by Diane Cook
Agnes looked to the bottom. The sandy ripples were still. She became aware of how everything was still and quiet. She could only hear a thumping in her ears. Her own heartbeat. She looked across at her mother and saw the artery at her throat pulsing. With each thrum in her mother’s neck, she heard a thrum in her ears. The only sound beneath the water was the beating of their own hearts together, the coursing of their blood. And then, when her mother laughed, the bubbles spilled from her like it was her very life escaping. Agnes wanted to grab all those bubbles and gobble them up so she could have it forever.
She felt a mournful longing for her mother, as though she were far away, untouchable. The water made Bea look like she was behind a plate of glass. Agnes reached for her, but she was just far enough away that she couldn’t grab hold. She tried again, and her mother dodged her hand and smiled. She thought it was a game. So Agnes shook her head no and thrust both hands out anxiously to show her how much she needed her, and finally she caught a handful of her mother’s wisping hair and pulled, trying to catch her.
Her mother’s face grimaced, and a moan full of bubbles escaped her as she pried Agnes’s hand away. She scowled back at Agnes. But then her face turned panicked and she yanked Agnes to her, grabbed her by the waist, kicked her up to the surface.
At the surface, Agnes sputtered and coughed and realized she’d been trying to breathe underwater. She hadn’t been aware, so fixated she’d been on reaching her mother. She felt like she’d been asleep. The only proof it hadn’t been a dream was everything around her. The water. The cliffs. Her mother’s arms were around her, pulling her back to shore. She looked around her in a daze at the sun glinting off the basalt rocks, the white and black obsidian. The waxy clusters of pine needles. It was as though the whole Caldera glittered.
Celeste and Patty and Jake watching her be pulled to shore.
“Good job, Agnes,” said Celeste. “Real nice form.” The Twins snickered.
Agnes didn’t care. She just let herself be dragged, weightless in the water, her head safely above, her body cool, her mother’s arm around her, like in the rivers of those early days, when she was just her mother’s little girl, who had just grown out of being her mother’s little baby. She felt like a baby again. She dangled her arms and legs and burbled her lips across the surface as she was dragged along.
Bea got Agnes to the fire and put her coat around her. Everyone was still swimming. Agnes could hear all their voices echoing off the Caldera walls, sounding as far away as ghosts.
“No more swimming for you,” her mother said.
“Okay,” Agnes said.
Her mother’s eyebrows went up. “Okay? Well, then, okay.”
Her mother had expected an argument, but Agnes didn’t want to argue anymore. She let her mother tend to her as she slumped and stared into the fire. It reminded her of being sick. Feeling this warmth flitting around her, draping blankets across her shoulders, brushing the hair out of her eyes. Wiping away drool or snot, blood if she’d been coughing. Feeling that her hand was being held when she was somewhere between awake and asleep. Being sick had been awful, but being cared for felt nice. She missed it. She knew her mother was still caring for her all the time. But it was behind the scenes. It was secret. It was strategic. It wasn’t the same.
Many in the Community were floating now. Their arms out, heads bobbing. They looked asleep. The sun glided across the sky on its daily path. How did it feel about going the same way every day?
Agnes laid her head against her mother’s shoulder, still cool from the water.
“Are we going to have to leave here?” Agnes asked. Saying the words made her chest hard.
“Why do you ask that?”
“I wondered if the study would end with Glen gone.” She felt her mother’s body stiffen under her head.
Her mother sighed. “The study can go on without Glen.”
Agnes felt a wave of shame for saying his name. He had been gone a short time, but it felt like years. And yet she also felt that he wasn’t really gone at all. He was just off somewhere in seclusion, trying not to disturb people’s sleep with his cough. She was toggling between grief about his absence and anticipation of his return. It was a hopeful place she did not want to be removed from. Agnes and her mother fell silent again. Glen was something they shared. Agnes thought that perhaps they resented that in some way, and would prefer to each keep him for themselves.
She watched a dragonfly patrol where the water met the shore, tracking small bugs. Agnes was sure she could hear the swift quiver of its tissue wings because she was sure she could hear everything. She had thought she could hear a heartbeat in her stomach and had made Jake listen. “That’s just your guts,” he’d said. “No,” she said. “There’s something else.” But not long after that, she bled, heavily. She was disappointed, but more, she was embarrassed to have her body fail her. She reported the apparent miscarriage to Jake curtly and answered his questions evasively until he stopped asking them. He wanted to understand how she felt. But she didn’t know how she felt. She didn’t understand why she wept for a sac of blood that had not yet, in the end, had a heart. She had slipped her fingers through the slick mass looking for it. It was not there. She had wanted to tell her mother, but she felt ashamed. Her mother had lost Madeline, whose heartbeat Agnes had heard. Her mother had put Agnes’s ear to her stomach and said, “Now, shhhh.” And there it had been. Just like a frightened jackrabbit. Madeline had been a whole, real baby, just not all the way grown. Agnes had birthed heartless blood. So like she did with the pregnancy itself, she kept its loss from her mother.
The strange thing she found herself wanting to ask her mother, though, was not about having and losing an unfinished baby, but about the feelings of worry she had begun to have, before she bled, and even after. That her baby would suffer, or had suffered, somehow. It was a vague but overwhelming feeling that draped itself upon her at different moments. When she lay down to sleep. When she felt an electric surge and knew it was her body and the baby communicating. Even when she was no longer pregnant, that feeling of ants in her stomach would tickle her with busy worry. Things felt different now. Because Glen was gone. But it was more than that. She felt it, but she had no words for it. What if there was an end written for them already? But she couldn’t ask her mother about all this. It felt overly human. Rationalizing and worrying and preparing. It felt unlike herself. As though she’d already been changed by the child, even though they would never meet.
In the shallows, the children and teens played an ancient game of Marco Polo. The adults were swimming over to join. Their shrieks and calls echoed off the rocks, and it sounded as though new explorers were calling from beyond the trees, all around the summit.
“Is it true what Adam said?” Agnes asked. “That people are flooding into the Wilderness State?”
“I’m guessing it’s greatly exaggerated but perhaps not untrue.”
“Does that mean we’ll have to leave?”
“Agnes, why are you so fixated on leaving?”
“Because I don’t want to go back to the City.”
“But why do you worry we will?”
Agnes shrugged. “Everything is different now.”
Her mother didn’t ask her to explain. “Try not to worry. Besides, leaving here doesn’t have to be the end of the world.” Her mother paused and smoothed her matted hair, as though deciding to say what she said next. “We’ve got the Private Lands.”
“This again!” Agnes sat up. A rage was bubbling. “I suppose this is the big plan you’ve been working on. And I suppose you’ve got it all figured out.”
Her mother sniffed. “As a matter of fact, I have.”
“Okay, and how are you going to get us there?”
“I know a guy,” her mother said.
“And the money?”
Bea looked surprised. “What do you know about it?”
“I know you need money. The Newcomers told me.”
“Well.” She squinte
d. “We have the money.”
“For everyone?”
Bea shrugged. “We’d have to see. But we definitely have enough for us.”
Agnes knew that meant no. And that at some point in the future her mother had a plan to leave the others behind. That wasn’t shocking to Agnes. It was life in the Wilderness. And it was not shocking that her mother seemed to think nothing of making that decision. More shocking to Agnes was that her mother would embark on something like this on faith alone.
“Who is this guy?”
“He’s a guy I know.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Awhile.”
“When did you meet him?”
Her mother thought. “Around the time we left the City.”
“Is the guy you know trustworthy?”
“Agnes,” her mother said sharply. “Of course he is. Do you think I would work with someone I couldn’t trust?”
But all Agnes could think of was that there was a guy willing to take her mother somewhere that didn’t exist if she gave him all her money. And that didn’t seem trustworthy.
“What’s his name?”
“Sweetheart, don’t worry,” her mother said.
“Mom.”
“I’m not going to tell you that.”
“Did Glen know?”
Her mother winced. “He knew enough.”
Agnes felt betrayed. Her mother was planning to take her away from here without even asking what she wanted. “But I like it here.”
“But we can’t stay here forever.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, Agnes, we just can’t.” Her mother said it as if it was the most obvious of thoughts.
“Well, no one told me that,” she snapped, to hide the unevenness of her voice. She choked back what she was feeling, rubbed her face roughly to push back tears and her own fear.
Her mother relented and tried to soften the conversation. “Look, we probably won’t have to leave. I just don’t want you to be haunted by worry. Whatever happens, I have a plan for us. Try to trust me on this one. The Private Lands are a real option for us. I promise I can get us there. It would be a good life.”
“I like this life.”
“Well, so do I,” her mother said. “This is only a backup plan.” But Agnes didn’t believe her.
* * *
Two days after they summited the Caldera, set up camp, spent hours swimming, and ate their fill of fish, they heard the faraway crunch of footsteps echoing off the Caldera walls during breakfast cleanup. It sounded like an army of people, a large and heavy-footed horde, but they had learned that sound grew larger in the Caldera. So they were alarmed, but not terrified. As the footsteps became louder and closer, the Community grabbed sticks and knives, the bows and arrows, big stones, anything they could. Together they moved toward the sound, holding their weapons ready.
Several Rangers moved single file out of the forest. And from behind the Community came the beep beep of a horn. They all startled and turned to see a van driving in from behind the Lodge. Ranger Bob hopped out and saluted cheerily.
Her mother laughed. “How did you get that up here?” she called to him as he and other Rangers from the van approached.
“We drove,” Ranger Bob said. “There’s a service road on the other side,” he said. And Agnes saw a few of the Rangers smirk at this revelation, and was reminded that to some of them, this was a game. She watched Ranger Bob, curious how he fit into that. He just smiled his Ranger Bob smile.
They converged on the beach, and it had the feeling of a reunion between estranged family members. Ranger Bob shook hands with members of the Community, who seemed confused by the gesture. He patted Agnes on the head and said, “And last but not least,” looking around for one more. And not finding him, he frowned and put his arm around Agnes’s shoulder. He was Glen’s height. A little stockier, but older like Glen. He squeezed. It felt nice.
“I thought you said this place was getting renovated,” said Bea.
“It is. You should have seen it before.”
“But it’s all boarded up,” said Juan.
“We just do that so people don’t mess with it.”
“Who would mess with it?”
The Rangers exchanged looks. “Why don’t we go in and sit down and have a talk. Just the leaders.” Carl and Bea stepped forward.
“Why just the leaders?” said Debra.
“Because some decisions need to get made.”
Agnes stepped forward too. “I’m a leader.”
“Just because you lead us places doesn’t make you an actual leader,” said Carl.
“To me it does,” said Debra. And Val said, “To me too.”
“If decisions are getting made, I want Agnes there,” said Celeste. “I want one of us there.”
“What do you mean, one of us?”
Celeste said, “A kid.”
Carl said, “I thought you weren’t kids.”
“We have different values than you, so this is a time I don’t want to be lumped in with adults.”
Bea huffed and began to walk. Carl followed, and so did Agnes. As Agnes walked into the Lodge, she noticed a box of notepads, with pencils, just like her mother carried. She swiped one. There were new Rangers at the table. No one welcomed her into the room. Agnes took a seat and waited out the Rangers’ confused silence.
“It’s fine,” said Bea, waving her hand at Agnes. “She can be here.” But her mother shook her head all the same.
There were two Rangers at either side of the door, their hands folded in front of their belts, their legs apart. They are guarding the door, Agnes thought. Another was planted at a door in the back of the hall and another on the other side of the big soaring windows overlooking the lake. Agnes could see her Community out there. Debra and Pinecone swimming, others cooking and prepping dinner. Jake and the Twins were milling around in some bushes near the window, curious, maybe protective, until two Rangers escorted them back to camp.
Ranger Bob sat at the head of the table and made some announcements about the fire they’d smelled and about the movement of a wolf pack into the area. “In case you get lucky enough to see them,” he said. He was all smiles as usual and kindly-voiced. But he had someone next to him who gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes often. He was introduced as Ranger Bob’s boss, and he had one more stripe on his uniform than Ranger Bob. Just one, but it seemed like one made a big difference. Ranger Bob looked at him a lot. He clearly wanted to make the man happy, and it was unclear if he was succeeding.
Ranger Bob paused, then cleared his throat. “So, and this bit is important. The study has concluded.”
Carl and Bea blinked stupidly like deer.
“What does that mean for us?” said Carl.
“Well”—Ranger Bob smiled—“it means you have to go home.”
“To—” said Carl.
“The City.”
“What?” Her mother’s voice came sharp and angry. Even though she had just told Agnes that she had contingency plans for such a moment, she seemed utterly blindsided.
“Hold on,” said Ranger Bob. “We may have another option to offer you. But we’ll need something from you in return.” He shot a glance at his boss. “We’ve been battling a scourge for a few years. Something we wanted to keep from you. For the sake of the study. But it has come to my attention that you are no longer ignorant of the fact that we have some Trespassers in our midst.” Carl smiled, seeming happy they had used his term, but then he quickly scowled as if to try to hide his giddiness.
Bea made a surprised face and opened her mouth to express shock at the idea. But Ranger Bob held up his hand. “Save it, Bea,” he said. “We know about Adam.” Bea then looked surprised anew, as if thinking, How?
They told the same story Adam had told them, but this time it sounded much more real and plausible. A group of people—no one knew how large—had been living in the Wilderness for several years. Having most likely crossed over from the Mines, b
ut possibly at other points. People who had disappeared from the City, who had been run out of the City or could not survive there, were now surviving here. In the beginning, their presence was half believed. Some Rangers thought it possible. Others denied it. Ranger Bob bowed his head sheepishly. He had thought it inconceivable. They eventually gathered evidence. Motion cameras in the woods caught videos of blurry images moving from behind trees in places far from where the Community would have been. They had enough evidence that they were not only here, but had been here for quite a while. And there were many.
“And what does that have to do with us?” said Carl.
“We would like your help. We haven’t been able to infiltrate this group. But we think that maybe you can.”
“What do we have to do?”
“What you’ve always done,” said Ranger Bob. “Walk, hunt, live. But in a predetermined place. We’ve pinpointed the quadrant where we think most are hiding. We will transport you there. And I will join the Community, pretending to be one of you. I’ll carry a tracker and alert headquarters when they are found.”
“And if we do this, we get to stay?”
Ranger Bob smiled. “No, not exactly. You get to stay while you make contact, of course. But once we have intercepted the Trespassers and rounded them up, then we will secure passage for you to the Private Lands.”
Carl laughed. “Fuck you, Bob.”
“I know it isn’t the Wilderness State but—”
“It’s bullshit is what it is. There’s no Private Lands.”
“I can assure you there is. And if you help us, you can live there for the rest of your lives and never have to return to the City ever again.”
Carl started to stand, angry, but Bea grabbed his arm and pulled him down to her. She whispered furiously in his ear, and as she did, he slowly sank back into his seat.
“What if we can’t connect with them?” Bea asked. “What if we try and fail? Do we still get to go to the Private Lands?”
Ranger Bob and his boss exchanged eyebrow raises. His boss scowled, and Ranger Bob turned to Bea and smiled. “We have no doubt you’ll find them.”