by P. S. Lurie
With a graceful vault, I’m over the fence and back in my house. Ronan is asleep on my mother’s lap. My father finally asks me what I’ve been doing but I ignore him. I go to the porch and uncover my bag from the bottom of the pile where I hid it earlier this afternoon. I almost blush at the thought of what’s inside. I am meant to be the sensible one rather than swapping a prized possession for the contents on the off-chance the Surge brought good news to us.
I pull out three fireworks I’d traded my necklace for earlier. I had to beg the stall owner to swap them, and even had to give him my money too so that I went without lunch. The announcement was supposed to be the big one, the one to save us. It’s almost pathetic that I bought fireworks but I did it for Ronan. He’s never seen them and I thought we might have cause for celebration. I guess I was more hopeful than I cared to let on.
The stall worker traded three different sorts: a Catherine Wheel, a Big Dipper and something named The Extreme, but he couldn’t tell me what any of them did. All he warned me was to prop them upwards, light them and wait for the explosion in the sky, oh, and to stand back.
But the fireworks are no longer for celebrating. They’re a symbol of fighting this night, a sign of resistance of the Upperlands’ decree. No longer frivolous, the fireworks will serve a purpose.
I sneak my bag upstairs and enter my room; my parents’ room would’ve been preferable for what I have planned but I don’t want to see my grandparents and their deaths that I permitted in my own house. As far as I’m aware, my parents haven’t discovered the bodies. I need to focus on the task at hand and the vantage point my front window, although smaller, will suffice.
I crack open the window that looks out to the front of the empty street. I can’t see anyone on patrol but that doesn’t mean they can’t see me through their sunglasses and wouldn’t arrive in an instant. Only then do I marvel that the Upperlanders have this technology at all. They have resources and time and space to develop advanced gear and I lean my forehead against the window and sigh; the Upperlanders have more than we could ever imagine.
I shake myself out of my misery. If my plan works, it may be the only way that Selene can leave the house undetected.
I set the first firework on the windowsill, propping it so that it faces a car in front of a few houses farther along the street, far away so it won’t draw attention to Selene’s escape. The firework consists of a rectangular box with a pointed head and a wire that leads from the other end. I’ve never seen one in action but I know the basics: point and shoot, soar and explode.
I light the Big Dipper with a match that I took from the kitchen. The flame burns up the wire and only when it nears the end do I remember the man’s instructions to stand back because they can be temperamental, although I ignore his other advice of not setting them off indoors. I race backwards and trip over my bed. I hope Selene is ready.
The fire sizzles as it eats up into the box and then...
Nothing happens.
I give it a few seconds but I know in my heart it is a dud. I curse the man but I am the idiot for trusting him. I didn’t know fireworks had an expiration date or maybe the fuse is too wet. I suppose everything in this world is damp and that can’t be a good thing for something that relies on heat so I put its failure down to another side effect of the tide. The seller could have been more honest but I’m the fool because everyone in the market is desperate enough to deceive anyone to get ahead. I wonder how he and his family have fared tonight.
I throw the piece of junk to the side and set up the Catherine Wheel. This is different to the others but I don’t want to light The Extreme if I can help it, based on the name alone, and know it will be my last resort. This one is round with different tips but they all face the same direction so I prop it in place of the Big Dipper. My hand trembles as I light the fuse. This wire is much shorter, splitting off to each nib, but this time I am prepared instinctively and move a few steps back.
The good news is the firework isn’t a dud. The bad news is that it’s doing something terrifying by spinning around and sending off mini flares into my room. Then the curtain catches on fire.
I run to the bathroom and dump a bucket into the bathtub of salty freezing water and return to extinguish the flame, which has shot up the fabric but not enough to get out of hand and I manage to prevent my house burning down. The whole purpose of this is to create a diversion for Selene but I’m not sure setting my own house on fire is the smartest move. I hope no policeman saw the burst of red through their glasses. The smoke clears and I know that I’m running out of time and options. I look down and, even with the fire, there are no police on the street but I’m sure they won’t be far away. If the final attempt fails then Selene will have to leave on her own accord and hope luck is on her side.
I position The Extreme towards the car and light the wire. This time the firework whistles and explodes with an almighty roar as it jets off away from my house at speed. However, the force shunts it sideways and the firework slams through the window of the next car along to my target, too close to our houses than I would have preferred, but I am relieved that it hit a car and not a house because the repercussions would have been beyond awful.
I stare at the car, willing something to happen, and hope Henry and Selene didn’t think this was my signal. ‘Give it a second,’ I say to myself, and hold my breath. Then I think that maybe this is all the firework does and Selene should attempt to leave before the police arrive from the sound of the explosion. Finally, a bright light emanates from inside the car, which turns into a mini fire and, quicker than I predicted, goes up in flames. Soon there is a bonfire in the middle of the road. Fortunately, if there is such a thing as fortune tonight, the wind is weak and the fire doesn’t spread to the nearby houses.
As I expected, a policeman races towards the car, followed by a second, then a couple more. I don’t know if the man who murdered Jason is amongst them. They stare at the car and, as I hoped, they have to remove their glasses as the glare is too strong. I look down towards Henry’s driveway and realise I’m still holding my breath.
Selene
It’s almost midnight and I stare out of the front window alongside Henry and his parents, waiting for Theia’s signal. It’s been too long and I consider that I will have to leave if nothing happens soon.
Out of nowhere there is a tremendous noise and something shoots across the road but it is too fast to make it out. The object crashes into a car to the right and I have no time to make sense of what Theia has done but I know this is the signal and I put the helmet over my head.
‘That was it?’ says Henry. The sound echoes inside the headgear.
He’s right. The explosion only draws attention to the road rather than acting as a distraction but I slip the glasses on all the same and look at the people next to me. The Argents are all shades of red, deeper hues around the head, chest and joints. Then I turn my attention to the street and notice a speck of red inside the car. It takes some time but the colour spreads, until the entire car is ablaze and I have to look away. Whatever Theia did caused a fire.
‘She did it,’ I say. I turn to Henry and his parents. ‘Take care, all of you.’ I can’t say any more or I’ll falter.
I watch as four policeman arrive and they shield their eyes from the fire. I count to ten and no one else arrives so I leave the house and pull the door shut behind me as silently as possible, despite the sound of snapping metal masking the noise.
I slink down the path, away from the fire, past Henry’s gate and onto the street. I keep the sunglasses on to protect my identity even though the fire makes the whole world a bright red that hurts my eyes. I daren’t look back towards Henry but I see figures staring onto the street from windows along the opposite row of houses. Most homes contain more than one person and it encourages me that the majority have not yet given up hope.
One of the policemen screams aimlessly. ‘Stay in your houses.’ He doesn’t notice me escaping, even though I’m not su
re if escaping is actually what I’m doing; if he does see me he must assume I’m like him.
I should press on but I allow myself to turn towards Theia’s window. I catch her staring back at me and I nod towards her before walking away. I smile at the thought that earlier our positions were reversed and that things have a funny way of turning out, and who knows what the rest of the night will hold now that I’m in the open.
That thought doesn’t last long; when I think I have reached a safe distance and the world is mostly black once more, a guard appears, hurrying towards me, and I am sure I have been caught out already. I force my legs to walk at a relaxed pace even though my body has clenched up but he ignores me as he runs past, towards the fire.
I walk on, away from the fire, but I still don’t know where I’m headed.
My body feels warm inside the uniform and I surprise myself by just how comforted I am by the weight of the gun attached to my side. Then I notice a digital watch face built into the sleeve of the suit and read the time.
At the stroke of midnight, with exactly half of my remaining hours down until the Upperlands’ deadline, I walk away from the fire and into the unknown.
12 A.M. – 1 A.M.
Theia
I watch until Selene is out of sight and breathe a sigh of relief that my plan worked. I train my eyes on the guards who tend to the fire and, despite their menacing appearance, they are just young men who took the opportunity to save their families. At least most of them must be. At least I hope so or it is not just the Upperlanders who have betrayed us.
The policemen have no idea how to extinguish the flames but do the sensible thing of using group strength to move the surrounding cars away; a fire spreading through the neighbourhood would solve one problem of taking us all out but could cause a lot more hassle for them in the long run. For starters, their glasses would become redundant under the glare. Also, in the havoc people might be inclined to run, they only don’t now because they aren’t prepared and have no camouflage. Unlike Selene. But where would they run to? At least Selene has a destination.
The police needn’t have bothered moving the other vehicles away as the car is reduced to a shell with little burnable material left and the flame dies down on its own. I absentmindedly stare at the mass of policemen but I don’t recognise any of them. I’m certain the cruel recruit isn’t there or he’d be enjoying himself too much, threatening any onlookers, looking for the culprit, itching for retaliation.
The Middlelanders looking out along the street accept that they missed their window of opportunity to escape and return deeper into their humdrum houses. The police disperse and I’m let off the hook with no attempts to suspect which of us started the fire and how. I join my parents and Ronan, who is now awake, at the front window but they don’t hear me approach until I begin to explain.
‘It was a firework. I was going to set it off later tonight.’ I say this with some admittance of guilt but more so to let them know I’m actually doing something rather than share their passivity.
My father is incredulous. ‘You started the fire?’
‘Why?’ my mother asks.
‘Selene was at Henry’s. She needed an opportunity to leave. It’s midnight. We have five hours left.’
‘How did you know that?’ my mother asks, ignoring my warning.
‘I was over there.’ My parents’ confusion is impressive, even for them. ‘I’ve been pretty busy.’
‘Theia, it’s too dangerous to be skipping fences. What if they spotted you?’
‘It’s too dangerous to leave, it’s too dangerous to stay, thanks for reminding me. Before this you didn’t seem to mind where I was. What were you going to do? Wait until the problem is out of your hands? Let the police sort it? At least grandpa showed courage.’ I instantly regret my slip-up.
‘Theia?’ My mother deserves an explanation.
‘They took pills. They’re dead.’
‘How could you?’
‘How could I what? Let them? Not tell you? Sit outside the door whilst they died?’
Ronan doesn’t understand the argument but he’s groggy and cries at the accusatory tone in our voices. His way of coping is to turn back to the window and watch the remnants of the fire. He’s hypnotised by this novelty. In a world made of water, it’s quite a contrast.
The doctor in my mother emerges as she does the mental arithmetic. ‘When?’
‘About two hours ago.’
I see her work through the timing but her face can’t hide that she’s already too late.
‘They didn’t want you to stop them,’ I say. My mother has never looked more disappointed in me, as if I was the one to bring death into the house, forgetting that I am the one trying to prevent it. My only regret is that she didn’t get to say goodbye to them. Despite our argument I’d be devastated to learn of my parents’ death this way.
‘Henry is going to be Rehoused,’ I say, changing the subject. ‘His parents are sacrificing themselves.’
‘As we are for you,’ my father says.
‘And Ronan?’
‘He will stay here with us,’ my mother says.
‘As if you care about this family.’ I gather from her confused expression that she isn’t aware I know her secret.
‘That’s enough Theia,’ my father says.
Ronan can’t take it anymore and buries himself into my body, finding solace only when we stop arguing. Maybe he understands more than he lets on about what my parents are suggesting happens to him because it is me who chooses. I hold his head close to my chest, and he wraps his arms around my leg. ‘He must be exhausted,’ I say. ‘Ro, do you want to sleep? Grandma and grandpa are in mum and dad’s room and Leda is in your room so do you want to sleep in my bed?’
He nods amidst the sniffles. I lead Ronan upstairs with no protestations or snide comments from my parents. I look back and catch my mother’s heartbroken gaze and this reminds me that I have been unfair on her. Her parents have ended their lives, she has to choose one of her two children and the third cannot be saved. Moreover, the one she is set on keeping alive has accused her of not caring.
‘Is it a pirate ship?’ Ronan asks as we turn into my bedroom.
‘Sure thing Ro.’ Our make-believe worlds tend to revolve around water. Pirate ships, mermaids, submarines. I guess it unconsciously came from preparing Ronan for the drowning world.
His face lights up, already over his crying fit. He jumps on my bed. ‘I’m the captain.’
‘You sure are but even a captain needs his sleep.’ He bounces a few more times but doesn’t need another warning as he is drained and happily drops to the mattress. I pull the sheet over him and his eyes droop.
‘Theia.’
‘Yeah Ro?’
‘Why is everyone arguing?’
‘We disagree about something. It’s not important.’
‘Oh.’
‘There is one thing we agree about though.’
‘What’s that?’
‘We all love you more than anything.’
Ronan’s eyes are closed and he’s still so I don’t know if he heard me. I sit on the side of the bed and watch him for a while. I wish I was tired and could fall asleep. No, that would achieve nothing. My mind continues to race. I need to work out what to do next.
Selene
The world feels quieter than usual. No one roams the streets, and I mean no one. Since walking away from the fire I haven’t seen another policeman. I use the heat sensitive glasses as a precaution before turning down new roads but I see no one except families in their homes. The fire must have drawn quite a crowd of guards. Was I just unlucky that the police chose Henry’s street to monitor? I shake my head clear of this thought; the danger isn’t the policemen outside. My mother will be my biggest threat. My heart pounds.
My forehead sweats under the solid helmet but it is better to perspire than be detected. Theia risked her life to give me a chance and I owe it to her to stay alive. I don’t know how she started
the fire but it was genius. I wish I could return the favour. I didn’t even ask if I could help, I just took what she offered. I’m not embarrassed to admit that I was impressed with how her plan came together. I don’t want to think about where she obtained the uniform.
Trees block the sky. The eerie glow of the streetlamps weighs down on me and gives the illusion that I have endless spotlights trained on me, as if I am being monitored. It can’t be paranoia when there’s a real possibility I will be caught at any moment.
I pick up the pace. I know these streets blind; I traverse the route between my house and Henry’s on a daily basis but never at night due to the threat of the homeless and I am thrown off by the shadows and occasional gunshots. I had no idea there were so many guns in the neighbourhood. I wonder what prompts each shot, whether in defence or on the attack. Apart from screams, gunshots are the only announcement of death. But there must be many more silent modes of killing that I am unaware of. I wonder how close I walk to murder and suicide.
It is not just the police who are absent but so too is the usual shuffling of the homeless. Maybe they received their own announcement. Or perhaps the police had free reign to do with them as they pleased. Whatever the reason, it works in my favour.
I almost miss the narrow turning that cuts off a chunk of the route and leads directly to my street. During the day the path is shaded but tonight it is unlit and each jutted opening of garden gates along the way holds the threat of something lurking, waiting to pounce. It’s only when I look at my hands and will them to stop shaking do I remember that I am the one in the uniform and it is others who have reason to be scared of me, not the other way around. I contemplate whether this is the reason for many people when they are violent; it’s less threatening to be the person hitting than the person hit. It’s a superior position to take, whether it makes you feel better later on or not. I don’t know if that explains my mother’s actions but I can’t see how violence won’t play a part when she sees me and it makes me once more doubt my decision to return home.