Division

by Denise Kawaii

  62 cleared his throat, deciding to press on. “00, when we get in, turn on the radiation counter. Sunny, let’s get cleaned up as fast as we can. We’ve got to eat before we decide what to do about the bot.”

  Sunny and 00 each nodded. 62 started forward again, coming around the last bend of the trail. Now the full width and height of the building was in view. 62 gaped at what should have been open ground between the building and where he stood. He lifted a hand, wiping the dust from his mask’s lenses, blinking furiously beneath the glass to make sure his eyesight wasn’t playing tricks on him.

  00 and Sunny stopped next to him, brushing against each of his shoulders with their own.

  “What are they doing here?” Sunny’s small voice asked through her mask’s thick filter.

  Dozens of figures littered the area outside the jailhouse. The yard had been overtaken by wheelbarrows, wagons, and crates, each accompanied by a body or two who were busy unloading bags and boxes. Those who weren’t unloading were sprawled over boulders and overturned crates, engaged in a chatter that buzzed like one of the beehives in Hanford’s greenhouses.

  One of the mass of figures approached them, stepping over heaps of bags and bodies. The figure paused here and there, speaking to others as it made its way toward 62 and his friends. The person approaching was tall. Broad. Familiar.

  “We were wondering where you’d gone!” Parker’s voice rang out. The lenses of his mask glinted in the sunlight, giving a hint of whatever cheerful expression the heavy material of his mask was hiding.

  “We were at the radio room,” 62 said in a halting voice. “What are you doing here?”

  Parker came close, wrapping his arms around Sunny. He pecked her covered forehead with the filter of his mask, mimicking an affectionate kiss. “We got your message. When it kept repeating, Blue and I understood. We told everyone about the radio, and most of them came to listen.” Parker pulled back from Sunny partway, keeping one arm around her shoulders while he waved the other in a broad arc over the crowd. “These are the people who decided they were ready to help.”

  “Help with what, exactly?” 00 asked.

  “That’s up to you.” Parker’s eyes glistened under his mask. His cheeks were curved and cheerful. “Whatever you have planned, wherever you’re going, and with whatever tech you decide to use to get there, we’re with you.”

  Author’s Note

  I was eight years old the first time suicide entered my life. A member of my family fell victim to suicide, and I was suddenly aware that life had an end. It was devastating for my family, resulting in an empty seat left where an uncle, a father, and a husband had once been.

  Over time, we’ve lost business associates, acquaintances, local kids, and neighbors. Suicide is something that isn’t talked about often enough because it incites such intense emotion. So much grief, anger, and disbelief surround suicidal thoughts and actions. But, it’s there, haunting our homes and communities whether we talk about it, or not.

  I wondered if I should change Sunny’s story, if it would be inappropriate to put in a story for young readers. I spent weeks worrying about what parents and teachers might say about her fall from hope, her loss of self. But then, I realized that my fears were exactly why the story needed to be told. Sunny needed a fall from grace so young people who feel alone, abandoned, damaged, and discarded can see that they are understood. There’s always another way out, and you never know what army of support might be lying just beyond the next bend in the trail.

  Like Boy 1124562, I’ve learned to recognize when things are beyond my control. And, like him, rather than ignore pain and suffering, I’ve been determined in helping to find help for my friends, my family, and myself.

  If you, or someone you know, are feeling hopeless, as if you (or they) are lost in a radioactive desert, it is my desire that you will reach out to someone before it’s too late. Please talk to a doctor, a friend, a teacher, or parent and ask for help.

  If you need to talk to someone, and don’t know who to call, please contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255. If you are reading this from outside the United States, please search online for the suicide lifeline in your country. The world needs you.

  Thank you for reading.

  Please consider leaving a review of Division, then keep going for a preview of Equals, book five in the Adaline series.

  EQUALS

  62 sat on an empty crate with 00, watching the line of people waiting to go through the jailhouse’s small detox room. For the first time since 62’s arrival, there was a need for the previously ignored quarantine room. An unlucky few had already been found to have gotten into Hanford’s radioactive dust on their way through the desert, and were already being prepped by Rain and Hazel for a lengthy stay in quarantine.

  Parker stood beside the Boys, watching the swarm of people that seemed to flow around Sunny. Each Man, Woman, and child who had responded to N302’s radio broadcast had come for her. Even though 62 couldn’t see her expression under her mask, he could tell that she was uncomfortable with the attention. People constantly broke from the line for quarantine to talk to her; whether to ask questions about her story, or to share their own tales of Women they’d lost to the Oosa over the years, everyone wanted to talk to Sunny. Most of the people wanted to hug her in a show of care and support. Sunny didn’t seem sure of what to do about it.

  The latest pair of well-wishes broke away from her, leaving 62 a clear view of Sunny for a moment. Her arms were folded over her midsection, her gloved hands grasping opposite elbows as she hugged herself for comfort. Her head trembled from side to side almost imperceptibly, a nervous tic that had suddenly appeared with the crowd of supporters. Parker seemed to realize that Sunny was free of conversation for the first time since she’d come down the trail from the radio room and sprang into action, walking speedily over to her, gently grasping her elbow and guiding her over to the crate where 00 and 62 sat.

  “Did you bring the whole town?” Sunny’s anxious voice asked through the filter on her mask.

  Parker laughed. “Not quite. It is quite the crowd though, isn’t it?”

  Sunny nodded as someone 62 didn’t recognize started to approach them. Parker waved them off and Sunny slumped down on the crate between 62 and 00 with relief.

  “You asked all of them to come because of the message on the radio?” 00 asked.

  Parker shook his head. “I didn’t ask. They volunteered. Everyone here has lost someone they care about to the Oosa over the years, and most of the Men had Sunny as a teacher when they first came to Hanford. It wasn’t just your message on the radio though,” Parker said, nodding his mask at Sunny. “There’s been a lot of arguing about the elder’s decision to stop bringing people in from Adaline since you’ve been gone. Although several of the Women were looking for a reason to stop volunteering to go with the Oosa, the Men have been ready to take some kind of action against the council.”

  “Did Mattie come?” 62 asked. With everyone masked, and most people in ponchos, it was impossible to know who he was looking at.

  “She wanted to,” Parker answered. A muted sigh leaked through his mask. “But there was no way. Rain caught Blue trying to steal a gurney from the hospital. He said he was going to push her across the desert. But it wouldn’t have worked.”

  “Did Blue stay in Hanford?” Sunny shielded the lens of her goggles from the glare as she looked up at Parker. He nodded in answer. “Good. I’m glad he’s there for her.”

  “I’d like to see her,” 62 announced. He missed Mattie more than he could express with words. Mattie was more than just a friend. She was the person responsible for opening the world of books to him, and that was a gift that he knew he could never repay.

  Parker crossed his arms. “A week ago, I would have said getting you in to see her was impossible. But now,” he tilted his head toward the shortening line of people trickling into detox, “I think we can sit down and talk about finding a way to make it work.
I won’t make you any promises, but we can try.”

  The group of friends went silent then, each lost in their own thoughts. 62 was exhausted, and although there was plenty to ponder, all he could think about was how good it would be to get into bed and pull the covers over his head.

  “What I can’t figure out,” Parker wondered as he looked at Sunny, “is how you managed to keep broadcasting your story on the radio so many times. Did you sit there at the microphone talking all day and night?”

  62 leaned forward on the crate and looked at 00 and Sunny nervously. 00 shrugged his shoulders in worried silence, and Sunny shook her head.

  “It’s a long story,” Sunny finally answered.

  “We’ve got time,” Parker said in a stubborn tone.

  “For now, let’s just say it wasn’t anything I had planned,” Sunny said. “But, we’ll show you how we did it tomorrow. Right now, I want to get inside, have something to eat, and go to bed.”

  “Me, too,” 00 added.

  “Me, three,” 62 chimed in.

  “Fair enough,” Parker said, dropping his hands to his sides.

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