by JM Butcher
“Don’t worry,” Lexa says. “We’ll find him and visit him.”
Lexa’s never been a good liar. We both know we won’t be visiting Ronnie. The government doesn’t allow people to visit detained Unfavorables. And the likelihood of him seeing one more day of his life outside of prison is highly doubtful.
“Yeah,” I whisper, “we’ll visit him soon.” I force a smile, knowing there’s nothing I can do to comfort Lexa in this moment.
“Dad, too,” Tyler says. “He’s in prison.” I figured as much.
Gazing at all of them, I realize there are only four of us in here. I think back to the Coats shooting at swimmers. No matter how much I dread the answer, I have to know.
“What about Gia and Olivia?” I ask. “Were they…”
“They’re fine,” Melli says. “They didn’t come down here with us. They decided to search for Jack. But they’re fine.”
I breathe a sigh of relief.
“What about the screams?” I ask. “What about the kids on the other side? Did their wasps stop stinging them?”
Melli’s confused by the wasp reference. “Umm…” she says. “Honestly, Maggie, they were still screaming by the time we left.”
“Did it ever stop?” I ask. “Has it stopped?” Nobody answers.
I close my eyes, thinking about the tens of thousands of Unfavorables in the Union. Even those who weren’t infected by the virus. Every single Unfavorable wailing in unrelenting pain, the worst pain that they have and will ever experience. Please, please, if there is a God, tell me that the wasps stopped stinging those kids.
I open my eyes.
“Aren’t ya gonna ask about your eye!” Tyler says. “If it weren’t for me, you’d have torn the whole thing out!” He’s so proud of himself.
“Whatever, Ty-ty,” Lexa says. “You were afraid to look at the blood.” She pats his shoulder.
“But I still have…?” I ask. I reach back to my wounded eye, but stop.
“Yeah,” Melli answers. “You scratched it up pretty good, but it’ll heal.” She strokes my hair. “Let’s get ya up,” Melli says, and the three of them help me out of bed. “We made it to Orlando Beach.”
“Yeah,” Tyler says, “you gotta see this beach house!” Before I raise my back, he’s waiting by the door, ready to take me to the beach. His excitement and innocence bring me hope that everything might work out. That we won’t end up in a Home. That he will be safe.
“Why don’t we let her go see the ocean first,” Lexa suggests.
“Right out there,” Melli points to a side door in my room. A set of wooden planks leads out to a path that must go straight to the ocean.
“Aren’t you gonna come with me?” I ask her.
“I’ll be out there in a second,” Melli answers. “You should see it for yourself first.”
I’m glad they let me go alone. I’ve always thought the ocean is mysterious, and I want to take it in. It’s difficult to really feel the indescribable sensations of the unknown when in the company of others.
The ocean breeze blows my frizzy hair to the side as I cross the walkway. The sun warms my face. The white sand burns my feet, but it’s bearable. I drag my feet through the sand, so that every part of my toes feel the tiny grains. I bend over and rub my hands through the sand, too.
As I continue my way to the water, the waves get louder. I hear the white caps form and crash back down. I watch the foam form and float up the beach, just to be pulled back into the beautiful, blue water.
When I make it to the water, I dip my feet in. The water is warm. It gets a little cooler as I walk in up to my knees. Waves splash against my shorts, but I don’t mind. I’m too caught up in the endlessness of the earth’s most powerful force.
I look up at the bluest sky I have ever seen. A couple of fluffy clouds slowly drift to the west. They aren’t enough to provide shade.
Orlando Beach is as beautiful as everyone has said. It’s perfect. And I finally made it here. Why, then, do I not feel happy? Why do I feel like crying tears of sadness?
I look to my right, and I see a familiar profile of a woman standing with her feet in the water. She looks straight ahead of her, into the ocean. It’s as if she can feel my eyes on her, though, because she turns to face me. She walks toward me.
The closer she gets, the more I see that it’s someone I know. I haven’t seen her in years, but the face matches the one I saw in the Think Tank. She hasn’t aged much. Her hair is shorter than I remember, barely covering her ears. Her neat bangs cover her forehead and nearly reach her nicely groomed eyebrows.
When I longed to be with Mother at Orlando Beach, this is not how my night thoughts imagined it. I imagined being here with Dad and Tyler. I imagined being here with Mom, not with Mother.
No matter how much I want to, I can’t stop looking at her. It’s like my whole body is frozen in place. My feet sink into the sand when the waves return to the ocean, but I stay still.
Before she speaks, I close my eyes.
“You don’t know how happy I am to see you, my yellow bird.”