Orphans of Paradise

by Laekan Zea Kemp

  Jax reached the end of the north most townships, following that same route Rani had taken the nights he’d followed her. He felt exposed there on the sidewalk, winter cutting straight through him, and he wound through hedges and bare trees the rest of the way. He came to the house, the for sale sign washed pale like a film exposure and tangled in the grass.

  There was a flash between the slabs boarding the window and Jax ran to the fence, scaling it for the third time. A thick shadow billowed out onto the grass and as he approached the window he tasted ash. He reached the door and in the harsh glint of the flames he saw the little girl, knees pulled to her chest in the corner of the room.

  He twisted the handle and pushed, the door giving way, and he pulled her out by the arm. She settled in the grass, coughing into her shirt collar as Jax turned back toward the flames. He spotted Max on the floor, Enzo’s hands gripping the side of his shirt. He grabbed Max’s legs, dragging him out, his stomach grating over the base of the doorframe. Max opened his eyes and crawled onto his hands, back arched and heaving over the grass. Enzo ran out after them and slumped down next to Breezy, tears tearing down his face.

  “What the hell happened?” Jax said, Max’s shirt collar twisted in his fist.

  “I must have fallen asleep.” Max stopped, coughing into his arm. “I tried to start a fire. It was cold.”

  Jax pulled him onto his feet. “Grab them,” he said. “We have to go.”

  He led them back over the fence, smoke swirling after them. They paused at the end of the street and looked back at the house, at its pale ghost rising into the sky.

  “Shit,” Jax said, dragging them back toward the city. “We have to get out of here.”

  They found a payphone and Jax called in the fire, his hand cupping the receiver, his voice low. He slammed it back down, coins stumbling into the slot.

  “Where’s Rani?” Max said.

  “I’m going to get her out.”

  “Where is she? Is she alright?”

  “She’s alright. Don’t worry, they think I’m helping them.”

  Breezy clawed at the hem of Max’s shirt, trying to climb him. He picked her up and she threw her arms around his neck, burying her red face in his neck.

  “We have to get you to a hotel,” Jax said. “It’s too cold out here.”

  “And Rani?”

  “Soon,” Jax said. “Don’t worry.”

  Jax walked alone to the front desk of a cheap motel and paid for a single bed. Then he led Max, Breezy and Enzo up an outdoor stairwell and into a dimly lit room that smelled like dog shampoo and cigarettes. While they got settled Jax walked to a Wendy’s across the street and ordered them four bacon cheeseburgers, five orders of fries, and two large sodas. He wasn’t sure how hungry they were and thought they might like the extra food. But he didn’t stay and wait while they ate.

  He’d been gone for almost two hours, too long, and he had to get back to the hideout and check on Rani. He managed to fit an extra cheeseburger, buns sodden and flat, and a large order of fries in the inseam of his coat, the smell wafting out through his sleeves the whole way back.

  When he opened the door she looked up, light cutting across her face, carving out every hollow.

  “They’re at a motel now, “ Jax said. “They’re safe.”

  He heard a long breath pass between her lips as he joined her on the floor. He didn’t mention the fire.

  “Did anyone bother you while I was gone?”

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  He pulled off his coat, handed her the food.

  “It’s just a cheeseburger,” he said, “and some fries.”

  “Thank you.”

  He heard her peeling at the wax paper and he pushed the carton of fries until her fingers were fumbling over them and she could pull a few free. She ate in silence, each bite passing through trembling teeth. He moved toward her in the dark and she drew back, her shoulders flat against the wall. But then he slipped his coat across her back, her hands tugging it in place.

  He’d thought about leaving it with her before but he knew if anyone found it, it would only lead to questions—questions he couldn’t answer to Pascual, to himself. Until they found her sister she was supposed to be some sort of play thing to him, a prisoner; not some kind of pet that he fed and cared for.

  But he wasn’t going to play by their rules. Not this time. Not with her. Not when he could see the way winter had clawed its way inside her, the way the hours and the elements had ripped holes in her clothes; had turned her skin to ash. Standing there, just inches from her, he could feel it. She was so cold.

  And this was what he’d been avoiding. Seeing one of them, being this close. He’d been able to walk past the other mules, the other girls Pascual transferred to and from the city’s clubs. He’d been able to walk right past them because he never let himself look. Not really. Until that day he did. Until that day he saw a pair of eyes peering at him from between the slabs of that crate. And then he couldn’t go back. He couldn’t pretend.

  But what had driven him back to Nadia’s things, what was driving him now—it wasn’t what he’d seen in those eyes within the crate. It was what he’d seen in those eyes on the beach, dark beneath Rani’s tattered hood as she wrestled him for her sister’s things. That fierce, unrelenting hope. The kind that never let you up for air. Esparanza. All he wanted now was a piece of that flame. To burn with it the way she did.

  “Do you really think it will work?” Rani suddenly said.

  “What?”

  “Me luring Nadia back here. Do you think, wherever she is, that she’ll find out I’m here?”

  “I don’t think so. They have no idea where she is.”

  “Then what do they want with me?”

  “I told you. Nothing is going to happen.”

  “Jax?” Rani whispered.

  He reached for her, his hand settling against her knee, and he felt her shudder. He thought about his brother’s expectations—what he expected to be happening in that room, what he expected to happen to Rani when they no longer had any use for her, the price he expected to be paid in exchange for her life. He thought about the light on her face, highlighting every hollow and every shadow.

  She was broken whether she wanted to admit it or not, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He could feel it, even in complete darkness, in the way it clung to her and in the way she’d relented to it that day she’d told him to leave, to leave her alone there and find her siblings. She was broken and the only thing he could do now was try to figure out a way to salvage enough pieces that she could still exist outside of these walls.

  He found her hand in the dark, burying her fingers, frozen and trembling beneath his own.

  “There’s going to be a fire,” he said. “That’s when we’ll run.”

  Chapter 14

  Rani

  The tremble of the lock drew Rani’s eyes open. She’d been trying not to sleep but a full stomach was threatening to drag her under. She blinked, eyes straining against the light, and then it was dark again, Pascual’s shadow spilling across her knees. Something fell to the floor and he kicked it to her, the bottle of water settling against her thigh.

  He waited, but she didn’t touch it.

  “Are they bringing you water?” he said.

  She suddenly remembered Jax’s coat, could feel it twisted in a clump behind her back. She leaned, reaching for the bottle while using her other hand to bury it beneath her legs. She shook her head.

  “I’ll tell them,” he said.

  He took a step closer and then knelt over her, examining the scab where her lip had split.

  “Did Jax do this to you?” he asked her.

  She kept her eyes on the floor, quavering as he grazed a finger over the bruise. And because she knew it was what he would expect, she nodded.

  “I hope she comes for you soon.”

  Rani’s jaw grew tense as a flame bloomed from Pascual’s palm. He pinched a cigarette between his
lips, guiding the end toward the lighter. She stared at the floor, watching the shadow of the small flame wind across her shoes and then it disappeared.

  “If she doesn’t, we might have to move you to the mill. This room’s not made for long stays. No heat. In the dark all day. Most mules lose their shit by the sixth day. And by then they’re no good. We just put them out of their misery.”

  She felt his finger trailing up behind her ear then slow down her neck. She watched the door, measuring the space, the time it would take for her to run past him and down those stairs.

  “That’s what we used to do to runners. Now we’re not so nice. But you’ll see. When Nadia gets here, you’ll see.”

  She felt his hand settle against her collarbone, moist fingers climbing down into her shirt. She steeled back against the wall, pulling out of his grasp. But he only climbed deeper, his finger grazing her bra strap before tugging it down over her shoulder.

  “That’s why we’re keeping you around,” he said. “So you can watch.”

  He reached for her and her hand shot across his face, the stark imprint of her fingers burning against his skin. She held her breath, eyes closed, her body tensed. She heard him stumble, rising to his feet. And then she felt the cold pull of darkness, night sweeping over her again as the door fell closed and he was gone.

  ***

  When Rani was a little girl, barefoot and wild and always fighting sleep, her mother used to sing to her. It was a low, listless thing—less of a lullaby and more of a cautionary tale about a girl who didn’t know how to dream. She was an archetype for every restless child, kicking off their bed sheets and stumbling down the hall to their parent’s bedroom in the middle of the night. But when she got older and the time came for her true love to reveal himself in a dream, she couldn’t fall asleep, resolving her to be alone and awake for the rest of her life.

  Rani had never paid much attention to the words, she was usually dreaming before the last verse. But the story wasn’t what she remembered the most anyway. It was her mother’s voice. That soft lilt that could remedy anything. For days Rani had fought sleep—the most intimate of her adversaries—and for days she’d succeeded. But she could feel that song slipping over her, that lull of her mother’s voice wafting in the air. And she wanted to close her eyes, to drown in it.

  She just wanted to close her eyes.

  And she did.

  But when she opened them again, her body stiff against the floor, fingers warm and flush to her face, she wasn’t alone. She sat up, feeling their steps falling heavy against the floor—the darkness a shifting, winding thing. Liquid shadows cinching her in. She sunk against the wall, arms braced across her chest, fists clenched, waiting. She waited for the light, for the door to fall open. She waited for Jax. But he didn’t come. And then everything converged and everything was dark.

  Chapter 15

  Jax

  She held the rough towel against Jax’s cheek, the ice inside melting and running down his neck. He tried to pull away but his mother only pressed harder until the pain shot through his teeth and it made his eyes water. He heard the sharp release of the latch and turned, too quickly toward the door, his cheek grazing his mother’s knuckles as Pascual stepped inside.

  “What happened to you?” Pascual said as he dropped his backpack on the couch. He stepped in front of their mother and hooked Jax by the chin.

  “Stop,” Jax squealed.

  “It’s just a bruise,” their mother said as she packed the towel with new ice.

  “Who did this to you?” Pascual said.

  Jax stared down at his feet.

  “Hey.” Pascual grabbed Jax’s shoulder and shook him.

  “Pascual, stop it. They’re boys. They were just playing.”

  The cold finally started to numb his skin and Jax leaned into it, hoping, as Pascual continued to shake him that if he just stood still long enough, maybe the numbness would spread. But nothing could stop Pascual’s gaze, the fire raging behind it. Jax was only six but he already knew that look, he already knew to be afraid.

  “Who did it?” Pascual asked again.

  “It was Samuel McCollum,” Jax admitted, his lips fumbling over the consonants.

  That night Jax could hardly sleep, his bruised cheek forcing him to face the window and the light flooding in from the street lamp outside. When he did fall asleep, he found himself back in the trees slumped on all fours, his face in the dry crackling leaves. His nose was running and it made the leaves stick to him, gathering there around his mouth, trying to choke him.

  Samuel reached for him, yanking Jax up by the collar of his shirt. He coughed, his fingers clawing at the boy’s hands, his legs kicking and twisting, trying to wrench the rest of his body free. But Samuel McCollum was ten and twenty pounds heavier, not to mention there were two more just like him waiting for their turn.

  “I think I hear…”

  “Sam someone’s coming.”

  The boy dragged Jax a few more feet before loosening his grip.

  “Are you coming back here?” the boy spat at Jax.

  There were voices floating down from the hill and the other two boys took off running. Samuel glared down at Jax, his gaze shifting only for a second as a branch snapped beneath the weight of someone bigger than both of them, and then he reeled back his arm, letting his fist snap across Jax’s cheek before running up the hill and out of sight.

  Samuel lived in a neighborhood people called The Cellar. It used to be run by bootleggers in the twenties but now it was run by skinheads and Jax had made the mistake of walking through the area on his way home from school.

  The other route was shorter and would have taken him past La Puerta and a community center before merging into Ninth Street which was only one block over from their apartment. But there was a park at the edge of Sam’s neighborhood, a jungle gym shaped like a giant turtle that Jax could see from the front steps of the community center. He only knew the path from school to home by the colors of the signs he passed and by counting the three big streetlights that marked the intersections. But from where he’d stood, the turtle hadn’t looked that far away and he thought he could find his way back.

  It wasn’t until after Sam and his friends had left him, when he was trying to navigate the trees near the park on his hands and knees, that the fear of being lost took hold of him. Half an hour later a homeless woman who was looking for aluminum cans found Jax instead. After he carefully recounted his address, the same way it was written on the front pocket of his class folder, she took him home.

  The next day, face still swollen, Jax took the safe route to school though it didn’t keep him from glancing over his shoulder every few minutes or from painting every stranger’s face with Samuel’s. When school let out Pascual was waiting for Jax on the other side of the chain link fence. He wasn’t in after school detention at the junior high six blocks over like he had been the day before for skipping class. When he saw him, Jax let his steps linger in the dead remnants of the freshly cut grass until Pascual called his name and it startled him into a run.

  “You walk too slow,” Pascual said when Jax finally caught up with him.

  Jax followed his brother past the church, past one yellow streetlight and one red. Then the community center emerged on their right and for just a second Jax let himself glance across the intersection and into Cellar territory where the rusting turtle glowed red. Pascual grabbed Jax by the arm and started to pull him across the street.

  “Pascual, no.” Jax pulled back on Pascual’s arm.

  “Stop being such a baby.”

  “But I don’t want to go over there.”

  “Just shut up, ok.”

  Pascual yanked Jax forward, the sidewalk suddenly giving way to the soft pebbled turf of the playground and the sound made Jax shudder.

  “Hey,” a voice yelled. “It’s that kid.”

  Samuel McCollum jumped down from a low hanging branch, chalk from the grey pebbles spraying up around his boots.

&
nbsp; “What are you doing here? You stupid or something?”

  “That’s him?” Pascual said.

  “Pascual, let’s go. I want to go home.”

  “Did you do this to him?” Pascual pointed to the red bruise on Jax’s cheek.

  “You too aren’t supposed to be here,” one of the other boys said.

  “He was trespassing,” Sam said, taking a step toward them.

  Pascual let go of Jax’s arm and threw himself into Sam, knocking the boy onto his back. As Sam tried to scramble to his feet Pascual wrapped his fist in the collar of his shirt and started dragging him to the edge of the hill, to the place where Sam had cornered Jax, where he’d slipped and fallen into a pile of sticks and dry leaves. Jax expected him to let go when they reached the edge but Pascual kept charging forward, kicking the boy in his stomach once to still him before dragging him down the small ravine.

  “Hey,” one of the other boys yelled, rapping his fists on Pascual’s back.

  “Don’t touch me,” Pascual snapped.

  Then his fist went flying toward the boy’s nose, landing with a crack that sent him to his knees. A second later the boy’s hands were covered in blood and the collar of his shirt was turning black. But Pascual never let go of Sam. He knelt, taking his head in both hands and slammed it against the ground, the sound making Jax’s stomach turn. He covered his eyes but the sound filled every inch of him. Then Sam started to scream and Pascual let go of him, slowly getting to his feet while the boy writhed on the ground below him.