Immortal

by Kelvin Kelley

Gabrielle walked past the younger children as they played in the cramped, dimly lit stairway, as she made her way to the fifth floor where Jericho’s family lived. Though her mind was preoccupied with her concern over Jericho, she could not help but notice as the smallest one stood tall and tried to pretend that he was the same age as all the rest, when in fact he was barely old enough to walk. As she stepped past them, an older boy tossed a handful of pebble sized glistening white stones on the dirty landing of the stairway, as the other children looked on.

  “Yep!” The older boy said. His stringy hair hung down on one side of his dirt smudged face. “You’re gonna get it. See?” He said as he pointed his dirty hand towards the haphazard pattern created by the stones. “That’s what it means. My mom knows how to tell when, but I can just tell if you’re gonna get it. Sorry Bonita, but the stones don’t lie. You’re gonna get it.” He said with a solemn look on his face. The little blonde haired girl next to him looked broken hearted as a single tear streamed down her dirt smudged face and her lip trembled slightly while she stared intently at the array of white stones that lay at her feet.

  “Do me next, Jerry! Do me!” A small curly haired girl said as she put her hand on Bonita’s back to comfort her, as she left her smaller brother, the smallest of the group to stand alone.

  “Are you sure?” Jerry asked. You might not want to know.”

  “No, Sissie!” Exclaimed the littlest one from his position at the back, no longer concerned whether or not he was as big as the rest. His chin quivered as his tears began to flow. It was obvious to Gabrielle that he had no desire to find out if his big sister would ever get the plague. Gabrielle didn’t blame him. She felt sure that no one really wanted to know.

  Carefully she made her way around them in the tight stairway, but dared not interrupt. Even as a child, she too had played this game. But now, years later, knew it to be all too real to call it a sham. Whether or not the special white stones told any truth, she could not say, but growing up here required the internal strength to face the obvious if not inevitable. At some point in time, everyone would get it. Throughout her life she couldn’t count the number of people that she knew, that she had laughed with, cried with, and even loved, that had finally got it. They were all taken away to quarantine, never to be seen again. They had all, one by one, gotten the plague.

  Once she passed the children her mind turned back to why she was there, as she climbed the stairs. She knew that Jericho’s father worked the dark shift at the factory and that he would still be asleep, and would have no idea the Jericho had been controlled. She also knew that Jericho’s younger sister would already be home, now that evening mealtime for the day shift had passed, and unless she had seen the incident earlier, she would have no idea why Jericho was not home. She had to let Jericho’s family know what had happened, and that she felt partially responsible. She whispered to herself, as she tried to control her emotions, she again rehearsed what she would say when she saw their compartment door open.

  “Jericho was controlled, but it wasn’t his fault.” She said to herself for the hundredth time. She continued to rehearse her words as she climbed stair after stair, and fought back the tears that tried to surface. Living on the eighth floor herself, only a few blocks away, she was well accustomed to having to climb stairs. Even though it was tremendously hot in the stairway, she had yet to break a sweat. This stairway had ventilation ports on every other floor, and if you stood on your tiptoes you could see through to the adjacent building’s stone exterior. She remembered the first time that she had looked out of one of the ports, how amazed she had been at how close the buildings seemed from this far up.

  She reached the landing on the fifth floor, and hesitated briefly at the stairway door, before she opened it and walked down the narrow hallway to the compartment where Jericho lived. As she stood in front of the door, she mustered her courage to knock, but did so softly so as not to wake his father. Seconds turned into an eternity as she waited for some response. She raised her hand to knock again, when suddenly the view port slid sideways.

  “Shh!” Rebecca, Jericho’s sister said with a frown. Then as she realized that it was Gabrielle at the door, her frown turned into a smile. “Hey!” She whispered excitedly. “Come on in!” As she closed the view port and began to negotiate the series of locks on the inside of the door. Gabrielle swallowed nervously as she waited. As the door opened up, she stepped quietly past Rebecca, into the tiny living area of the compartment. In each direction, it was barely wide enough for someone to lie down. One wall contained the door with its numerous locks, on the wall to the right ran a low seat, the full length of the wall. The remaining two walls were bare, colored the same grey color as the clothes that they wore. Rebecca leaned into the hallway and looked first down one side and then back up the other, before she pulled herself inside and shut the door.

  “Where’s Jericho?” She said as she once again negotiated the locks on the inside of the door. “When I didn’t see him at mealtime, I thought that he was with you.” Gabrielle took a deep breath to calm herself.

  “He’s been controlled. But it wasn’t-” Gabrielle erupted into tears.

  “Controlled? What? Jericho? Are you sure?” Rebecca’s eyes were wide as the words began to sink in. She knew what controlled meant. And it was something that had never happened to Jericho. “What on earth did he do?” Rebecca managed to ask in disbelief.

  “Nothing.” Gabrielle choked out between sobs. “I mean, he really didn’t do anything. It wasn’t his-” She began.

  “Oh, Jericho! What are we going to do? Is he okay?” She looked to Gabrielle for answers, as tears began to erupt in her own eyes. “Gabby, he’s okay, right?” The tears had begun to flow, and her voice became hard to understand. “Gabby?”

  “I don’t know!” Gabrielle was able to blurt out between sobs. “I don’t know. He was there, and he had Donavan-”

  “Was it his fault? Donavan’s?” Rebecca asked between her own sobs. Gabrielle nodded her head in acknowledgment, as she still cried.

  “That bastard!” Rebecca exclaimed.

  “And then the Guardian was there, and then Jericho…then Jericho-” She couldn’t continue, the pain of it all was so overwhelming.

  “What?” Rebecca demanded. “Tell me!”

  “He was just lying there.” She cried. “Lying there like he was broken.” She hugged Rebecca as they both sobbed.

  “I’ve got to tell dad!” Rebecca broke away from their embrace, and almost in shock she started to walk towards the far wall of the tiny room.

  “Wait!” Gabrielle exclaimed, louder than she intended to, still all too aware that his dad was asleep. But the sudden rise in her voice was enough to stop Rebecca in her tracks. She turned slowly back to face Gabrielle.

  “No.” Rebecca said, as fear crept into her face. “No. Not the plague!” She said, the tremble of fear reverberated in her voice.

  “No.” Gabrielle said as she realized what Rebecca had implied and tried to console her. “He was controlled because of a fight.” She sobbed. “But it wasn’t his fault.” She asserted.

  “What happened? What did he do?” Rebecca asked, as she stepped closer to Gabrielle. She calmed slightly and dropped her voice to that of a whisper.

  “He didn’t really do anything. It really was Donovan.” Gabrielle said as she began to explain to Rebecca what had happened, and her tears slowly subsided. She left out the part about the old man having been quarantined earlier, but then most stories that were told left those parts out. Some things you didn’t want to know until it affected you directly, at least that’s the way Gabrielle saw it. When she finished her story she could see the mutual concern in Rebecca’s face, whom still seemed to be under the effects of shock, but whose tears had subsided as well. A concern that together they would have to tell her dad. Rebecca respected her brother deeply, and was often worried that she would never be able to find a man as good
as him in her eyes, and ashamed that if she did, that she wouldn’t be good enough to keep him. She hoped beyond hope, as did Gabrielle, that he was okay. That he was still alive. As this thought passed her mind, once again the tears began to well up. And in just that glance, as Gabrielle saw this in her trusted friend, her tears began again as well.

  “Does he get up soon?” Gabrielle asked, as she sniffled again.

  “Huh?” Rebecca asked, deep in thought as she tried to digest what she had just been told. She tried to put perspective on the idea of her brother being in danger, even thought she did not know where he was, or if he was even alive.

  “Your dad. Does he get up soon?” She asked again.

  “Yeah.” She said, as she stepped away. “But it doesn’t matter. I have to get him up now.” She said, heading over to the opposite wall.

  She placed her hand on an indentation to the right side of the wall narrow, and suddenly the wall split horizontally at waist height. The top slid silently into the ceiling, as the bottom slid into the floor. Inside the cramped space were two bunks, one over another, each just large enough for a single person to occupy, and bare except that the bottom one held the form of a sleeping person. Seconds passed as they watched the man began to stir. Sleepily, he rolled over and looked up at her from the bunk. He blinked his eyes in the light as he climbed out and stood next to Rebecca in the small room. The sleeping chambers were just that. They were a place to sleep. Not a room, so much as a closet, with shelves to hold the thin worn mattresses.

  “Is it eight already?” Her father asked, yawning.

  “Almost.” Rebecca replied, not sure how to tell him about Jericho. For the moment, she had her emotions in check.

  “Almost?” Her father asked, irritated. “Then why am I up?”

  “It’s Jericho-” Rebecca said, as she began to lose her struggle to control her emotions.

  “What about him?” He said looking around the tiny room. “Where is he?” He saw Gabrielle, and said. “Hi, Gabrielle. Where’s Jericho?” This was too much for Gabrielle, who instantly melted into a blubbering sob.

  “He’s-” She tried to begin.

  “It wasn’t his fault.” Rebecca chimed in, as her tears began to flow again. “Oh, daddy!” She exclaimed and threw her arms around her father, who was looking more bewildered by the moment, both from just waking up, and from what he was hearing.

  “Not the plague!” He exclaimed, the fear suddenly noticeable in his voice “Not Jericho!“

  “No, daddy. No. Not the plague.” Rebecca managed to get out, as she drew back from her father.

  “He was controlled.” Gabrielle said quietly, still on the other side of the small room, as she tried her best to shrink into nothingness.

  “Controlled.” Rebecca quietly echoed.

  “Controlled?” Her father asked disbelievingly. “Jericho? For what? What could he have-” He began.

  “It wasn’t his fault.” Gabrielle said, as she crossed the tiny room to them.

  “What happened?” Jericho’s father asked.

  Gabrielle, stifled her tears, and as she had done with Rebecca, told him what had happened to his beloved son. Jericho’s father loved Gabrielle. He felt as though she was one of their own, even though every family must have two children, and no more, he was still as proud of her as he was of his own daughter. As he sat quietly on the seat that ran along the far side of the cramped room of the tiny living area, Gabrielle told him all that she knew, mostly between tears.

  “Well it doesn’t sound like it was his fault. At least there is that.” Jericho’s father said to Gabrielle, noticeably shaken from the story.

  “When the Guardian stepped in, Jericho was on top and had just knocked out Donovan. I’m sure it used the control stick to stop the fight. But he was just lying there…” Her tears began again in earnest.

  “Do you know where he was taken?” Asked his father. Gabrielle shook her head, no.

  “That’s why we woke you up.” Rebecca spoke up. “We thought you would want to go by the control center and find out before you had to go to the factory.”

  “Good. I’m glad you did.” He said, as he quickly regained his composure. “Yes, you did the right thing, Rebecca.” He turned to Gabrielle. “Thank you.” He said.

  “Can we come with you?” Gabrielle asked.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be home? It’s almost eight.” He said.

  “I know my parents will be worried if I’m not there when they get up, but I’ve got to know about Jericho.” She said.

  “I understand, honey, but we don’t need to upset your parents, either, and you do not want to be out after curfew. You’re morning shift.” The look of disappointment in her face must have been response enough. “I tell you what. I’ll come back and let Rebecca know what’s going on, and she’ll let you know first thing in the morning.” He said, wrapping his arm around her to comfort her. “Now, get your butt moving, and get home before curfew kicks in, or you’ll be the one getting controlled.” She nodded, and stepped towards the door.

  “Thank you.” She said.

  “Now, hurry home, before your parents wake up. We don’t want them upset at all.” He said as he unlocked the series of locks on the door. “And don’t worry. I’m sure everything will be okay.” He said and opened the door for her. She stepped into the narrow hallway and thanked him again, gave a quick look to Rebecca and headed back towards the stairway. She knew that she would have to hurry to make it home before her parents got up, so when she hit the stairway, she took the stairs two at a time. As she passed the landing where the children had been playing earlier, it was deserted. No one wanted to be caught out after curfew, and she was glad that she didn’t have to slow down to go around them. She hoped that if she really hurried, she might still make it in time.

  As she ran through the narrow streets of the village, she ignored the few passers by. Gabrielle was careful not to talk to anyone that she didn’t recognize. But she was even more careful not to run into anyone and knock them to the ground. She was all too aware what the punishment for hurting another could be. Death. And not a quick silent death, a horrid public display. To be carried out in the square, of course, for all to see. It didn’t happen often, but it did happen. She thought about the story that had been passed down over the years about the man who had thought that he had the plague. He had run through the streets and stabbed several people with a homemade knife. When they caught him, the story went that he had been controlled, and the very next day his punishment had begun. A Guardian had slowly, patiently, and systematically disemboweled him at the center of the village square over the course of two days. And at last, near the end of the second day, he had screamed his last breath and could hurt no one else. She shuddered at the thought of such a painful death, and hoped beyond all hopes that Jericho would be released without any punishment. Deep in thought she almost ran into a young man as he stepped in front of her.

  “Excuse me.” He said, as he hurried past her. “Curfew, you know.” She glanced back at him, and quickly lost him as he rounded the corner between buildings. She thought how everyone looked the same. How everyone wore the same thing, the same drab color. Even the stone buildings were made of the same dull hue. But Jericho had changed that. He had taught her that there was color in the world. So much more color than she had ever seen before.

  The way to Gabrielle’s building took her right past her assigned mealtime building. Already, those that worked the dark shift were in line for their early meal. She wished that she had not skipped her evening meal. Her stomach was already knotted with worry, and not having eaten just made it that much worse. But there was no way she could enter now. It was not her assigned time, and she had to make it home before curfew. But as she passed the multiple lines that led inside the building, she waved to those that she knew, and smiled as if everything was okay. At the front of each of those lines was a scanner, much like the ones at
the factory that were used to detect the plague. As she passed the building she rounded the next corner, and now she was only a block away from her building. She thought that she might make it in time after all as she picked up her pace. She was almost out of earshot of the mealtime building when she heard a commotion behind her.

  “Be calm.” A mechanical voice said. “The plague has been isolated. You are in no danger.” She closed her eyes briefly as she continued to walk briskly. She did not turn back to see who had been diagnosed with the plague. At this moment, she didn’t want to even know. As she opened her eyes and continued her journey, sadness melted over her face. She began to run, not because she was afraid of being late any longer, or even because of the announcement about the plague. She ran to distance herself from everything. She had begun to hate her existence here in the village, and deep down had begun to dream of a better life. There had to be something more than this, but what it could be, she had no idea.

  That was why Jericho meant so much to her. He could show her the new, the wonderful, the amazing, and the beautiful things about what they had here in the village, and she loved him for that. Her mind raced back to the glorious colors of the sunrise this very morning. She could once again feel the wind in her hair. She could smell the air of the beach. She could feel the sand between her toes, and the softness of his tender kiss. His hands on her. Those memories brought butterflies to her stomach and warmth into her heart. That one moment could summarize all that was between Jericho and herself. All that would ever be. The thought of losing him was more than she could bear to think about, and knew deep in her heart that she could never survive a life without him.

  She entered the stairway to her building and ran up the stairs as if she floated on air. She smiled slightly as she wondered at how the very thought of her love for Jericho could make her feel so wonderful and light. She felt so alive and energetic. Occasionally she passed others in the stairwell, as each hurried either to their mealtime, or like her, to their compartment to make curfew. She stepped aside in the narrow space as they passed. And before she knew it, she rounded the platform to the eighth floor, and entered the hallway that led to her compartment. She ran to her door, and began to access the key unlock system beside the door. She was nervous about the time, and she could see the Guardian at the end of the hallway, as it slowly and methodically moved towards her. At curfew she knew that the Guardians were always out in force. They patrolled the streets, the buildings, and the meal areas, to ensure obedience. She had trouble with the last locking mechanism, and as the Guardian continued to approach, she could clearly see the control stick in its hand. The gleaming tip picked up bits of ambient light from the dimly lit hallway, and it seemed to almost be on fire. She continued to struggle with the lock, as her breath quickened, even as the Guardian stepped up behind her.

  Chapter 4