looked away from him and went to the window, throwing open the curtains. It unearthed all the dirt covering the floors and shot waves of dust into to air. I sneezed. Orry laughed, and Pietre gave him a peculiar look, like he wasn’t sure the baby was quite human.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s just a baby. So really, you two should get along fine.” I stormed out of the room and went to clean out the refrigerator.
As I moved through every
inch of Pietre’s home, small pieces of conversation drifted towards me like music. My initial reaction was to gag. Pietre was cooing to my kid and blowing raspberries. I heard my child clapping. Then Orry started to cry. A low and beautiful thrum wove its way soothingly through the house washing down the walls. A warm, deep voice, a song I’d never heard, but felt in time with.
It’s up to you
And it’s not fair
Nothing you do comes out easy in the end
The sound and intention behind it was so soft and sweet. I honestly couldn’t believe it came from Pietre.
You’re only new
But it has begun
You’ll reach for stars and they’ll fall down as much as they shine
Please don’t cry
I’m in it with you
We’re all part of the same chain, the same fight
I paused in the doorway, letting the chorus trickle over me. The heartbreaking truth of it wracked me.
Time ticks forward
Time takes away
It will take you away
Away from me
We’re fighting against the seconds
But they always catch you in the end
They always catch you in the end
He was right. We were always fighting, against time, against each other. It never ended, and it never got easier.
I hovered through the house, stripping sheets and dusting the sills, with Pietre’s amazing singing voice stalking me, the words of his song echoing in my own heart. So much of what I felt was in that one chorus. I was baffled.
Everything was always unexpected. I would never have guessed that Pietre was some kind of baby whisperer. The knowledge that he had this soft side had a weird effect on me, turning my stomach and warming my heart at the same time.
I hung in the arch between the kitchen and the living room, watching the two boys interact. I spoiled it by breathing too loudly. Pietre’s head snapped to me, and the moment was broken.
“What are you staring at?” he grunted. I eyed his hand, which was still clasped around my son’s chubby little stomach.
I smiled. “Nothing.”
“You know, I’m not the monster you think I am,” he said, scruffing up Orry’s blond curls. “I wanted one of these for myself one day.” His eyes connected with my son’s. “And then I could teach them all about great Indie rock.”
“You still can,” I said flippantly, noting the name of the band so I could look up the song.
Pietre gave a sour laugh. “Not here.”
I finished cleaning up and left. Pietre didn’t thank me. I didn’t really expect him to.
There was something coming. A change. Not here, he’d said. He was right. We couldn’t stay here.
The idea sucked the air out of me.
Surrounded by the Spiders, the beat of unsteady and different voices drummed at my head. It looked like a small circus had arrived at the Survivor’s settlement. These people were as far from All Kind as you could get, and that distance was pushed even further by their need for change. They were the dissidents, the unwanted, and the mistreated. Except for perhaps Olga. Despite her odd appearance, I was interested to learn she was a well-respected scientist. But like Apella, she found the breeding program hard to stomach.
Eleven Spiders, including my father, hovered around the front of the stage. Some leaned with their arms over a table, others talked to the eager Survivors. It was noisy, and I was glad I’d left Orry at home with Odval.
A circle of red, shiny cans mixed with greenish-blue ones glowed on the table under the theater lights. The Spiders turned them over in their hands suspiciously. I laughed in amusement, as I watched the reactions when the cans were cracked open. Noses were pinched and gulps were taken, resulting in burps. I shook one up and tossed it to Rash. It exploded as soon as he opened it, soaking his shirt with sugary, brown liquid. He flashed his white teeth and took a swig. He seemed to like it. I noticed he had changed his shoes as he crossed one leg over the other and leaned back against a pillar, chugging the rest of his drink and swiping his mouth. He now wore the canvas sneakers we all wore. It suited him.
The Spiders had been summoned, along with the senior members of the community and any of us who had gone on the recovery mission. So Joseph and I were there, Matthew, Gus, Pietre, and Careen. Rash was invited and stood casually leaning against one of the theater chairs, wearing a bemused expression, his eyes running up and down the heavy, velvet curtains. My face cracked into a grin when our eyes connected. There were so many things to explain to him about this place.
The leaders sat at the front as they always did, and the man with the long braid called out, “Welcome Spiders. We are so pleased you made it to our settlement.” He pulled the braid over his shoulder and started twisting it in his fingers. “Unfortunately, we have do not have much time in which to plan our next move. So I will forgo formalities and ask you to submit your passports immediately.”
There were a few murmurs. I searched Joseph’s eyes; he shrugged and returned his gaze to the stage. There was something stiff in his manner. Rash beamed at me. His eyes said, Can’t wait to see what happens next. We watched as the Spiders moved towards the tables, rummaged around in their pockets, and threw handfuls of small, black discs on the table that clanged against each other like plastic coins.
“Can everyone take a seat?” the braid man asked, his face serious.
We filled the first two rows of the theater. I was sandwiched between Rash and Joseph in what felt like a one-sided tug-o-war. Joseph’s hand clamped down on my thigh. I eyed it, and then swept it off. His hand turned to a fist, resting on his own leg. The lights went off, and the velvet curtains parted with a squeak and a roll. The sound of age-old ropes and pulleys not used for years. Clumps of dust the size of cotton balls fell from the ceiling, landing on the stage and at my feet. People coughed and sneezed. A cloudy atmosphere surrounded us, oppressive and dark. My mind wrapped around the moment a little too tightly. Uncomfortable, I squirmed in my seat, my legs jittering. Rash went to put his hand on my leg, but Joseph’s stare was like a shot of flame, even in the half dark, and Rash withdrew.
Gus and Matthew lifted a large, metal box onto the table and fiddled around, aiming it towards the white screen that was revealed behind the curtain. A spot of light grew until it filled the entire space. Gus grunted as he picked up one of the discs, placed it inside a tray on the box, and shoved it closed.
The light flickered, and a wobbly image appeared and slowly stabilized. It was a picture of a crowd of Woodland soldiers, all in black. Two white tents were set up, and the soldiers were lining up. The image focused closely on one soldier sitting in a chair, a woman pulling his hair back as she carefully smudged his face with tan colored paint. The soldier was young, his eyes scrunched tight, and his black curls strung back from his face by the unforgiving woman’s hand. The theater had become so quiet. People leaned forward in their seat, scrutinizing the bizarre behavior. Some soldier were laughing and milling around outside the tents with plastic caps on their heads. The sun hit them when they passed outside the shadow of the wall and brassy strands of dyed hair glinted in the light.
After two minutes, the image flicked over to another scene in which a woman was having a tug-of-war with a soldier, each holding the hand of a girl of maybe twelve. The mother’s swollen belly revealed the reason for the struggle.
There was image after image of Woodland cruelty. Schematic drawings of certain buildings were a welcome respite from the violence. Lists of sympathizers and another list of people particularly loyal to the Woodlands popped up, and notes were taken. Lots of the films were soldiers carrying out punishments. One incidence was particularly chilling, as it showed a soldier refusing to carry out a punishment and his superior reversing the roles and having the offender carry out the finger smashing on the soldier.
As I watched this, my eyelids started to blink for longer. Each time they closed, I waited longer to open them because there was
always a new violence, a new atrocity for me to witness. Without meaning to, Joseph had clasped my hand in both of his. He took deep breaths with every new film, his chest expanding with what I imagined was heat. There was anger and shock in all of us, and it was breaking its way to the surface.
When they started showing images of the underground facility, I didn’t identify it immediately. It could have been a hospital anywhere. It was only when they showed a birth, a girl with lolling eyes in a pink room, looking confused and sweaty. There was a crowd of doctors around her, the child burst through with a scream, and then they separated them. The child was laid down on a table and was inspected, eyes poked, skin pinched. Someone said, “Pretty close,” and they swaddled the baby and left.
My lips felt dry, an uneasy, queasy feeling rising and sinking in my stomach. Joseph had released my hand, and I could feel that both his and Rash’s eyes had left the screen and were now staring intently at me. When they showed the exercise room, my whole body heaved. I gripped the sides of the chair like it was rocking in an angry sea. My vision bubbled and bulged. It was starker than I remembered. The pathetic images still flicked. The blue sky overhead was scratched, revealing grey concrete. Bedraggled girls shuffled in lines, their knotted hair falling in their eyes, their giant stomachs weighing them down, hard as boulders.
Whispering, “Oh Jesus,” I put my hand over my mouth and just stopped. I stopped breathing, stopped moving. I felt the gas drug cloud swirling around me. I heard Clara’s voice searching for me in the darkness. I felt Orry moving inside me, the hatred, the fear, and the crushing helplessness. I stood up and slowly moved towards the aisle, taking small gasps of air, but it was like the gas was everywhere. I didn’t dare breathe. When I got to the aisle, I ran, slipping on the carpet and clutching my stomach protecting the bump that was no longer there. I pulled myself up and it was like climbing a mountain, a shaking, rumbling mountain.
I could hear them behind me, but I ignored it. I couldn’t think. I slammed through the toilet doors and into a stall, making myself small and breathless like a soft stone. I tried to picture blackness, but those girls, those bodies, kept shoving me through the lines. Because there was nothing better and nothing worse than how I felt. I got out, I escaped, and with that came a flood of relief. But snagged in the raging water of that flood, were sharp stabs of guilt and grief.
The Wounded (The Woodlands Series) Page 10