by R A Doty
Either way, the chair was his now. And the odor wasn’t really that bad, considering the cushions were made of leather and it looked as though the guy had all but mummified and been dehydrated for years. There was still a slight odor, but nothing the Lysol and blanket couldn’t mask. You could never get rid of the smell of death, but you could tone it down enough to live with it. He remembered washing the National Guard trucks they collected the bodies in. They were sprayed out each time, but the odor lingered, as it always seems to in the air nowadays; it was always in his nose and still is. He got used to it.
He sat there as proud as a king on his throne, staring around the room. It was easy to imagine it was his family sitting on the sofa, his two daughters flipping through some magazine they found and his wife sitting alongside them, hands folded on her lap, twiddling her thumbs. He noticed the expression on Betty’s face as she stared down at her hands. This was one of those times he wished he could speak. Are you okay? he would ask. But he couldn’t. He was, however, pretty good at expressing his thoughts. He stretched out his leg, and his work-boot just touched the side of her shoe. When she looked up from her trance, he gave his head a quick tilt back. It was just as good as words.
Betty smiled, a half smile, the kind you make when there’s something wrong but you don’t actually want anyone to know. Maybe. “I’m fine,” she said. “I was just thinking.”
Cain tilted his head again.
“I was just thinking about my parents.”
This caught the attention of Calla and April. They could tell by the tone of Betty’s voice that she was depressed. They closed the magazine and placed it on the coffee table. Calla felt bad for never asking Betty any questions about her past. She wanted to, but she was afraid of prying. Maybe she lost someone she loved: a husband, child. There was still a tender part in her heart whenever she thought of the people she had spent her entire life with—the people masquerading as her parents—and she wasn’t ready to discuss them with anyone, yet. Maybe in the future. That’s why she didn’t want to pry into Betty’s past. Maybe she, too, wasn’t ready. But now it seemed as though she was.
“Are they dead?” April asked.
“April!” Calla said. “That’s very cold-hearted.”
“What? I was just asking a question.” April had learned many things once she was introduced to a world she had never known existed, but dealing with the sensitivities of human emotions was something she had little experience with. “I’m sorry, Betty. I didn’t mean to–”
“It’s fine,” Betty said. “It was an honest question that I wish I had an answer to. The fact is, I don’t know. I was only twenty-six the last time I saw them, and I had just turned down a nursing job at the local hospital. They paid for me to become a nurse, but I always wanted to work with children, maybe a teacher’s aide or a day-care assistant. I decided to move away to take a job at a school in Boston, so neither of them wanted to talk to me when I left. I say wanted, because my mother did say goodbye, but I could tell she was upset and disappointed.” Another forced smile. “It’s kind of ironic, actually, because I did get a job with the school, but I became the school nurse. I realized I actually did like nursing, although I comforted the students more than nursed them, and I adored children, so it was the obvious compromise. After two years, I was planning to take some time off to go visit them, but that’s when the warning signal came over the television to announce the President was making a live broadcast, something about a massive food shortage and how it started. Things turned chaotic, immediately, and all everyone could do was try to survive what was coming. It’s hard to believe that was ten years ago already.”
Betty sat silently, reliving that day—a day that everyone who is still alive will never forget. Whenever disaster first makes its appearance, you always seem to remember where you were and what you were doing. As if you’re on the brink of death but you live and get a chance to start all over again. “I was searching the hallway closet to see if I could find my suitcase so I’d be ready to go visit my parents when the time came.” She looked up and glanced at each one of them with a sincere smile. “When I dug it out from under some boxes, I noticed the handle was broken. For some reason, after the President’s grim announcement, my only thought was, should I buy a new suitcase or try to fix it somehow? As if I couldn’t accept what he had just said.” She lowered her head again. “I somehow realized at that moment that I would never see my parents again.” She looked up, expressionless. “And I never did.”
Calla scooted over and hugged Betty with everything she had. It didn’t take long for the tears to begin. She felt sorry for Betty, but she also realized how much she missed her own parents. Yes, they were her parents, regardless of what that hag Carla had said when she and April were finally caught. She realized that, now. Even if they weren’t her biological parents, they still raised her and they were kind. They didn’t deserve what they got because of her actions. Betty returned the hug; it was comforting and something she hadn’t done in a long time.
Cain didn’t know how to react. There was a lot of emotion and it made him feel somewhat uncomfortable. Should he try to comfort them somehow? Hugs weren’t one of his people skills, as if he had any at all, so he quickly dismissed the idea. At least he didn’t have to think of any words that might somehow soothe them. Silence is golden, he thought, for the first time since his vocal cords were burned out of his throat by the citizens of the great city of Ancada—perhaps the silver lining on his dark-cloud of a life. He turned his attention to April, who was sitting silently. Although she wasn’t crying like the others, the way she was staring at nothing was very telling. He felt sorry for her, as if she had nothing to cry for. He wondered if she had ever shed a tear since the day he accidentally slammed the door into her face when he was trying to escape from Ancada. What could her life had been like since then?
THE canned food lasted approximately two more weeks, give or take a few days. Betty packed the remaining few cans of potatoes and some fruit cocktail in a denim pack she found in one of the closets—a boy’s closet she presumed, judging by the clothing on the hangers. She also stuffed it with everything else she thought they could use—her gift of being prepared coming into play again.
April was eager to leave, to see what else the world had to offer, although she was somewhat nervous after that dream, the one she’ll probably never forget. Does anyone forget the horrible dreams? She waited by the front door, standing on her tippy-toes trying to peak through the little square windows at the top of the door. She didn’t dare open it, Cain drilled that command into her, Calla’s, and Betty’s heads. She thought it amazing how someone that couldn’t speak could find a way to communicate so clearly. And then she thought of her life in the kennel before meeting Calla. She and the others had found a way to communicate without speaking, just like Cain. The dominant males usually communicated with grunts, louder when they were angry. The females used mostly hand gestures. But none of them ever did this in the presence of the ones outside the fence; the ones that took care of them. It was instinctual for them to keep to themselves, almost tribal. When she heard the others walking her way, she stepped aside to let Cain go first. She followed directly behind him as he opened the door and stepped onto the stoop.
A shot of chilly September air met them as they walked down the steps to the sidewalk. Cain noticed the door was left open, and for a moment he had considered walking back to close it before coming to his senses. Like it would matter anymore. The KEEP OUT sign now faced the interior, an ironic warning for anyone considering leaving the building and going outside. But it was too late for them, they had already entered the belly of the city. The only question now was: would they get back out?
“I think we head this way,” Betty said, pointing to the woods on the outskirts of the city. I remember Mr. Steinberg saying something about a small stream you have to cross before entering the woods.”
Cain led the way and the others followed, three little ducks followin
g the leader, all lined up behind Cain in order of height: April, who was the shortest, followed by Calla, who was slightly taller, followed by Betty, who had a good two inches on Calla. It was morning, so Cain wasn’t as worried to walk through the streets as he was the night they had left the church. He still scanned in every direction as he walked, always expecting someone to jump out. Everyone walked that way now. It was the only way to survive. When they finally reached the stream Betty had mentioned, he knew they must be headed in the right direction. He continued walking until noticing the circle of rocks in the distance and what looked like the bodies of people spread out around the rocks. He wondered if it was animals or humans that tore them apart. Judging by the way the bones were scattered he assumed it was animals, but one could never be sure. He placed his hand on April’s back, trying to shield her from the sight, but her eyes had already locked onto it, her head twisting in that direction like it was being pulled by a magnetic force.
Calla turned quickly away from the sight. She immediately remembered what her parents had always said about the mainland and how dangerous it was. So far, everything seemed to be true. She wondered if she and April would be able to survive.
Chapter Twenty-Six
NOW that she was out of the city, the mainland didn’t seem as frightening to April as she followed Cain through the woods. It was quite beautiful, actually. Eerily quiet, but beautiful. She loved birds, and every now and then she would spy one skittering from one branch to another. Her face lit up when she noticed a chick-a-dee. Seeing the tiny birds with the black caps, perched on the chain-link fence, were one of the few pleasures she enjoyed at the kennel. They were even more special now, having discovered their name from Calla’s tablet. She whistled two notes, one high and one low. The tiny bird responded.
As they passed a large pine, April pressed her hand to its bark, excited to finally find out what an actual tree felt like. When she removed it, a sticky substance stuck to her palm. She smelled it. It was incredible; the best thing she had ever smelled her entire life. She didn’t like the stickiness, however. When she closed her hand and opened it again, her fingers stuck together. She raised it to her nose again, wishing she could somehow save the aroma forever.
“Your sister is very curious, isn’t she?” Betty said.
“She’s always fascinated by everything she sees,” Calla responded. “She’s really intelligent. I mean, really intelligent. I taught her how to speak in a matter of weeks, and once she got a hold of my tablet you wouldn’t believe how much she learned.”
“What do you mean you taught her to speak? When she was a toddler?”
“No, when I first met her when I was assigned to work in the kennels. Do you remember me telling you about the nutrimen?”
“Yeah... You’re not saying that April was one of those, are you?”
Calla nodded.
“That’s horrible. The poor child. How long was she kept in captivity?”
“Until me and my friend, Sarah, rescued her, just before we arrived here on the mainland. That’s why we had to leave Ancada.”
“So, let me get this straight. She was kept in captivity her entire life, and she wasn’t allowed to speak or be spoken to?”
“Not until I came along. She’s only been speaking for a few months. Until then, she’s never heard or spoke a word her entire life.”
Betty studied April, who just pulled a plant from the ground and brought it to her nose. “That’s amazing. How could she have possibly learned so fast?”
“I’m not sure. She’s just really smart. That’s what attracted me to her in the first place. I wasn’t supposed to speak to her, but I couldn’t help it. There was just something about her that captivated me. That’s why she’s so special. And then finding out we both had the same father made her even more special.”
“What do you mean, the same father? Didn’t your father know he had another daughter?”
“Neither of us ever met our real father.” Calla noticed the confusion on Betty’s face. “It’s really complicated. I’ll explain it to you sometime, but it’s hard to talk about right now.”
“I understand. I’d love to hear it when you’re ready.”
Cain stopped, wondering which way to go.
“I think we keep walking straight,” Betty said, breathing heavier, the morning chill fading quickly.”
The sun poked through the trees, long beams of golden light piercing the dark canopy. October was right around the corner, and some of the trees had already adorned bright yellow leaves. April studied every tree, each having some hidden treasure to offer. A pungent odor filled the air, she wondered what plant it was coming from. The ferns, perhaps? The green moss covering a dead log? And then the scent turned sweet as they walked farther. She noticed a bush with small white flowers and rushed over to smell it. The fragrance was intoxicating. She tried to break-off one of the branches, but was poked by something sharp. A tiny drop of blood appeared at the tip of her finger. How could something so pretty be harmful? She then noticed a flying insect with large colorful wings, perched on one of the white flowers. “A butterfly,” she whispered. She started to reach for it, but decided against it. And then a horribly loud noise scared it away. Scared everything away. Birds sprang from the trees, and she noticed Cain kneeling toward the ground. Her ears began to ring.
“You didn’t think you could leave that easily did you brother Cain?” David Crullen appeared from behind them, a man carrying a rifle, walking next to him.
Cain rushed forward, putting himself between David, his sidekick, and the women. He thought of the rifle the dead man in the chair was holding. He felt stupid for forgetting to bring it. The sidekick raised the rifle, the sites pointed at Cain’s head. Cain stopped.
“Please don’t make us waste any more ammo, Cain,” David said. “It’s so hard to come by nowadays. Especially for these archaic weapons.” He touched the tip of the gun, commanding the sidekick to lower it.
Cain never noticed the church having any weapons of any value in the entire time he had spent there. Nothing but knives, axes, and whatever would fit in one’s hand. He wondered where David had the rifle hidden and how many other weapons were there, if any. Maybe there weren’t any more. If there were, why didn’t they bring them when trying to regain control of the Steinberg estate? There couldn’t be any others. But David, he learned over the many years he had been with him, is full of surprises. Sometimes good, mostly bad. He knew he could probably kill the two men standing before him, and he wanted to, but he also knew he’d have to take a bullet to do it. And the wound might be fatal. He couldn’t leave the women alone to fend for themselves.
“I was very surprised to see you go, Cain,” David said. “And so suddenly. And you as well, sister Betty. After all we’ve done for you.”
Betty tried to make eye contact with him, but he had a power that made her want to run to him. To ask for his forgiveness. Her body began to tremble, her hands noticeably shaking. She looked away. Ashamed. But what did David ever do for her? It was true that he provided her with food and shelter and protected her from the outside world, but who was there to protect her from him on those late-night visits? Or any of the other women in the congregation? Thank God for the other women, as horrible as she felt for thinking it. If not for them, his visits would have been more frequent. But as much as she wanted to confront him, to stare him in the eyes, a little girl inside of her wanted to cower away in a corner. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. She somehow knew what he wanted, and as exciting as it was to think of a life outside of the church, she realized it would never happen.
“I won’t try to stop you, Cain,” David said. “If I forced you to come back you would just kill us, one by one, when you had the chance, but I do want the women.” Cain stepped forward and sidekick raised the gun, forcing him to stop. “There’s a whole world out there, Cain, waiting for you to take. Are these three worth your life? Worth dying for? And I would then take them anyway. At least this way,
you get to live.”
“There’s another way,” Betty said. As hard as it was to confront David, she forced herself to finish her thought. “We were on our way to the Steinberg estate. When we get there, we could convince them to share what they have, perhaps bring back food for the church.”
“And what makes you think they would do that? We have already tried, unsuccessfully. We’ve lost lives. What could you possibly do any different?”
“We could try asking, without the use of force, this time. There has to be at least a little compassion in all of us.” Except for one man, Betty thought. But knowing that, she still felt sorry for him. As she looked at him, really looked at him, she wondered what kind of a life had he lived to make him what he is today. A man that could be so ruthless.
David considered the suggestion. It might lead to a new supply of food, something they so desperately needed. If he didn’t start providing, the congregation would soon turn on him. It was inevitable. David nodded. “I suppose I could take you up on the offer, but I would need an insurance policy that would force you to return. I’ll let the others go, but I’ll need you to stay, sister Betty.”
Cain shook his head, his arms outstretched in front of the women, blocking them from David.
“Then we’ll go back to the first plan,” David said. He turned to the man standing beside him. “Shoot him.”
“Wait!” Betty yelled, stepping in front of Cain. “I’ll go.”
BETTY knew going back to the church was the only option, but she wouldn’t deny the disappointment she was feeling. It was about as safe as one could be, there, but was it really living? She had always wondered if it was the right decision to have gone to the church in the first place. Should she have at least tried to locate her parents? But things were so crazy, and so many people were dying. She wouldn’t have ever made it back to them. Or would she have? It’s a question she’ll never know the answer to.