The Complete Makanza Series: Books 0-4

by Krista Street

  Unfortunately, that was exactly what happened.

  Sharon’s mouth dropped and she stepped back. I heard a strangled, “No!” before her eyes rolled back in her head.

  I pushed the door open just as she hit the floor.

  17 – SHOCK

  I didn’t catch her, but I managed to break her fall. My heart beat painfully in my chest as I crouched beside her. My first thought was that I’d given her a heart attack.

  I felt her neck for a pulse. It was strong and steady.

  “Sharon? Sharon?” I gripped her wrist and shook. When that did nothing to rouse her, I grabbed her by the shoulders. “Sharon! Wake up!”

  Her eyes fluttered open. She looked around, squinting.

  “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  Her eyes snapped to mine. Davin’s eyes. They were the same electric blue. My breath caught in my throat.

  Seeing me, she scrambled back as quickly as she could. Any concerns I had about her health, vanished.

  “No!” She shook her head vigorously. “No, no, no! I don’t want to know! Please don’t tell me! I couldn’t bear it!”

  I held up my hands, not entirely sure what she was talking about. “I’m sorry if I’ve frightened you. Please, let me explain why I’m here.”

  “Oh, I know why you’re here.” Tears filled her eyes. “Just please, don’t say it. I couldn’t bear it if I lost him too.”

  Everything clicked.

  I sank to the floor but kept my distance. “Davin’s fine. Davin’s not dead. He’s just fine. I’m so sorry that’s why you thought I’d come.”

  Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened. “But . . . if he’s not . . .” She frowned. “I don’t understand. If he’s not dead, why are you here?”

  I slowly stood but still kept space between us. “I’m hoping you can help me with something. I work directly with your son, but I think I need your help to help him.”

  She just stared at me.

  I could tell this was too much information, too soon in the morning, and too much of a surprise. “I’m sorry.” I held my hand out to help her up. “Is there somewhere quiet we could talk?”

  She let me help her stand but her frown remained in place. “Yes, yes of course. Come in. I’ll make some tea.”

  SHARON LED ME to a small, round table in her kitchen and told me to sit. The house was old and dated. Everything in it appeared to be from the last century. The faded linoleum floor peeled in the corners. Wallpaper covered every vertical surface. Its floral patterns reminded me of the nursing homes my mother visited for her charity work.

  The house smelled clean, though, and there were touches scattered throughout that hinted at effort. Clean, pressed towels hung from the stove’s handles. Not a hint of dust on the worn cabinets. A freshly laundered, wrinkle-free tablecloth covered an old, scarred table.

  “I hope you like your tea plain.” Sharon approached the table, balancing a tray with a porcelain teapot and two matching cups with saucers. “I’m out of milk and sugar.”

  The tea set was old, probably antique, but immaculately cared for. Not a chip to be seen anywhere, and the fine bone china gleamed.

  “Black tea is fine. Thank you.”

  She set the tray down and poured us each a cup, her hands trembling. A little tea dripped over the side onto her saucer. “Shoot,” she whispered.

  I felt the urge to reassure her, but I had no idea what to say. During the long drive yesterday, when I pictured all of the different scenarios for how today could play out, this was not it. I thought for sure I’d be the anxious, tongue-tied mess, unsure of myself while twisting my hands. In reality, I was the calm one. Sheer panic gleamed in Sharon’s eyes.

  When she finally settled beside me, she took a few more minutes to drape a cloth napkin in her lap. Her eyes never met mine as she straightened and smoothed the clean linen more than once. I placed my napkin on my thighs as well but didn’t fuss. I waited for her to start drinking her tea before I did. The manners my mother instilled in me would probably be with me until I died.

  “You probably want to know why I’m here.” I set my teacup down. The brew was deliciously hot.

  Sharon tried to smile as she smoothed hair behind her ears. “Yes.” Her voice shook.

  I took a deep breath, studying her for a minute, trying to figure out how to begin. I couldn’t get over how identical her eyes were to Davin’s. Beautiful, large, and so very blue. Other than that, they didn’t resemble each other that closely.

  Where Davin’s skin was a dark golden, fiery hue, Sharon’s was a pale ivory. Where Davin had thick, black hair, Sharon had fine, wavy auburn. Where Davin was muscled and lean, Sharon was petite and curvy.

  She was a beautiful woman who looked younger than she had to be. Davin was twenty-four, so even if she’d had him young, she’d still be in her forties. Most likely late forties to early fifties, but other than a few lines around her eyes, she didn’t look her age at all.

  Taking another deep breath, I said, “I need to tell you that nobody at the Compound knows I’m here.”

  “Oh?” Her hand paused midair, still holding her cup.

  “If anyone were to find out, I could be fired.”

  “Okay . . .” She carefully set her cup back down.

  “I know it’s asking a lot, and it’s not appropriate, but could you keep this meeting and everything we discuss a secret? I’m trying to help your son, but if anyone finds out I came to you, I wouldn’t be allowed to work with him anymore. I’d most likely be fired and arrested.”

  Sharon frowned. “Did something bad happen to him? Is that why you’re here?”

  I didn’t know how to answer that. Technically, nothing had happened to Davin that was against Compound 26’s rules, but what had been done to him violated every moral code imaginable.

  “No, not exactly,” I said tentatively.

  Sharon’s eyes narrowed. “How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

  I pulled out my access badge, to prove that I really was who I claimed to be. She studied it for a moment and handed it back, seemingly satisfied.

  “As for your other concern,” I replied with a shrug, “I can’t prove to you that what I’m saying is true. You’ll just have to trust me. That is, if you’re willing to listen.”

  She bit her lip, her blue eyes never leaving mine. “Okay,” she finally said. “I won’t say anything about this meeting to anyone, but please, don’t deceive me.”

  “I won’t.”

  She must have believed me because her tensed shoulders relaxed. She took another sip of tea and then smiled tentatively. “All right, tell me what’s going on with my son.”

  I HATED TO quench the hope in her tone, but as I described what had been done to Davin over the past few months: the Chair, the isolation, the psychological trauma, her face fell more and more. I promised to be honest, though, so I was.

  “But now, we’re trying to change.” I put my hand over hers. It was so unlike me, to initiate contact with another person whom I barely knew, but silent tears poured down her face, and I had to do something. “I’ve been assigned to work with Davin every day, doing the new practices that Compounds 10 and 11 are initiating, but I can’t get through to him. He won’t talk to me, or even look at me, and if this continues, he’ll be assigned to someone else. If no one can get through to him, I hate to think what Dr. Roberts will do.”

  With her free hand, Sharon dabbed the corners of her eyes with a napkin. “I had no idea it had gotten that bad. I knew when they cut off our communication that something must have changed, but Davin never alluded to being treated unfairly. It must have only just begun.”

  I didn’t correct her, even though I felt dishonest doing that. Davin had been mistreated for months if not years. I had no idea what the previous MSRG Director was like, but from what I’d gathered, he’d also sanctioned samples taken from the Kazzies without consent. Davin had obviously kept everything negative from his mother. Ei
ther that or the social worker had censored it out. Regardless, I guessed it wasn’t something Davin wanted his mother knowing, so I wasn’t going to enlighten her.

  “Can you help me?” I asked gently. “Is there anything I could do that will help me get through to him?”

  She pulled her hand free from mine, grabbed a tissue, and blew her nose discreetly. She shrugged. “I’m not sure if there is. Davin was always a headstrong, stubborn little boy, who turned into an even bigger headstrong, stubborn adult. Once he sets his mind to something, it won’t change.”

  If there was one thing I already knew about Davin, that was it. “I learned that pretty quickly.”

  She laughed humorlessly, wiping her eyes again.

  “Maybe you can tell me more about him,” I suggested. “Perhaps something you say will trigger an idea to convince him to talk to me.”

  “Okay.” She chewed her lip and then stood. “I have an idea. All of the family albums are in the living room. We can start by looking through those.”

  SHARON’S LIVING ROOM was like the rest of the house. Dated, worn furniture, but clean. I settled on a pale, green couch that was surprisingly comfortable.

  “Did Davin grow up here?” I asked as Sharon dug through a cabinet by the wall. My heart pounded again. I pictured Davin standing in this very room. What if this very sofa is where he once lounged while watching TV? What if the carpet my feet are touching was once touched by him? As soon as those thoughts entered my mind, I wanted to kick myself.

  Seriously, what’s wrong with me?

  Sharon finally stood with an armload of photo albums. She sat beside me on the sofa. “Yes, Davin grew up here. We bought this house thirty years ago. Davin and all of his brothers and sisters . . .” Pain entered her eyes again. “They all grew up here.” She busied herself with the albums.

  “I’m sorry. I know they all died.”

  She nodded. Tears filled her eyes again. “I’ll never forget that time. All of my babies were up on the reservation. Every single one of them. I knew the instant I heard what happened I’d never see any of them again. I didn’t think I could bear it.”

  I sat silently, feeling the weight of her sadness. It was like being at the bottom of the ocean, the pressure so immense it threatened to crush the life right out of me. What can I possibly say to that? Sharon had birthed five children. Five. And not one had escaped Makanza.

  No wonder she’d collapsed when she thought I’d turned up to announce Davin’s death. Her last child, while lost from her life, was at least still alive, somewhere. Perhaps knowing that Davin was still alive was the only thing that kept her going.

  “We’ll start with this one.” Sharon wiped her eyes and opened an album.

  The first picture showed a much younger version of Sharon in front of this very house. The exterior was almost the same as it was today, but newer and fresher looking. A man stood beside her, his arm around her shoulders.

  I knew immediately it was Davin’s father. He was tall, Native American and had the same coppery skin as Davin, albeit a slightly darker shade. Also, like his son, he was lean yet muscled, and had chiseled features and midnight hair. However, unlike Davin’s, his hair was ramrod straight, not wavy.

  “Is that Davin’s father?” I pointed to the man.

  “Yes, we were married only a few months before this picture. I was so young at the time and so naïve. I thought we had our whole lives in front of us and would be in love forever.” She smiled wistfully. “Even though that’s not exactly how it turned out, it was still one of the happiest times in my life.” She fingered the picture.

  “What was his name?”

  “Chayton. His mother gave him a traditional Lakota name. It means Falcon.”

  Sharon stared at the picture, still fingering it. “He completely whisked me off my feet. I was only twenty at the time and new to South Dakota. I’d grown up in Wyoming, but my family . . .” Tiny wrinkles appeared around her eyes when she frowned. “We weren’t exactly close. I came here to get a fresh start. I hadn’t been here even a month when I met him. Chayton was a student at BHSU, like me. We were both studying Sociology so we had a lot of classes together. Also like me, he started a few years after most of the other freshmen. He was twenty-two our freshman year.”

  She trailed on, telling me how they’d fallen in love fast and hard. After six months, they were living together, a year later, married.

  “It seemed perfect,” she said. “We bought this house while still in school, knowing we wanted to stay in South Dakota. Times were tough. We both worked full time while studying to meet the bills, but Chayton had scholarships, so that helped.”

  That wistful smile appeared on her face again. “Davin arrived a year after we married. Having him was one of the best things that ever happened to me, but it did derail my career plans. I dropped out in my junior year to care for him. I tried going to school full-time at first, but it was too hard. It broke my heart every time the babysitter showed up to take care of him, like someone else was raising my child.”

  I nodded encouragingly so she’d keep going.

  “Mina was born two years after Davin. Lars followed and then Elliot and Aurora.” Sharon flipped through the album. “They were my whole life.”

  I followed her fingers as she moved from picture to picture, telling me about her children in each photo. What they’d been doing or where they’d been. It was like most family photo books, pictures of the kids playing, or goofing around, or having some milestone documented.

  Each of Davin’s siblings looked similar to him. They all had dark hair, although they didn’t all inherit Sharon’s eye color. Lars and Elliot both had brown eyes.

  “Who’s this?” I asked when she turned the page. It showed a close-up of a little girl, probably no older than four, with blue eyes and lighter-colored skin than all the rest.

  Sharon smiled tenderly. “My youngest baby. Aurora. She looked the most like me, but her personality was most like Davin’s. They were very close, even though they were eight years apart. Davin always talked to her like an adult. He was never condescending, and he always had time for her. She loved that about him.”

  She pointed to a few more pictures, showing Aurora as she got older. “After Davin turned eighteen and moved out, Aurora would sit at the window, waiting for him if she knew he was coming home. Little did I know the Second Wave was coming.” She bit her lip and fingered the photo. “I never told him that. How she’d wait for him. He felt guilty enough as it was, not being around for her all the time. And with Chayton’s and my divorce, things were already hard on the kids.”

  She shook herself. “We’d only been divorced for a year. Chayton had been drinking a lot before we split up. I knew he had an alcohol problem when we first met, but he didn’t drink every day. Just every now and then, but when he did, he’d get so drunk he couldn’t stand for days. I thought it was a phase he’d get over. So many guys did stuff like that in college, and we were both so young. I figured it would eventually pass. But that never happened. As we got older and our family grew, things got harder, money grew tighter, and Chayton drank more and more.”

  Sharon stopped flipping pages. “He was never abusive, and he loved the kids, but he just couldn’t handle it. The stress, the pressure. It got too hard for me. After twenty years of marriage, we divorced. Things got better when he left and moved back to the rez. The kids would visit him two weekends a month. Being on his own was good for Chayton. He never got sober, but from what Davin told me, he wasn’t drunk all the time. Most weekends they visited, Chayton stayed sober the entire time they were there. At least, he tried.”

  She wiped her eyes.

  “When the Second Wave hit . . . it was on one of the weekends they were all there. I knew as soon as I heard the news that they’d all get it. It was so contagious. So deadly. But still, I prayed and prayed and prayed. Just prayed to let them be safe. Maybe they’d be off on an outing for the day and were far away from the rez. Or maybe they’d decided
to go camping and Chayton had been on a bender, locked away in his house, not having contact with anyone while he drank for the few weeks prior. Would you believe that was the one and only time I ever prayed that he’d been so drunk he wouldn’t have left his house?” She gripped my hand, her fingers surprisingly strong.

  I clasped her tightly.

  Tears poured down her cheeks. “But of course, Chayton had done everything he could to sober up for their visit. He hadn’t drunk for two days. He’d gone to all the stores to get the things they liked, rented movies, bought Elliot a wood-working tool he’d been asking for. It was probably on one of those outings that he came in contact with someone infected. And then all my babies arrived, and they all became infected too. I’m sure Chayton hadn’t known he was sick. He would have never knowingly given them anything.”

  Sharon grew silent, her eyes going blank. Memories of that time would no doubt haunt her for the rest of her life. Everything she described brought back painful memories of my own, only my pain was different from hers.

  “I’m not sure if any of this helps. Perhaps talking to Davin about Aurora would at least get his attention.” She closed the album. “They were so close, and he loved her so much.”

  “I’ll try that.”

  “Well.” She stood. “I could really use another cup of tea. You?”

  Before I could respond, she left the room. I heard a few rustles of movement from the kitchen and Sharon softly blowing her nose. A few minutes later, she returned, carrying something. She held it out to me. “Here. I want you to take this to Davin. Give it to him if you can.”

  I took what she held in her outstretched hand. It was cool, metal, circular in shape, and small. It easily fit in the palm of my hand. I turned it over. It was a miniature picture frame holding a photo of Davin when he was younger with his sister, Aurora, beside him.

  “I’ve wanted to give that to him for years. I think her death was the hardest for him, but I also know he never wants to forget her.”