Metallic Heart

by Liahona West

They fell into silence, Bannack scrubbing his jacket in the creek with sharp, furious strokes and Eloise tossing rocks upstream. The water turned a rust brown as he cleaned, using rough stones to get the blood out. He watched as Eloise inspected a flat rock, spun it in her fingers, and flicked it toward the water. The stone hopped three times before sinking.

  “Eloise,” Bannack called out. She turned to face him. “I do not regret saving you.”

  She smiled and rubbed her wrist. It was red. “You know, I don’t need to know every detail of your involvement with her. Just…tell me one thing.” She tossed another rock. “Do you regret it?”

  His voice caught in his throat. “For as long as I live.”

  “Okay.” She patted down her ass when she stood, and the cuffs jingled as she lifted them in the air. “Know anyone who can get these off?”

  “I do.”

  ***

  Where the forest ended, a parking lot overgrown with grass began, which then led into the ruins of a strip mall. Perched atop them, with its nose smashed in, sat a plane with vines slithering around the hull. The shorn-off wings lay forgotten somewhere in the landscape. After Kendal converted the plane to a tavern, rapid word-of-mouth spread claiming it as the best watering hole in miles.

  Easily seen in the distance, twin suspension bridges, one green and the other grey, spread across the mile-long strait called The Narrows. Through the past decade After the bombs hit, the bridges stood tall and still served as a thoroughfare across the ocean.

  Bannack leaned against a boulder, then sat down and tilted his head back, groaning from the pulling of his open wound.

  Rapid footsteps through rustling grass caught Bannack’s attention and when he stared through the sunlight, Kendal’s head blocked the rays.

  Kendal Murali was a stout woman with hard eyes. She decorated her locs with silver bands, pulled away from her face in a head wrap. Seeing the fabric wrapped around her head sent nausea into his stomach when he remembered his maame’s love for headscarves. He shook his head.

  “Why am I not surprised to see you on my doorstep bleeding?” She shrugged the edge of her maroon, tasseled shawl onto her bare shoulders. “And, oh, you brought a stray. What happened this time?”

  Her bored eyes turned away from Bannack, scanned through a group of people loitering around the entrance to the plane, lifted her arm, and jerked her head. One of her two bouncers, a large and intimidating man with an eye patch named Jerome, appeared.

  “I’m Eloise,” Eloise said and extended her hand.

  “Kendal Murali. Owner of this establishment and head of the village a few miles from here.” Kendal shook Eloise’s hand and walked back to the plane, followed by Jerome. Bannack picked himself up off the ground, leaned against a boulder as if it were a cane, then followed Jerome into the plane.

  Bannack ducked as he pushed through the canvas tarp acting as a door and surveyed the tavern. A short wave of stale air, alcohol, cooked meat and vegetables smacked into Bannack’s nose. Old guns, soldier uniforms, and maps of what used to be the United States lined the perimeter of the plane. A vintage Harley Davidson sat alone at the back with a fake skeleton wearing a gas mask perched atop it because Kendal couldn’t resist morbidity. Gone were the rows of cramped airline seats and in their place was a menagerie of house doors, clothing trunks, cart wheels, and a few steel drums slashed in half and placed upside down which all served as tables and chairs.

  A split-second hush spread over the plane’s occupants as they watched Kendal lead Jerome, Eloise, and Bannack, holding his wet jacket, to the back of the plane. Once the moment passed, everyone turned back to their booze and companions.

  Loud laughter came from a group of people while others were more interested in the food, ingesting their drinks and meal without fanfare and giving the side eye to those who made too much noise.

  Kendal barked something at the loud groups, weaving around people to get to the front of the plane. On her way, she pushed on several windows, propping them open with a piece of plywood, and waved her hand in front of her face.

  “Y’all stink!” Kendal yelled out, and the tavern erupted into laughter and jeering. “Get out of my house and get cozy with a shower!”

  Between the open windows and the entrance, fresh air cycled through the interior of the plane.

  “Come in here,” Kendal said as she walked past Bannack without stopping. “And don’t bleed all over my floor.”

  The fire in the center of the room, contained by a metal drum, projected light a few inches from it before becoming lost in the sunlight. Matches were rare, so if the flames died out, someone had the unfortunate job of laboring over creating a new flame.

  She snagged a crude bottle of clear liquid from the bar and ushered Bannack into her private room hidden behind a white shower curtain with blue flowers. Only a few seats from the gutted first-class area were fortunate enough to stay. Old rugs covered the floor. Various skulls, an old cuckoo clock, and animal horns adorned the walls. Bookshelves with tinctures, medicines, a few medical supplies, and a couple rows of novels and scrolls sat against the wall closest to the shower curtain door.

  Kendal pointed with a single finger, the other four wrapped around the bottleneck, at a reclined first-class seat. “Sit.”

  “Have you known Bannack long?” Eloise asked as she inspected a small collection of bottles filled with various liquids and herbs.

  Exhaustion overtook Bannack, and he tumbled into a neighboring seat, mildly aware of their conversation.

  “Aye. This rugrat has been showing up here for years asking for help with his little escapades.”

  Kendal hissed at Bannack who was touching a deer skull. He yanked his hand away and faked a pout to which Kendal rolled her eyes. She rifled through her shelves. Bottles clinked. “And you?”

  “Well,” Eloise released an airy chuckle, “we kinda…bumped…into each other a few hours ago but we knew each other as kids Before.”

  “Oh!” Kendal waved a bottle of clear liquid in the air as she pulled it from a deep shelf. She jumped down from her step ladder. “Serendipity. Fortunate you found each other again.”

  I guess that’s one way of putting it.

  Bannack’s side ached something fierce and with each movement, his wound pulled and burned. He had learned how to deal with injuries long ago, but that skill still wasn’t enough to stop the pain completely.

  “Medaase,” said Bannack, reaching for the moonshine Kendal held.

  She snatched it away. “Ɛnna ase, Blue Eyes. This ain’t for your mouth. Remove the poultice dressing.”

  Bannack followed her orders. As the liquid seared into his wound, he gritted his teeth and his hands flattened the foam of the seat beneath him. Kendal took a towel then dabbed at the blood drawing lines across his torso. The scratch of the fabric aggravated his skin. His toes curled.

  “You could have warned me,” Bannack growled.

  Kendal took a swig of the last moonshine in the bottle, smiling behind the glass. “Remove your poultice dressing wasn’t warning enough?”

  “Are you going to stitch me up or what?”

  “Of course.” Kendal set the bottle down, pulled out a bone needle, and threaded it with dark horse hair. “For this part, you’re gonna need to be a bit tipsy. You can hold your liquor, can’t ya?”

  In response, Bannack downed the drink. It burned his throat, and he set the empty bottle on a fold out tray. His head buzzed, and a warmth spread through his body. He knew the drill.

  When he left Joy’s command, Bannack had sustained many wounds, a few requiring him to stay for several weeks in Kendal's care. He knew of her because his family had stayed in her village for a time. As he tried to make it out on his own, he returned several other times. She had welcomed him as if they were close friends.

  The needle dug into his skin and Bannack grunted, squeezing the armrest. “You’re losing your touch, Kendal.”

  She grunted. “Don’t g
et smart with me, Blue Eyes. I may slip and sew your arm to your side.”

  A quick glance with her hard eyes at Bannack made him chuckle, the movement of his torso aggravating the sensitive skin and muscle.

  She left his side for a moment, gathering a mortar and pestle with a bunch of long, curled, dry leaves. Bannack rubbed a leaf between his fingers.

  “Curly dock,” she announced and placed the leaves into the mortar. She grabbed some water from the shelf beside her and poured a bit into it as well. While mixing with the pestle, she explained, “I’m sure you’ve seen this weed. I keep some on hand, dried, of course, to help with itching, eczema, and skin irritations. But it also helps with healing wounds. Think of it as like…Neosporin. But so much better.”

  She tapped the pestle against the mortar. The curly dock poultice fell into the stone bowl. Kendal scooped a bit onto her fingertips and spread it over the new stitches. The poultice soothed his skin, allowing him to relax in sweet relief and melt into the cushion of the chair.

  “I don’t want to see you back here for at least another six months, or longer, ya hear?”

  Bannack struggled to nod through the tingling and heaviness.

  She grunted and walked to the front of the first-class area, rifling through cabinet doors and pulled out a pair of pliers. She sat beside Eloise.

  “Handcuffs are easy to get off if you know how.”

  “Oh, good.” Eloise put her hand in Kendal’s. “I thought you were going to saw through them.”

  Kendal laughed. “Girl, that’s barbaric. My way is better.”

  She pulled a bobby pin out of her hair, took the rubber piece off the straight end, and bent it at a ninety-degree angle. She opened up the pin. Within minutes, the cuffs clicked open.

  Eloise rubbed her wrist. “Thanks.” She leaned back in her seat and pulled out a folded-up piece of paper. As she read it, her hand went to her mouth and then tears formed.

  “What?” Bannack sat up, curious, but Eloise ignored him.

  Her brow wrinkled. More tears fell. “Excuse me.” She ran from the room, the note fluttering to the ground.

  “What was that about?” Kendal asked.

  Bannack shrugged his shoulders then picked up the note Eloise dropped. On the back was a drawing of a Victorian-era home surrounded by shrubberies, roses, hanging baskets, and two apple trees so real he could almost smell the fruit growing on them.

  He read the letter.

  Eloise,

  You can’t save me. But I can save you.

  Please don’t come back for me. No matter what.

  I’ll never forgive you if you do.

  Mama is just going to have to deal with it.

  I’m glad you escaped because it won’t be my fault if you died.

  I’m so tired.

  I tried to stay strong for Mama and you, but I can feel it.

  My body is dying. We did everything we could.

  Thank you for not giving up on me.

  I know you’re crying but you’ll be okay.

  You must continue on. For me.

  P.S. I’ll have to take a raincheck on the beach visit. As an apology, here’s my favorite drawing.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Eloise

  Her knees hit the ground outside, and she sat back and cried. Snot pooled at the entrance to her nostrils. Unable to care, Eloise swiped her sleeve underneath her nose. The world slowed.

  The frigid morning air encouraged birds to begin their morning song. Dew sat on the grass and soaked Eloise’s knees.

  Footsteps approached her, and she glanced over her fingers. Bannack crouched in front of her. His dark skin caught the morning light. Blue eyes, caused by the condition he was born with, which took the hearing from his left ear, were bright like sunshine through water. Bannack sat in front of her. When he put his hands on his knees, she noticed the small scars on his hands and forearms.

  Eloise clenched her fists. “I was going to save him.” Bannack listened. Eloise continued. “Now I’m supposed to sit here and let him die?”

  “It is what he wants.”

  “To hell with what he wants! He can’t just—”

  “Choose for himself?” Bannack interrupted. “He is ready, even if you are not.”

  Eloise paused with her mouth open, then closed it and turned away from him. A painful hiccup shook her chest. “Do you…know what it’s like to be alone? Not alone like you have no one around you but like your heart hurts and your mind is sad and all around you are people, so many people, but you feel nothing. You are visible and loved, but that hurts you to your core and all you feel is ignored.

  “And it gets to you. It burns into your mind and rots there, like a carcass, and pushes and pushes and pushes until there is this deep chasm of death and wanting and loneliness. And you start to think ‘maybe someone will fix it’ but they won’t because you can’t share what you feel. And that’s why you go to help the bad guy, because you are desperate to feel something, anything again! But then you hate yourself for betraying yourself and you hate the world for making you this way and the loneliness only gets worse.”

  As her words formed, they came out thick and rapid from her mouth, tears dripping off her lips. Her body, cold, made her shiver, yet her face burned. “I’m afraid,” she managed to say, “that once Seth leaves, I’ll be alone.”

  “But you have to let him go. He needs your love and support, not your belittlement. Don’t focus on his disease, focus on who he is.”

  When she looked at Bannack, his eyes glistened.

  “I do know what it’s like to be alone,” Bannack whispered and gave her back the letter. His eyes focused on her wrist and he motioned to it. “It’s healed already?”

  “Huh? Oh.” Eloise glanced down at where the handcuffs were minutes ago. Swinging a lantern around had made the cuffs cut into her skin. “Yeah. Watch.”

  Eloise dipped the edge of her shirt into a small puddle of dew on a leaf and used it to wipe the blood from her wrist.

  Bannack leaned in and looked at her arm, devoid of any mark. “Humans do not heal that fast.”

  “Yeah, well,” Eloise dried off her arm. “Not every human has self-replicating nanites in their body, either.”

  His eyes widened. The comical reaction made Eloise chuckle.

  “How is it possible, you ask? I got in a car accident when I was six and the hamster cage I was holding slammed into me, making my spleen rupture. I was fine until I got a blood infection and then started dying. My parents were scientists—you probably remember—and they were working with nanites, trying to program them to target synapses in the brain to heal them. I don’t remember anything else about their work. They brought me to their boss, Joy, and she agreed to inject me with the nanites to save me. It worked.”

  “And you are—were—working with her? Why?”

  “Well,” Eloise blinked at Bannack, confused at his question. Why did it matter so much? “I was gathering some herbs for Soora—she and Mason adopted me when I was thirteen—and Seth and Joy were outside. They liked to take walks. We got to chatting. I learned about Seth’s condition. He was Ada’s best friend, so I had to help.”

  Remembering Seth’s letter made her nose sting. She didn’t want to admit it, but Bannack was right; she needed to move on and let him choose for himself. It still hurt, though.

  “And this?” Bannack touched his cheekbone to signal that he meant her scar. “Her doing as well?”

  Eloise rubbed her thumb. He was getting dangerously close to an off-limits conversation. “No. And I’m not saying any more about it.”

  “Fair enough,” Bannack said, then realization spread across his face. “You are Donor.”

  “What?”

  “Uh…In Joy’s office, I came across some papers. They mention someone she called Donor. Your story and Donor’s match. I cannot believe I did not connect the dots.”

  “She called me Donor?” Eloise gritted her teeth
then spoke under her breath. “She couldn’t even respect me enough to use my name.”

  Bannack laid in the grass and closed his eyes. “Mmm. It is nice to be still,” he said.

  Eloise tilted her head. “How can you stand it?”

  He shrugged. “Practice. I listen for the birds.”

  “Birds?”

  “Shh…Listen.”

  Quieting, Eloise waited while bouncing her leg. Birdsong built into a chorus of twittering, chattering, and singing in the trees. Red-breasted robins bounced around in the grass. A blue jay flew above them. The wind pushed through the trees, and as the leaves brushed against each other, they rustled and added their own sound to the song of the earth. It never occurred to her to listen.

  “Okay. I can see the appeal.”

  Bannack remained still for so long, Eloise was sure he had fallen asleep. She fiddled with a wide piece of grass and squashed it between her two thumbs, leaving a small gap, then blew hard against her thumbs. The high-pitched whistle filled the air. Once again bored, Eloise moved on to picking tiny daisies, weaving grass together, and fashioned a crown of flowers. She made two. One she offered to Bannack.

  “I made you something.”

  A smile spread across Bannack’s face, softening his angular features. It mesmerized her. He went from the terrifying man in the facility to someone who looked like he cuddled puppies for a living.

  If the war hadn’t happened, his life would have been different. Everyone’s would have.

  Life had been good Before the war. Then Fade, a splinter group of the United States government focused on restarting society in the United States, kidnapped President Raquel Santos and other delegates, then deployed nuclear bombs. They targeted six major fault lines, causing mass destruction of people’s livelihoods with earthquakes, fires, floods, and tsunamis. Hawaii became a crumbled mass in the ocean. Those living in Alaska lost three quarters of their state to fire caused by friction in the Denali Fault. In the first few years After, mobs and raids were common, leading Mason to establish the Compound and others to form clans.