by Hunt, James
Before they began any heavy construction, Wren looked for anyone with a chemistry background, and she found it in the form of a retired science teacher. The retardant was a simple varnish, but with the lack of materials at their disposal, she was afraid the substance wouldn’t hold up. For once, she was glad she was wrong. “That’s the third time in the past week they’ve tried torching it.” Wren ran her fingers between the dead and healthy wood. She looked to the group of guards patrolling the forest behind her. A security detail escorted the crew every day. But since most of them were Edric’s men, she wasn’t sure if they were for protection or reconnaissance.
“We could have some of the men start applying the resin to the rest of the fence this afternoon,” Tom suggested.
Wren shook her head. “Whoever keeps trying to raid us knows they can’t get through by trying to burn us out, not with the rains still this heavy. And I don’t want to risk diverting manpower on sections we’ll have to replace anyway. We’ll just have to tell the council to continue doubling the guard patrols until we’re finished.” The manpower involved in fortifying the structures was more than most of the community wanted to invest, but two weeks after the first incident at the front gates that had put Wren on trial, others came knocking. And those people had guns.
A heavy hand tilted her shoulder down, and Wren looked up to see the tall giant smiling. “You’re doing great, Mrs. Burton. There isn’t a person inside those walls that doesn’t appreciate it. Me included.”
“Thanks, Tom.”
Wren stayed with the crewmen all day, as she did on most days. When the sun sank low in the sky, Wren called it quits. After working on the wall for nearly three weeks, their return to the front gate grew longer every day. She wanted to install another entrance at a different intersection of the fence but knew that would cause a security risk and required materials she didn’t have.
At the front gate, one of the guards on the catwalk eyed her all the way through while the others passed unmolested. One of Edric’s men. While there was still a schism in the community, most of the people took to Wren once they saw how easily the fence was defended with the upgrades. But even with the fence’s success, some still found fault with her.
“Burton!” Edric’s sidearm hung from his hip, black and the brightest feature of his ensemble. “You didn’t coat the remainder of the fence with the resin?”
“We’re going to have to replace most of the fence we coated anyway. The rain will keep the wood damp until that happens. I didn’t want to waste the manpower.”
“You seem content with taking your time on your upgrades while my guards pull double shifts on patrol.” He stepped forward, his hounds remaining close by. “Those men and women on my wall stand between you and the bullets meant to kill you when those raiders decide to attack again. They’ve tried burning their way in here three times already. What makes you think they won’t do it again?”
“Because they’ve failed three times.” The long day and hot sun had dried up all of her patience, and she looked to the darkening clouds above. Everything she did left a sour taste in his mouth. But with the fence proving its worth so far against the attacks, she’d seen her value substantiated. “And tell your ‘guards’ that I don’t need them giving me the once-over every time I walk through the gate.” She turned on her heel, leaving Edric fuming as she headed for the mess hall.
Every home had their own personal rations, but every family was required by community laws to contribute to a massive stockpile of food, which everyone shared in eating their three square meals a day. At first, it seemed excessive to have an entire building just meant for cooking, but there was a very important aspect of the hall she overlooked, one that Ben pointed out to her after her first week.
“Community.” He smiled, his mustache hiding the creases and lines around his mouth. “People weren’t meant to live alone in hovels, Wren. We’re stronger in groups. It’s how we’ve survived for thousands of years. And what better way to share and commune with one another than through meals?” And he’d been right. Every meal the hall was filled with chatter and smiling faces. She’d find her place on the long benches, wedged between her girls, and listen to them go on about their day. In that setting even she had to admit the place felt like home. Out of all the laws the community offered, this was one she enjoyed. The meal house provided a renewable resource for everyone: hope.
Wren slid into the food line behind one of the fence workers and filled her bowl with rice and stew. Most of the concoctions were crockpot-style meals. They were easily made and mass produced. The hall could fill and feed the entire community all at once.
Addison and Chloe were already sitting down with Zack, and she was surprised when she saw Doug at the table, gingerly bringing a spoon full of meat from bowl to mouth. “Hey, Mom!” Chloe waved, grinning and holding a freshly fallen tooth from her mouth. “Look what I have!” She held out her palm, thrusting her small molar into the sky.
Wren picked it up, smiling. “Well, would you look at that. When did it come out?”
“She pulled it out,” Addison said, rolling her eyes. “I told her to wait, and that it would hurt, but she didn’t listen. She had that little kid Brent yank it out, and she started crying.”
Chloe offered a sheepish smile. “It hurt more than I thought it would.”
Wren returned the tooth to her daughter and wiggled between them. Doug still looked down into his soup, and Zack mimicked his father’s posture. She shoveled the rice and pot roast into her mouth, savoring each bite as Chloe showed her the new signatures on her cast and Addison complained how much her sister’s arm smelled since Chloe had never washed it. But despite the lighthearted laughter between the girls, Zack never so much as cracked a smile.
Her son’s disdain and cold mood hadn’t changed since they’d arrived at the camp. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, and when he wasn’t at school he spent his time lying on his cot, dead to the world. Ever since she was released after her trial, he hadn’t said more than three words to her, half of them mumbled grunts. She’d tried multiple times to get him to open up but had failed. “How was your day, Zack? Are you liking the school?”
“He doesn’t say much in class,” Chloe said, scooping a big spoonful of meat. “I don’t think he likes it.”
“I’m the oldest kid in the class by four years,” Zack said, stirring his spoon in his soup aimlessly. “Everything they’re learning, I already know. It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” Chloe said defensively.
“All right, that’s enough,” Wren said, trying to end the argument before it started. Chloe frowned, furrowing her eyebrows, and returned to her soup, while Zack shoved his away. Wren looked from the bowl to her son. “You need to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Zack, there is only so much food here—”
“I’m not hungry!” Zack slammed his fist on the table, and his outburst echoed through the hall’s high ceiling, quieting the rest of the crowd as every face turned to them.
Wren leaned forward over the table, the steam from her bowl heating her throat, which was already flushed red. “You do not raise your voice to me like that.” Any meaning that may have been misconstrued in her tone was made clear with her eyes. “Finish. Your. Dinner.”
Addison and Chloe shrank behind her, but Zack refused to relinquish any ground. He reached for one of his crutches and pushed himself off the bench. He knocked his food over before he left then slammed the door on his way out.
Once Zack was gone, the frozen stares cast toward her family thawed, save for the occasional dirty glance. No words were said, but Wren read the disappointment and judgement etched on every parent in the room, clear as day. She can’t keep her family together, so how is she supposed to keep a wall together? You’d never see my son act that way. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.
But, unlike her son, the wall lacked emotions or thoughts. It bent and molded to whatever form she commande
d. Her son was another matter entirely. Wren looked from the steaming pile of rice and meat Zack had left behind to Doug. “You’re just going to let him walk away like that?”
“You’re the one who wants to leave.” Doug blew lightly on the spoonful hovering close to his lips, then sipped.
Wren withheld the sudden urge to fling her bowl in his face right then and there. Instead, she reached over and knocked his chin up with the end of her finger. “I need to speak with you. Outside.” She looked down at the girls and told them to stay put. Wren was already out the door by the time Doug finally got to his feet, and she paced the dirt. Whatever their differences had been over the past few years, they’d always agreed on one thing: the kids wouldn’t be affected. She’d lost track of the number of times she’d bit her tongue, holding back a verbal lash in front of the children that she knew would cut him. By the time Doug stumbled outside, she was fuming to the point of combustion. “What the hell is the matter with you? Is this funny? Is this some sort of game to you?”
“It’s good to see you too,” Doug said, his voice calmer than she expected it to be. Like their son, he walked on crutches, his body thin from healing from the gunshot wound in his abdomen. He’d lost at least twenty pounds.
“You do not get to speak to me in front of our children that way. Do you understand me? Never.” Wren thrust her finger into his face, and his neck was so thin she could have wrapped her entire hand around it.
“You don’t even know what’s going on, Wren. I thought that this would be a fresh start for us. I thought there was no way that you could value your work more than your family at a time like this, but it looks like you proved me wrong.”
“More than my family?” Wren snapped, and she felt hot rage flood her veins, her voice shrieking to the point of hysteria. “Everything I’ve done has been for my family! I haven’t stopped working for my family since we left Chicago, or while we were in Chicago!” She shoved him in the chest, and he stumbled backward, nearly falling to the ground, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about his gunshot wound. She didn’t care about his feelings. She didn’t care about his life. “You’re the one who stepped out, Doug. You’re the one who didn’t make enough money for us to get out of that shitty neighborhood. You’re the one who couldn’t hack it in school. You’re the one who cheated on me! So don’t fucking stand there and tell me I’m the one to blame. You’re just a ball-less shell of a human who can’t take care of himself or his family.” Spit flew from Wren’s mouth on her last words, and Doug turned his cheek. If he cried, she couldn’t see, but she hoped he was. “You’re not a father. You’re not a man. You are nothing.”
Shame rolled down his cheeks. “You and I both know there was more to it than that. I tried everything I could to reach out to you, but you wouldn’t listen.” He straightened his spine, exposing his true height to her. “I know I hurt you. I know what I did hurt our family. But this blame isn’t all on me.”
“Yes it is!” Wren spit it back in his face, refusing to let him twist her words, to try and make her feel like shit. “You say what our family needed was a run-down house in the slums? You think what our kids needed was a bad school that pushed more kids onto the street than kept them off?” Wren stepped back, walking away. “You sit behind your wall of excuses, hiding behind your family. That’s a coward’s way out. And that might be acceptable for you, but not for me.”
Doug leaned forward. “I’m no coward. Call me whatever you want, but not that.” He swung his crutches forward, slowly and awkwardly. The sky was a swirl of dark blues, blacks, and oranges as the sun sank under the horizon and Wren lost sight of him in the night.
Just as she was about to call after him, the food hall started to empty as families, finished with their meals, walked home. Wren found Ben bringing the girls out, their smiles returned as he gripped their hands in each of his. “I made sure they finished their vegetables before I brought them out.”
“No, you didn’t.” Chloe giggled. “You said we didn’t have to!” She spun around in his hand, and Ben looked down at her, shocked.
“Well, you’re not supposed to tell your mother that,” Ben replied, smiling.
Wren did her best to let the boiled rage and stress cool down, but she wasn’t sure if it worked when she felt Addison flinch when she took her hand. “Thanks, Ben.” He offered a smile and polite nod, and Wren led her girls back to Nathan’s cabin before the rest of the crowd poured out. She wasn’t in any mood to try and fake pleasantries.
“Burton.”
And just when Wren thought the hell storm of the evening had ended, Edric marched toward her, flanked by Councilwoman Jan and Councilman Ted. “What is it now?”
For a change, the scars on his face tilted upward in what she assumed was an attempt at a smile. “I trust your family issues won’t affect your work performance moving forward? It would be a shame if the community’s confidence in your fortitude wavered.”
Jan stepped forward. She was nearly as tall as Edric but slender. Her hair was cropped short but thick and black as the night around them. The only redeeming quality of her face were her eyes, but the angular cuts of her cheek and chin gave them a sinister tone. “Keeping your family together is what matters most in these times, Mrs. Burton.” She curled her fingers around Edric’s arm lightly. “Or do you prefer your maiden name?”
Wren ignored the jape, taking both her girls in hand. “My family,” she said, looking at Jan, “and my job”—she turned to Edric—“require no inquiries from anyone in this community. The wall will be finished on time. And my family will be fine.” She brushed past them before they retorted, pulling her girls with her. Halfway to Nate’s cabin she felt a tug on her sleeve.
“Mommy?” Chloe asked. “Are you okay?”
Wren knelt down to meet both her girls at eye level. “Of course, sweetheart. I’m fine. Are you okay?” Chloe nodded, but Addison kept her head down. “Addy?” Wren brushed her cheek, but Addison twisted out of her grip.
“You say that we’re okay all the time, but I don’t feel okay.” Addison retreated into the darkness, her voice crackling as tears broke free from her eyes. “It’s never going to be fine.”
Wren reached for her daughter, but the sudden burst of gunshots drew her attention to the wall. She clutched Chloe’s hand tighter in a knee-jerk reaction and heard her daughter squeal from the pressure. The peaceful exit from the hall turned into a stampede as everyone either rushed toward or away from the gunfire. She looked through the crowds, trying to find her daughter. “Addison!” She lifted Chloe to her chest. “Addison!” Desperation dripped from her lips as she shouldered through the hurried flow of bodies as the pops of gunfire grew more frequent in the night air.
“Wren!” Ben’s face appeared in the crowds, and he held Addison in his arms. She rushed toward them against the flow of the crowd. “I saw Edric take a unit toward the south portion of the wall. I’ll help you get the girls back to the house.”
Wren and Ben joined the exodus and retreated to their homes. When they arrived at Nathan’s, he was already loading a magazine into his AR, and he met them at the door on his way out. Wren clutched his arm before he left, her nails digging into his shirt. “Did Zack make it back?”
“I haven’t seen him.” And with that, Nathan disappeared into the night.
Wren set Chloe down in the bedroom, hoping to find Zack already there, but the room was empty. The noise outside grew louder, and she brought both girls to the panic room underneath the living room floor. “You two just stay right here, okay?” She kissed their heads, and they huddled close to one another, familiar with the drill when the wall was attacked. “You guys know what to do if you hear someone come in the house that doesn’t live here, right?”
The girls nodded, then at the same time added, “Stay quiet and follow the tunnel.”
“That’s right.” Wren kissed each of them one more time then rushed into the living room, where Doug hobbled inside on his crutches, his face dripping
with sweat. “The girls are already downstairs. Make sure they stay there.” She brushed past him, giving him neither time nor comfort.
“What about Zack?” he shouted after her.
“I’ll find him!” Outside, the night air had grown alive with screams and gunshots. She watched the lights diminish in each house she passed, per protocol during an attack. The guards had use of night vision, and they wanted to decrease any advantages the intruders might have. Ben kept up as best he could, but Wren’s strength had nearly returned to normal, and she sprinted through the community faster than he could keep up. “Zack!” She looked everywhere—the mess hall, the community hall, the school, the infirmary—but every place turned up empty.
Each gunshot that blasted the night air only increased her panic. Flashbacks of Chicago and the factory where he was trapped struck her mind like flashes of lightning. Ben finally caught up with her, and she clutched his arm. “I don’t… I can’t find him.”
“I’m sure he’s back at the house by now,” Ben said, catching his breath. He reached into his pocket then grabbed her wrist. “Take this.”
Before Wren could protest, she felt the bulky metal of a pistol grip in her hand. It felt oddly heavy as Ben wrapped her fingers around it, forcing the weapon into her palm. “Does Edric know about this?” She’d requested a weapon before but was denied. Since they brought no weapons, and with Edric’s rhetoric of her lack of trustworthiness, it was decided that she and the rest of her family would go unarmed. It was a victory he dangled over her in the council’s decisions.
“Just take it.” And with that, Ben disappeared.
Wren gripped the pistol in her hand awkwardly, and while she no longer ducked in a knee-jerk reaction to the gunshots, she couldn’t stop the light shudder running up her spine. She kept the pistol close to her side, avoiding waving it around to attract as little attention as possible. She doubled back to Nate’s house, hoping that in the time she was gone Zack had returned, but when she opened the cellar doors, she saw only Addison, Chloe, and Doug, their eyes glued to the pistol in her hand. “He hasn’t come back?”
