The Curious Fate of Nelsonora (Fractured Universe Series Book 1)

by Marissa Nofer

  CHAPTER 3

  A searing pain on my right arm jerked me from a deep sleep the next morning. Connie was holding her favorite spoon backwards with the handle pointed towards me. It was not a new trick. She would heat the handle side in a large candle flame and burn a tally mark into my arm whenever I refused to perform, and there was only one reason I ever refused a client.

  “I don’t work with kids.” I spat angrily with my left hand over my newest burn mark. There was nearly thirty of them now. My next one would be diagonal to complete the sixth cluster of five tally marks. The burns eventually faded to a pinkish white color, but they were still noticeable even years later. I looked around our tiny home above the shop. I’d created a bedroom of sorts in the corner using old wall tapestries Connie had phased out of the shop décor years ago. I slept on a duct-taped futon mattress on the floor. Everything I owned was in a single footlocker beneath a gaudy mirror I’d found in a dumpster freshman year. Connie snapped her fingers to get my attention.

  “You will work when your master tells you! Huh?” She cackled, shaking the spoon menacingly.

  She always wore yellow rubber cleaning gloves to ensure that she didn’t touch me when she burned my arm. I rubbed my eyes knowing the worst of her tantrum was likely over. It didn’t matter what she did. I would never perform a reading on a child. It wasn’t right to have that information. No one should grow up with that knowledge looming over their future. Especially not without their understanding and consent. I trudged down the stairs unenthusiastically.

  On days like this, I didn’t go to school at all. Connie would make an absurd list of chores for me to complete, and eventually in the afternoon Westly would come into the shop irritated that I’d screwed up our usual morning routine of meeting up in the school library for new books. I felt bad about flaking on him, but he knew that soon we would graduate, and life would change drastically. He loved his routine, but he was strong and intelligent. I knew he would be fine after some time to adjust. I pushed away my concerns about leaving town and not being nearby for him if he needed me.

  In the post-war economy, it was nearly impossible to find employment without your basic education squared away first. The exceptions were few. I could work because my legal guardian employed me. She was smart enough to follow the letter of the law with underage students, but she was stingy enough to withhold my wages entirely. I didn’t completely mind that. I don’t know that my conscience would allow me to enjoy the money I earned in this line of work. At least this way I could continue to assure myself I was merely a slave.

  The shop doors opened with a loud jingle and I felt embarrassed by how startled I got. My heart was beating violently against my chest and I tried to regain composure before calling out to welcome the customer.

  “Let me know if there’s anything you need help finding.” I recited from within an aisle of bookshelves.

  “Sure thing, disembodied voice.” I heard a man reply. I rolled my eyes before walking out into the large open area of the shop.

  The main windows to the shop used to look across the street at a vibrantly lit up movie theater. It was once the pride and joy of the main street businesses, but it was torn down a year into the war when I was fourteen years old. Televisions and computers became illegal, and telephones of all types became useless as they shut their respective service providers down by government order. We could own radios, but only government sanctioned news played. Now the sunlight poured into the windows and caught every one of Connie’s elaborate lamps and wind chimes to reflect colorful light that danced across the store beautifully. It was one of my favorite things about this place… or rather one of the few things I liked about this place. It didn’t compare to what I saw now.

  The man standing in front of me couldn’t have been much more than a few years older than I was. His fiery red hair was enchanting in the direct sunlight, and his features and build betrayed an immense strength. I realized my mouth was open like an idiot by the time I managed eye contact. He was drastically familiar, and I couldn’t imagine why. If I’d ever met him before, I would not have forgotten it. He swallowed audibly before he spoke again, and I wondered self-consciously if he was trying not to laugh at me. I felt the blood rush to my face as I became a rare species of humanoid tomato-girl.

  “I’m looking for The Book of Cold Hearts.” He revealed with narrowed eyes. I immediately wondered if he was an undercover guard.

  “We don’t have that.” I shrugged. He nodded as if he expected that answer and began browsing around aimlessly for a minute before he tried again.

  “You see… I think you have it.” He admitted with feigned reluctance. I sighed.

  “And I think you—”

  I lost my words before they reached my lips. I had turned to see Connie standing by the sales counter looking as if she’d seen a ghost. Not the kind of ghost you missed from decades past. The kind of ghost that devours your heart and craps your soul out into a jar for fun. I’d never seen her look scared before. Now I was certain this man was a guard.

  “You need to leave. Now!” She cried, pointing to the door with a shaking finger in case he couldn’t find it fast enough. If I hadn’t been secondhand terrified, I may have made popcorn and pulled up a chair to watch her shit a brick over this random underwear model of a customer.

  “I don’t think so. I think you want to help me out, Consuela.” He suggested with an angry glare towards Connie. She nodded nervously and snapped in the safe's direction.

  “I can’t open that, Connie.” I prompted her gently. She nearly tripped over her own feet trying to get to the safe, and I heard the lock spin several more rotations than it usually took to open it. I wondered briefly if she would fake not being able to access the safe, but as she rounded the corner to the far rear reading table, I could see that it was her nerves sabotaging her.

  The man had followed me to the table where I usually performed my readings. I pointed for Connie to lock the shop door and she nodded gratefully to me for remembering. I took the large log book and took my sweet time finding the last page we’d written on.

  “What is your name?” I began. I could have sworn his eyes got watery at the question. He must have been incredibly nervous about what he would learn today.

  “Edmund Hennessy.” He replied, clearing his throat. He was telling the truth.

  “What was the telephone area code in the place you live… before the war obviously?” I continued. I had never messed up my script before.

  “I live here in Raven’s Landing.” Edmund replied. I wrote in our former area code and handed the book off to Connie. I didn’t have gloves on today. I was trying to let my new burn heal. I placed my left arm on the table as usual. “Would you mind using your right hand?” He said with a glance at Connie, who shifted nervously. I nodded and switched arms, bracing my right arm a little lower than I would like to avoid touching the open burn wound.

  His jaw set angrily before he put his own arm on the table. He was staring at the burns on my arm and I pulled my sleeve over it resenting his invasion of my privacy though I knew the marks were obvious.

  I felt a chill through my entire body when he took my hand. I waited to see his death, and I saw nothing. After a few seconds I realized I was just awkwardly holding hands with a bizarre handsome stranger waiting for a magic vision that would not come.

  “Well, what is it?” Connie snapped at me. I was likely taking way longer than usual.

  “Um… a train wreck.” I lied, panicking. Edmund smirked at the answer.

  I did not understand how right I was.

  CHAPTER 4

  I spent the rest of that day ignoring a gnawing hope within me. My gut told me it was far more likely that there was something strange about Edmund than for my abilities to have disappeared without warning. Every plausible explanation led to further questions. Why would he have come to me knowing that he would learn nothing from the encounter? I bit the bullet and asked Connie. She was already angry with me, anyw
ay.

  “Who was that guy?” I questioned. She glared at me without responding and continued taking inventory of her candles and dream catchers. “He’s local,” I reminded her. “I could ask him if need be.”

  “If you go near that man, I will take you to the guardhouse myself by the ear.” She threatened.

  “You do that.” I mumbled under my breath.

  She hurled a book at my head, and I ducked quickly enough that it only hit the top of my messy hair. For a second, I wished I had worn makeup or at least been slightly more composed before someone like Edmund had visited the shop. Instead, I had been crying and I couldn’t remember if I’d even brushed my hair.

  I heard the shop door open and dutifully went to greet the visitor.

  “They shut down the entire school. It’s over.” Westly yelled out of breath. He was wringing his hands nervously and pacing the open area of the shop with no discernable pattern to his path.

  “What are you talking about?” I demanded.

  “I’m talking about exactly what I just said. Did you hear me?” He snapped. I sighed.

  “I’m going upstairs until he leaves.” Connie said with a snide glance at Westly. She was never directly rude to him. The last time she tried to send him away I misjudged my strength and toppled three bookshelves which broke one of the front windows. It was a costly lesson for Connie, but when it came to Westly, my position was nonnegotiable.

  “Why did they close the school?” I asked calmly.

  “They said it’s too dangerous with all the deaths. There will be a community meeting tomorrow night.” Westly explained. I wanted to ask more, but I could see how anxious he was. We had a countdown of how many school days remained before graduation. We had a transition plan to help him adjust to his administrative job at the Sheriff’s office with his father.

  “This doesn’t change our plan. It just speeds up certain things. You’ll have a little free time before starting work, and that’s not a bad thing.” I reasoned out loud. His eighteenth birthday wasn’t until mid-June.

  “You will leave sooner though.” He sighed.

  “I won’t leave until you’re all set.” I promised.

  I wanted to hug him, but I knew that I couldn’t risk it. I didn’t want to know what fate had in store for him. I shouldn’t have to know those things.

  “Your face is flushed. You’re upset.” He noticed.

  It wasn’t a question.

  “It’s been a strange day.” I admitted.

  “You want strange days, though. You have never enjoyed your routine.” He countered. I smiled. He was entirely correct. All I had ever asked for in life was to change everything about it. The only good and steady part of my life was Westly.

  I often wondered if we were real siblings in another life. We looked nothing alike. I was ghostly pale and short, and he had gorgeous dark skin and a lanky build. It was our souls that felt related. We both saw the world in different ways, and the war made life harder for people like us. My abilities would have me marked as a genetic abnormal, and his neurological differences were unsupported by the community. There used to be resources for people with autism and other diverse intellectual qualities. They were not genetically abnormal, but they were different in a war-torn country that deeply feared differences. Now everyone had to keep their heads down and blend in, and there were many who could not blend in like Westly and I had managed. Most of them were kept indoors by fearful and protective family members.

  Westly left just as swiftly as he arrived. He didn’t say goodbye or mention where he was going. I felt a pang of sadness and pride knowing that soon I wouldn’t see him often, and he would be just fine without me. My tears began flowing freely as the reality of missing him set in. I hid behind the sales counter for a moment of privacy in case anyone else entered. High School was over. It was time for everyone to move on, but I wouldn’t be able to leave until he felt situated and whatever bizarre safety issues were happening in town were resolved.

  ***

  By the following afternoon, two things were painfully clear; I had not lost my ability to see death, and the series of unusual and unsuccessful suicide attempts terrified the entire town. The local chapter of the guard, a collective of government-paid assholes, had ordered that all minors and women remain at home indoors indefinitely. The shop was still open for business for adult men who were free to roam the town as they typically would, but business was slow, and Connie stayed upstairs relaxing with her feet up. It was nice to have space from her.

  I kept our small radio on all day listening for news updates on the situation. So far, I had counted fourteen attempted suicides. They were all public, and each was strange, but they had confirmed no deaths. Each new update sent chills down my spine, but I couldn’t stop listening with morbid fascination. It was only human to fixate on something like this. It was like witnessing a train wreck. With that thought, my mind wandered back to Edmund. I still did not understand why he alarmed Connie the way he did.

  I began to daydream about him despite myself. Maybe he was different like me and Connie knew that somehow. A loud radio announcement brought me to my senses. A gruff sounding man introduced himself as a member of the guard and briefly read, “There will be a curfew exception for anyone in possession of legal photo identification to attend an emergency town meeting. We will hold the meeting at 37th Beloved Rosary at 6 o’clock this evening. We advise everyone to walk in groups and stay aware of your surroundings at all times.” There was a harsh screech before the message repeated another three times. The new national anthem played briefly afterward. I held my middle finger up toward the radio aggressively.

  Then I heard the screams from outside the shop.

  CHAPTER 5

  I ran outside even though it was three hours before I would have clearance to leave for the town meeting. There were men running in all directions shouting for someone to get the guard. In an emergency like this the ban on telephones seemed irresponsible. A man slammed into me in his rush to run away from whatever had everyone screaming. Pain flared on my right side as I felt my mind dragged into a vision of his throat closing at the dinner table as his wife smiled over him. She had a black eye and a split lip. He had a severe walnut allergy. I shook my head violently as I tried to refocus on the present.

  Men were piling into the bed of a pickup truck. Only city workers could use private vehicles for transportation. The rest of us had buses and trains for travel when we had approval to leave town. They would get one hell of a ticket if a guard or sheriff’s deputy spotted them. A sickening squelching sound filled my ears as something hit the ground in front of me. By the time I realized what I was looking at, two more bodies fell from neighboring rooftops within fifteen feet of the shop entrance. I never knew it before, but a true scream comes from right around your abdomen and rushes up your chest and throat to fill the surrounding air. More people had come pouring out of the neighboring stores and restaurants. They were screaming and trampling over each other. I watched in horror as one of the disfigured bodies pulled itself up from the wide sidewalk and began to drag itself towards me.

  A man appeared from the chaotic exodus and pushed me up against the huge shop window just as the crowd rushed through the spot where I had been standing. It was Edmund. “You’re okay.” He assured me. He said it at least five more times before the crowd cleared. It was exactly the way I would talk Westly down from an anxiety attack on a tough day. He took several hard hits to his back and legs, but he created a small barrier around me, and he was right. I was okay. Physically, at least. Internally I was chastising myself for noting how good he smelled.

  “The—the body wasn’t dead. It should have been dead.” I stammered. Edmund nodded. He wasn’t surprised.

  “It will keep getting up, and now they’ve smeared them all over the sidewalk, so I have to clean this up.” He explained, disgruntled.

  “What are you talking about? Why do you have to deal with this? And what do you know about why they ar
en’t dying?” I demanded. “What the hell is going on?”

  He whistled sharply, and a girl came running around one of the other buildings with a metal trash can and a snow shovel. She was slender like a ballerina and had the same fiery hair as Edmund. I don’t think I’d ever seen someone so lovely. She began to scrape the bodies off the ground swiftly and unfazed by the gore of the situation.

  My mouth was hanging open in complete bewilderment as I tried to form coherent thoughts. I heard Edmund call the girl Diana. They were speaking strategically, and she kept sending concerned glances in my direction. I had an eerie feeling that she already knew who I was.

  “You’re lucky this guy was in such bad shape.” Diana marveled. “The others have attacked people.” She added.

  Before I could respond, a man emerged from a restaurant a few doors down with a knife protruding from his neck. His eyes had glossed over, but I recognized him instantly. He was a teacher from my school, and a former client of Connie’s.

  “He would have died in a fire last year, but I warned him.” I said. My voice sounded a little higher pitched than normal, and knees felt wobbly beneath me. I realized I would faint, and I kicked myself internally for being so weak in the face of danger. Edmund put his arm around my waist to steady me. “Jesus, you’re pretty.” I mumbled looking up at him. Diana grinned, and for a fleeting second, I knew without a doubt that I’d seen this girl before.

  Diana hit the teacher over the head with the snow shovel. He crumpled to the ground after the third blow. I wanted to ask if he was dead now, but my instincts told me otherwise. This was why there were no deaths verified. These freaks weren’t dying. Edmund let go of me and threw the man over his shoulder. “I have to get him back to the warehouse and see if we can figure out how to end this.” he said to Diana. I felt nauseas as I realized the implications of his words.