The Place Inside the Storm

by Bradley W Wright

  I turned back to the bench where she had left the pile of clean clothes, neatly stacked. I saw that my boots had left dirty footprints on the floor so I sat and unlaced them. My head was spinning again. Slowly, I stood and peeled my filthy clothes off until I stood naked in the warm, humid air. There was a full length mirror on the wall by the doorway to the shower room. I approached it. I barely recognized myself. I was even thinner than before but hard muscles flexed beneath my skin where I had always been scrawny. My neck and face, my ankles, my wrists--everywhere my skin had been exposed--were dark with grime. I had a scratch on my cheek and a dark bruise on my thigh. My hair was almost in dreadlocks. My face was gaunt and streaked where tears had run down my cheeks. I turned away from my reflection, picked up the toiletries bag, and walked through the doorway. There were six individual shower stalls with curtains. I chose the nearest and turned on the water. It came out cold but quickly warmed. I stepped under the water, felt my knees buckle, and lowered myself to the floor, sitting against the wall, hugging myself, letting the rest of the tears I had been holding back come.

  It all seemed so sudden. I had gotten used to the days of silence and walking in the woods. My mind had taken on the rhythm of that life. Now I was somewhere else again. Another place to learn. What was this place anyway? Who were these people? Would they really help me? Why had they brought me here?

  The questions swam in my head but after a little while I began to calm. The warm water washed away my tears and soothed me. Somehow, through the weeks of being on the run, I had begun to find a new, deep reserve of confidence and acceptance. I couldn’t answer those questions. Only time could give me answers. Whatever the answers were, I would find a way to do what was needed. I felt, again, as I had on the floater, that everything was spinning around me out of control. I was in the eye of the storm. But deep inside me, at my core, I held the still point, the center point--the strong, grounded center that supported the mass of the spinning world. Like the words from the song I had heard in the car: my spirit stood on solid ground. I could rely on it.

  I sat on the wooden bench again, dressed in the clothes Yarrow had given me. The clothing had no tags, no branding, no itchy seams. The fabrics were soft and worn in. There was no residue of perfumed detergent on them. The soap and shampoo, too, had been unscented. The toiletries kit included a brush which I was now using with some of the conditioner to slowly untangle my hair. There was a knock at the door then, a moment later, Yarrow entered.

  “Ah, cleaned up I see. Let’s get some food in you. Salmon chowder and fresh bread in the dining room.”

  “How’s Loki? Can I see him now?”

  “Haven’t heard from Sky yet. I’ll go check on him while you eat.” She was leading me back the way we had come. Soon we were at the large room by the kitchen. It was empty now but the music was still playing--soft, almost too quiet to hear, strings and piano. There was a long counter with an equally long, tall, open window looking into the kitchen next door. “Paul,” Yarrow called, “We’ve got a customer. Give me big bowl of the chowder and some bread if you have any left.”

  A man in white came out of a walk in refrigerator at the back of the kitchen. “Coming up,” he called back.

  Moments later he reappeared with a tray holding a large, earthenware bowl and a thick slice of dark bread.

  “Take that,” Yarrow said, handing it to me. “Honey and butter over there,” she said, pointing to a cupboard. “I’m off to check on your friend. Back in a bit. Eat well.” With that, she turned and was gone again, through the door.

  Paul was still there, behind the counter. “Good chowder,” he said, gesturing toward the bowl. “Found some chanterelles yesterday. Fresh salmon too. Goat milk. Herbs from the garden. Bread’s fresh out of the oven. Welcome to the commune.” He was a big man with a round face. He spoke softly and avoided my eyes like Yarrow had.

  “Thank you,” I said and he turned away, back to his kitchen.

  I seated myself at one of the long tables. The dining room was large with the same softly glowing lights as the corridors, set into the high ceiling. There was an area toward the back of the room with a rag rug on the floor, low, comfortable looking chairs, pillows, a sofa, and an upright piano. The walls were painted a pale gray and there was a large cork board with what looked like children’s’ artwork pinned neatly to it. I tried a spoonful of the chowder and found that it was delicious. Before I knew it, I was sopping up the final drops of soup with my last crust of bread. Days of foraging in the woods had left me half-starved. Just as I began to look around, wondering what I should do next, Yarrow came back into the room.

  “Clean and fed,” she said in a singsong voice. “Now we can go look in on your friend then off to bed with you. Put your tray there. Paul will get it. That’s right. Now this way.”

  I followed along again as she led me out and through a warren of passageways. We climbed a short set of stairs, pushed through double doors, and turned into another room. This one, like all the rest, was windowless but pleasantly lit. There were several beds and various medical devices on carts pushed up against the walls. Sky was bending over Loki who was on the bed closest to the door. I walked over slowly. Xel was perched at the foot of the bed, watching the readout on a monitor. As I neared, I saw that Loki was covered with a blanket and was wearing a thin circlet of plastic and metal on his forehead.

  “What’s happening?” I asked.

  Xel and Sky both turned toward me.

  “Sky is monitoring Loki and attempting to determine the extent to which the device has invaded his brain,” Xel answered. “Loki is resting but has not come around yet.”

  “I need Alphar and Oak,” Sky said. “They know about these devices. I’m not getting anywhere.”

  “I will ask them to come,” Yarrow replied. “I’m going to take Tara to her room so she can get some rest.”

  “You should go get some sleep, Tara. I will keep watch.” Xel said.

  I reached out and put a hand on his back. “Thanks, Xel. Let me know if...” I broke off, yawning. I was exhausted. “...I don’t know. Just please keep me updated.”

  “I will. Go sleep now. Loki is going to be okay.”

  ***

  When I woke, the room was dark, and I had no idea how long I had slept. Yarrow had led me, half-asleep, to the small room off a corridor near the kitchen and dining room. We had passed a few people on the way but Yarrow shushed them.

  “Later. You’ll meet everybody later,” she had said.

  I lay there for a while, snuggled down into the warm, soft blankets. After a little while, I remembered Yarrow had told me the room was outfitted with a simple computer.

  “Computer,” I said but the word came out as a croak. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Computer, what time is it?”

  “Seven forty-two a.m.,” a soft voice answered.

  I had slept through the evening and all the way to the next morning.

  “Please turn up the lights a little.”

  A soft glow filled the room, and I sat up, looking around. The room had a twin bed with a rust colored blanket, a wooden shelving unit with drawers, a small round rag rug like the one in the dining room, and a desk and chair.

  “Yarrow has requested to be notified when you are awake. I will message her now.”

  “Okay,” I answered. My bladder felt ready to burst. “Can you tell me how to get to the bathroom?”

  When I came out of the bathroom, which was just down the hall from my room, I saw Yarrow coming up the corridor toward me.

  “You’re up,” she said. “Looking rested. Your friend is still sleeping. Xel is with him. Interesting fellow, Xel. Had a good talk last night. Let’s get breakfast then go see them. We need to have a talk with Oak. Explanations can wait until then. All questions answered after food and coffee.”

  The dining hall was crowded. There were about twenty people there, seated at the tables, eating oatmeal, toast, and eggs. People were talking but they spoke softly and the n
oise level was low. Yarrow ordered me a huge bowl of oatmeal and a mound of eggs. We sat down at the end of one of the tables next to a girl a couple of years younger than me and a man and woman who seemed to be her parents. Yarrow introduced me to them. The girl’s name was Meadow, and her parents were Rex and Julie. Meadow glanced sidelong at me and smiled. She was small and plump with dark hair, cut short, and wore the same sort of clothes Yarrow had given me.

  “May I speak to Tara?” Meadow asked very softly, eyes on her breakfast.

  Yarrow gestured toward me. “Up to her, Meadow.”

  “Yes--of c--course,” I stammered. “You don’t have to ask permission.”

  “We always ask. Welcome to Cedar Creek,” she said. “I’m going to help feed the goats after breakfast. It’s animal day for me. Want to come?”

  “Tara has some business after breakfast, Meadow,” Yarrow said. “I’ll bring her by later if she wants to meet the goats.”

  “Okay,” Meadow answered, still smiling. “Mine is named Jonquil. She’s white with black spots.”

  “She sounds pretty,” I answered. “I’d love to come by and meet her.”

  Meadow took a big bite of toast with honey dripping from it.

  I turned to Yarrow. “Why doesn’t anyone make eye contact here?” I asked. “I mean--it’s nice, actually. I’m just used to everybody always trying to get me to look at their eyes, though.”

  Yarrow nodded, chewing a bite of oatmeal.

  “Some people don’t like it,” Meadow answered. Yarrow took a sip of coffee, waiting for her to continue. “We are taught not to do that unless we know somebody really well. Even then, we don’t have to, if we don’t want. Nobody expects it.”

  “Time to go, finish your toast,” Meadow’s father said.

  Meadow was staring off into space, thinking about something.

  He waited a moment then drummed his fingers lightly on the top of her head. “Finish your toast,” he repeated. “Jonquil’s waiting for you.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Meadow said, shoving the last bite of toast into her mouth, and hopping up. She ran off without another word. Her parents stood too, nodded their goodbyes to me and Yarrow, and carried their trays to the counter.

  “Nice people,” Yarrow said. “Let’s go see Loki and Xel.”

  Xel was curled at the foot of Loki’s bed. Loki lay still, the device resting on his forehead, chest rising and falling rhythmically under the blanket. Xel stood when we entered. There was a woman in the room, sitting in the corner with specs on, she was quietly issuing commands and dictating. Next to her was an occupied bed I hadn’t noticed on my previous visit. The occupant seemed to be a young woman. She was wearing a device similar to Loki’s and lay absolutely still. Her face was pale and drawn and a knit hat covered her hair. I walked to Loki’s bed. His face seemed younger, totally relaxed. They had bathed him. His face and hands were clean.

  “He is still asleep, Tara,” Xel said, rising. “They are controlling his brainwaves, keeping him in Delta. Alphar and Oak need to speak with us. They think you might be able to help.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Let me just sit with him for a minute.” I took his hand and held it, sitting on the edge of the bed. I was worried, and I had a tight feeling in my chest. I didn’t want bad news, but I also wanted to know what was going on. After a couple of minutes, I stood. “All right,” I said firmly, squeezing Loki’s hand and then carefully placing it back down on the blanket, “let’s go.”

  Yarrow led Xel and me to a room next door to the infirmary. Inside, one whole wall was covered by a bank of computer equipment. In the center of the room was a table with several chairs arrayed around it. Alphar sat at the table. He was wearing specs. Another man sat next to him--an older man with short gray hair and a neatly trimmed beard--also wearing specs. When we entered, they both turned to face us.

  “Please come sit down,” the gray-haired man said, gesturing to the empty chairs around the table.

  “Tara, this is Oak, my husband,” Yarrow said as we seated ourselves.

  Xel jumped up onto the chair next to mine.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, looking around the room.

  “It’s nice to meet you as well. I’m impressed that you made it here. Also, glad. We’re happy to have you here. I assume you have plenty of questions. Let me go ahead and explain who we are and what this place is.”

  I nodded. Like Yarrow, and everybody else at the compound, he wasn’t looking directly at me.

  “Yes, please,” I answered. “I’d like to know. It was a long journey. It wasn’t easy. Why did you send the messages to me? Why bring me here?”

  “Yes, we’ve heard the story of your journey from your friend Xel. We’re glad you decided to come.” He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, and stared at the ceiling for a moment before continuing. “Let me begin at the beginning. Yarrow and I had a son, Joseph. He was everything to us. A beautiful boy. This was in the teens. Before the plagues and the floods and the reorganization. Our son was different. His brain didn’t work in the normal way. The doctors told us he was autistic. Do you know the term? No, of course, you don’t. It has been erased by the corporations. They control the curriculum in the schools, the psychology textbooks, everything. Well, back then, it was recognized. We studied and read and talked to experts and found out everything we could about it. There was a brief moment of enlightenment.

  “There was a movement, a new civil rights movement, to grant people who were different, whose brains worked differently, full rights. The right to practical accommodations. Just as businesses were required to have ramps for people in wheelchairs and elevators were required to have braille for the blind, we worked to make society accept and meet the needs of neurodiverse people. Neurodiverse means having a brain that works differently from the norm. Our son had trouble in school. He was overwhelmed by the noise and the clutter in the classrooms. He couldn’t stand the buzzing lights. He didn’t understand the subtle, unspoken social cues that are such a major part of how children communicate with each other. Children and adults on the autism spectrum often have sensory issues. Noisy, crowded, bright, cluttered environments make it very hard for them to concentrate. They are prone to melt down or shut down when they’re overwhelmed--basically becoming unable to regulate themselves. They have trouble reading facial expressions and body language. Sometimes they are highly verbal. Sometimes they barely speak at all. Some don’t like to make eye contact. Some have gross motor impairment or sensory processing delays that can make them seem clumsy. Often, autistic kids have trouble making friends. They can be teased and picked on by their peers because of their difference...”

  As he spoke I started to feel agitated. I felt blood rushing to my face. My legs twitched and I wanted to run. I held up my hand, squeezing my eyes shut, and he stopped speaking. It was like he was talking about me! All my issues, all my struggles. How did he know? I felt like I was in the psychologist’s office again listening to them talk about me over the intercom. I flashed back to that moment and the anger and confusion I felt then returned full force. It was like I was back in that room. He knew everything. How could he know? I stood blindly and tottered for a moment, squeezing my hands into fists.

  “I can’t--need some air,” I croaked, blundered my way to the door, threw it open, and ran down the hall. I kept going, not knowing where I was. I came to another door finally. There was daylight coming through a small window. I threw the door open, ran out, kept running for...I didn’t know how long. The world around me was a blur.

  Finally, I stopped. I crouched down, my chest heaving. There was dirt under my feet. Bits of straw were scattered in the dirt. I raised my head and looked around--an enclosed pen, like the goat pen at Jed and Delia’s house. There was a goat ten paces from me. It bleated at me and walked away. The still point, I told myself, I’m the still point. I’m the calm place inside the storm. I can handle this. How did he know about me though? No, he was describing his son, not me. A son who had the
same problems I have. Another person like me.

  “Hi, Tara.”

  I turned and saw Meadow.

  “Did you come to meet Jonquil?” she asked.

  I looked at her for a moment. “Are you like me, Meadow?” I asked her back, returning a question for a question, not even sure what I meant.

  Meadow seemed to know, though, even if I didn’t. She nodded. “Do you mean autistic? Yeah. Maybe not just like you, though. We’re all different, you know. We’re all individuals. My dad told me you might not know about it. Is that true?”

  “Yes, I guess so. I mean, where I’m from we didn’t know about it. Or maybe some people did, but nobody told me. Is it really true? “

  “Yeah. That’s why we have this place. The commune. It’s why my parents moved here with me. My thing is goats. And other animals. But mostly goats. I like them a lot. Did you know that goats have four stomachs? My parents are always telling me I talk about goats too much. I heard you have a cat. Can I meet him?”

  “He’s not a real cat,” I said, smiling at Meadow’s enthusiasm. “He’s a robot.” Something about her grounded me. I felt something click into place in that moment. There were other people like me. Meadow, standing in front of me, was a person like me.

  “Is that him?” she asked, pointing.

  I turned and saw Xel sitting on a fence post next to a gate I had apparently left open. A couple of goats were hanging around. They looked like they wanted to make a dash for the open gate but they also looked like they didn’t want to get too close to Xel.

  “Yes,” I answered. “His name is Xel. I think I have to go back. Do you want to meet him right now, before I go? I can come back later and meet Jonquil.”

  ***

  “I’m sorry, Tara,” Oak said when Xel and I returned to the room. “I should have taken that slower. I forget sometimes what it is like out there in the world you came to us from. I know it must be difficult. You have held this in all your life. You’ve felt different but you haven’t been able to explain it. Am I correct?” I nodded and he continued. “It had never been acknowledged until you overheard the doctors telling your parents you had a disease--a disease that needed to be cured by putting a device in your head. We don’t believe in that here. We’re fighting against it. That’s why we sent you the messages and hoped you would find your way to us.”