by Julia Crane
“When we were in Sweden a couple months back, I was blown away because they all spoke English and kinda sounded American.”
“I’ve only ever been to the States,” Nailah said softly. The dancing flame of the oil lamp made her face look regal—almost royal. Callie was struck by her friend’s beauty. “I guess now I may never have a chance to see the world.”
Callie didn’t know what to say; she felt like anything she said would fall short.
After Callie and Nailah joined the others, Lisbeth led them down the long central hallway and out the front door. Callie winced as the sun hit her dark green eyes. She threw a hand up to shade them from the burn. The pale yellow of the sun seemed clearer than it ever had in California.
“It seems even brighter than normal after being locked in that tomb,” Callie said.
Nailah’s pupils were pinpoints in her dark brown eyes. She squinted into the sunshine, perusing the cloudless blue sky, and nodded. “Agreed.”
“Did you girls sleep alright?” Gran asked, leaning on Emma’s arm as they trailed behind Lisbeth’s fast pace.
“Yes, we did,” Callie answered. She realized with relief that she could walk just fine on her ankle. There was no pain.
The courtyard, which had been empty the day before when the survivors had arrived, was filled with people. Booths lined all four sides, and the Cruisers were no longer parked along the tall wall. Each booth had a bright red or yellow awning and displayed everything from handcrafted blankets to baskets of spices and herbs. As their group passed, the people running the booths greeted them with smiles or murmured Hellos. Callie touched the hand-sculpted pottery and eyed some of the strangest fruits she’d ever seen.
Lisbeth led them away from the courtyard and deeper into the city. The narrow road they walked was awake for the day. Shop owners had opened their doors to the breezy morning and swept their thresholds in preparation for customers. Lisbeth kept up a running commentary on the businesses they passed.
The small redhead stopped in front of a nondescript storefront. The name Samantha’s was etched above the open doorway. Lisbeth walked inside, holding back the dangling bead curtain as Callie and her family passed into the cool interior.
It was a neat little store—just four basic stone walls covered with racks of clothes. A few extra racks speckled the center of the room and woven area rugs decorated the dusty floors. There were tall globe lights with flickering flames that made the room much brighter than Callie and Nailah’s dorm. A tall, waif-like woman stood behind a crude wooden counter. She waved as they walked in, framed by the purple of a tapestry that covered an archway in the back wall.
“Samantha is a gem,” Lisbeth said with a bright smile. She stretched her arms out to encompass the store. “Everything in here she has created herself. Her stitching is just beautiful. The parliament pays her to outfit any new survivors, so don’t worry about the price on anything you pick. She’ll get you all set up.”
Callie and Nailah exchanged glances. Homemade clothes?
“I guess we’re not in Kansas anymore.” Callie laughed at an attempt to lighten the situation. If she didn’t, she’d go crazy.
“Excuse me?” Lisbeth cocked her head and eyed Callie, clearly puzzled.
“Never mind,” Callie mumbled and rolled her eyes. Another language barrier issue. This place keeps getting better and better.
Lisbeth smiled—another placid, vacant smile that gave Callie the creeps. “I’ll wait outside while you ladies find something proper to wear.” With that, she turned on her heel and swished through the beaded curtain.
“Yes, let’s find something proper,” Nailah mocked, dramatically flicking her braids over her shoulder in a fair imitation of the girl.
Callie snorted. “What is it with this place?”
“Girls, be nice,” Emma warned. “It’s a different culture. You should know better, Callie.”
“Sorry, Mom.” She laced her arm through Nailah’s, and they began to browse.
After a few moments, Callie broke away from Nailah and fingered the array of silks, satins, and cottons in amazement. The clothing was gorgeous. She couldn’t believe one woman made them by hand. Callie ran a hand over a printed chiffon dress with a long, flowing skirt; it looked like something from Macy’s, only better quality.
Nailah pulled a long red dress from a rack and held it up to her body. The tube top was perfectly formed of shaped cotton instead of spandex; a small length of gold rope was entwined about the waist. She held the dress tight to her front and twirled around. “Beautiful. It’s like something from one of my runway shows. Marc Jacobs, Vera Wang…”
“Welcome, girls,” a strong voice with an indeterminable accent startled Callie and Nailah from their browsing. The woman from behind the counter had wandered over to them. She was tall with long, curly black hair, porcelain skin, and deep blue eyes. “Great choices. You girls obviously have an eye for fashion.”
“Are you Samantha?” Callie asked.
“Yes, I am.” The woman offered a hand, and Callie and Nailah both shook it. Her handshake was firm, her palm soft and dry.
“You really made all this stuff by hand?” Callie gestured around the room at the store full of clothes.
Samantha beamed. “I did. I’ve always loved to sew; ever since I learned as a little girl. In my old life, I was a seamstress.”
“Your ‘old life’?” Nailah raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve been here so long that I’ve come to think of the time before I arrived here as my old life.” There was just a hint of sadness in the woman’s eyes, but it disappeared as fast as it had come. “Aionia is my new life.”
“You’ve just given up that you’ll ever get home? Do you even like it here?” Callie asked, curious as to how someone had transitioned into Aionia. She wondered if it could happen to her… If they never found a way home.
“I’ve accepted this life, and of course I love it here!” Samantha patted Callie’s shoulder. “You will come to love Aionia as well. Just give it time. Now, you girls better get back to shopping. Be sure to pick some things that are a little more casual. You’ll find the pants and shirts on the wall. Grab a sweater, too. It gets chilly at night.”
Callie waited until Samantha had wandered off, her sandaled feet light on the floor, and then turned back to the clothes. She chose carefully: several loose, cotton pants with drawstring ties, vividly colored blouses and cotton shirts. All items she would be comfortable in; there was no telling how long they would be stuck in Aionia before they managed to find a way home.
One of the bell-sleeved shirts Callie picked up was the same pale blue as the blond boy’s eyes. She added the shirt to her pile and wondered if she would see him at breakfast. She was dying to know his name. A cable-knit sweater caught her eye, and it reminded her of her time in Ireland. Pressing the sweater to her cheek, Callie thought, That feels like a lifetime ago.
Callie’s mom and Gran were already at the counter, chatting with Samantha as the woman bagged their clothes for them in canvas bags. Callie grabbed a couple of nightgowns, as well as several pairs of the soft, bland underwear sitting on a table in the back.
She drew up to Nailah as they joined the other ladies. “I’ll be glad to have clean clothes,” Nailah said with a sigh. “I probably smell horrible.”
Callie leaned over and sniffed dramatically, then made a face. “Oh, God, it’s terrible!”
“Ha, ha.” Nailah shoved Callie gently on the shoulder, and then gasped. “Oh, Callie, I’m so sorry! I completely forgot. Is your ankle okay?”
“Actually, it doesn’t hurt. Like, at all,” Callie told her with a shrug. “I guess I didn’t hurt it as bad as I thought.”
Callie’s mom overheard the exchange. She stepped backwards—as Gran continued talking to Samantha—and tugged at her daughter’s sleeve. “What do you mean ‘it doesn’t hurt at all’? Baby, you couldn’t even walk on it yesterday.”
Callie shrugged. She lifted her foot and rotated her a
nkle. “It’s fine.”
“It’s probably just the sea air, Emma. Don’t worry your pretty head about it, just be thankful!” Gran said.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” Callie asked, recognizing the confusion in her mother’s blue eyes.
Emma stared at Callie a moment before she lifted a hand and brushed her ash blonde hair away from her face.
The gash on her forehead was nothing but a soft, pink scar.
“How…?” Callie murmured. She touched the scar, watching for her mom’s reaction, but she didn’t even flinch. Glancing at Nailah, Callie said, “Your hands…”
Nailah showed her palms to Gran and Emma, who exchanged startled glances.
Samantha was strangely silent.
In the meeting hall, breakfast was already laid out on the tables. There were only three parliament members in attendance—Darren, Gretta, and another man whose name Callie didn’t know. They sat in silent contemplation of their meals, only occasionally exchanging short, low remarks.
Callie was bummed to find the sexy blond wasn’t around.
The new shirt and pants she wore felt wispy on her skin. The cotton was so soft it was nearly weightless; it was a big change from the dirty, stiff t-shirt and jeans she’d worn for two days straight. After her bath in the communal bath hall—which had been weird to say the least—Callie felt human again.
She inhaled her breakfast of eggs and pancakes after slathering everything with syrup. She earned a raised eyebrow from Nailah who said, “Syrup on eggs?”
“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”
As they sipped coffee that was amazingly good, Darren stood up at the head table and clapped his hands for silence. “I trust you all found clothes to suit you?”
Several murmurs of thanks arose from the crowd.
“Also today, we will begin the pairing of your family units with your new homes. Aionia slowly builds every day, adding homes to the outskirts of the city for our new arrivals. Your ambassadors will accompany you in Cruisers to the new homes near the harbor.
“If you have any questions after you finish breakfast,” Darren went on, “don’t hesitate to come to myself, Gretta, or Jeroen.” He indicated the young, stoic man with dark hair beside him. “We’ll be here for the next hour, at your service.”
Callie followed her mother and Gran, her arm linked through Nailah’s as Lisbeth led them to a Cruiser parked on the side of the road. The market was still in full swing, and even more crowded than it had been earlier that morning.
Lisbeth hopped into the driver’s seat, and Gran chuckled. “Lisbeth, I beg your pardon, but are you even old enough to drive?”
The girl laughed, a tinkle of sound like bells. “There are no driving ages in Aionia. Please, climb in.”
Callie wasn’t sure how she felt about a pre-teen girl driving her around. I guess this car is more like a dune buggy, anyway, she told herself as she crawled into the small backseat.
Nailah settled on the bench seat beside her and gave Callie a wide-eyed look as the Cruiser rumbled away from the curb. “Weird.”
“We could write a theme song to this place and call it ‘Weird’,” Callie replied, leaning her head wearily on the headrest.
Lisbeth was a fairly decent driver. She navigated the streets of Aionia as if she knew where she was going and what she was doing. They passed what seemed to be an extremely active inner city. The air smelled like a heavenly combination of saltwater and the scent of cooking meat.
“There are no red lights,” Nailah observed after a few minutes. She had gathered her braids in one hand and held the bunch tightly at the back of her head to keep the wind from whipping them in her eyes.
“And the stop signs are different.” Callie pointed to another of the large, white signs with the backwards “B” etched in black. “Or, at least I think it’s a stop sign since she stops at them.”
Nailah chuckled. “I thought the same.”
Lisbeth turned onto a narrow street, slowing the Cruiser as it curved around the corner of a big stone building. The road straightened and descended towards the ocean.
They followed the cobblestones down to the water, where Lisbeth parked the Cruiser on a strip of dirt. She pressed a button, turning the car off, and swiveled in her seat to address her passengers. “We’ll step inside this small hut here, where the receptionist will have you fill out a survey to help place you in the proper home.”
Callie glanced at Nailah and hid a smile. There’s that “proper” again.
“Follow me.” Lisbeth hadn’t seemed to notice the girls’ exchange.
The hut had a thatch roof and a crooked wooden door that had to be lifted in order to open smoothly. Lisbeth stepped back to allow the others to pass before her, and then closed the door behind them.
There was only one room inside: a circular office surrounded by windows so that it was sunny and bright. It was dominated by a modest dark wood desk and a dresser.
The receptionist was Gretta. “Hello, ladies!”
“You’re just everywhere, aren’t you, hon?” Gran said brightly. Callie always felt better just being in the same room with her grandmother’s good attitude lightening tough situations.
“I go where they send me.” Gretta smiled. She pushed a clipboard and pen across the desk and tapped a finger on the waiting form. “This form will help us keep track of who’s living where. It aids us in placing you in your new home.”
Emma glanced at Gran, who nodded. Callie’s mom picked up the clipboard and said, “Is there somewhere I can sit to fill it out?”
Gretta nodded to a small, unremarkable chair nearly hidden by the side of the desk. “Feel free to use the top of my desk.”
“We’re going to step outside,” Callie told her mother, grabbing Nailah’s elbow and pulling her towards the door. “We’ll wait for you there.”
Her mother waved absently, already bent over the form.
The air smelled like salt and lush, growing things. The hut sat on a thatch of vividly green grass, and a thin dirt path led away from it to a beach of white sand. Callie led Nailah down to the water’s edge, where they shed their sandals and walked into the gently waving water.
“What are you thinking?” Nailah asked. She kicked at the water, and together they watched as the spray caused mini rainbows in the sunlight.
“Going home. I’m trying to remember that all of this”—Callie paused and gestured wildly around her—“is just temporary and this time next week, we’ll be home.”
Nailah just looked at her, her mocha skin shining in the bright sunshine. Her big, dark eyes were haunted. Framed by the white stone buildings of Aionia and the startling blue water, she looked surreal.
“We’re still going to find a way out, right?” Callie asked softly, shuffling her feet in the water. The sand between her toes felt real. The life going on around her did not.
Nailah turned her eyes to the horizon. Callie didn’t know about her friend, but she couldn’t look out over the water without remembering the men and women who died on the fiery ship after surviving a plane crash.
“Yeah, Callie. I hope so.”
“It’s typical of the homes here in Aionia,” Lisbeth said as she turned a key in the lock. “Of course, it’s a bit bigger because there are four of you. It isn’t often we get such a large family. We get many young couples on honeymoon, of course.”
The thought brought Callie’s mood down. She couldn’t imagine marrying the love of her life and heading for a short, blissful Bahamian honeymoon, only to find they’d spend the rest of their life together apart from everything they knew.
Callie was skeptical of what the inside would look like. The townhome was one of many in a long strip of block-stone houses. No glass in the windows, only a thin, flimsy door, and not a thing to set the home apart from the others around it.
The only guiding light was the fact that the ocean was right out the front door.
“Both units on either side of you are empty at the moment,” Lisb
eth went on, consulting the clipboard Gretta had given her. She shoved the door open and propped it against the wall. “As you can see, the bottom floor is all one room. You have your living area and kitchen. Upstairs…”
Nobody spoke as they followed Lisbeth up the narrow, winding staircase. Though clean and new, the apartment was dark and dreary. Callie felt depression settling in as they exited the staircase onto a tiny upper landing.
The upstairs was no better—only two small bedrooms with two beds each, though the beds were much larger than the twin-sized ones they were sleeping in at the temple. Each room had a closet and dresser and luckily, a window.
“It won’t be as dark,” Nailah murmured.
“It’s the inside of a stone coffin.” Callie sighed
Emma took her hand and gave her a sad smile. “We’ll buy some pretty tapestries.”
After Lisbeth left them to get acquainted with their new home—with the promise that she would return later with their belongings—Gran started opening cabinets and drawers. “Kitchen’s stocked.”
“There are books on the bookcase,” Emma said happily, wandering over to the small wooden case in the corner. It wasn’t large, but it was stuffed full.
“Extra oil lamps in the armoire,” Nailah said, her voice muffled from inside the closet.
Callie sank into a chair at the small kitchen table and rested her chin in a hand. Outside the open door, the cry of seagulls echoed over the harbor.
“Are you okay?” Emma asked. She scooted a chair closer to her daughter and sat in it, wrapping her arms around Callie’s shoulders.
Her mother’s comfort opened the deep emotions that had built up in Callie over the day. “We have a house,” she sniffled.
“That’s right, baby. We’re safe. We’re alive. Hell, we aren’t even injured anymore.” Emma laughed. She squeezed Callie tightly. “If you need to cry, Calista, don’t try to stop it.”
Callie glanced around the room—a couch, a table, a sink. She thought of the two small bedrooms upstairs and the oil lamps to light the way. The waves beyond their front door crashed ceaselessly against the rocks.
