by Poss, Bryant
“I’ve never seen such a state of rage,” he watched her as she drank some more, careful swallows. “I’m not even sure a human being could get to such a place, such a mental instability as that.”
He had not been able to stop it, so he had done the only thing he thought logical at the time and that was to get it away from them, from Lo and Cillian. Getting out of the spazzo’s grip, he dropped his bag and made his way up the rear of the buildings that made up the business district of the downtown area. It was there that he came across Marshal’s men.
“I actually did enough damage to it with all the shots I put into it that I was able to lead it away. It was certainly lucky I left. Otherwise they would have found you guys in the—” he looked up to see her eyes closed, breathing deep and even. A curve of a smile on one side of his mouth told all that needed to be said of how he felt. Pulling the cover just below her throat, he lay down beside her as gently as he could and closed his eyes.
Cillian watched this scene over the top of the book, his eyes stinging from not blinking. Crimson rose in his cheeks when he finally brought his attention back to where he was and saw Alice looking at him. He looked down at the book as if nothing had happened, but she kept staring. It was Devon who got up and broke the terrible silence between them.
“I can’t read anymore,” he said getting up and stretching. His hand shot to his mouth when he saw the two adults asleep then he started whispering. “I’ve got to go walk around or something.”
“Let’s all go,” Alice said, getting up and holding her hand out to Cillian. He looked at it for some seconds then dog-eared his page and set the book down. Alice walked over to the clay pot where the low-burning candle flickered inside and reached down, taking Luck with two fingers and sliding it into her pocket. “Come on.” She said without looking back, and they all made their way into the hall.
Cillian held out the small brass key to Devon, and he took it excitedly, making his way to the left side of the hall, toward the double doors at the end. They watched as he slid the key into the center of the combination lock of the first locker and opened it just a crack.
“Girl or boy?” he asked.
“Girl,” Alice said, and Cillian stated boy although he knew it wasn’t necessary. They couldn’t both choose the same.
Devon opened the locker door and began nodding his head, smiling now. He pulled out a notebook and held it to them with the front cover facing him, his eyes wide as if he held the answer to all the questions of the universe, and they had to wait on him to reveal them. Slowly, he turned the notebook around, and they looked at the red cover of the seventy-page spiral, completely red with white printed letters that specified wide rule, standard. At the top was a scrawling word much like the script of some Revolutionary War document. History it read, and Alice nodded excitedly. A white line make with an eraser over the dyed cover underlined the word.
“There’s no way that’s a guy’s handwriting,” she looked at Cillian with victory on her face.
“Stereotype much?” crossing his arms in defiance. “You’re saying all dudes have sloppy handwriting?”
“I am not being judgmental,” she blurted out louder than she’d intended, playfully punching him in the arm. “I’m just stating the obvious. Girls have better handwriting than boys. Are you suggesting they don’t? Would you like to up the wager?”
“What’s the standard right now?” Cillian asked.
“Clean up after one meal for each locker wrong.” Devon said, peeking at the first page of the notebook, but Alice stopped him, so he wouldn’t have the urge to give away the answer.
“How far am I in debt?” Cillian asked again.
“Five meals,” Alice said. “But we can make it more interesting this way. Here’s a new way to play. Let’s get a hint about the locker like the handwriting in this case and up the stakes. You say it’s a boy even after the handwriting. Well, if you’re right, it’s double. You can win back two meals.”
“I don’t know,” Cillian brushed the long hair out of his eyes and pursed his lips. “Then if I lose, it will be bad.”
“No,” Alice held up her hand. “If you lose, it will be for something else, something other than a meal, but only after we’ve seen a clue.”
“What will it be?”
“I’ll tell you after,” she said, giving a half smile. “It may be nothing if you’re right.”
Devon’s face looked like a kid about to open his presents at his birthday party. There wasn’t much that got his spirits up, but Locker Gender, or so that’s what they’d come to call this part of the game, really made him feel good, and it gave Alice pleasure in return to see it. She figured they’d probably have to mix the lockers up with different items eventually, so they could keep playing. They watched now as Devon opened the notebook, the smile dropping from his face.
“What is it?” Alice asked, and looked at the page as he showed it to her. “Taylor.” Alice said it and shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I win.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Cillian said, shaking his hands in front of her. “I knew two guys named Taylor, and that was just in school. There’s no way I’m conceding that easily.”
“No way you’re what?” Devon asked with a puzzled look.
“I’m not giving in,” he said without taking his eyes off Alice.
“Fair enough,” she said with a nod. “But the stakes have just gone up.”
“Oh, man, come on,” Cillian faked exasperation. “Are we in Vegas?”
“Again, we’ll wait until we find out who won for sure, but they have definitely gone up.”
“Fine,” Cillian said motioning toward the locker. “What else have we got, Dev?”
Devon began rummaging through the locker, now frantic to be the one to bring the game to its climax. He pulled out text books and set them on a neat pile at his feet. Finally, he got to another notebook. The smile that stretched his face was reassuring to everyone as he clutched this notebook to his chest.
“Come on, man,” Cillian seemed to be losing his patience. Alice thought perhaps he wanted to know what he may be at risk of losing more than what he’d get by winning. “What have you got?”
Devon turned it over for them to see.
“I love Bobby,” she said with a straight face, the echo of the boy’s name popping with alliteration down the hallway.
“Still doesn’t mean anything,” Cillian said weakly.
“You’re not serious, are you?” Alice asked, and he opened his mouth to reply then shook his head. “The O in love is a heart for god sake.”
“Okay,” Cillian finally met her gaze and asked. “What did I just lose?”
“Time for the scavenger hunt, Devon,” Alice turned to the younger boy and gave him an optimistic stare.
“Aww, but I want to know what he lost.”
“I’ll tell you later,” she gave him a wink. “Right now, I want you to find me at least one hairbrush and a tube of toothpaste.”
“We’ve never found toothpaste before,” Devon said with a funny look.
“Oh there are those people who have it at school, Dev,” she nodded and put her hand on his shoulder. “Trust me, but stay away from the lobby. That’s where the pokies are blocked off.”
With a shrug he set off down the hallway, seeming to pick the next locker by eeny meeny miny moe. When she felt the boy was fully invested in his search, she turned and walked past Cillian, back up the hallway toward the front of the building.
“You coming?” she asked without stopping, smiling when she heard the tapping of his feet to catch up.
The steadily growing bumps of her chest were starting to present a problem for Alice, one that she was hoping to discuss with Lo when she recovered. The constant dragging of her shirt across the front of her swellings was becoming considerably uncomfortable, raw. The band aids she’d found in the teacher’s desk helped for now, but she knew this problem was going to increase, just as her cup size no doubt would. With the tightenin
g of the shirt so too came the same in the hips. Already she had begun letting her belt hold her pants up as she could no longer fasten the button, but there was little she could do with her hips that she swore she could lie still and feel widen. These things bothered her, and she really didn’t know what to do about it, which is why she desperately wanted time alone with Lo to ask her so many things, but these problems are not what weighed on her mind so heavily she couldn’t sleep. The world was gone and her parents gone with it. She thought about these things, but she didn’t think her brain would let her take it all in. Every time she tried to think about it, her mind went elsewhere. Was that what everybody’s mind did? It didn’t matter. What her mind turned to was not so much thought as feeling. Her body was telling her something, a need, a must. She didn’t know how to explain it, again something to discuss with Lo, her soul female source on this planet. Her body craved and so did her mind, but her body most. The other children changed with their visits to Marshal. Alice too felt a change, a grasping with the reality of the circumstances. So young, so innocent, but one had to make a choice, even if so young. One had to come to terms with being in the cages with the others, with going on runs and looting, with watching a mother deteriorate to nothing. It was also a necessity to cope with the visits. There were those before her who lost the focus in their eyes, unable to maintain eye contact even when not speaking. Perhaps it was the strength of the mind that determined its survival. Alice did not allow the visits to alter her state of mind, which is what it boiled down to, a state of mind. Of course, there was the physical aspect of it. It was uncomfortable, but it didn’t last long, and then there was food and sleep. There was no other way to think about it. It simply was, and the only way to survive what was is simply to exist along with it without letting your thoughts swallow it up. It wasn’t going to ruin what life she had in this world. Such a strong child. She thought she knew that. She wasn’t naïve, or not completely anyway.
The pokies could be heard scratching around in the lobby from here, so she turned and went down this hall, not wanting to get too far away from Devon, and went into the room where Cillian practiced cutting hair. When he walked in behind her, she pushed to door almost shut to where it rested on the frame, every now and then the shutting of a locker door could be heard.
“You lost the wager,” she said and turned to him, feeling the tension between them. He looked at her with more than a little apprehension.
“If you say so,” he murmured.
“What you lost is to not say a word.”
“Huh?” he looked at her with a tilted head like a bird in a cage.
“Starting now,” her tone grew serious. “That is what you have to do because you lost. Do you accept?”
He opened his mouth to speak then thought better of it and nodded his head.
“Good,” she whispered and stepped toward him until he backed against the wall.
Both standing straight, she looked dead into Cillian’s eyes and what she saw was the same thing she felt: fear. His eyes darted back and forth to each of hers and she did the same, the smell of Rice Krispies hitting her nose as he exhaled. Without thinking, she found herself touching his hand, and he grabbed hers in return sending a lightning bolt up her spine, and she leaned into his lips with hers. The soft tissue was foreign at first for both of them. Dry lips pressed together for a few seconds and separated without so much as a soft smack, and as she pulled away a little, he chased her down, licking and planting hers but pulling at her bottom lip with the slightest of suction. This felt correct to her, and she pressed back, his head hitting the wall with a slight thud, and they both paused for an instant but didn’t stop. Their teeth touched awkwardly for a moment, and she took the opportunity to push her tongue out between his lips. His eyes shot open, but he quickly closed them and mimicked her with his own tongue.
“Not so much,” she risked the whisper, and he nodded, drawing back some.
Despite the electricity of the moment, there was guilt somewhere, but not in her. There was a feeling of betrayal, and his eyes opened from the feeling to see that hers were closed. This all felt so new to him,, but it shouldn’t. Why was he so clumsy? Was this betrayal?
“Is this what happened with Marshal?” his voice barely above the flicker of a candle flame, and he immediately felt like a fool with this deflection. At once she pulled her face away from his and looked into his eyes.
“Can’t this one thing be normal?” a mist over her eyes as he leaned back into her. “Can’t we have this one thing?” He looked at her for several minutes, both breathing into each other without flinching, his former guilt now replaced with one new and sharper. It was her eyes that took the question away from her, and on that subject, he didn’t ask another.
The tingling had made them both light headed, and she pressed against him now, but he had to move, clumsily pulling at himself without leaving her lips, trying to adjust and avoid embarrassment, but she only pressed against him all the more. He risked touching her cheek with his hand—hadn’t he seen that in a movie—and she sucked in through her nose, leaning into his hand. How much time had passed, neither could tell, but they would both swear it was somewhere around an hour if it was a minute.
So strong the thoughts that the feeling was nearly secondary. Above all was the insecurity, the dread that something would be done wrong, but it eventually dissipated like a sugar cube in a cup of tea, and the worry was gone, replaced entirely with a feeling from both. Neither experienced something they’d not done, but it was different with someone who was more an equal. Perhaps there were no children in this world, but there was a difference. So basal this seemed yet so sophisticated. There was nothing better in this world, or so they thought now. Who would fight after this? Who would want more? The thought of keeping her overwhelmed all else now. He felt he could take her with him somewhere and they could simply be, simply exist within each other, and nothing else would matter. Her thought was merely one of gratitude. Where she was afraid that she had lost discovery, she now knew there was plenty left with just this feeling.
“Hey,” Devon’s voice made them jump, and Cillian quickly turned away from them continuing to squirm and twist.
“What’s up, Dev?” Alice asked, breathing heavily like she’d just got done running a mile.
“Um,” Devon looked embarrassed to her and confused at the same time. It took him several seconds to compose himself, but no one prompted him to speak. “I think I heard a truck outside or something. I definitely heard something running.”
Without a word Cillian went out the door, and they quickly followed.
She watched as the bottom of his sneakers disappeared over the edge of the access to the roof, pausing just a few seconds to see if he would look back, which he did beckoning for them to hurry. On top of the roof the full force of the sun squinted their eyes, and Alice crept up behind his bent figure at the edge of the building. Turning briefly, she motioned for Devon to stay back, but he didn’t listen. Together, they peeked over the edge of the flat roof to see what the road would offer. The smoke of the choking diesel engine announced the direction long before they would determine the origin of the sound.
“You think it’s his men?” Cillian asked no one in particular, and she kept her eyes on the canvas-covered truck as she answered.
“There is no one else around here but him. He has made sure of it.”
“I’m not going back.” Devon’s voice was so sincere, so full of finality that both of them turned to look at him. “I would just as soon walk into a group of pokies.”
“Well, they don’t know where we are at the moment, and they’re going down the other road. We’ve got time to prepare.”
“We do,” Alice answered Cillian’s statement as he turned and looked at her, placing his hand on her bent knee. It shocked her like he’d touched her with a raw cable. “But we’ve got to be all together. We’ve got to have Lo with us.”
“How much longer do you think we’ve got?” Dev
on asked no one in particular. They each glanced at each other before looking at him. Alice gave the warmest smile she could muster.
“I don’t know.”
. . .
“Hey, Alice, can you give me a hand with dinner?” Ben’s voice roused her from an afternoon nap so easily brought on by reading, and for a moment she hesitated. “I thought maybe we could see if there were any perishables left, you know? Maybe we can salvage some variety.”
The concrete of the empty hallways sang the song of their tapping shoes as they made their way to the cafeteria. Cillian had been left in charge of Lo, who was now taking quite a bit more broth which may have been what spurred Ben’s outing to the kitchen, and Devon was catching up on his reading. Luck was rubbing a spot on her right thigh, so she moved it to the front of her left pants pocket without missing a step. The halls were beginning to fill with wadded paper, despite having no one in them to litter. Between their games of Locker Gender and just existence in general, the ample waste that was left behind was finding its way to the floor area. Alice couldn’t help but pick it up and put it in the first trash can she saw as they made their way. Who would take it from there, God only knew.
“Alice,” Ben’s voice bounced from one wall to the other like it was trying to find a way out, but he never stopped walking. After a minute, he must have just assumed she was listening. “How do you like it here?”
“What do you mean?” there was a prick of anxiety in the skin on her face. For some reason he was making her nervous. “I’ve barely been here any longer than you have.”
“That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. How long you’ve been here, and how you’re adjusting.”
“I—we were here some days before you. They took us in. They gave us this place.” Her answer was quick, sharp even to her own ears.
“You got off one of the trucks?” his tone was casual, his step steady.
“We did. We managed to get off one of the trucks while—”
