We, The Lucky Few

by P. S. Lurie

  4 A.M. – 5 A.M.

  Theia

  This night has thrown up one more tragedy, which the Upperlands will only rejoice in. They’ll never know Henry, or his parents, who were good people until the end.

  He was given a free pass to being Rehoused and I was happy for him. Now not even that is true and I am more alone than I have ever felt before. I bury my head into his lap but there is no rise and fall from breathing. I have to leave him here. I still have Ronan and Leda to think about.

  Unlike Jason, there is no one left to ask about Henry. Since I am the only person to grieve for him I can’t leave him in this state. I manage to lift him onto the bed, although I don’t like the idea that he lies on his father’s side. I position him similarly to Jason.

  I always knew what Henry meant to me but I never let it develop. He was too much of a risk. I saw what happened to couples: houses that couldn’t last, children they couldn’t bear to have, a shared life with no optimistic future. Nothing but torment.

  But the kiss. I feel childish to describe the lasting feeling as butterflies in my stomach. I’d roll my eyes at myself and would even appreciate Selene being here to knock me down a peg. I wish I could hear Henry say those words again. They echo in my head but already fade as if I can’t hold on to them for much longer. I wonder whether my mother felt butterflies for my father as well as Dr Jefferson. They’re hard to ignore.

  I believed love was one more irritation along the path to a devastated world but maybe the thing I feared most was the one the thing that could have brought me happiness. I only experienced love in a fleeting moment but it was enough to teach me that there is something in this world worth fighting for. I wonder how many people died tonight never feeling the butterflies.

  I remember what else he said to me, his final statement. You can save them. I had a plan for us. There’s a way to save my brother and sister. I want to throttle his body, shake him back to life, if only to hear whether he was speaking the truth. Why didn’t he tell me sooner? Maybe he tried throughout the night but was hushed by my shouting at him.

  I have under an hour before I run out of time. I’ve spent all night avoiding death but running into its arms. Going to the Ethers’ house. Giving the uniform to Selene. The fireworks. Protecting my siblings. Ending my grandfather’s life. Watching Mr Argent die. Cradling Henry’s body. Too many experiences I will never be able to wipe from my mind and I know that if I survive tonight and move to higher ground the images will come with me. But now I have a chance to rewrite some of the wrongs. If Henry says there’s a way, I should be able to think of it.

  Whatever I do, I have to check on Ronan. I left him screaming and I can’t give up on him now. He can’t be Rehoused on his own. I finally accept what my parents told me at the beginning of the evening: he can’t face this alone. But I won’t take his place. And I won’t kill Leda. I have to believe that Henry was right.

  Selene

  I reach the street, having to make a few detours due to policemen along the route, spotting more the closer I get to the Fence. Maybe they weren’t deployed too far from the Upperlands. Circling around has delayed me and I have less than an hour to gather everyone together and make it back to the boat.

  The blisters on my soles burn with each step but I don’t allow myself to hobble. I pass the burnt-out car and stand in front of Henry’s house. I lower the glasses but they don’t work as well in the early morning. A light blue reveals wispy clouds above the rooftops.

  I look along the street to check it is clear before I enter the house but, inside, there are only three masses of a faded colour, life long gone from their bodies. I don’t understand how this is possible. Even if his parents are dead, Henry was supposed to survive. I am too late.

  I glance to the side, and watch as a figure climbs the wall between Henry’s house and next door. It must be Theia. Upstairs, I see her siblings, still alive. She has spent the evening darting around the neighbourhood. She comes from Henry’s house, from where he is dead. I don’t want to accuse her of being embroiled but it’s too easy to project my distress her way. I can’t understand how she could have anything to do with his death but why didn’t she protect him?

  I hear someone approaching and know I don’t want to deal with whoever it is, be it a policeman, homeless person, or escaping resident. I no longer welcome Theia and her siblings to come with me. Although she helped me and it makes me a terrible person I am too upset at the thought that Henry is dead. I don’t want to hear that she was involved. I would only kill again.

  As soon as I walk away I know that I have no desire to return to the boat and seek solace in the oceans. If am not leading a group of refugees I am not a hero.

  I find myself en route to the Fence.

  Theia

  As soon as I see Ronan the solution comes to me. Henry won’t have died for nothing. But I cannot believe Henry had thought of the same because that means he gave up on himself being Rehoused. Only I can, because putting others first was in Henry’s nature.

  Ronan has calmed down but still shakes when I approach. ‘Ronan. We can both leave here together. How does that sound?’

  ‘What about mummy and daddy?’ Ronan has woken from a dream into a nightmare.

  ‘They have to stay.’ I gather a selection of clothes from my drawer. Nothing logical in my choices.

  ‘And Leda?’

  ‘I don’t know Ro. Leda might stay here.’

  ‘And grandpa?’

  I stop in my tracks. Why didn’t he ask about our grandmother?

  ‘He’s dead.’

  ‘He’s pretending. He said it was a secret.’

  I sit on the bed. So he had seen my grandparents in the bedroom after all. ‘Grandpa was awake but now he’s with grandma.’

  ‘It’s not true. I spoke to him.’ Ronan becomes distressed. There are too many deaths to explain to him.

  ‘It’s just me and you Ro. Want to help me pack?’

  ‘I don’t want to go anywhere.’

  ‘We have to leave here. But you have to go on a big adventure with me first. Think you’re brave enough?’

  Ronan’s interest piques at this. He always wants to prove his courage despite being a big ball of shyness. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Wait there.’

  I go into his room where my father is slumped on the floor and Leda wakes at my heavy footsteps. I pack some of his clothes in a small bag. No time to pick out his favourite toys or photographs. He can hate me later but right now I have no time to waste.

  ‘Be right back,’ I say to Leda, and she smiles at me.

  Ronan paces around the room, although he avoids going near the back window. My mother’s body waits for the morning dew to soak through.

  ‘Your mission is to be a spy.’

  ‘I can be a spy,’ says Ronan. ‘What’s my name?’

  I take a deep breath. ‘Henry.’

  ‘Henry’s your friend.’

  ‘I know. But you have to have the same name as him. And if anyone asks, you live in his house.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Cause it’s a game.’ It’s a throwaway line but I realise that to some people tonight this is all a game. If they want us to play by their rules I’m going to bend them as far as they will stretch.

  ‘Ready?’ I ask, aware that it’s expecting a lot too quickly from Ronan but I have no more time to spare.

  Ronan nods. As if he has a choice.

  In the garden I shelter him from seeing my mother. First I throw the bag over the wall. Ronan’s trepidacious but excited. He’s never been into Henry’s house this way. He’s tried but never been tall or strong enough to scale the height.

  I look to the sky but it is already light and I can’t see or hear any helicopters. I also figure that the police will soon lose their advantage in detecting us. ‘Put your foot here.’ I offer him my hands.

  Ronan can’t grip the top of the fence and I don’t want him to slip and injure himself. ‘Ok, climb on my back.’ It’s hefty wo
rk but I clumsily manage to get us both onto Henry’s side of the fence. Ronan looks around animatedly but then turns to the wall, anxious that he is no longer in our house, away from the rest of our family.

  I lead him into the kitchen and find a timer. I wind it for a twenty minute countdown. We move to the front door. ‘Take this. When it stops I want you to open the door, take the bag and sit outside. Close the door and wait there. Tell me what you need to do.’

  Ronan repeats my instructions.

  ‘It’s really important Henry.’

  ‘My names Ro,’ he starts, but realises that I was testing him. ‘I’m Henry. I live here.’

  I’m not sure what Ronan understands but he at least seems to follow what I am asking of him. ‘I love you Henry,’ I say, conflicted as to who I’m directing that at. ‘I’ll see you soon. One more thing and I’m really serious. Don’t go upstairs. You wait here until it’s time. Ok?’

  ‘Ok.’

  I kiss him on the forehead, maybe the last time I will ever do that, and leave him to wait on his own. I want desperately to go upstairs and curl up with Henry and wait for my time to come so that I can be with him but I have a chance to protect Ronan and he can’t survive this alone.

  I climb the wall. I have been into Henry’s house many times this evening but that has to be the final visit.

  My attention turns to a bigger problem. Leda.

  Selene

  The light breaks through rapidly and I pocket the now defunct glasses. For the first time tonight, families have complete privacy but I fear it’ll be too late for most of them.

  I head towards the Fence. Other policemen walk that way too. Most have their helmets off and I can see their faces clearly. They are all young men. They walk in groups, as if friends after a day of work, but not one person talks. I wonder what has led them to this. I wonder how many of them have killed tonight. I wonder how they will go to sleep next and wake up knowing what they have done.

  I think of my mother, and how she has spent the past few hours. Asleep? Packing? Worrying about me? Dead?

  Then I think of Theia’s suggestion, or was it warning, about what is going to happen at the Fence.

  Whatever the sky suggests, this night is far from over.

  Theia

  Ronan needs me. Even if giving up my spot for Leda was an option, I couldn’t leave the two of them to face the future alone.

  I stand above my baby sister. As usual her face radiates warmth and happiness. If she was able to crane her neck over the bed she’d see onto the ground where our father sprawls out dead. A few steps down the hallway and she’ll see grandparents she has never had the chance to know. And if she was able to walk down the stairs and into the garden she’ll set eyes on the woman whom she will never see in action as a great doctor or as an even better mother.

  She’ll have me, the person who has inadvertently allowed everyone to die, to thank. A tremendous sister.

  Leda is nine months old. The rules say she must die within the next fifteen minutes.

  My father tried to suffocate her. Perhaps he was right. I have a gun, with plenty of bullets. I’d only need one. It would be quick for her. Kinder than a pillow. Painless.

  Or I could leave her to the police and absolve her from depleting my conscience further.

  I may be able to save Ronan but Henry alleged I could save both. I worry that he was delusional but then that would void him telling me he loved me and I don’t want to believe that wasn’t true either.

  This evening results in me standing with a gun to my harmless baby sister’s head. There are too many people in the Upperlands who have no idea how this feels. I want to avenge every Middlelander whom has experienced tonight, every single one of them, alive or dead, those who have been killed and those who have killed.

  As with my grandfather, the quicker I act the more likely I will be to go through with it. I think of all the other deaths in my household. My grandfather lived his life, my father tried to kill me and my mother saved me. Leda is innocent. Her life is only beginning.

  I have no tears left. I take a few steps back so I am out of her eyesight. I hold the gun straight. My aim has been pretty good this far.

  Leda smiles. She’s a placid baby.

  Just as with my grandfather I can’t deliberate any longer. There is no other option.

  I count down from five.

  Theia

  Time passes as I manoeuvre my way around the house like a zombie until I find myself standing by the front door. The suitcase with my belongings is next to me, propped on its side.

  I should probably do something significant like bid a final farewell to my home, or say something meaningful but there are no good memories left here, only painful ones.

  Ronan needs me.

  I check my watch. One minute to the deadline remains.

  I pick up my luggage and open the door. I feel no satisfaction in surviving this night; there is still much that could go wrong and get me killed.

  It’s time. I step outside into the changed world.

  5 A.M. – 6 A.M.

  Selene

  The approach to the Fence is misleading. An optical illusion of scale. There was no reason for the boundary to be where it is except the steepness of the roads leading up to it, and what used to be a lengthy nature trail distancing it from the houses in the Middlelands, so when you think you’re nearly at its base it’s not even close. The flat surface spans a height of about thirty men standing on top of one another, so any attempts to scale the Fence are nearly always over before they’ve begun.

  I’ve only been here a few times in my life, each more upsetting and confusing than the last. There are too many homeless people and they grow in numbers. It was widely contested why we couldn’t accommodate them in our oversized houses but it was forecast that this would lead to disputes and complications. Instead, it was decided that each family would retain their sole property deeds up until they were flooded out of their homes and, at that point, the family would lose all of their privileges too. Those closer to the Fence were perfectly happy with this arrangement but there were many others with grievances. Some of them acquired boats but the exhausting struggle to keep close to the ever-moving coast hampered this way of living. There was the occasional breaking and entering in our neighbourhoods but generally the homeless resigned themselves to their fate. It’s beyond me why they accepted this state of affairs.

  For Theia, Henry and me, the water was a long way off and we knew that, if it reached us, we wouldn’t just be homeless but groundless. When the future is bleak there’s little point worrying about it and our apathy is probably what led to the Upperlands surprising us. Maybe if the Middlelands had worked together, rather than selfishly, this night could have been avoided. Maybe if we’d worked together we would have built our own fortifications.

  The last time I was at the Fence was over a year ago and it was nothing like this. A few thousand people had camped along the barrier in makeshift tents, with their own markets, but illness and the cold easily kept numbers down. I’ve never considered it like this but the persecution we received from the Upperlands is the same as the homeless receive from us, just quicker.

  Now there are tens of thousands at least and, whilst impossible to count, the masses heave against the barrier, keeping each other warm, unable to stretch out. As I saw earlier, the tide had travelled farther than I deemed possible and must have destroyed a lot of houses during this time. It’s depressing how the occasional family taking their belongings up to the Fence is easy to ignore but collectively this mass of people at a dead end is overwhelming.

  Although the homeless seem busy for this time of morning, they don’t appear to be perturbed about what is happening nearby. Surely they must have caught wind of reports about what has been happening in our homes, or heard the gunshots and screams and maiming and seen the helicopters throughout the night.

  I stand in my dark uniform, gun in tow and no one bats an eyelid at me.

 
And then I decipher the expression on many of their faces and I realise they know exactly what is happening to us: for some reason they are smug. We ignored their cries of help and now they know we are suffering worse. How they know this I have no idea. But something else doesn’t make sense. Why aren’t they worried about their own safety?

  Static fills my ears and gives way to a man’s voice, which echoes against the Fence. I notice loudspeakers positioned at various points along the perimeter. A second announcement for the homeless. The voice is more confident than the one we heard last night.

  ‘Dear Lowerlanders and Middlelanders. The looming tides have forced us to make a decision regarding your fate. We can only apologise that it has taken this long whilst living in miserable conditions before our infrastructure was ready... to Rehouse you all.

  ‘Any sooner and we would not have been able to cope with the migration but now is finally the time. At five a.m. the gates will open and a police force will move you into the Upperlands as swiftly as possible. Please wait by the Fence and remain calm as we carry out this complicated procedure.

  ‘We understand your plight and hope the future holds more hope and success for you all.

  ‘Those still in houses have been asked to wait until you are first cleared and will then follow in due course. We are doing this to offer you the first round of migration. It is only fair.

  ‘We look forward to welcoming you to the ways of the Upperlands.’

  Their complacency makes sense; if this recording is on a loop, they have been reassured numerous times tonight.