by S. K. Falls
I nod. The rain has picked up quickly, actually beating against the windows now instead of just whispering. I have to raise my voice as I say, "I'm sorry. That you lost her."
Elara smiles, but this time it is hard, bitter. "I didn't lose her. She was taken. And I'll never forgive them for it."
I think about Ceres, about how she was ripped from our family. When I finally woke up out of my fog back in New Amana, when I finally decided to take steps against my government, wasn't that what I felt, too? Anger. Distrust. Hatred. Now, looking at Elara, I wonder if she is just me in other circumstances. Elara looks back out the window and when she speaks, her voice is soft, almost robotic. “I found the flowers.”
At first I don’t understand what she’s talking about, but then she lifts one skeletal arm and gestures toward her desk. There, I see the small bouquet I’d bought from the flower shop, the one with the special paper stamped with the shop’s logo. Did I forget to throw them away as I’d intended? That was the day I’d found out what Ceres was up to at school; I honestly could not say what I did when I arrived home. I must’ve left them lying about and Elara must’ve picked them up. She’s been holding on to them these past few days, waiting for the right time to confront me.
My heart begins to race as I look back at Elara. She smiles thinly at me and takes a sip from her glass. “How did you get there?”
“I walked,” I say quickly. I don’t want anything bad to happen to Marisa because of my carelessness. She is the only friend I have now.
One thin black eyebrow arches. “Walked? All that distance?”
“I needed to get out of the house; I knew you’d say no. I just needed a change of scenery. It won’t happen again.” I ball my hands into fists at my sides so she won’t see them trembling.
Elara stands slowly, untwining herself from the chair. She walks over to me, her expression alternating anger and outrage. “You’re right; it won’t happen again. Because I forbid you to leave the house. I have too much to lose if they find out you’re a fugitive. Do you understand me?”
“Ye—”
“And when I say forbid, I mean forbid. I don’t mean do it and then beg forgiveness!” She gestures with her glass and some wine sloshes to the floor. She appears to not notice. “I’ll have you remember it’s not just your life on the line here; it’s mine, too. And if you refuse to listen, I’ll have no choice but to chain you to the bed while I’m gone.” She stares into my eyes and I see that she means it. She absolutely would do that, if ever I attempt anything like this again. Revulsion and fear make my scalp prickle. “Do I make myself clear?”
I take a deep breath so I don’t give into my mounting anger. My path has never been clearer. I need to get to Shale, now. We have to get out of here. I look down at the floor so as to appear chagrined. “Yes, Elara. I’m sorry.”
She clicks her tongue and staggers back to her chair. “Leave.”
I do.
CHAPTER THIRTY
It is two more weeks until I hear back after Marisa’s contact passes on the note to Ananke. I spend them trying to remind myself that it won’t be much longer that I am here, on this compound. Soon I won’t have access to an obstetrician, and Ceres won’t have access to Dr. Phoebe. We’ll be out again, fugitives running for our lives. I concentrate on enjoying the feeling of the baby growing inside me, larger and larger. The obstetrician says the baby is consistently measuring ahead, that she might come early. The doctor has the ability to view the gender of the baby with her ultrasound machine, but I ask her to not tell me. I stay out of Elara’s way. And I wonder how Shale is.
Ceres asks me frequently about my meeting with him at the black market, and every time I tell her I haven’t heard back yet, the light in her eyes dims further. Though she doesn’t say it outright, I know she blames me. She thinks I’m not doing everything I can to speed up the process. I try to explain to her that it is essential we not make any brash decisions, but she doesn’t seem to understand. At least she promises me that she’s stopped sleeping with Beryl. I try to find some joy in this small measure of progress.
Still, there is a coolness in my sister now that wasn’t there before; a coolness toward me and toward life in general. She doesn’t grasp my hand to ground herself in the feeling of togetherness anymore. I wonder how she is managing to slip away when we are closer together, physically, than we’ve been before.
I am pondering this as I eat breakfast when there is a knock on the door that I have come to recognize as Marisa’s—two double taps in quick succession. I answer it, my heart beating quickly as it has every time she’s come over these past two weeks.
I watch in amazement when she hands me a small note, cupped in her hand, as she steps inside. I am incapable of doing anything but staring, my hand holding the piece of paper that is warm from her pocket and the sun. “Is it...is it bad news?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t read it.”
But something about the paper itself seems to give off a malevolent vibe. Or perhaps I am only steeling myself to expect the worse, since this message has been such a long time coming. Marisa closes the door behind her while I slowly unfold the small scrap of paper. The message is in a thin, scrawny hand.
Situation unsafe; cannot meet. Don’t write again; will write when able.
Someone must have transcribed this for Shale. Ananke? I imagine her petite hand writing the words, her own heart banging in her chest at the message she’s conveying. I close the paper with shaking hands and put it into my pocket, staring at nothing. My blood is flooded with panic.
“Kalliope?” Marisa’s hand is on my arm, the solid weight grounding. Her voice is soft and calming; she is mothering me again, as she so often does when she senses that I’m stressed. “You’ve turned white. What is it?”
I look at her, noting with surprise that she is blurry. There are tears in my eyes. “I-I think Coal’s in trouble. He says it’s unsafe to meet.”
Marisa purses her lips, the wrinkles around her mouth deepening. Her face is awash with pity. “I haven’t heard anything at the yez. Perhaps he’s just being cautious.”
“Or it’s being kept quiet.” The baby turns a cartwheel, perhaps tasting the panic too. “Marisa...what if they capture him?” I don’t say, what if Elara has done something? I wouldn’t put it past her. In fact, how did I not expect this to happen?
She looks at me steadily and shakes her head. The red in her irises seems to glimmer. “They won’t. He’s been shrewd enough to escape detection so far.” Her hand on my arm tightens. “You can’t do anything about it now. There’s no point in worrying yourself sick.”
“But maybe I should go to the yez, try to find out—”
“How do you think Elara would feel about that if she learned of it?” Marisa’s voice is calm, but her gaze is sharp like shards of ice. I told her about Elara’s threat to keep me chained to the bed. “And what do you think would happen if she kicked you out of here? It’s not just you you have to think about.”
She’s right. At this point it’s much too dangerous to charge forward without a concrete strategy of where I’d go. I need time to think, to formulate a plan.
I follow Marisa to Elara’s library so we can unpack her deliveries, my brain churning with the bits of information I’ve amassed in my time away from the agrarian compound. Is there anything I can use to help Shale? What can I do?
Marisa, unaware of my wandering mind, talks while I help her unwrap her things in Elara’s study. I study her fine lines and deepening wrinkles, masked under a layer of makeup.
“Who were you? Before you began to do this?” I gesture to the boxes of candy glass and alcohol. Our past lives are usually something we take care not to discuss. But I can’t help it. Standing here, on the edge of a major change, I feel as though I can throw caution to the wind.
She smiles, her yellowing teeth not lessening the beauty of her smile at all. “An absolute nobody. I was a low-level worker in food production. I simply detested the oppressio
n of our government, the absolute desolation of our days. I began my drift to the underground life by selling drugs on the black market. That’s when I began to read. And what I read—those stories ignited something in me.” She trails off, her eyes looking past me. After a moment, she shakes her head slightly. “Anyway, selling drugs garners you quite a few faithful friends, it seems. One of my customers got me into the yez so I could pass out my wares to the officials there. They liked what I brought, so they put me in charge of their deliveries.”
It occurs to me that Marisa’s eyes are much younger than the rest of her. I don’t think they’ll ever age. She has a spark, a light in them that says she will always find a way around the system, the dictatorship, the authority figures who deal in subjugation.
When she leaves to make another delivery, I stand and take stock of the library. It’s small, lined with shelves and dominated by the large desk in the center. Would Elara have useful information in here? I’ve never dared look before because it wasn’t worth the risk. If I left any evidence of having been through her things, she might decide to abandon Ceres and me. But now, with Shale in danger, I can’t afford to be so cautious.
I go to her desk and tentatively open one drawer. Empty except for a variety of pens. I close it and open another. This one’s filled with a variety of files and books. I look toward the door, my heart pounding. If she comes back...I take a deep breath to steady my nerves. She isn’t due back till later today.
I sit in her chair and pull out the file on top. It contains various forms and documents for her job, none of which help me. I pull out the next book, which appears to be a budget of some kind. I put it away and grab yet another book. I’m riffling through the pages when I hear footsteps.
Elara.
I freeze for a moment. Then, in a flurry of activity, I begin to clean up after myself as Elara’s footsteps approach the library. I stand quickly, looking for a place to hide. But this room is wide open. I’m caught. I go around to the goods Marisa brought earlier. Perhaps I can say I was checking them. Perhaps—
The door swings open.
It’s Ceres, back home from school. The breath rushes from my lungs, relief coursing through my blood. I try to smile despite how much I’m shaking. “You’re home early.”
She looks past me at the empty room. “What are y-you doing...in here?”
I try not to let my smile fade, to let my nervousness show. “Nothing. Just checking on Marisa’s delivery.”
Ceres frowns a little. “You’re...lying.” She says this without inflection.
I straighten, a bit unnerved at how easy it was for her to recognize my untruth. “Okay. I was looking for...information about the compound.”
“But...why? What about y-your meeting...with Shale?”
I motion for us to step out, just in case Elara does come home early. I don’t want to be caught in her library. We walk to Ceres’s room, where she perches on the edge of her bed.
“I had a note, from the compound. It appears the situation has changed.”
Her hands clamp down on the edge of the mattress, her face pales. “What d-do you mean ‘changed’? Ch-changed how?”
I realize I’m unconsciously fingering the note in my pocket and force myself to pull my hand out. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
Ceres stares at me, anger spitting like sparks in her golden eyes. “I’m n-not a child anymore. D-don’t try to...protect me.”
I stare at her for a long time, wondering when this happened, when my little sister turned into a young woman intent on truth. And how can I begrudge her that? “All right.” I swallow down my own panic so I can be calm while I tell her. “Shale says it’s not safe for us to meet. I don’t know anything else, except that he said I’m not to contact him again. He’ll send more information along when he’s able.”
Ceres stands, her throat working. “W-we have to go...there. R-right now.” Her voice is high, like she is going to cry.
I take a step toward her and speak softly. “We can’t go. The Monitors know we fled; they think we died in the wilderness. We’ll be caught immediately.”
“W-we don’t have to go...to the compound. We c-can camp in the wilderness outside, and...w-wait for an opportunity. That guard, Aiguo. H-he was on our side.” She’s rambling, speaking fast, her words tangling together. She is desperate to rescue Shale. The bond they shared hasn’t lessened at all in the time they’ve been apart, I realize. Just like my love for him.
I shake my head, my heart breaking for her. “It’s too risky, and we can’t survive in the wilderness without shelter and food. Besides, if we run now, Elara will have us captured. She can’t afford that kind of risk. If we’re caught, they’ll want to know where we were this whole time and we might give up her name under torture.”
Ceres strides forward until we are nose to nose. She is almost as tall as me, able to gaze into my eyes now. Hers are panicked, terrified, and angry. Her voice rises with every word until she is screaming at me. “D-don’t you u-understand? He n-needs us. Don’t you c-care about him at all?”
Her words are needle sharp. They are things I’ve been torturing myself with since receiving the note. “Of course I care about him.” Ceres shakes her head and turns on her heel but I grab her arm, force her to look me in the eye. Taking her face gently in my hands, I say, “But I care about you, too. I care about the baby. I’m trying so hard. I just don’t see an easy way to remedy this.”
Tears stream down her cheeks. “If it w-were you, Shale wouldn’t think...twice about g-going back to the compound.”
She thinks I’m selfish, a coward. It is as if she’s hit me. I let her go and walk out of her room, every single part of me screaming in impotent agony.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Two more days slip by. I wait with bated breath every time Marisa comes to the door, but she has no news for us. The compound is still shrouded in mystery—to us outsiders, nothing looks different. But Marisa says Ananke and Trigger haven’t been to the yez or the black market. It reinforces what Shale told me: the situation there is unsafe. Shale is in danger. But what can I do about it? What?
Eventually I come to the decision that once the baby is born, I will go to Shale. In my current condition—visibly pregnant and painfully slow—I am of no use and would even mark us as targets, should the officials see me. But once the baby comes, I won’t be so easily noticed.
In spite of me trying to broach the subject with Ceres repeatedly, she refuses to talk. It is as if I’ve turned into a wraith, a column of steam—she looks right through me. The pain of her rejection, her anger, is intense. But I cling to the thought that I am doing what’s best for them, for the children. I try to ignore the self-loathing that is creeping up on me, the feeling that I am showcasing myself as utterly helpless and vulnerable when I might actually be able to do something if only I tried.
Am I hiding behind the veneer of motherhood and sisterhood because I am actually a complete coward? Would Shale find a way to rescue me immediately, to get me out of that compound right now, if the tables were turned? Do I put us all in danger to save him? Impossible questions. The answers to them remained cloaked in darkness.
It is a new season now. Spring. The birth of new things.
I sit by the window, watching flowers begin to unfurl, green shoots struggle to thrust through brown grass. I stroke my stomach—it has been tensing and releasing all day in what the obstetrician calls “practice contractions;” after all, I am seven months along and measuring nearly eight and a half—as I reread Alice in Wonderland.
Marisa has me addicted to reading. So far I have read stories about a tree that died giving of itself to a little boy, a book about a woman who was a real-life princess, and a book about four sisters and their mother, all of whom lived a long time ago. It is interesting to read about places and people who no longer—and sometimes never did—exist, thinking thoughts I have always been forbidden to think. I wonder what it was like, living back when my grandmother
did, able to freely read these texts and think of them whatever you wished.
A rustling at the door interrupts my reverie. It bursts open, startling me. Elara hurries in though it is hours before she is scheduled to be home. After a cursory look at me, she says, "I shall be in the library. Please see to it that I remain undisturbed."
I stand, my heart beginning to race at her expression. "What is it? What's happened?"
But she's already tearing down the hallway. The door closes behind her. I stand there, wondering if I dare follow her. Will she be sufficiently engrossed in whatever this is to not come out of her library for a while? I have an inexplicable feeling that this has something to do with the agrarian compound. I have to find out what’s happening.
I creep down the hallway, stopping every few moments, scared that Elara will open the door and see me. As I get closer, I can hear bursts of conversation—she is on the phone. "...captured. Yes! ...assume the worst. Well, I can...one thing: I am not going to...for this." Who was captured? A pulse begins to beat at my temple. I press my ear against the wood of her door, straining to hear the conversation. She is speaking lower now and her words are muffled. "He knows...everything. It was unavoidable. They...relationship before she...live with me. It's his baby."
Blood rushes to my head; spots of blackness encroach in my vision. Shale. She's talking about Shale. He's been captured. They've found him. I press my hand to my mouth to keep from crying out. My stomach clenches again, and I put my hand on it to ease the practice contraction.
Elara is silent as she listens for a moment. When she speaks again, her voice is cold, empty. “...nothing else to do...find and execute him...cannot trace it to me.”
I straighten, goosebumps rippling on my limbs. She wants to have Shale killed. He knows too much, and she needs him dead so as to protect her own identity. No. No, no, no. When I hear Elara place the phone back in its cradle, I turn and rush down the hall to our bedroom.
