by Poss, Bryant
“What about Lo?” Alice asked.
“I’m sure a little later she’ll be able to move on her own,” obvious skepticism in his voice. “Anyway, that has to be the case no matter what. It’s right now that’s the problem.”
“She’ll have to be hidden down here.” Alice said flatly.
They circled the room. The closer Lo’s hiding place could be made the better. After serious deliberation, they decided that this room shouldn’t even be locked in case of an infiltration. A locked door begged entry, and Cillian argued that this would make the soldiers—or whatever they were—look even harder. In the end, it was Devon who turned out to be the best thinker when it came to hiding. He walked over to a table saw, blowing off wood shavings and dust then stopped himself from cleaning it.
“We take everything out from under this.” He said with his hand next to the blade.
It was a typical piece of machinery for woodworking, a metal table with a reciprocating blade dead center. The machine was not open, the motor being concealed underneath on all sides. Cillian walked over to it and helped Devon get the panel off the side.
“You want to gut it?” Cillian said, stepping back and measuring the dimensions. “You think she’ll fit in there?”
“It will be tight,” Alice chimed in, her hair pulled up with a piece of shoestring, but a long patch fell to the side of her face where it was constantly being tucked behind her ear. “But I see what Devon is saying. She’ll be entirely concealed from the immunes and relatively protected from pokies. It seems like the best bet.”
They nodded in consensus and got to work. Pulling the tools from the rolling chest, Cillian took out the bolts he could find holding the motor in place, and after an hour of trying to find the right size tool, looking for a tool that was in his hand not five seconds before, and banging his knuckles to a chorus of amateur cursing, the motor and all the guts of the table saw sat beside the now hollow frame. The kid didn’t realize it, but he’d just experienced a typical weekend afternoon of the average home-owning man in the old world. He leaned back against the wall and looked at it with more than a little pride, smudges of grease on both cheeks, and watched as Alice and Devon commenced to cleaning out the inside with wet and dry pieces of cut jumpsuit. After some time, they all sat back and looked at it.
“I think she’ll fit fine,” Devon said before going over to his mat on the floor and lying down. They sat listening to him crunch on dry cereal and slurp from a water bottle for a long time then he lay still, his breathing nearly matching that of Lo’s. Cillian and Alice glanced up at each other every so often until the girl finally spoke.
“Want to go somewhere else?” she whispered motioning at the two sleepers in the room. He nodded his agreement, and they went into the teacher’s office area where they could keep an eye on them through the window. Alice shut the door behind them.
Through the window, they looked up at each other and out into the room where the others slept. Some words were exchanged, a nervous giggle from both. They could have been talking about anything, the state of their clothes, what a warm bath would feel like, a large chocolate milkshake, a movie in the security of their own bedroom, holding hands at a football game. Things that people at their age became electrified over, the idea of doing any of those things with someone like the other. Another giggle, and the girl pointed outside, walking to the office door, opening it. She tiptoed through the room filled with slow breathing and walked to Luck, picking it up with soft fingertips, before turning to walk back.
My chest has been sore for weeks, and I don’t know what’s wrong with me. This is nice. This is as nice as it’s been since it started. He seems nice. His hand looks weird. I wonder how much it hurt. I like the way he smells. He’s nervous. Do I seem nervous? My hair is awful. Do I smell bad? My chest is really sore. If I were to hit either side of it on something, I’d cry like a baby. I wonder how Marshal is treating the others, if Mom is alright. Does he see what Marshal did to me? Is that something people can see? I can’t see what she did to him.
“What’s the story with this?” she set the ball on the teacher’s desk, watched it teeter a little before stilling itself, then looked at him in question. Sitting close enough to him to touch, she took the blanket he offered her with a smile. They sat in the room for a minute, both staring at the ball, both brains firing at maximum capacity to ensure the next words would be right before he opened his mouth to answer.
“Well, that’s Luck,” he said with a shrug, as if equally unsure about it. “It’s Lo’s. Well—she had it first, and it’s very important to her. I think she got it when she was with Ben.”
“It’s a golf ball with an eye drawn on it.”
“Yeah, I know what it is,” he looked a little embarrassed as if he should defend the object. “It’s more than that to Lo. It’s also more than luck. I think—” he trailed off.
“What?”
“Well, I think she thinks it’s fate maybe.”
“Fate?”
“Like if you have it, you’ll be okay. She always gives it to me if I have to do something dangerous.”
“I’m not sure that’s fate, Cillian.”
“Yeah, I’m really not sure of a better term,” he pursed his lips. “I think she gave it to Ben when he went to get the medicine. I think that’s why she’s determined to think it’s important. If you have it, you’ll be alright, so he must be alright.”
“But he doesn’t have it anymore.”
“I know,” he said, nodding his head.
They sat looking at each other, alternating looking out the window at the others, the absence of any other sound becoming so normal now it was no longer so unnerving. She shifted in her seat, and he looked up at her, the hair down in her face again, only to be futilely pulled behind her ear. After a moment, he met her gaze.
“What was it like?” he asked without smiling. She almost asked him what he was talking about, but she decided not to play that game then shrugged and frowned a little.
“I got treated well,” she tried to look him in the eye, but her eyes seemed to refuse her command. “I mean, none of the kids were treated too bad, I don’t think.”
“I mean, what was it like?” he asked again, more seriously, and she seemed to be a little taken aback at the bluntness of the question.
“Well,” she began then looked down at her hands as she spoke, picking at the side of one of her nails. “It was safe in the beginning. I haven’t been on my own since this all started. We went to the military guard post because that’s what you do. That’s what you’re supposed to do. You go to them and they protect you. That’s how it works.” Her voice quivered a little, but she coughed and shook her head. Cillian’s hand lifted to touch her then he set it back in his lap hoping she hadn’t seen it. She had.
“Colonel Nelson was there when we arrived,” giving him a faint smile. “He was pretty nice. He seemed nervous a lot like he wasn’t sure what to do. It always seemed like he was making things up as he went, telling us that they would get in front of this thing soon, everything would be handled. I assumed he meant the government. Anyway, after enough time went by, some of the other soldiers started getting restless. I heard them talking, making comments.”
“They figured the colonel was too weak to lead?” Cillian asked, his eyes locked on hers.
“It doesn’t matter what they thought because he was. He wasn’t the man who did the most talking though. The man who did the most talking was the one, the only one, who went against Marshal after he’d taken charge.”
“I can’t get over the fact that the guy wanted you all to call him marshal.”
“Believe it,” a look so serious shot from her, it sent tingles around Cillian’s neck. “There is nothing silly about him. He just does things. Imagine if you did exactly what you wanted to do when you wanted to do it. That’s what he does. There are no limits to what he does. No one challenges him now.”
“I’m sorry,” his eyes on his lap.
“What is normal now?” his eyes back on her.
“Do you love her?”
“What!” he looked out the window to make sure he hadn’t woken Devon then looked back at her, his cheeks burning red. Eyes darting back and forth to hers, he sought for what to say but nothing came.
“She’s too old for you.”
“Oh, so the rules of the old world still apply?”
“It’s still the world.”
“Things are different now.”
“Think about it, Cillian.”
“You think I haven’t? I think about it all the time.”
“Think about it if this were still the world it was. You’d still feel the same way. You’re infatuated.” Her hair in her face again tucked behind the ear.
“You don’t—”
“Understand?” she interrupted him not unkindly. “I’m not an adult, Cillian. Who are you making this argument with?”
“You’re not an adult! And what classifies being an adult! Is this something you think you should talk to me about? Did Marshal just want you to act like a mother?” The regret came to him halfway through the saying it, and the look on her face made him feel that much worse.
“I’m hungry,” his cheeks still red, eyes glistening with moisture. “I’m gonna get some powdered eggs. She’ll need to eat too.” He nodded at the window.
“Sorry,” her voice stilled his hand on the doorknob. “I guess there’s really nothing normal to talk about.”
Only a slight nod was given as a reply, and he walked out of the office and out of the room without a sound. Alice sat looking at the eye on the ball.
13
The candles threw shadows on the wall like spastic ghosts, the smell of wax and smoke from the wicks masking the smell of the dusty concrete, sawdust, and oil. Every few minutes there came the turn of a page, no other sound except the random cupping of the wind against the metal door and its concrete frame. Alice looked up periodically at the face that lay in front of her, almost touching the knee of her crossed legs, criss-cross applesauce. Lo had not stirred these past few hours. The sun had gone down. Devon remained peacefully asleep, a moan or indistinguishable utterance passing his lips infrequently. She looked at Lo’s face in the candlelight, paler than it should be but still dark, not quite copper now, her face. It was still beautiful. Alice could see in the flicker that barely lit the room though displaying as plain as day the exotic attractiveness of the woman. She was marvelous. Her sharp jawline, delicate yet formidable, the imperfection of a dark mole underneath her eye, a few on her throat, only adding to the aesthetic. Dark eyebrows grown out from neglect though not hindering her attractiveness in the least. Plump lips, dark not pink. It made her angry, but at the same time she found it impossible to look away, like someone who walks into a room and draws the attention of those you seek. Alice realized as these thoughts raced through her head that she was being just as childish as Cillian, his infatuation and her jealousy. But then again, she was little more than a child, though her aching chest pleaded with pain to try to prove otherwise. Looking around briefly, she pulled her shirt out and looked down at the lumps developing below each areola. After a full minute, she released the shirt at the sound of a moan in front of her. She pressed the book against her chest without thinking, wincing at the pain it caused. Lo’s head turned in each direction, and Alice grabbed the water bottle, waiting.
“Lo?” Alice gave barely a whisper then tried again when she saw Devon didn’t so much as move. “Lo, it would probably be good for you to drink. A good amount, more than drops from a cloth.”
A minute, perhaps two. She thought about nudging her awake, but the situation was totally unfamiliar. Alice didn’t know what the best course of action was to take. After a little more time, she set down the water bottle and picked up the book. The language of the pages took a little getting used to, but she found with a slow pace, she was picking it up quite well.
“How—ugh huh, huh, huh,” Alice lowered the book to see Lo turn away from her coughing. Immediately placing the bottle in front of her face, she waited for the woman to reach for it. When she got control of the cough, she did. Some of the water trickled down her neck over the dark moles. Suddenly Alice found herself worried about her. Lo’s usually bright green eyes now dim with sickness.
“Damn,” Lo’s voice was hoarse. “I tried to talk without thinking about it. I was trying to ask how you liked the book.”
“How do you feel?” Alice leaned toward her, trying to help the light. “You’ve been out several hours.”
“My shoulder is on fire, but I have a feeling not as much as it could be. I feel the faint effects of painkillers in my system.”
“Cillian got them down your throat.”
“Ahh, the boy wonder,” she took another draught and closed her eyes as she swallowed. “And where might he be? He fall asleep on me? Men.”
“He went to watch the road. That’s all he told me.”
“What!?” Lo was trying her best now to sit up, and Devon stirred a little in his sleep. Alice placed a hand on her good shoulder to still her. Her skin was a radiator.
“It’s fine,” she said softly. “He just has some things to think about.”
“There are pokies out there—I mean, in the building.”
“He’s well aware. He went out earlier and brought back these eggs.” Alice motioned to the plate beside her. “You’re going to need to have these eaten by the time he gets back.”
After a moment, whether by concession or exhaustion, Lo lay back down. Alice watched and noticed her breathing was rapid. Devon settled back on his side, and the wind cupped the door once again, giving the metal a slight shake. The room was relatively warm considering, and she found herself thankful for such a new building, well insulated, well-sealed. Bending over, Alice grabbed another candle and touched the wick to one already burning then she ran the bottom of it under the flame for a few seconds and stuck the melted wax to the concrete. Lo’s face became clearer.
“Where’d you get this?” Lo reached behind her head, feeling something soft.
“Took the cushions off the couch in the teachers’ lounge.”
Alice watched her scoop eggs into her mouth with her fingers, never looking at any of the food before taking it. The chewing motion slow and careful, Alice just watched and waited until Lo wanted to talk again.
“Well, I would tell you to go get him, but I don’t want you going out there either,” Lo finally broke the silence after the last bite. “I don’t suppose he did the smart thing and took the walkie with him?”
Alice shook her head no then began fanning the pages of the book.
“You never answered my question,” Lo continued. “How do you like the book?”
“The language takes a little getting used to.”
“Yeah, it’s a bunch of British prep school boys.”
“Are they escaping a war?”
“Well, the book was written directly after World War II, so there’s the parallel there, but I think there’s a nuclear war going on. That was on everybody’s mind during the time,” she stared blankly at the ceiling then smiled a little. “Hmph, I bet nobody’s worried about that anymore.”
The wind cupping the door again, but only Alice looked up in response. Lo took the plate dotted with the remains of the eggs from her stomach where she’d set it and handed it to Alice. Another sip of water. Alice watched her. After a moment, Lo placed a hand tenderly on her wounded shoulder.
“I’m gonna need you to help me look at this,” Lo said weakly.
The girl set the book down and made her way to the other side of the woman, placing a jumpsuit under her knees for cushion. She did the best she could to remove the dressing without hurting her, but it was stuck in some places, and after Lo nodded to her each time, she pulled enough to get it off. Lo held her breath through those times and released a whisper of the same
sound each time. After a good five minutes, Alice sat back, her milky skin juxtaposing Lo’s dark, and let the woman take a look. Alice didn’t need to wait to hear what she’d say to know it didn’t look good.
“Hmmmm,” she hummed through her nose unpleasantly. “It’s getting infected—is infected. Alice, bring me the pack please so I can see how much antibiotics we have left. Although it’s wishful thinking. I know I gave Cillian almost all to get him through losing his fingers. Dammit! I should’ve known to get some more before something happened.” She looked at the girl who was looking at her helplessly then pursed her lips.
“No need complaining now,” Lo continued. “That’s about as worthless as braille on a stick shift.” She waited a moment and Alice giggled.
“The office will have antibiotic ointment,” Alice said, her voice uplifting.
“Shooting a BB gun at a rhino,” Lo was looking at the ceiling again.
“Better than just standing there.”
“I guess you’re right,” Lo took a deep breath and nodded. “Well, I’m going to have to make a pharmacy run before this fever gets too high. It’s not going to be long before it gets really bad, just like it did with Cillian. I feel hot now. Hot and cold.”
Alice placed the back of her hand against Lo’s forehead and winced though she kept it to herself.
“You’re over a hundred now,” the girl leaned back on the balls of her feet. “You can’t make a run for anything. We’re going to have to do it.”
“Absolutely not,” Lo said sharply then lowered her voice when Devon stirred. “There’s no way you guys can do that.”
Silence filled the room. Breathing and candles flickering. Again the wind cupped the door.
“No children in this world anymore,” Alice finally said, looking her in the eye. “Do you think you’ll get better just lying there?”
Again Lo opened her mouth only to close it. She shook her head weakly and turned her eyes back to the ceiling.
