For the most part, I’ve overcome my instinctual urge to cry every time I get emotional. But I feel my eyes welling up out of the frustration of my chaotic thoughts. As tears begin to escape down my cheeks, I splash water on my face to wash them away. I can’t cry about Glenn. He’s not worth it, I tell myself.
I’ve got to organize my thoughts. Focus, Pollen. There’s an inescapable chance I will run into Glenn sometime in the near future and I need to be prepared, emotionally and mentally. I cannot allow him to peel through my shell and into my heart. I need to remain calm, collected, and tenacious. He will not break me.
I just hope I don’t shatter under the turmoil thundering inside my head.
* * *
Evie’s delicate hand strives to hang on to mine as she excitedly pushes into the sticky, warm aisle lined with tangled vines of watermelon and honeydew. Evie’s class is taking a field trip to the warm-zone underground greenhouse in the lower levels of Ceborec to learn about how plants grow. I suggested to Lana that we divide the children into two groups of three and split up so the kids can see and do more, but she opposed the idea, most likely because it was my suggestion.
The warm-zone greenhouse is where the botanists at Ceborec grow warm weather crops. They have another greenhouse for cool weather crops, but it is much smaller, since the planet hasn’t really experienced cool weather for the past thirty years. Most cool weather crops went extinct with the harsh winters, with the exception of a few hardy varieties. There is also a tropical greenhouse, orchard, and vineyard down here, as well as an aquarium and pastures for raising animals for meat.
As we walk through rows of beans, tomatoes, squash and cucumbers, one of the scientists, a petite and very stoic man, acts as our guide and lectures about how they grow the plants down here. The kids are so young; they couldn’t be less interested in the plants. The scientist’s lecture is even putting me to sleep. But the boys and girls perk up when we are shown the worms that were used for composting. Ceborec already had an outstanding composting facility before the virus struck. Shortly after, researchers dug into the soil to determine how far the virus reached and how many life forms were affected. They found a few worms, beetles, and other subterranean insects well below the surface, but they let them be for fear they might contaminate the established colony. The children each held out their hands to hold the wriggly creatures.
Toward the end of the tour we are given the chance to sample the delicious fruits grown here. Of course the kids come alive when they are offered paper cups filled with berries and wedges of watermelon to eat.
On the way out, a little boy named Garner runs back and forth with his friend Cameron playing a little too rough. Lana reprimands them both harshly, but he might as well be wearing earplugs. Garner continues to romp around and falls over into the cucumber patch. His cries interrupt the researchers as they stop to look over at our group. Lana lifts him from the patch, revealing a nasty gash on his knee from scraping one of the trellises.
“Pollen, I need you to take him up to the clinic, while I get the kids back to the classroom,” Lana commands, as we are boarding the glass elevator.
“Okay, but I’m taking Evie with me,” I say.
“Our school day is not finished, Pollen,” she challenges. But I remain adamant.
“Evie does not leave my sight,” I glare at Lana, unyielding.
She flips her chin-length raven hair and rolls her eyes. “Fine. Bring them both back to the classroom when Garner is attended to.” I nod and the elevator stops at the medical floor.
Timber is in the lobby and greets us with a smile as usual. She’s dressed in a cute set of light blue scrubs splotched with red apples all over.
“And what brings you here this morning?” she smiles at Evie.
“Garner has a boo-boo,” Evie replies.
Timber squats down to Garner’s eye level. Her forehead wrinkles with exaggerated concern as she asks, “Where’s your boo-boo?”
While he points to the bleeding gash on his leg, a nurse walks through an open set of double doors on the right and something draws my attention down the hallway. A tall, dark-haired figure stands motionless, flanked by two Watchers, who appear to be restraining his arms. My throat swells up and I find myself unable to breathe, choking on my own flesh. Glenn’s lonely eye is staring directly at me.
Chapter 4
I huddle in the corner of the examination room where Timber took us to dress Garner’s wound, breathing deeply into my fist. Despite my relief that I don’t have to face Glenn yet, reality is setting in. He has regained consciousness now and I know it’s only a matter of time. My heart hammers into my sternum as I imagine the confrontation. How do I prepare for this?
Timber lifts Garner onto the paper-lined, cushioned table while I stare blankly at the wall beyond them. There is a mural of cartoon fish in the ocean painted on the wall. My eyes seem drawn to one orange and blue striped fish in particular, even though my mind is so buried in anguish that I’m not really looking at it.
While Timber attends to Garner’s leg, she speaks to me. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Not a ghost,” I say. “Possibly a demon. Or an angel. I’m not quite sure yet.”
“You want to talk about it?” she asks. That’s one thing I like about Timber. She’s concerned enough to ask me if I want to talk about what’s on my mind, but doesn’t force the issue if I don’t. Most people seem to get this offensive look on their faces if I don’t say exactly what I’m thinking. Timber gets me. I’ve grown to trust her sincerely.
“I do,” I say, “but I need to get these two back to class or Lana will have my head on a stake.”
As we leave the exam room and enter the lobby, I glance up to see Glenn once again, this time in the elevator. My heart jumps so suddenly a pain shoots through my chest, stopping me in my tracks. The doors have already closed, but through the glass he sees me. I could swear he mouths something to me, but I just can’t make it out before the elevator begins to descend.
* * *
Timber leans against the wall just outside the glass door of the elevator, combing her snakelike fingers through clumps of her spunky blond hair. I smile and wave at her as I wait for the door to slide open.
Timber and I always meet for lunch every other day while I wait for Marcus to get off work so we can train together. I usually alternate my training days with Marcus and Timber so that I can spend time with both of them, and benefit from their different strengths and weaknesses. On the days I train with Marcus, I have lunch with Timber in the food court, then she babysits Evie for us.
The food court is laid out like the ones I used to see at typical overcrowded shopping malls. There are a variety of ‘restaurants’ where they prepare different cuisines. The only difference is that there is no exchange of money here at Ceborec. Everybody who lives here is assigned a job based on their skills and desires, whether it’s treating patients in the medical clinic, or flipping burgers at the grill. And no money is required for any of the services here. In a way, everybody is equal. It’s about as utopian as can be in the current state of the world, I suppose.
Timber and I find a small round table in a quiet corner of the cafeteria where we can talk without any prying ears.
“So what’s going on?” Timber asks, taking a bite of her BLT sandwich on rye bread.
“That guy they brought in yesterday,” I start, skewering lettuce leaves with my fork in the plastic salad bowl in front of me.
“The one with the eye patch?” she interrupts.
“Yes,” I say. “Did you attend to him?”
“No. They called me in last night, but only to cover scheduled patients. I just heard Orla talking about him. Do you know him?”
I push the lettuce leaves around in my salad bowl with the fork, taking tiny nibbles but not really eating. My appetite is virtually nonexistent today.
“He was my fiancé.”
Timber drops her sandwich, scattering the pieces of bre
ad and lettuce all over her plate. Her eyes bulge and her bottom jaw falls open. I explain what happened when the virus hit and we were taken to Crimson. She knows most of the story already, but when I told her before I intentionally omitted the role Glenn played. As she leans in, I tell her about Glenn’s involvement with the Enforcers and how he helped us escape by opening the Web for us.
“I can see now, the angel or demon thing,” says Timber. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I utter.
“What about Marcus? How does he feel about all this?” Timber asks.
“He’s angry. And jealous, of course. He thinks that we’ll somehow rekindle our old relationship.”
“Is that possible? I mean, you were engaged.”
“Of course not!” I assert. “After everything he did to us? Helping us escape does not erase the scars off Marcus’s back. Or those in my heart,” I say. I fight the swelling under my eyelids, but I can feel the blood vessels thickening.
Timber takes my hand and gently squeezes. “I’m sorry, Pollen. I didn’t mean to bring up old emotions.”
“There are no emotions,” I lie. “ There will never be anything between me and Glenn. It was over a long time ago. I just don’t know what to say to him. You know, if they let him stay. I know I’ll have to confront him at some point.”
“This must be tearing you apart,” says Timber, kneading the skin on the back of my hand.
“It’s just that, I’m angry with him . . . but I don’t want him to get hurt. Tortured, I mean. Yes, he tortured Marcus and part of me wants him to know that pain. To feel the same agony he inflicted on Marcus. I hate him and love him at the same time. I don’t know. I don’t even sound coherent, do I? This is why I can’t face him yet.”
“Don’t worry,” says Timber. “We don’t even know if he’ll be staying here.”
“Let’s hope not.”
* * *
A few days pass before I see Glenn again. Marcus and I are hopeful that Granby got rid of him. That would make life so much easier on me, not having to face him. In a way, life goes back to normal and I almost forget that he’s here.
After school, I take Evie down to the shopping area, just behind the food court on the commerce level, to trade in her old clothes for new ones. Kids her age tend to outgrow their clothes every couple of months.
The shops are categorized by the type of merchandise they carry, followed by age and gender, just like they would be at a typical shopping mall. The children’s store, called KidsWear (not the most clever name for a store, but what can you expect from a community of scientists?), is by far the largest of the clothing stores, followed by women’s, then men’s.
Evie loves going shopping with me. She grabs armfuls of frilly dresses, floral skirts, and dainty blouses to try on in their pint-sized dressing rooms. It reminds me of old times back at home when I used to make her up like a runway model. I used to have to help her get dressed, but nowadays she likes to do it independently. I don’t mind because it gives me time to study my textbooks.
It takes Evie almost an hour to decide what clothes she wants to keep. And an extra ten minutes of me explaining to her that she can’t take everything.
“Only what you need, Evie. You don’t need this many clothes. You can get three outfits. That’s it.”
As we are walking out of KidsWear my arms lose all feeling and my textbooks drop to the floor with an echoing thud. Glenn is in the menswear store across the corridor, unattended. No Watchers, no escorts. He is all alone. I can’t believe they trust him well enough to set him free in the facility. I shudder when I think of all the times he’d betrayed me.
Glenn holds up an olive green button down shirt and examines it when the loud thud diverts his attention. He looks up for a brief moment and we make eye contact. He is still wearing that bizarre eye patch. I feel a flutter in my stomach and my knees begin to go numb. I silently swear at myself for being so clumsy. I could have easily gotten away from here without him seeing me, but now that is impossible.
Grabbing Evie’s hand, I speedwalk down the corridor toward the elevator, dragging her shuffling feet as we go.
“Pollen!” I hear Glenn call out behind us. But instead of turning around, I move faster.
“Hi Uncle Glenn,” Evie calls out. I flinch at the words.
At the edge of the food court I can see two men and a woman boarding the elevator. I make a dash for it, ignoring Evie’s protests. I curse at the tables and chairs I have to dodge and push aside in order to cross the huge cafeteria. But my nightmarish prediction has come true. We’re too late. The glass doors slide shut as we approach and we are left to wait for the next one.
I turn back, hoping sincerely that Glenn chose not to follow. Much to my dismay, he is walking towards us. I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it persists, threatening to choke me.
As he pushes through the last set of tables and chairs my eyes drift down to something he is holding. My textbooks. Damn, I forgot to pick them up.
“I think you dropped something back there,” he says, looking boldly into my eyes. His voice, which used to set my heart fluttering, now sends icy chills down my spine. I find it difficult to make eye contact with him so I just glance at him quickly then look down at the floor.
“Thanks,” I say quietly. He passes the books to me and I hug them against my chest. Evie stands by, swinging her bag full of clothes around in a circle like a lasso.
“Pollen, can we talk?” he asks. It’s the question I’ve been dreading since he arrived. Talking to Glenn the last thing I want to do. I just want to get away from here. I struggle to come up with an excuse to avoid it.
“I can’t right now, Glenn. I’ve got to get Evie in bed for her nap and then I need to study.”
Glenn eyes my textbook. “So you’re actually going to be a teacher, huh? That’s great.” His encouraging words soften me a bit, but I don’t respond. I just don’t know how to react to him.
“Look, Pollen, I have some things I really need to talk to you about. If now’s a bad time, I understand. Just please find some time to come see me. Okay?”
I glance up at him one last time and nod. “Okay,” I mutter. I’m sure he can see the flashing neon signs in my eyes that scream ‘Liar!’ Of course I have no intention of seeing him.
“I’m on the third residential floor. Room 824.” I nod once.
The glass doors of the elevator open and I barge my way in dragging Evie behind me before the passengers have a chance to exit. Glenn stands in front of the elevator and watches thoughtfully as we ascend the glass tube.
* * *
After my meeting with Glenn earlier today, I’m feeling quite jittery, so I convince Marcus to take me out on a date for a much-needed respite. Timber volunteers to stay with Evie while we go out. She is the only person here beside Marcus who I trust to care for Evie and I know she won’t mind if we stay out late.
Marcus takes me to the bowling alley on one of the lower levels. Despite the noise, it actually has a calming effect on me. The dim lights. The low rumble of the balls rolling down the lustrous wooden lanes. The frothy mugs of McMullin’s Pride beer, to commemorate the first drink Marcus and I shared together. This is exactly what I need to relax.
Marcus and I had intended to take a lane for ourselves, but apparently everyone in the facility decided it was a good night for bowling and the eight lanes are packed tighter than a cow in a corset. We end up sharing a lane with Jansen and Yoric, of all people. I already know how this night will end. Yoric will storm off like a ranting lunatic when he doesn’t win. Perhaps Marcus should have taken me to a movie instead.
Since I’m the only female playing on our lane tonight, I get to bowl first. I find an eight pound blue ball marbled with specks of silver that attracts me and lift it up on my fingers, resting its weight on my palm. I eye the pins and do my best to aim for the center pin. Bringing the ball back, I take a few steps then swing my arm forward, releasing the weight of the ball
onto the lane. As it glides down the glossy surface, I stare at it with narrowed eyes, willing it to stay in the center. But just at the last moment it the ball veers to the left, taking down only two pins.
“Better luck next time,” Yoric heckles. I flash him a dirty look before retrieving my ball. This time, I drop my focus and let my emotions run wild. The anger, the sadness, the frustration. I release all that energy into the ball and I let it fly down the aisle. We all watch intensely as it knocks down all eight of the remaining pins.
“Spare!” Marcus cries out and marks the scoreboard. I glance over and smirk at Yoric, who is forcing a painfully fake smile. Throughout the game, he does a remarkable job of controlling his reactions, both the facetious sarcasm and the animosity. I wonder if it’s something that Timber said to him the other day. Perhaps she bribed him. Or threatened him.
“Got room for another player?” a deep, husky voice calls out behind us.
“Hey, Nicron,” Marcus calls out.
Nicron works with Marcus on the construction team building the bunker. His dark chocolate skin and ebony dreadlocks blend in to the darkness of the bowling alley, giving him a shadowy appearance. I used to be intimidated by Nicron when we first moved here. He’s got this tough as nails, inner-city appearance, but as I soon learned, he’s very even-tempered and friendly.
“We’re already two on two,” says Jansen, “but you can keep score until the next round.”
“Sure,” he smiles.
For the first time in almost a week, I feel really good. Marcus and I are losing the game to Jansen and Yoric, but that doesn’t matter to me. We’re all having a great time sipping on icy cold beer, telling jokes, and just being goofy. I haven’t laughed or had this much fun since before Glenn arrived.
Much to my surprise, Yoric cuts out on us early.
Crimson Return Page 3
