Through the Windshield Glass

by Kristen Day

  Towards the end of his monologue, Avery had begun to slip back into an old gruff Scottish accent.

  "What's your real, honest to goodness, name you were christened with?" Avery asked.

  "Alice Beth Patterson," I whispered back. I didn't know why I said it so quietly. It felt like I was saying a dirty word and didn't want my parents to hear.

  "There's no need to whisper!" Avery boomed, "No man or woman should　be ashamed of their name or identity!"

  It wasn't like he was talking to me anymore, and I realized he was trying to make someone hear, I guessed his comments were directed at Kinga.

  When no response came, Avery shrugged and turned back to me, "What offed you?" he asked bluntly.

  I was taken aback at the way he so casually asked about my death, I didn't even hesitate before saying, "Car crash."

  Avery shook his head, "Awful thing. Suffered did you? My wife just popped me one in the skull and I was gone. Bless her, never could've done it myself, good thing she hated me so much!"

  I felt my jaw drop. Avery noticed and laughed almost as hard as before, "Divorce wasn't as easy in my time," Avery said when he had gathered himself again.

  I was about to say something when I noticed a change in Avery's face, a quick look of surprise, followed by a smirk of bitter contempt and a low bow, "Massah-Kinga, how good of you to grace us with your presence."

  "Terrell, what have you been telling Ira?" Kinga asked, ignoring the derogatory title Avery had given her.

  "My name is Avery, and she," Avery said, pointing at me, "is Alice. Ira is an old man's name.”

  "Names have no sex discrimination here Terrell, you know that," Kinga replied. Kinga stood almost eight inches taller than Avery who was only two inches shorter than me. Her glare was full of fire, her voice stern and commanding. Yet, Avery didn't flinch, his green eyes met Kinga's black ones unwaveringly. Even at his lesser height he seemed to be her equal and he knew it. I felt uncomfortable and was considering sneaking off to my room, when Kinga remembered me.

  "You should not listen to Terrell," Kinga said, completely washing away any doubt　I had about her authority, "he is an old fool who only wants to stir up contention　because he is angry that he was slighted in favor of me to lead the war against Alecsander."

  "I'm not angry that you're in charge! I'm angry you won't call me by my given name! My mother called me Avery, you should have the decency to do the same, massah."

  "Do not call me that," Kinga said. There was a deadly edge in her voice, but Avery did not cringe, or shy away.

  I finally found my voice, "What does it mean?"

  Kinga didn't take her eyes from Avery's face, "I was once a slave. Avery thinks to remind me of the irony of my position by using the term 'massah' to address me."

  It still took me a moment to understand, I had to think about the word being said in a heavy accent before I got it. The second I did I realized how horrible it was of Avery to use the term.

  "Master," I said, "you think it's funny to call her 'Master-Kinga'?"

  Avery looked surprised that I had taken offense to it, but he quickly recovered, "Kinga doesn't mind, do you?"

  "Of course not," Kinga said with more dignity than I thought even royalty could possess, "my past is behind me. I am no longer that slave, I have a new name and a new life, no one need concern themselves with the things of my past."

  "See," Avery said, "it's just payback, really. If she called me Avery there would be no need to call her 'massah'."

  "I will not call you Avery, you are Terrell now, just as Alice is Ira. Names are protection, the past is too poignant for most of us, there is no need to draw it up again."

  With that, Kinga turned around and went through the door she had come through, closing it tightly behind her before I could see where it led.

  "What she means is, the past is too powerful for any of us lesser mortals to deal with," Avery said with disgust.

  "What do you mean?" I asked, forgetting my offense with Avery because of my want for information.

  "The past is a dangerous weapon. That's why the people here voted to hide their pasts from each other. I wasn't one of them. If my past can change the black future of this place, I want to remember everything about it. Starting with my name."

  I began to ask another question, but Avery cut me off, "The rest you will have to find out for yourself. If you're hungry there's a kitchen through the last door on the right. I have a few things to discuss with our prodigious leader."

  Without another word, Avery went through the door Kinga had just disappeared through. I tried to open the door when it closed, but it wouldn't budge. Frustrated, I gave up. I really did feel a little hungry but maybe I’d just go back to bed. I was still feeling a little sick, and the more I thought about it, the more inviting my quiet room and bed seemed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  After another long nap and a little bit of confusion, I managed to finally open the door Avery said lead to the kitchen.

  The 'kitchen' turned out to be a giant mess hall. Tables full of people were crammed onto every inch of floor space in the room. A long line stretched from somewhere I couldn't quite see over the mass of heads. I had forgotten I was standing in the doorway until I noticed myself being pushed into the line as a wave of people entered from behind me.

  I tried to make conversation with a few people around me, but no one seemed to be in the mood to talk. Each person, though different from the others in physical appearance, were identical in their motives and actions, at least in the line. At the tables there were lively conversations being held, games of cards were being played, and children were running around throwing food at each other. I had to wonder what made the people so hungry that until they had eaten, they couldn't even speak.

  For some reason the thought frightened me. Thus far, I had seen nothing to suggest that there was anything wrong with the way the place was being run. I began to think that perhaps I had just been mistaken about the time of day; maybe it was six in the morning instead of the afternoon. That thought was quickly put to rest when I noticed people were walking out of the line with trays heaped high with mashed potatoes, gravy, and meat. Definitely not breakfast food.

  As the line progressed I skimmed the hall looking for familiar faces. It seemed unlikely that I would see any, and I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to, but I kept looking anyway.

  I was near the front of the line when a streak of bright red hair snagged my focus away from the delicious smells of food. It wasn't Avery, it wasn't Maria...

  "Mrs. Cole!" I yelled. The bobbing red hair didn't stop moving; in fact it seemed to speed up, flying toward the door. She was trying to escape.

  I bolted out of line, weaved through the tables, and finally sprinted up to the woman who had convinced my best friend to kill herself, the woman who was also partially responsible for my death.

  I closed a hand around Mrs. Cole's upper arm and the first sign of recognition presented itself.

  "Al--" Mrs. Cole caught herself, "who are you? Let me go!"

  "Mrs. Cole, you know exactly who I am."

  "I don't know who you are, and I don't know who Mrs. Cole is. My name is Cassidy, now; who are you?"

  "I'm Alice, Mrs. Cole, Maria's best friend. Your daughter's best friend! The one you convinced to commit suicide! Where's Maria? I need to talk to her!" I was yelling, people were staring, but I didn't care.

  "My name is Cassidy, I don't have a daughter. No one here does, there are no family ties here, we are all single, individual, and unconnected."

  Mrs. Cole seemed to speaking as if she were in a trance. The speech she had given me came across as rehearsed and half-hearted. She was too calm, I was right up in front of her face, barely restraining myself from grabbing her by her shirt and shaking her until she told me the truth. How could she deny having a daughter? Did she not care for Maria at all? How could she not remember her own daughter, or even me? Maria and I were practically sisters; you rarely saw one of us wi
thout the other. I still had all the memories of my life, I knew there was no way Mrs. Cole, Wendy, as her husband always called her, could have forgotten all that had happened to her.

  "You almost said my name when I grabbed your arm; you know who I am, so why won't you say it?"

  Genuine fear registered in Mrs. Cole's eyes, she wasn't looking at me, but beyond me. Seconds later a heavy hand fell on my shoulder, shocking me so greatly that I let go of Mrs. Cole and spun around, fully expecting to let my fist land in the face of the owner of the hand.

  "I would control your anger, Ira," Kinga said calmly, she hadn't even flinched as my hand nearly connected with her face, "you are not quite living up to your name. Perhaps you need some alone time to get used to it."

  "I don't need any alone time, I need Mrs. Cole to tell me where Maria is!" I was yelling again.

  Kinga looked at me, her face was calm, but her eyes were fiery and deadly. I forced myself to meet them, trying to be as strong and confident as Avery, I had seen Kinga nearly crack under his glare. It was clear she was the alpha of this group, but she was afraid of her challengers.

  "There is no Mrs. Cole here, the poor woman you've been assaulting is called Cassidy, and I'm sure she has no idea who you are, or who this Maria person is."

  "She knows who Maria is, she gave birth to her, she raised her!"

  "As Cassidy informed you, there are no families here, no one has children, no one has romances. Those things make us vulnerable, friendship is pushing the boundaries, but it is necessary for trust. So please stop harassing people for information and either ask me yourself, or keep your questions inside and locked up."

  As Kinga spoke, her words heightened the power of her eyes. They flickered different　colors, reminding me of different people at each change, frightening me far more than I had been prepared for. My eyes dropped away from Kinga's face, signaling my defeat.

  "You will go back to your room; someone will bring you something to eat later. Perhaps some time with your new name is all you need to understand our ways and accept them."

  I couldn't bring my gaze back to Kinga's face, but I glared heartily at Mrs. Cole. The woman I had trusted almost as much as my own mother had failed me in a deeper way than when she had killed herself.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I felt like a child sent to her room for being naughty, oh wait, that's what I was. To show my contempt for Kinga's punishment I slammed the door behind me, but I only felt more immature. It was only made worse when I through myself face down on the yellow quilt and sobbed heartily. It felt like losing Mrs. Cole and Maria all over again, and I was sick of crying!

  After a long time my tears stopped, and I was able to sit up. The light in the room had changed to foggy dusk and I looked around for a light switch or a lamp. The room was completely devoid of electronics yet I could hear something as if it were coming from a loudspeaker.

  Ira. Watchful. Ira. Watchful.

  It was Kinga's voice, constantly repeating my new name, drilling it into my skull, making me forget what my name was. For a while I sat there, completely lost as to what I should do, I could almost feel my identity slipping away, I didn't like it, but what could I do about it?

  At first I didn't even notice my voice slowly rising over the subtle tones of Kinga's, but as my volume rose I finally heard what I was saying.

  "Alice Beth Patterson," the words felt tentative and difficult to pronounce at first, but with each repetition of my name it became stronger, "Alice Beth Patterson. Alice Beth Patterson! ALICE BETH PATTERSON!"

  Soon enough I was screaming, I was too angry to cry, but the copper taste of blood from my throat flavored my tongue. The corners of my mouth screamed for me to stop, but my head wouldn't allow it. I seemed to understand that if I lost my name I'd lose everything, and I couldn't let that happen again.

  I don't know how long it went on, but I was mildly aware of the light getting dimmer and dimmer in the room. When I was in almost complete darkness I realized Kinga's voice had stopped. All the screaming had been somewhat cathartic. My intense anger at Mrs. Cole at Kinga had gone from a knife in my stomach, to a dull pounding in my head.

  I lay back on the bed, totally exhausted from my efforts, my stomach growled, but I didn't dare attempt a trip to the kitchen. Not because I was afraid of Kinga, but because I was afraid of falling asleep on the way there.　 I tried to sleep, but my throat was raw to the point it hurt to breathe, my stomach hurt from using my diaphragm so vigorously, and my jaw felt as though it would fall off. I knew I wouldn't be able to　 chew anything, but I　could at least get some water to soothe my throat if I made it to the kitchen.

  Gathering my remaining energy, I dragged myself off the bed, unsteadily crossed the room, blindly found the doorknob and began to twist. At the same time it turned the other way. I gasped and relinquished my hold. I backed up away from the door, but since the room was so small there wasn't really anywhere to go. I ended up catching my heel on my too big pants; I flailed my arms and somehow managed to end up in the white chair next to my bed. Unfortunately, I also managed to hit my funny bone on the bedside table. So when the person on the other side of the door came in, I was sprawled haphazardly in the chair and nursing my elbow.

  "Are you okay?" the person asked. I couldn't see who it was because of how dark it was in the room, but it was definitely a male voice that had spoken, "Did I hurt you?"

  "No," I responded. I was rubbing my elbow vigorously, trying to get it to feel normal, "you just scared me, I did the tripping and falling on my own."

  A moment later I felt a hand touch my arm near my uninjured elbow, "Give me your hand, let me help you."

  I did as I was told and the man helped me to stand.

  "Why is it so dark in here?" I asked him. Maybe I should have asked for an identifier first, but I really wanted to know why I couldn't see.

  "Oh, right, sorry. Sun!"

  Immediately light filled the tiny room. It flared for a moment, making everything burn gold, then it stabilized to a comfortable natural glow. If I had gasped loudly when the man first came in, it was nothing in comparison to what I did when I actually saw him.

  My new companion was just as attractive if not more so than Daman, but in a different way. Daman was all dark and shadows, while this new man was light. His hair was so yellow it appeared almost white; it was curly like Daman's, but softer, easier. Not as tightly coiled. The more I looked the more similarities I noticed between this person and Daman. They could almost pass for twins, the blue eyes were even the same. The only difference seemed to be the hair, and the fact that this new person seemed to glow.

  "What's your name?" he asked.

  "Alice Beth Patterson," I said without hesitation, "it will never be Ira, if you're going to call me that you can leave."

  I didn't sound as certain as Avery, but it was a start.

  "I won't call you Ira as long as you don't call me Beau. My name is Michael Andrew Finn, it's good to meet you, Alice Beth Patterson."

  I realized I should shake his hand, but my hand was still in his. Michael noticed at the same time and laughed.

  "I think this is yours," he said. He flipped　my hand over palm　up and pushed it towards me. I didn't close my　hand fast enough to hide Daman's mark. Michael noticed even before I thought about hiding it.

  "What is--" Michael stopped himself, "I have to go. I brought you food."

  Michael pointed to a tray on the bed, but before I could thank him, he was gone.

  "Yeah," I said awkwardly. His smile made my heart stop.

  Chapter Twenty

  Honestly, I was so exhausted and flustered after Michael left that I barely tasted the food as it went down. I barely managed to set the empty tray on the floor before I wiped out on the bed.

  When I woke up, my room was dark again. I assumed someone had just told the light to leave after I had fallen asleep, but then a little voice informed me otherwise.

  "You slept for two whole days!"

 
It was Aida, I couldn't see her, but the voice and enthusiasm were unmistakable.

  "Two days? Sun!" I attempted to bring the light like Michael had, but nothing happened.

  I heard Aida laugh, "Kinga said it was best to keep you in the dark for a little while after you wake up. We don't want to scare your eyes."

  "Aida, why is Kinga in charge?"

  "Please call me Leigh. That's my name you know."

  "Of course, can you answer me that question, Leigh?"

  I could hear the smile in Leigh's voice, it was obvious the feeling of her name in her ears was good, "She's in charge because she was the princess."

  "Kinga's a princess?"

  "She was, before Alecsander took over. No one wanted to fight her when she decided to lead the rest of us."

  "Why not? She had no real authority anymore."

  A new voice joined Leigh's. It was Michael's, "No one else had any idea what to do. Avery challenged her from the start. Most of the rest of us who don't approve of her leadership don't oppose her so openly."

  "Then how do you resist her at all?"

  My appetite for information had been whet. I wasn't going to stop my questions until I was satisfied, even if that meant tying Leigh and Michael to the chair with my bed sheets.

  "There's a sort of resistance within the resistance. It's mostly made up of people who won't give up their names, or have ideas that Kinga doesn't approve of on how to get rid of Alecsander."

  "Like pouring water on him to melt him like a witch!" Leigh exclaimed.

  Michael and I both laughed, "Just like that," Michael said.

  "So is Avery the leader of this resistance within a resistance?" I asked.

  "No," Michael said, I felt him sit on the edge of my bed, near the hand with Daman's mark on it, "Avery would be too obvious, Kinga's always got him in her scope. But, she would never expect her right hand man, or her young, naive, charge."

  My jaw dropped, "You and Leigh?"

  "Who else could it be?" Leigh asked. For such a small girl she had a lot of voice.