Blaire took another spoonful and struggled to swallow.
“…and the mystery of why all of the children are so severely malnourished is solved.” Travis felt a knot in his stomach from the food and the immense job that lay ahead of them.
“How is your office coming along?” Blaire asked, changing the subject.
“Pretty good, I should be able to start examinations soon. I just want to get everything organized and, more importantly, sterilized,” he said. “…but I’m missing some basics.”
“Like what?”
“I’m going to need thermometers for sure, a stethoscope, bandages, the basics, you know?”
Across the room Blaire noticed Danya and Dariya sitting quietly together resembling a circus sideshow act of some sort. Danya’s old camera hung from her neck on its beat-up strap. Blaire’s eyes floated down to the girl’s chest, which was exposed down to just beneath her collar bone. A purplish bruising was apparent, and Blaire was sure it was new and not on the girl before. Travis’ voice was chattering somewhere far in the background as Blaire continued to review what seemed a fresh injury. At that moment, Blaire’s eyes flicked up to meet Danya’s, and Blaire realized that both sisters were now staring right through her. Danya lifted her camera and pointed it at Blaire, who felt it all coming at her. She would be struck by something shooting out of the old camera, capturing her, pulling her in, and destroying her.
Say cheese, 1…2…
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Hello!”
Both Blaire and Travis looked up to find a jovial strawberry-blonde woman standing over them.
“Hello,” Blaire offered a bewildered greeting. Cheerful people were not something that Blaire had become accustomed to seeing here, and, in only a day, an enthusiastic person seemed peculiar.
“I’m Anya. I work here,” the plump young woman said, smiling. In one hand she had a bowl of the lunch slop, and, with the other, gave a long wave that glided in front of her chest like a windshield wiper.
“Hi Anya. I’m Blaire Baker and this is Travis Wells. We’re here with the United Care Organization. We’re volunteers.”
“I know. You are American, right?” Anya wiggled into one of the chairs at the table without an invitation, though the minor faux pas bothered neither Blaire nor Travis.
“Right,” Travis confirmed.
“So how long have you been here at St. Sebastian?” Blaire asked.
“A couple of years. Are you just caretakers?” Anya spoke, shoveling a spoonful of the weird oatmeal into her small mouth.
“I’m a teacher and Travis is a nurse,” Blaire answered. Anya seemed amazed by their middle class occupations.
“I will be teaching down the hall in the classroom and Travis will be working in the old nurse’s office.”
“That is good news, that is fantastic news, and the children will be so thrilled.” Anya clasped her hands together and erupted in an enormous burst of laugher that ended in a subtle snort.
They all laughed.
Anya nodded and again began to eat excitedly. Suddenly she was insecure under the watchful eyes of the Americans. “I should stop. My husband thinks I need to lose a few pounds.”
It was clear that Anya was not suffering from malnutrition like the children, though fat would not have been the most accurate term to describe her; round was a better word, like a fairy godmother. The few extra pounds around her waist signaled only that she was a woman who knew that good food sometimes nourished the soul just as much as it did the body, unlike Vesna and Hannah whose thin frames reminded Blaire more of cackling witches.
“You look healthy to me,” Travis said with a smile that made Anya blush.
“I believe that there are some things in the shed that both of you may find useful for your work,” Anya offered.
“Really? That would be great.” Blaire forced down another bite of the tasteless gray matter in her bowl.
“Not much, maybe just a board, some blocks and chalk, and things like that. I’m not sure how much stuff there would be for the nurse’s office, but it couldn’t hurt to take a look,” Anya added.
“Thanks,” Travis said.
“Thank you,” Blaire added. “Anya, do you know what’s for dinner?”
“More of this I’m afraid.” Anya held up her spoon, allowing the chunky substance to plop down into her bowl. A thin mask of embarrassment slipped over her face.
“The children eat this every day?” Travis stared at his untouched portion.
Anya nodded her head up and down, hesitant in her confirmation as if she would be in trouble with the powerless volunteers.
“This is terrible for the children,” Blaire said in a voice that could be heard over the resounding noise that bounced eagerly off all the walls in the room. Oddly enough, it had quieted down to a whisper just before she spoke, which caused her assertion to be heard clearly across the room. A ferocious glare came from Vesna, who sat two tables over. Anya’s head lowered, so as not to catch any part of the chastising scowl from the older woman, who appeared to laud some type of seniority over the rest of the St. Sebastian clan.
“I must go. I have a few things to do before I start my shift.” Anya got up and scooted away from the table.
“Bye,” Blaire and Travis called out in unison.
Travis’ eyes returned to his full bowl of slop, and he stirred it quietly. “It’s going to be a long year.”
The next morning Blaire stood in the doorway of her classroom admiring her work. It wasn’t finished, but at least it was clean. With a new layer of sparkle and some items that Anya helped her find in the shed, her classroom was starting to look like a place where children could learn. In the shed Travis had found some of the basics that he needed, Blaire dug out a standing globe that, with a little polish, was just like new. Anya found a lamp that was perfect for Blaire’s desk. They turned up chalk and erasers for the board that Travis promised to hammer back on the wall. Also, there were educational posters and oversized cutouts of all the letters of the alphabet, except the J and the K. She would hang them after the walls were coated with a fresh layer of the cream-colored paint that also had been discovered in the rusty treasure trove that sat on the side of the main building.
Blaire sat her bag on the desk and proceeded toward the back of the classroom to open the windows when she stopped suddenly. Looking back, she took a mental note of every object on her desk.
Her body stiffened slightly when she noticed that the lamp that she had placed to the left of her computer last night, now sat to the right of it. Blaire went to the door and flipped the lock back and forth, and it was indeed functional, which allowed her to shrug off any sinister suspicion. Blaire’s attention was drawn to the clown-faced children in the photograph up above the closet door. They laughed at her, at first softly, but it grew until it was loud and ringing in her ears like school bells, quickly dissolving into a blare of sirens, and then once again into the laughter of the children. They got up from the places where they sat in the photograph and ran and played in a circle with one another. Blaire could hear them so clearly that it was as if they were in the room. She looked around and realized that their playful voices and laughter were in the room, as the sounds were coming up through the vent at the bottom of one of the walls.
“Good Morning,” Anya said, poking her head through the door and smiling brightly.
“Geeze!” Blaire jumped. “You scared me.”
“Sorry. Anya here, reporting for duty.”
“Are you always this cheerful in the morning?” Blaire asked.
By late afternoon the entire room was painted, and they sat on the floor by the open windows, waiting for the paint to dry and the horrible smell to disburse. Outside, Blaire could hear the waves gently brushing the shore, and she felt relaxed for a moment. She and Anya shared a meal of some of the snacks that Blaire had brought from Kerchaviv when she arrived.
Anya devoured half a bag of chips and several cookies which she immediately regrette
d as it violated the terms of her strict new diet.
“Are you from Borslav?” Blaire asked as she snacked on peanut butter crackers.
“No, I am from another town north of Kerchaviv, but my husband is from Borslav. His entire family came to Borslav many years ago from a small town called Slokivka.”
“What does your husband do?” Blaire asked.
“He’s a locksmith. His father was a locksmith and his grandfather, too. He installed all of the locks on almost every home and business in Borslav, including this place. His great- great-grandfather installed the original locks on this place when it was a home for the guy who built it.” Anya spoke proudly of her husband and his history.
After their lunch Anya helped Blaire clean up the paint supplies and offered to put them away before starting her shift with the children.
“Are you going to stay?” Anya asked sheepishly as she stood in the doorway, barely making eye contact.
“Yes, I have some work to finish,” Blaire said as she flipped open her laptop. “Thank you, Anya, for all of your help.”
Anya stood at the door, her gaze lingering uncomfortably on Blaire.
The long hesitation caused Blaire to ask, “Is there anything else?”
“I meant here at St. Sebastian. Are you going to stay? People like you don’t stay.”
“Forever?” Blaire questioned, sincerely trying to understand just what Anya was trying to ask since she seemed too frightened to just come out with it.
Anya was silent. When she finally spoke, she seemed unsure of her own words, “…of course, not forever.” Her voice almost a whisper now, infusing every inch of skin on Blaire’s body with a prickly tingle.
“For the next year, yes, I am going to stay here. I have no plans on leaving anytime soon. I was sent here to do a job, to help these children, and I am going to do it.”
“You’re going to help them?” Anya questioned further.
“Yes, I will help them.” Blaire felt as if she were somehow agreeing to something implied that was far beyond anything that she could have ever imagined.
CHAPTER NINE
Days passed and Anya’s words still worried Blaire, sometimes occurring to her randomly over breakfast, in the middle of her nightly shower or just before bed as they did now. She sat up and peeked out her window. The wind was picking up, sweeping the building with a loud whistle. Blaire looked at Travis, who was sound asleep. Nature was calling, but she hated the idea of skulking around St. Sebastian at this time of night. She remembered the nightmare that she had on that first night at St. Sebastian, which still made her queasy with thoughts of Dolly, but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to sleep until she went.
Blaire opened the bedroom door and tiptoed quickly to the bathroom. She smiled at her mischievousness, like a young girl at summer camp, sneaking out of her cabin after bed check to head for the boys across the lake. She didn’t bother to turn on the lights as she could make out the silhouettes of everything in the bathroom with just the dim light from the moon. When she was done, she washed her hands quickly and as she headed toward the door, she caught a glimpsed her own reflection in the mirror over the sink but she wasn’t alone; there was someone behind her.
A short bursting scream escaped Blaire as she turned to face, not another person but a huge furry rat that was perched on the counter. The hairy creature hissed at her and she stumbled back, tripping over her own clumsy feet. A sharp pain shot through Blaire as her elbow crashed into the hard floor. She moaned in pain.
Clambering to her feet, Blaire looked frantically for the small beast that had already scurried away. Looking into the mirror now she saw only the reflection of her disheveled self and the empty bathroom behind her.
“You look terrible,” Travis said the next morning when he woke to Blaire slipping into faded jeans and a violet blouse.
“Yeah, I know. I haven’t been sleeping well,” she said, whisking out the door and down the hall. On the first floor, she ran into Marko just as he was slipping into his office.
“Ms. Baker,” he greeted.
“Can I talk to you?” she asked. Marko held the door open for her and she marched inside.
“How can I help you?” Marko sat down in his beat-up chair, and Blaire took a chair opposite of him.
“You have rats.”
“Rats? We haven’t had rats in years.”
“I went to the bathroom last night and one almost take my nose off, you have rats. They scratch at the walls all night, and I can barely sleep. It’s making me crazy. You have to do something about it.”
“I will have Heinrik put out some traps.”
“Traps? That’s it, traps?”
“I’m afraid that we can’t afford to do much more than that. There aren’t any exterminators in the traditional sense in Borslav.”
“It’s dangerous and disgusting, and what if one bites one of the children?”
“Ms. Baker, you are the only person from whom I have received a formal complaint.”
“Does that automatically mean that there is no problem?”
“No, but it implies it.”
Blaire scoffed. Marko softened.
“I believe that we have some rat poison in the shed somewhere. I will have Heinrik look into it and put some traps around and some poison out, but that is the best I can do.”
Blaire grumbled under her breath, as she lifted herself from the chair and headed for the door, somehow managing to say, “Thanks, Marko.”
“Today is going to be a good day,” Blaire chanted to herself over and over as she made her way to her classroom.
After an hour of working on lesson plans, Blaire had calmed and wondered if she had not overreacted with Marko. She took a moment to relax and admire her clean and well organized classroom and realized that her globe was missing. When she got up from her desk, she was surprised to see the globe lying on the floor between two rows of desks. Blaire glanced at the windows, sure that she must have accidently left one of them open yesterday, allowing a rogue breeze to come in and topple her educational prop. Blaire eyed the windows, all of which were closed tightly. There was a titter from one of the clown-faced children, and Blaire frowned at the photograph.
“Hey,” Travis said peeking into the door. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” Blaire said after lifting the globe and restoring it to its proper placement.
“We still need to get the kids’ files from Marko.” Travis had a business-like air about himself this morning.
“Sure, I will talk to him first thing in the morning.”
Travis got comfortable in one of the desks before he spoke again. “Can I talk to you about something?”
“Sure, anything.” Blaire tried to focus her attention on Travis instead of the strange movement of her globe.
“We have got to do something about the kids’ nutrition. It’s basic. Eating well is a fundamental building block of mental and physical health, and, until that’s right, we’ll be fighting an uphill battle.”
Blaire thought for a moment and said, “Maybe we can do some shopping and add some stock to this place.”
“You know I’m here to pay off my debt. I don’t mind giving to help, but I don’t have much,” Travis replied.
“Don’t worry. I’ll pay.”
“You rich or something?” Travis asked with amusement.
Blaire gave an abrupt laugh. “I’m not rich, but I can spare some to get these kids a good meal a couple of times a week,” she said, knowing it was a lie.
Later that night, Blaire tossed trying to find a warm spot under her thin cover as the estival nights in Borslav were uncharacteristically chilly. Again and again, Blaire found herself replaying the memory that had come to her recently in the classroom, the recollection of that summer day in the car with her parents. The memory was brief and vague, just a fluke, something that would not dare repeat itself, though she secretly harbored a grotesque desire that it would. She fell asleep trying to remember and going ove
r the strands of the recollection in her head with a fine-toothed comb, like buried treasure just found.
Blaire woke to the creaking of the bedroom door.
“Hello?” Blaire called out as her unfocused eyes found a small, dark shadow standing in the corner. Laughter rang out as another short shape flitted across the room.
“Hello?” Blaire called again. She blinked several times and opened her eyes to see the little form standing directly over her now. Immense, messy curls drew a heavy silhouette around the dark figure’s head in the moonlight.
“Danya?” Blaire called out as the shadow lifted something that she thought was going to come hurling down on her. “Danya don’t,” she cried, holding up her arm only to hear the distinct click followed by a brilliant flash of light that burst into her eyes, completely whiting out her face. Blaire was lost and screamed at the powerful flash that illuminated the room that she now saw was filled with the gaunt children of St. Sebastian.
Blaire jerked up, little beads of perspiration slipping down her chest, catching her thin night shirt, making it cling to her in places. The door was closed and the room was empty. Blaire’s chest was waving up and down and her heart was pumping furiously. She lay back down and listened to the scratching of the rats, which was like a strange lullaby now. The wind hummed through the building faintly like the voices of a ghostly children’s choir.
There in the emptiness of the night she listened, and the wind grew louder until it completely filled her head with sorrow, and she knew that it was no longer the wind, but real pain. Blaire shot up in bed when she realized that someone was crying out in agony.
CHAPTER TEN
Blaire grabbed her phone and used it as a flashlight, holding it out at arm’s length in front of her as she crept down the hall. On the second floor Blaire stood alone in the silent, empty hallway, until another wail crackled through the corridors breaking the stiff silence. Blaire jogged to the room labeled 2E where the younger boys slept and grappled with the stubborn knob.
The Unwanted (Black Water Tales Book 2) Page 7