The Woodlands

by Lauren Nicolle Taylor

  He talked as he walked but I didn’t listen. I couldn’t hear him from behind the wall. Occasionally a baby’s cries would punch through, but only for a second before it closed over, enveloping me in buffered sounds.

  I wanted to speak but the words were buried. With her. If I could have cried or talked about it, maybe I would have healed faster. But nothing came.

  I kept expecting her arm to link in mine, to hear her voice telling me to snap out of it. She believed things would work out. She was wrong.

  I walked, ate, and slept, but that was all. My eyes focused on something far away. Just over the hill, just behind a tree, never on what was in front of me, or who was walking beside me.

  At night I slept by the fire, my body warm but shaking uncontrollably. Closing my eyes brought on nightmares soaked in blood. He lay with me, holding my arms down to stop me from hurting myself. He spoke but all I could hear was calming whispers. No words.

  I tried to recede to the point where nothing could reach me, but something was always tugging, pulling at my shirt, trying to drag me back into the light. But without her, the light was dull, insipid, lying over the forest like a silty blanket.

  For weeks, I stayed inside myself. Joseph tried to coax me out, but even he stopped trying after a while. On the twenty-third day, I heard words. My head rose above the waves of my grief and I heard them talking.

  Apella was cooing to the child.

  “You’ll make a wonderful mother to little Gabriel,” a stuttering voice said lovingly. Gabriel?

  I kicked my feet, trying to keep my head above water a little longer.

  “Thank you, darling, you will make a wonderful father too.” Apella’s sweet voice was like a booming bell, reverberating and hurting my ears.

  “His name is Hessa,” I said, my voice a tiny crackle.

  Everyone stared. Apella sheltered the child in her arms, like she thought I was going to hurt him. I wasn’t going to hurt him. The couple was sitting, cradling the child under a tree. It was a spring sapling that was bending and swaying in the breeze, making shushing noises as the leaves grazed each other. Apella was holding a bottle full of grey liquid, which the baby was sucking. My head fractured as I thought of our grey milkshakes.

  The trees were no longer grey, the color returning slowly. Green leaves touched by sunlight. I moved towards the couple on my hands and knees, aware that Joseph was behind me, shadowing my movements. I sat back on my heels and gently folded the grey blanket they had wrapped him in away from his face. He had springy, black hair, caramel-colored skin, and big blue eyes. He looked just like her and nothing like her at the same time. He was definitely All Kind. But it was there, that light had passed to the child. It shone in and around him, protecting him, announcing him as Clara’s son. I held out my arms. Apella shook her head. But Joseph was right there. So was Deshi.

  “Let her hold him,” he said quietly but with force. Deshi was standing next to Joseph, looming over Apella with a stern look on his face. They both knew I would never hurt the child. I think Apella knew it too—that wasn’t the reason she didn’t want me to hold him.

  Apella gently handed the bundle to me, uttering “careful,” as she let go of the child painfully slow. I peered at his face, pulling one of his arms out of the blanket and letting him wrap his fingers around my own. That touch wrapped around me like a bright white chain, binding me light as a feather but strong. I knew this child was mine. I was his family now.

  “Hessa,” I whispered as I traced his tiny lips with my finger. I turned to Apella and Alexei’s pleading faces. I did not relish the disappointment I was about to bestow upon them. “You know you can’t keep him,” I said plainly, not meaning to repeat the words I had spoken to Clara back when we were underground. After everything she had done, what she had kept from us, this was not Apella’s redemption. She was not his family and had no place in his life. I knew now why Clara had named me her sister.

  Apella didn’t speak. For the first time, that perfect facade contorted as she burst into tears. It lasted all of thirty seconds, then she patted her tears, straightened her clothes, and walked away. Alexei followed.

  I held the child, not overcome by the decision I had made. It was simple. It was fact. It was the easiest thing I had ever done. I felt two distinct hands on my shoulders.

  “Welcome back, zombie,” Deshi said with a grin. He looked tired and thin.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, without looking away from Hessa. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

  “Don’t be sorry. We’re just glad you’re back,” Joseph said, smiling. “So you’re a mother now.” There was a hopeful glint at the end of his sentence and I knew what he was thinking, but I wasn’t sure this changed anything.

  “No. Not a mother, an aunt,” I said, already feeling something absolute solidifying inside me, love. Joseph shrugged, seeming to accept that was all I could manage for now. He ran his hands through my hair and tied it back with a piece of twine, my skin buzzing from that barest touch.

  “Thank you,” I said, feeling a bubble of that liquid gold pushing through my veins. I looked at his earnest eyes, green with flecks of gold, and wondered if he would always be this patient with me. If I pushed him away now—would he come back? I held out my free hand for him to hold, which he took eagerly but gently. It was an uphill battle and the gold rose and receded, not quite able to push past the pain.

  “Are you all right?” Joseph asked. I looked down at Hessa. The baby blinked uncomfortably as drops of water hit his perfect little face. I thought it was rain at first, quickly realizing they were tears. For the first time since I had watched my sister slip away, I cried. I rocked the child and let it all out. I saw her face as she left me; I saw her face in her son. But it was not painful to see him. It was comforting. She would always be here with us, in him. The boys sat back and let me go until I could cry no more, my face red and salty.

  Hessa was sleeping. Peaceful. He was unaware of our journey. For him, home was under the trees. He had never seen the grey walls of Pau or the Classes, never seen the towering, concrete prison of the rings. He could have a free childhood. It was an exciting prospect and it motivated me even more than before.

  Joseph filled me in on what I had missed. We had covered a lot of ground but there was still a lot ahead of us. Looking around, it seemed the scenery had opened up a lot. We were sitting at the edge of a field, tall grass and saplings dominating the landscape. It was much flatter than before and it made me feel exposed.

  “Have there been any more choppers?” I asked. I felt foolish for not knowing, for being so unaware of my surroundings.

  “No,” Deshi replied. He was preparing a bottle, spooning the grey sludge from the box in and watering it down, giving it a sharp shake.

  Hessa awoke with a start, screaming. I panicked—had I done something? Deshi saw the fright in my eyes and answered my question.

  “He’s hungry,” Deshi said as he opened his arms. I gently handed the child over and watched as Deshi adeptly fed and changed the child. He played with him for a while and then rocked him to sleep, placing him, tightly wrapped, in an emptied-out backpack. He looked at the child with a love that was unmistakable.

  Joseph laughed at me, which I didn’t appreciate. “It’s just a baby, Rosa. You don’t need to be afraid of it. It cries, eats, and needs to be changed.” I had a bit of catching up to do. “Don’t worry, we’ll all help you.”

  Hessa now had three parents.

  Apella returned, her face composed but shaky, her lip quivering unappealingly as she spoke. “I know I can’t keep him. I know I don’t deserve him but I want to help. Will you let me help you?” She was humbled to the point of begging. I wanted to say no. But something softened in me. I would need all the help I could get. I wasn’t going to be her friend. I was never going to like her—but I could use her.

  “Sure,” I said, deliberately trying to sound like I didn’t care. But I would be watching them both. We all would.
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  Watching Hessa sleeping on top of the backpack gave me an idea. It wouldn’t do for him to sleep like that, and we needed the backpack to carry other supplies.

  “Can I have a knife?” I asked, surprised faces all around. I guess it was hard going from zombie to fully functioning human without people wondering whether you were insane.

  Deshi searched around the site and found one. I set to work cutting down some of the bendy green saplings. As soon as I cut into the trunk, the right feeling was overwhelming. I ran my hand over the trunk, enjoying every little bump. I had missed this. I sliced through the sapling, sticky sap oozing from its wounds. I cut down about eight small trees and went to work skinning them and bending them. I know everyone probably wanted to get moving but they let me work. I must have looked possessed. I didn’t speak. I just worked. I bent the wood into the shape I desired and tied it with the tough grass we were surrounded by. I felt like I was made for this. I saw things differently to the others. I could see there was a life to be made out here. The forest was abundant and provided everything we needed.

  When I was finished, I cut up one of our blankets, trying hard not to picture its last use. With a pointed stick and more grass, I sewed it into my cradle to make a lining. I had made a crude capsule. I sewed strips onto the underside so that it could be carried on my back. It wasn’t pretty but it would work. We slipped Hessa inside it still wrapped. He was cozy and protected.

  Apella put her hand up timidly. “Are you sure that is safe for a baby? He is so tiny. What if he slips out the bottom?” Both Joseph and I glared at her and she sealed her lips.

  “It’s amazing!” Joseph said, congratulating me. “I had no idea you could make something like that.”

  “Well, this is what I was going to do. Before…” I said. He looked at me sadly. I wished he would stop punishing himself. This was not his fault. None of it was. I didn’t blame him, but I couldn’t look at our situation the way he did, the way Clara did. It was not a blessing.

  I grabbed his shoulders, heat pulsing through my fingertips, having to stand on my tiptoes to look him in the eye, my stomach touching his.

  “This isn’t your fault,” I said. “Don’t look at me like you need to make up for something—you don’t.” I sounded angry, which is not what I meant. I just wanted to release him from this obligation he felt, this guilt.

  He smirked. “There she is,” he said. He always confused me with his reaction to my anger. Like he enjoyed it or at the very least, expected it. I let him go and laughed. He was so annoying, so charming.

  Deshi volunteered to carry Hessa first and I didn’t object. I was tired from all that work and could not ignore my heaviness and awkwardness. Over the last three weeks, I felt like I had doubled in size. It got in the way of everything and it moved more and more, less like a kick and more like a stretching of my skin, squashing my organs and bruising my insides.

  I was even more frightened of it than I was before. Especially after seeing what Clara had gone through and how it had ended. I had to hope that I would not suffer the complications that killed her, but even the idea of all that pain was too much to consider. I tried really hard to put it out of my head. I had some time and there was no point in worrying about something that was out of my control.

  There were miles of track in front of us. It stretched as far as the eye could see. I felt Clara’s arm link in mine. I imagined her dragging me forward. I looked at Hessa’s beautiful little face poking out of his capsule. He was content, shadows of leaves playing games with his eyes. I felt a surge of energy with the revelation that his happiness and that look on his face had to be maintained. No matter what, we had to protect this child.

  Clara, I miss you so much. I wake up and I’m trying to find you. Where are you now? I need to make sense of what happened to you but there are no answers. I hope I am doing what you wanted. I know I can never replace you. I won’t even try. But I promise, I will treasure Hessa, we all will. Please don’t leave me.

  The days took on a peaceful current. Being so focused on caring for Hessa left no room for arguments. We took turns carrying him and feeding him. I let Deshi change him, finding the stench created by drinking that grey stuff too powerful for my sensitive nose. Joseph stoically offered to wash out the soiled cloths but made a loud fuss as he ran, holding them in front of him, pinching his nose.

  The nights were harder. I insisted on sleeping with Hessa. I needed to hold him; scared he would disappear if I let him go in the darkness. Even though Apella promised she wouldn’t run away with him, I didn’t trust her. I held the child close, tucking him into my sleeping bag every night.

  I woke up to yelling. Hands frantically waving, Apella said, “Rosa, put Hessa down.”

  “Yes, gently,” Alexei stammered.

  “Easy now, don’t panic,” Joseph said, although his eyes said differently.

  “For goodness sake!” Deshi cried out.

  Four pairs of panicked eyes were all stalking me slowly. Deshi had his arms out, eyes wide with terror. He was edging closer, taking tiny, timid steps that didn’t disturb the dirt around his feet. Approaching me, as I imagine, one would approach a wild animal that was about to charge. Joseph was standing across the fire. “Rosa, stop.” My head was muddled—stop what? I looked directly in front of me. I had Hessa in my hands. I was holding the plump little baby out in front of me over the fire. The heat was starting to hurt my hands.

  “Oh no!” I exclaimed as I pulled the baby towards me and held him close, his too warm face pressed into my neck. I recalled my dream, feeding the fire that I had made in the tunnel. In my arms was a piece of wood; I had nearly flung Hessa onto the flames. I couldn’t believe what I had almost done. Deshi stormed over to me and took the baby out of my arms. I let Hessa go without a fight. Deshi was distraught. I felt the sting of disconnection. Without the light, I felt myself crumbling again.

  “That’s it! I’m sorry, Rosa, but it’s too dangerous. I could put up with the screaming and the nightmares but you could hurt him. You can’t sleep with him anymore,” Deshi said, telling me off like a child.

  “I’m sorry, it’s the dreams. I can’t control it. He needs me,” I pleaded, lying selfishly. I knew the truth was—I needed him. It was no use anyway. Deshi put Hessa before everything else. As he should. As I should. I knew I couldn’t put the child in danger. Deshi tucked the beautiful baby in with him, muttering to himself about me being easier to handle when I was a zombie. Hessa cried for a second but Deshi patted his head and soon they were both asleep. Apella and Alexei waited until they knew Hessa was safe then went back to sleep, exhausted from all the walking.

  Joseph had returned to his sleeping bag; he lay with his arms folded behind his head. His eyelids fluttered as sleep found him. His strong arms looked so appealing to me. I wanted to curl up next to him and lay my head on his muscled chest but I stopped myself. It was only inviting more pain, confusing an already extremely confusing situation.

  I climbed back in my bag, knowing sleep would not come easy to me that night. Missing that warm, precious baby lying with me, I felt lost. I watched the fire, the way the orange light curled and consumed. Without fail, it found a way to devour its fuel. I closed my eyes and the flames licked up the wall of the blackened tunnel, hunting me down, singeing my flesh. Heart thumping in my chest, I opened them again.

  I picked up a stick and traced shapes in the ground. Concentric circles, things we left behind. How long would I feel this way? If I let go of the pain, was I forgetting her? When I looked at Hessa’s face, when he grabbed my hand, I felt a joy I had never felt before. Then immediately, guilt would follow, knowing that I could see these moments in his life and Clara could not.

  I thought about when I first met her. Those beautiful dolls painted on the wall. Her giggly exterior hiding such wisdom. I pulled a knife out of the pack. My eyes fell upon Joseph’s resting face again. They wandered over his body, taking in the things I could not when he was awake. His fair skin
was looking darker from the sun, tiny freckles forming over the bridge of his nose. And of course, he was smiling, even in his sleep.

  “You know, if you’re going to kill me, you should just get it over with,” he said, propping himself up on his elbows, his voice low, trying not to wake the others. I jumped, startled, and dropped the knife.

  “I wasn’t, I mean, oh you know I wasn’t.” I was so embarrassed that he’d seen me staring at him.

  “You so beautiful when you blush,” he said, staring into the fire. Watching him now, it was clear. He was no longer the boy I met in Pau. He was sure of himself, strong. I wished I had that confidence.

  “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” I said, throwing the stick in the fire, watching it wrap its orange and yellow flames around the thin arm of wood and draw it into the heat.

  Joseph sat up and pulled himself out of the bag. He made his way over and sat down with a thud. He gently nudged me with his shoulder. “Why?” I found it surprising that he didn’t know the answer to that question.

  I picked up a stumpy piece of wood and retrieved the knife from the edge of the fire. Brushing the dirt off the blade, I began working my way into the bark. Carefully stripping away the outer layers, the dark grey skin peeled away easily.

  “It just makes it harder to...” I wasn’t sure what to say next so I let the words fall away to silence.

  “To resist me,” he said jokingly, raising his eyebrows.

  I carefully dug the knife in at an angle, slicing away at the bone-colored flesh, removing small pieces and flicking them into the fire. “Well, yes, I suppose.” My nervousness at this conversation was showing, my legs rattling uncontrollably. I wanted to be calm. Cooler.

  “Oh,” he said, half-laughing, half-sighing. “Why do you have to?” he asked genuinely.

  I whittled the wood further, using the thin edge of the knife to smooth out the shape. Adding sharper angles, refining and defining the shape I was trying to bring forth from the timber.