by K. M. Gibson
She met his eyes only briefly. “Jeffries told me a little.” It was hard to say his name but so welcome on the tongue, something savory and rich, so rich it hurt to taste.
The doctor blinked, stunned, then leaned back on his heels. “You must be Catherine. Reid told me about you.”
“Oh.”
He cleared his throat and fumbled with the bandages on the desk. He unwrapped one, placed it on her cheek where she had been struck, and licked his lips before continuing. “My apologies, I do not want to make you uncomfortable.”
“I’m fine.”
He nodded nervously. “Well, if you know the general idea of why we’re here, you probably have other questions of your own.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll answer anything to the best of my ability,” he said, leaning back to view his handiwork. When he seemed satisfied, he stood and went back to the desk, depositing the wipes, cream and bandages into the drawers, then continued to search for something else.
Catherine looked at her hands lying limply on her lap. She didn’t think she’d be able to speak without crying, so she spent the better part of a minute staying silent, trying to steel herself, as the doctor continued to look for what seemed like nothing in particular. Then: “Why did he have to leave the park?”
The doctor paused, then let out his breath in a slow exhale. “Jeffries left the park about a week ago to track one of our specimens. A deer. He left the facility ahead of schedule because, well…he was tired of waiting, and the deer was in prime health for the trip. He didn’t tell anyone where he was planning on going. One of the principal things he was looking for was the interaction with a healthy organism and the environment. We are testing for SAVS-1. The virus from…well, I’m sure you know where it’s from. We believe it has run its course and died. This was a major test.”
She wanted to say, “I killed it,” but her mouth stayed closed. For some reason, she felt that stating the truth would be admitting fault for Jeffries’s death. What would it matter if he knew, anyway? But…If he would have followed the schedule…
“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked weakly.
“Jordan is still testing the samples he had on him, but we have our fingers crossed. Two others went west to run other experiments; they should return any day now.”
She closed her eyes. “Why did the soldiers come to Fort McMurray yesterday?”
“They were looking for Jeffries. And for the deer, if they could. We only have so many resources here, so we rarely use anything. But there are even less of us left, and Jeffries…Our soldiers started searching but found nothing within the acceptable perimeter. I gave permission to follow the two trails they did find with all we had left. They said they would only head as far south as the reserve, but they then picked up on another unusual trail on the highway headed towards Fort McMurray, and they pushed their limits just a bit farther. I think it was the most excited those men have been in months.”
Catherine didn’t care about the soldiers’ excitement, and the doctor must have read this on her battered face. “Excuse me,” he muttered.
She let it go. “Why are you still here?”
He settled into his chair. “This is the world’s Ark, if you will. This facility was converted shortly after the infection became a pandemic. The park was shut down to public use in order to conduct our research on environmental condition and interaction more thoroughly. That is what the government contracted us for. Our soldiers are not soldiers so much as peace officers hired as security personnel with basic training. This is where our livestock live, our farms grow, our heat is generated. It is also the only place we can make regular vaccines for the virus. We’re not sure of the state the rest of the world is in, so we take our research very seriously still. We’re waiting for a sign that SAVS-1 is eradicated from the environment before we dare move south. Those animals are one of our few hopes. We needed to ensure their safety, so we remained. Jeffries was our zoologist. He was very passionate about his work. He…we were…well. I was hoping we would get results from the deer, but the water sample will do well for us. Besides, we found a whole settlement of people in Fort McMurray full of—healthy…individuals. All of you will help contribute to our research extensively. Oh, no, don’t take it like that. Yes, your blood will be extremely helpful in identifying markers for resistance, but housing this facility with more able bodies will make a difference in other day-to-day tasks. You all have skills to share. Besides, this facility was altered to house many more people than we have. Another team of researchers and officers were supposed to arrive before the earthquake hit. We have too many beds and too much food just for the thirty of us.
“Which reminds me, I have a key to give you to your new apartment, don’t I?” He sounded tired, though, like he was just as exhausted on the subject as Catherine was herself, and wanted nothing more than to get away from it.
He looked over a bristle board of keys and plucked off one labelled 32A. He slid it across the counter and sat down again. She looked at it but didn’t make a move to grab it. She finally met his eyes, and felt herself crumbling under his sympathetic gaze.
“Jeffries was a good friend of ours. Of mine. A diligent scientist. I heard that you tried to save him, Catherine. I…thank you.”
She stared at him blankly.
He cleared his throat. “Follow the eastern corridor; it will take you to the residential area. There are three halls – A, B, and C. A will be for civilians, B for the research team, and C is a poorly constructed barracks, or so Reid tells me in choice words. The rooms are ordered respectively, so you should have no problem finding it.”
She rolled the key around in her palm. She was afraid that if she spoke her voice would break and give her away, and her weak balance would fall apart again.
“I’ll contact you about getting your vaccinations,” he continued. “I’m sure you’re safe, but it’s just a precaution for your health and everyone else’s. So. Would you…want someone to walk you to your room?”
“No.”
“At least take something to lean on; I won’t have someone walking around freely with a possible concussion.” Doctor Anderson laughed shortly, then killed it just as quick. It was too rude a sound. He crossed the room and opened a closet adjacent to his desk. He pulled out a cane, then handed it to her. She nodded once and took it quietly, then stood to leave the small office.
“I’ll speak to you soon,” he said. She gave no reply.
She went directly to her room, holding the cane under her arm the entire way. Her apartment was simple enough to find. She opened the door and observed it carefully: a single, undressed bed in the corner, a desk, a wall mirror, a closet. It was five steps to the opposite side of the room. She gently pulled the closet doors open, examining its contents. It was filled with sheets and clothes, plain tunics and pants. They resembled scrubs. Like Mom.
As she merchandised the closet, Reid stepped into the doorway and knocked at the door. She looked to him, but didn’t greet him or ask his business. Again, the colour of his eyes caught her.
He dodged hers. “Doctor Anderson told me you’d be here. I thought you might want this back,” he said, holding her pack out in front of him. “Unfortunately, we can’t give you your weapons unless we certify you. Strict rules.”
When she didn’t move to take the bag, Reid placed it on the desk by the door, nodded quickly, then left the room.
She closed the closet doors, fighting to keep control. She could feel her throat restrict and her nose burn. Feeling the wave of defeat come over her, she rushed to close the apartment door before she broke down completely.
After her mother had left the room, Catherine dried her tears. It was the only time she had discussed her father with her mother, and she was surprised to find that it had gone so well. When Catherine was younger, her mother snapped at her in response to such a question. But now Catherine felt she knew everything she needed to know.
2:34 a.m.
> She looked over her latest entry, then erased it all. She wanted something she could keep as her own.
As the sun was coming up once more, she went over the final touches of the exposition. It read:
Chapter 26
Terra found her way down the steps of the subway. It was three o’clock in the morning. No one would be there. That she knew from experience. It was her sanctuary from misfortune, despite what had happened.
She looked to her feet as she walked down the escalator. Clunk. Clunk. Her fingers were numb with cold and she could barely feel them as she ran them over the rubber rails. Clunk. Clunk.
He’d been so casual on the answering machine like he’d called hundreds of times prior. Mom had kept him from her for months. Years. Telling him when Terra would be home and when it was safe to leave a message. Erasing the evidence. Why? A series of negotiations she didn’t trust her daughter to be a part of? Her father, the man too elusive for her to have any business with. Years of careful planning cut down with one slip. Maybe her mother had not yet heard the message to erase it. Terra heard all she needed to.
She stepped off of the last step of the escalator and walked across the platform. Her head hung to her feet, watching them tread across the cold, grey cement. This place was so dreadful, so dank, but every bit of it told her of a world full of detail and wonderful complexity, every bit of it reminded her of Eric.
Not again.
She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes as she raised her head to the ceiling and stopped. Light from the lamps above made her see red from behind her eyelids. With her head tilted this way it was easy to stave off crying. Gravity pulls it away until you don’t feel anything anymore. Going, gone. She opened her mouth and exhaled slowly, opening her eyes. She looked straight again.
“Oh.”
Her lips parted and she inhaled quickly, as if she had just realized she was going to be in an accident. He stood in the middle of the platform, watching her.
He was probably thirty feet away but it may as well have been three inches. He was turned toward her, looking at her in such a way…she thought perhaps it was a mistake. She was imagining him. But, oh, how amazing it was to imagine.
When he stepped forward, his footfalls rang out as real as hers did. He came close enough for her to see the five o’clock shadow. Her fingers and toes were numb from something different than the cold now. She had looked upon his face many times when she was sure he wasn’t looking, but she still felt as if she had never seen someone so handsome before every time she looked at him. He was a stranger, but she felt she knew him so well.
He stood very still. He withdrew his hands from his pockets, twitching his fingers as if he was preparing to say something. Terra opened her mouth as well, but she closed it just as quickly.
“Hello,” he finally said.
“Hi.”
“Trains stopped a while ago.”
“Oh?” she said, feigning ignorance.
“I just read the schedule.”
She felt unbearable; her heart was racing in her chest, and she felt her cheeks and her eyes start to give her away.
“I just…well. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
Neither of them moved.
Still looking away from him, she smiled to the floor and shifted her feet, preparing to turn away. But she stood still. She took in a breath of air, mustering her bravery, looked at him and forced a smile. She sighed a small laugh and turned for the escalators.
“I see you here,” he said, pausing as if choosing his words with care. “Every morning.”
The thunder of her heart filled her chest with such a pressure that she braced against it. She turned back and tried to say something to fill the silence.
“I come here sometimes,” she said in a shaky voice, “when things are bad.”
“Bad?”
“I started just…sitting down here by myself in the middle of the night. Time to myself. To think on…things.” She looked across the platform. “I was almost mugged here.”
“What?”
“Over there,” she pointed to a nearby bench. “He was homeless.”
She dared a glance at his face, then turned towards the bench quickly, unsure of what she saw on his face.
“What did you do?”
“I ran,” she said, pointing up at the escalators just behind him. “He tackled me on the stairs. There was a Safe Walk volunteer who heard me and came.”
He didn’t say anything.
“And over there,” she said, pointing to the bench closest to the opposite escalators, “I caught someone trying to kill herself. And when my aunt died…I stayed here all night.”
Of all the times she invented conversations in her head, it never came out like this. Now she was just nervous that she had revealed an inappropriate amount of information to someone who just wanted to tell her the trains weren’t running.
“And tonight?”
She stared at him as if she had just realized he was standing there, trying to decide whether the look on his face was real or if she was just imagining the sympathy there. “I never knew my father,” she said carefully, “but he’s been in contact with my mother this whole time.”
His nod was solemn, knowing. “I come here too. When things don’t exactly pan out.” After a moment, he continued. “I lost a case two moths ago.” Terra already knew what case it was; she could picture the article as if it was a famous painting of a historical battle. “A mother won custody of her daughter, even after the judge was shown the drug addiction she was battling. Inconsistent witness evidence ended it.”
He looked to his feet, shaking his head with a small smile. “I come down here when I fail someone who needs me, and I think about things.”
Terra reminded herself to breathe. “How often do you come down here?”
“Too often.”
They held each other’s eyes for what seemed like too long. He then motioned to the bench between them, inviting her to sit. Her stomach leapt into her throat and she nodded, trying not to appear like a frightened animal. She moved towards the bench as he did (Is this real?) and sat with him. They were quiet for a while, Terra watching the wall across from her, studying the ads as if she hadn’t known them word for word already.
“Your father,” he said. “Did he leave your mother?”
Terra studied her hands. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”
“My wife left me for another man last year,” he said. “I never saw any signs that it was going to happen. I felt like I’d been missing everything in my life up until that point.”
She finally mustered the courage to look back at him. It was the closest they had ever been to each other. His eyes were green-grey.
“And so I left her the house and moved into an apartment downtown. I sold my car and started taking public transit, and then I started to face more failures in my career than I ever had before. I went through a small bout of depression. I saw a counsellor once, and then by a spur choice, I started coming down here just to think. Things started to pick up again, but I still felt like I’d lost something I’d never get back.”
His elbows were pitched on his knees, his hands loosely folded together. “I see you some mornings, down here. And I’ve wondered about you.” He let it hang in the air, waiting to see if she would reply, but she did not. She could not. “I see you standing in the same spot every day.” He pointed. “Holding that paper in front of you and not reading it. I sometimes caught you looking at me, and…well. I noticed.”
When he looked at her, she had to look away. It was too much.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,” he said with a laugh, his smile lighting up his face. “I suppose… paying for someone to listen to me and find out how to reach my goals doesn’t do the trick. And I certainly don’t have any friends that I can talk to freely like this.”
“I don’t have any either.”
He glanced at her again, but this time he didn’
t turn away quickly. “I have a confession to make, if you don’t mind hearing it.”
“I don’t.” Her voice wavered.
He turned back to his folded hands, running them over each other gently. “I mend a lot of families who are broken, I solve a lot of issues for people that they can’t, and I don’t feel like I’ve accomplished a thing in my life.”
“Why?”
His head dipped a little lower. “I can solve everyone else’s problems but I’ve never tried to figure out my own. I…screw so much up in my own life that I turn to others’ issues to forget about mine.”
It felt like a missing cog had just fallen into place.
“I don’t usually meet friends like this,” he said. “Would you…humour me and come find a coffee shop that might be open this late?”
He looked at her again, the loveliest smile on his face she had ever seen.
She took the leap, terrifying, freeing. “Yes.”
“My name is Eric.”
“Terra.”
He smiled. “I know.”
The rising sunlight hit her computer screen, and looking over her words pensively – her own private fantasy – Catherine hit the save button.
It was late evening. She had spent hours lying on the undressed bed, curled into a ball, perpetually imploding. She squeezed her eyes shut to cry. Squeeze it out and repair. But she didn’t want to repair, she didn’t want to forget.
The sun had set. Now she could barely see her hand in front of her face. She would have to move. She couldn’t lay there all night, especially not in those clothes, covered in blood as they were. The scrubs crossed her mind. She kicked off her boots and peeled off her clothes. As she approached the closet she halted, seeing herself in the full-length mirror. Still deathly thin, but now where once she was covered only in scars and bone-white skin she was now mired with bruises and gashes from her upper ribs to her mid-thighs. A distinct red-purple gash ran across her hips like a wide, messy brushstroke. It was brutal, it was ugly, it was all she had left of him.