by Elle Scott
A desperate one.
I hold my hand open and hover it over the key-line. If all else fails, I know one thing—I'm desperate to see my dad, to know he has been fine without me.
Right before I press my palm down on the key-line, the door glides open. I gasp like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
‘Miles!’ I say startled.
‘Who else did you expect?’ he says.
His eyes glisten yet his disposition is cool and collected.
‘I just, I'm…‘ I stutter as I look past him to see a doctor sitting opposite the desk. He looks irritated.
‘Is everything alright?’ Miles asks, unconcerned that a quite important looking scientific-like figure is sitting behind him annoyed by the interruption from a crazy, incoherent girl.
‘Yeah,’ I say, trying to match his calm but failing, ‘Yeah fine. Fine. It’s… nothing. I'm fine!’ Oh my god, spit it out would you! ‘Just wondering about my dad, that's all. It's fine.’
‘Right,’ he smiles at me, with his mouth, with his eyes. I feel like such an idiot. ‘I'll talk to you soon yeah? I won't be long.’
His expression drops from amusement to deadpan as he steps back, reaches across and presses the key-line to close the door. Unsettled from his sudden change in disposition, I try to grab his attention as the door begins moving, but he isn't looking. I step back and lean my back against the wall opposite his office. I stare down the narrow hallway, I feel so lost here, like I don't belong. It's almost like I've walked into an alternate reality where I don't exist. I'm trying to make sense of one day walking through an open field, only to come back ten minutes later and there's a massive building there, with people buzzing around like they've been there for years.
I get that I've travelled in time, that's not the hard part—the hard part is knowing the world didn't miss me; that it kept spinning regardless. How do we jump back on a merry-go-round that threw us off? I'm watching it go around and around, and I feel like I'm waiting for someone to reach out their hand. They'll reach out their hand, they'll tell me where I fit in, what I should do next and all will be okay. The problem is, do I grasp the first hand I see or wait for one I trust? Am I right to call out for a hand, Miles' hand?
I sigh, this sucks—like a giant leech in the Amazon, it sucks hard and doesn’t apologise.
What did Viv mean anyway, not to trust anyone? Do I trust her?
I rest my head against the wall. It's time to do things for myself. I lean to the left and press my hand on the back wall, I need to settle down…
My hand begins to drag sideways; the abrupt momentum jars my body out of balance. I collapse forward and spin around. The wall is moving. I squint my eyes from the vivid light streaming out. It takes a while for them to adjust, what is it that I'm seeing? A room about five metres squared, it's stark but so much warmth emanates. On the opposite wall is a glass cabinet, lit up with UV lights. It's filled with orbs on showcase, I know them all. The portal orb sits there in its silver shimmering form, the royal blue egg orb is there, the metal grey static… and another I haven't seen before. It's crystalline and transparent, it's so much smaller than the others.
I step into the room, and without removing my eyes off this new mesmerising orb, I place my hand blindly on the side of the wall. Nothing happens, so I break my gaze to find the key-line and close the door. Looking closer, I'm besotted by the orb. It's not just transparent, it has clouds of coloured dust floating in formation inside of it. Its green and blue swirls remind me of waves ebbing and flowing. I force my eyes off the orb and devour the surrounds of this secret room. To the left, a blank wall. To the right, a map of the country fills up the whole wall with glistening blue dots in random places, some in clumps, a few scattered over. Below the map is a long computer board screen.
A quiet click resonates from behind me, the door is opening. Miles jumps through the gap and rushes to press the key-line to shut the door again.
‘How did you get in here?’ he asks. His tone is accusing but his face is soft and reassuring.
‘I just touched the key-line, well… before I realised it was a key-line.’ I laugh nervously.
‘Right, something must be wrong with the system—I wonder how on earth your hand print was added to the key-line? Do you know how, Nora?’ His tone is much lighter this time, if I'm not mistaken he's giving me a smile.
‘I don't know Miles. Do you?’ I try to study his face but he turns away and runs his fingers along the glass pane that covers the map of orbs on display.
‘What's your favourite orb?’ he asks.
I'm sure I've told him before but I indulge his question, ‘I love the egg orb but I don't know, this one is pretty. What is it?’ I point to the new orb.
He looks at me sideways and tilts his head to the side. ‘You should know that one Nora!’
I take an inward breath to tell him different but he speaks before I have the chance.
‘What did you want to speak to me about again?’ He takes a few steps towards the computer and starts typing on the keypad. ‘Is your room set up alright?’
I furrow my brow. ‘Yeah, it's fine.’
Miles presses a button on the computer and a blue square lights up next to the keyboard. ‘Does the food court supply the kind of food you like?’ He types something and turns to face me.
His blue eyes, speckled with blotches of yellow-brown, pierce through me and my curiosity peaks, ‘Miles, you promised me it wasn't a portal.’
‘What?’ My question disrupts his cool and cheeky demeanour. His face drops again but this time it doesn't show nonchalance, it shows sorrow.
‘Yesterd— five years ago, when you urged us to get into the Corridor, you promised me it wasn't a portal. I trusted you, I thought you knew something but I trusted you anyway. Miles? Can I trust you?’ I feel like I am raving but I won't apologise for it.
He walks towards me and holds my forearm, his cheek scrapes mine as his breath hits my ear.
‘We can't talk about this here Nora,’ he whispers. ‘Meet me by the river tonight, at eight, after dinner. I'll tell you whatever you want to know!’
He moves his face from mine as he runs his smooth fingers down my forearm to grab my hand. My face burns from the sensation, but before I have a chance to object, he pulls my hand onto the pad next to the keyboard.
‘I'll re-wire the system so you can't access this area any more,’ he says almost robotically.
I look up to his pensive face as he holds my hand in place with one of his and swipes the keyboard with the other. I think I'm beginning to see what's happening here.
‘Yes?’ he meets my gaze briefly and darts his eyes to the pad and back. The edges of his mouth lift—he's barely audible as he repeats himself. ‘Yes?’
It's not so confusing any more, determining the genuine from the act. All I need to do is look into his eyes. They dart to the pad and back, I look down. Surrounding my sprawled fingers is a key-line blue print and above it the words “REMOVE” and “KEEP”.
‘And removed,’ he says lifting his mouth towards the roof as he presses the keep button.
He takes my hand off the pad. ‘Yes?’ he says once more.
‘Yes,’ I whisper back nodding.
‘Come in to my office for a quick chat,’ he leads me out of the inviting, hypnotic room and into the stark, lifeless hallway.
He motions for me to enter his office and I oblige. The warmth of this room hits me in an instant and I make a bee-line for the windows. The sun streams in and casts a sleepy haze into the room. It's so nice to feel the sun on my face without the jarring cold to ironically accompany it. I close my eyes and breath it in, every ray filling my body with renewed energy.
‘Eleanora, take a seat,’ Miles says from behind me.
I turn to fall onto the sofa in the sun, but Miles is at his desk and his arm extends to point at the chair opposite him. Frowning, I drag my feet to his desk and sit down.
He swivels his chair to the filing cab
inet behind him and I see him flick through the letter C.
‘I suppose you're wondering when you can leave to go see your family? Your mum and dad…’
The skin on my face folds in-wards as I scrunch my nose and mouth. I don't say anything. I refuse to say anything. I embrace the wrinkles set in around my pursed lips and stare at him in contempt. This has to be an act; by god it better be.
He pulls out a file named “Eleanora Ray,” places it on his desk, and opens it up to scan my papers. Applications, medical documents and photos are inside.
‘I'm sure you are missing them,’ he continues, not looking up.
He holds his hand up to his face to cover himself from my glare. I know he can feel it, I'm putting as much angst into it as I can.
‘Oh,’ he breaks the imposing silence. ‘Your dad. Sorry I forgot, just your dad, right?’
‘Right,’ I say through gritted teeth.
He looks up and once met with my disdained and wholly displeased expression, he looks down again.
‘So, there's a little bit more to it,’ he says stepping out of his seat and walking around his desk.
He takes a step towards me and leans down, he's going to whisper to me again. I hold my breath as he reaches his hand beyond me to the bookshelf on the wall. He's so close I swear I can hear his heart beat. I can just make out the quick thumps of his blood coursing through his veins, then he pulls away with a binder in his grasp. The air eases out from my lungs and he takes his seat again. Only when you don't receive something do you realise you want it so bad. What is it that I want? I want him to give me something, anything, some kind of sign that I can trust him. That he is the friend I thought I had. Are his mixed signals here to confuse me or alleviate me? They are too subtle to figure out. Is his act the one where he smiles at me and makes me feel like all is okay in the world—or is it the one where he is cold and gives calculated requests and responses?
‘Do I get to see what you've got in my folder?’ I ask.
He smiles at me with sorrow, and for a moment it's almost as if I have hurt him with my pertinence. He takes a deep breath. ‘It's yours to keep. We have everything on the system, this is a hard copy for you. Take it with you when you see the doctor here,’ his eyes jump above me almost to the roof and back as he passes me the folder.
I take it from him and dart my eyes around the corners of the room. There on the wall, right behind and above me is a camera. I’m relieved. His face, his tone, his words—are they all a show for them?
‘Soooo, when do I get to see my dad?’ I ask, yearning for a genuine answer, but knowing I won't get one.
‘Okay, so according to the Corridor survivor program,’ he says flipping through the binder, ‘You have to wait four weeks to be able to leave but your father can visit in two weeks. We need to make sure there aren't any side effects from your time in the Corridor. It's unlikely though, going from the previous survivors. You'll need to be monitored for the next five years though. In four weeks, you'll be relocated to a city that has access to our team. We'll give you a home, a job, unlimited medical access.’
‘Right.’ This is a little too much for me to process. Maybe he can't give me the signs I need in here, maybe this question can only be answered in private. Beyond security cameras.
‘Another thing you should be aware of.’ Miles looks at me for the longest time since we entered his office. He is serious but his eyes show a hint of care. ‘He doesn't know about you and it's best if it stays that way.’ His eyes are still glued to mine; I feel like everything he says when he looks at me is to be heeded. It's such a weird feeling—but I feel I can trust him. I already do trust him.
‘What does he know?’ Before, when we were doing missions, this rule was simple—I was a journalist for an environmental firm, exploring and travelling a lot with scientists and geologists.
‘We told him that you were on a long and important mission that was classified and that you would contact him as soon as possible.’
‘Is he okay with that? I mean, he believed that I wouldn't even say goodbye before I left on a five-year trip? You do know I am the only thing he really has in this world?’
He pauses and runs his fingers through his hair, the familiar movement is so comforting to me that all the yearning I had for him to show me a sign dissipates. All the straight faces in the world can't hide a genuine characteristic like that.
I smile.
‘Your dad married someone two years ago Nora… Eleanora,’ he says as a matter-of-fact.
My smile wanes along with my comfort. ‘What?’ He got married? Without me?
‘There was confusion at the Base and three years ago all the next of kin where told their loved ones had perished on their missions. He thought you were dead.’
‘And now?’ I demand.
Miles switches his eyes back to his desk and clears his throat.
‘Miles?’
‘I thought… I thought that it would be safer for him to not start looking for you,’ he doesn't look up but I can see his brows digging deep down into his face, like they are trying to hide his eyes under the camouflage of sand. A million particles of sand to stick his head into like an ostrich. Scared.
That's when I realise that something too big for me to fully comprehend has happened since I've been gone. Something that’s dangerous, something that’s life-threatening. The reason Viv told me not to trust anyone.
‘Miles, can I call him? Please? Now!’
‘Tomorrow,’ he sets his eyes back on to mine and says: ‘Yes?’
It’s like I'm looking down the barrel of a gun, and the man behind it is telling me it's not loaded as he hovers his finger over the trigger. My gut is telling me I believe him but how can I trust myself when someone, somewhere along the way has lied to me and all I have been able to see are friends, not foes?
‘Yes,’ I reply.
FIFTEEN
Nora
I need to find Xander, I don't care what Viv said, I need to talk to him. For the next few hours I search the building from its roof—which consists of only a helicopter pad, back to knock on his door, to the tennis court, the pool, back to his room, to my room for a jacket, down to the lounge area. The clock on the wall says it’s four thirty, but it's only until my stomach shrinks in on itself and churns like a vintage sifter do I realise I haven't eaten since yesterday. If I’m being technical, I haven’t eaten for five years.
I enter the food court; there is no one in here—but the aroma of dinner fills the air. I walk over to the buffet line and pick up a plate.
‘Wh'can I get ya?’ A gruff voice booms from behind the glass protected counter.
‘Anything!’ I almost beg as I look up to see a cheerful elderly man, his round gut pulling tight on a food stained white apron. A white chef's hat proudly perches on his head.
‘Abner!’ I exclaim. ‘You're here?’
‘Oh yes girly, after the fallout at the Palladium Base, I chose to come with Miles here,’ he scoops three massive balls of potato mash onto my plate.
‘Fallout?’ I ask.
‘Mmm yes.’ Generous portions of pumpkin, carrots, peas and corn follow the potato. ‘Big blew between father and son Ladlow.’
He stops to lean forward and motions for me to come closer. I stretch over the high bench top to comply.
His voice drops a few decibels to a whisper. ‘We aren't supposed to talk about it,’ he points around the room.
‘But!’ He bellows as he throws five slices of beef on top of my vegetables and drowns it in gravy. ‘It's great to see you again Nora. How's that hunky man of yours, Xander?’
‘Man of mine?’ I laugh, how did he know.
‘Oh come on girly, the eyes you two made at each other back at the airport base. You'd have to be blind to not notice the obvious romance. Hey! Hey?’ he teases.
I smile, ‘Okay! You got me… you don't happen to know where he is now?’
‘I was standing out the front for a cigar, don't tell Miles—we're
supposed to go out into the woods for that, but geez an old man like me, that's too far… Anyway, I saw him head towards the Corridor about half an hour ago.’
I didn't even think to look outside.
I shove a fork full of potato into my mouth and run towards the elevator.
‘What about your dinner?’ Abner calls out.
‘Save it for me!’ I call out in return. ‘I'll be back.’
~~~
Earlier, from my room, the day looked beautiful from the top floor. The clear blue skies and bright sun made me smile, I didn’t think it was bad for winter. Now, that same glorious sun is descending behind the mountain. I brush aside disappointment that I’ve missed yet another day and scan my eyes down the gravel path. I can see the outline of the Corridor from here, even through the trees. I bring my eyes back up to the path and along the river, I spot Xander sitting on the bank under the mountain of strange, perfectly lined trees. I step outside and a blast of crisp air punches my face. My warm breath out forms a cloud of spine tingling mist. That's when it hits me again, and not only the realisation of winter—but also the knowledge that I have missed other winters; other summers.
He either doesn't hear me coming or he is ignoring me. He flinches as I sit next to him. His legs drape over the bank and his toes stroke the water. His hair is soft, the brown shines almost golden in the sunlight.
I force interaction, ‘It's a bit cold to have your feet in the water, isn't it?’ I almost whisper it.
He turns his head towards me but his eyes are downcast. ‘It makes me feel present,’ he whispers.
He opens his mouth to speak some more but he catches himself before the words come out. His shoulders raise in effort from an inward breath, as he breathes out they drop dramatically, ‘I…’ He stops and turns his head away, blocking my view of his face.
If he isn't going to tell me then I'll just outright ask him. I reach over and touch the place behind his ear, my hand lingers there. I want to turn his face towards me but instead I stroke through the strands of his smooth hair. He turns his head to me and this time he looks at me, almost like he is searching for answers to questions I haven’t thought of asking yet.
