by Anne Tibbets
We were several blocks deep into East when I noticed one family, a husband, wife and a child, exit their tiny house with bags slung over their shoulders. They locked their door behind them, then joined the Central crowd walking farther into the sector, toward the wall.
I hoped what we found there would be worth the effort.
A great many kilometers ahead, I spotted the factories. East was the technology sector. They produced touch screen tablets, home-viewing screens and whatever technology Auberge wanted. There was also an electrical power plant, a science laboratory, and a water and sewage treatment center. Those were closer to the wall. You could see their shadowy outlines in the distance, dark and ominous.
It was widely known that the residents of East all worked at the facilities and the children of the occupants learned the same job as their parents. There was a strict one-child policy in Auberge that most people in Central ignored, but was strictly enforced in East due to the limited housing, although you could obtain permission to have a second child if you paid a fee.
My parents had sold me after my father had lost his job at one of the East factories and couldn’t afford to feed me. Or so I’d heard my father say. It occurred to me, as I trudged down the broken streets of East, that they probably couldn’t have afforded the second child tax either, after my baby sister had been born.
One more reason to get rid of me.
What other choice did they have? Give me to an orphanage?
Those places were vile, full of neglected and withering babies. The orphanages ended up selling most of the unclaimed girls to the Line anyway, if they survived until puberty.
Would my parents have sold me to the restaurant owner had they known she was going to do that anyhow?
Maybe they’d only hoped she wouldn’t.
“Something wrong?”
I blinked. Ric was beside me. We’d walked a few miles into East but somehow I’d stopped. I was standing in front of an apartment building. It had wooden horizontal siding on the front, with chipped brown paint and a brick walkway leading up to a faded wooden door.
Wood and brick. Just like my childhood home. I’d stopped walking to stare and I hadn’t even noticed.
“What is it?” Ric asked.
I took a step toward the apartment building, and then I turned to say something and saw behind him more apartment buildings down the road. They were all made of wood and brick. Each one had wooden siding and a brick walkway. Just like the houses in East were all the same, so were the apartment buildings.
“My parents,” I muttered, and Ric’s face brightened.
“Your parents live here?”
I nodded. I felt my mouth pool with saliva and realized I was standing with it open. I closed it and swallowed thickly. “In one of these apartments. Or at least they had when I was very young.”
Ric glanced over his shoulder and saw the line of identical buildings. “Do you remember which one?”
“No.”
“There’s hundreds of them.”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember a landmark? Or maybe a street name, or a number?”
“No.” I pressed my lips together. For reasons I couldn’t quite place, I tried to keep myself from crying. It seemed silly, to be weeping over the sight of an apartment building when so much had happened. Minnie was dead, and my children were lost inside a territory of chaos—and yet I stood in front of that building, feeling as if I was five years old, abandoned all over again.
I thought I’d grown past that. Me and my stupid feelings. Sonya was right. I could almost hear her mocking me.
Still, despite my best efforts, I wasn’t able to contain it any longer, and fat tears streamed down my cheeks. I felt the sting of my enslavement as if it was yesterday. The betrayal when I realized my parents weren’t coming for me. I saw myself climbing down the apartment stairs and walking to the train station with Vira, wondering when I could go back home.
My parents and little sister could have lived inside the building right in front of me, and there was no way for me to know.
But did I want to, after what they’d done to me?
Ric gripped my shoulder, and I relaxed at the warmth of his hand. I turned back up the street and walked. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and willed myself onward. There was nothing to be gained by pulling out old wounds, especially when there were so many new ones to consider.
In the bright afternoon sun, people moved along the streets, calmer now, marching toward the wall like a mass migration of beings soon to be extinct. Ric and I trudged with the throng of people as if we weren’t the ones who’d caused this mess. With each step I fought against my emotions.
My guilt.
“Where do you suppose the guards went?” I asked. “I haven’t seen any.”
“I was wondering the same thing,” Ric said. “I’m hoping they’re not all along the wall. That’ll make it tough.”
“I bet they are. Makes sense.”
“I’m not sure how we’re going to get through if we don’t find Sonya and Bubbs.” He spoke in a whisper. Like a confession he added, “I’ve never even seen the wall in East.”
“Can it be any different than in South? I mean, it’s the same wall all the way around. Isn’t it?”
He nodded. He’d grown up in South sector with all the other rich families. Since his father and brother had both worked for Auberge, I thought maybe he’d have insider knowledge about the wall. Given his expression, I guessed not.
“It’s just a tall cement wall with barbed wire along the top and armed guards stationed in towers every quarter mile,” he said.
“How are we going to break through a cement wall? Did Sonya give you any clue if she had a plan?”
“No, but I have an idea.”
“Yeah?”
“Did Bubbs ever tell you what he used to do before he joined up with Sonya?”
“No.”
“Demolition.”
My feet stopped moving for just a moment as a realization caught in my mind. I pressed forward, keeping pace with Ric.
I’d never asked what Bubbs did before he met Sonya. Or Minnie. Or even Cat. Sonya hadn’t volunteered the information, in my defense. It occurred to me just then how self-involved I’d been. I’d never even thought to ask them where they were from, or what or whom they were fighting for. I’d just assumed they were there to start a war, and I’d failed to consider that each of them had their own reasons for participating.
Then again, they hadn’t asked me either.
“I never asked,” I admitted.
Ric nodded. “They weren’t exactly chatty. But I overheard him and Sonya talking the night before, right after—” He cut the sentence short, unable to finish.
Right after...I broke your heart into a million pieces, I thought. “You realize that wasn’t about you,” I said. “Right?”
He blinked rapidly and faltered in his step then continued onward without missing more than a few paces. “What?”
“Back in our room. At Sonya’s warehouse.”
He flushed and looked at his feet. “We don’t have to talk about this right now.”
“Yes, we do.”
“You don’t need to explain. It was my fault,” he said. “I should have realized you weren’t ready.”
This time I stopped dead in my tracks. The family marching behind bumped into my back, skirted around me and cast me a nasty look.
Ric had trailed a few steps ahead, then realized I wasn’t beside him. He turned and waited for me a few feet away. People walked around us as though we were stones in a running river.
I didn’t budge.
“How were you supposed to know that I wasn’t ready?” I asked him. “Did I tell you that?”
He blinked at me,
blushing. He obviously felt uncomfortable having this conversation out in the open, around a mob of migrating people, but we were. Then he shrugged and stared at his feet again.
“You did nothing wrong,” I insisted. “It was me. I had a hard time—” I caught on the next part, searching for the right words to explain how I’d felt, “—with the sensations. That’s all. It reminded me, you know, of before.”
Ric’s eyes flashed. “Right! Exactly. It reminded you. It wasn’t supposed to. It was supposed to be completely different!”
“No. No! It wasn’t like that. It felt good.” Now it was my turn to blush. “But then I just remembered. That’s all. How could that be your fault?”
“I pushed you. I wanted you so badly. I forced you into it.”
“No, you didn’t. It was just as much me pushing as it was you.”
“I’m no better than any of the others,” he breathed.
Any of the others?
And there it was. I understood him. The red-rimmed eyes. Sonya comforting him, touching his cheek and whispering in his ear. His inability to look at me.
He didn’t hate me. He wasn’t hurt by my refusal.
He thought he was a rapist.
Just like the others.
My eyes filled with tears and my lips tightened. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. He was nothing like them. Nothing.
The fact that he couldn’t see that hurt me to my core. I fought the impulse to grab and shake the thoughts from his head.
“Oh, my God,” I said. “Ric, no.” I stepped closer, and he stiffened.
He didn’t speak. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants and leaned back on his heels, putting more space between us.
“No,” I said again. “You’re not like them. You’re not! Look at me. Please!”
His eyes found mine. They pulsed emerald green, and I stepped closer again.
“You aren’t the same as the others,” I blurted, desperate to get the words out, to make him see. “You’ve been so patient. So careful. That’s part of the reason why I love you.”
He inhaled sharply and looked away. At first I was afraid of his reaction. Was my love that repulsive to him? And then I realized why he looked so thunderstruck. I’d never told him that before.
I’d always assumed he knew.
His confusion made me frantic to explain.
“I do. I love you. You know that, right? And you did nothing wrong, you hear me? I wanted to. I wanted you. But I have so many bad memories about, um, that. I need more...”
Time?
He’d already given me over a year.
Patience?
I wasn’t sure how he could have been more.
“...practice,” I finished.
His eyes shot wide. Given his expression, I thought that was likely the last thing he’d expected me to say.
“I need new memories. Good ones, to replace the bad. And the only way to get those are to, um—” I was suddenly conscious again how we were having this conversation in the middle of an East sector street, surrounded by strangers. But there was no stopping now. “Do it again. More often.”
He blinked rapidly, gawking at me. “What?”
My face felt hot. “I’m serious.”
He pulled his hands from his pockets and put them on his hips, a silent challenge.
“Not right now, of course,” I said, feeling a smile tug at the edges of my lips. “It’s a bit crowded at the moment.”
I could tell he was at a loss for words.
“That is,” I paused. “If you want.”
“Of course!” He stopped his mouth. It was his turn to blush. “No. I mean, yes. I just didn’t think that you would want to again. You know, after what happened last time.”
My face felt hot. I forced a shrug. “What’s that they say? Practice makes perfect.”
His hands waved away from his hips in astonishment. Or maybe it was frustration? I couldn’t tell. “That’s just,” he sputtered, “that’s just...”
“The truth,” I finished his sentence, although I was fairly sure that wasn’t what he was about to say. More like “crazy.”
“But later,” I added, suddenly having the urge to keep moving. I stepped forward and stood beside him. He followed me, and we continued down the street. A flow of Central refugees rolled from behind us, moving us along.
I caught him shaking his head in silent contemplation. He still looked confused. Despite that, there was a slight smirk on his face. A sliver of hope rose within me.
Maybe it wasn’t too late for us.
As encouraging as I found that to be, I forced myself to shake the conversation from my mind and tried to focus on what was happening around us.
We were terribly behind Sonya and Bubbs. I was famished. It would be dark in an hour or so.
A thought occurred to me. “Bubbs was in demolition?”
“What?” Ric sputtered. “Oh, yeah.”
“Does that mean what I think it means?”
He nodded. “I think it means we’re blasting through the wall.”
Chapter Twelve
As much as I had wanted to march straight through East to the wall without stopping, after another few hours my body began to tire and my legs shook with exhaustion.
Collapse.
We needed food. We needed rest.
It was sunset, and with no electricity throughout Auberge, it wasn’t just going to get dark. It was about to get pitch-black.
To make matters worse, we had reached the outskirts of the residential area and were about to enter the factory and laboratory section of East, so our options for finding shelter had dwindled to next to nothing. We were forced to turn back.
Finally reaching my physical limit, I signaled to Ric and stumbled to the side of the road. We both plopped onto the curb so hard he actually grunted.
I could have curled up in a ball and slept there, honestly. As much as I wanted to clear a path to the wall for Shirel and the girls, I knew I wouldn’t be any help to anyone in my current condition.
A steady line of refugees from Central trudged by us, walking like brainless monsters. Most had dispersed and fanned out across the laboratories and factories, disappearing into the shadows. A few others remained diligently inching their way down the main road toward the wall.
On the other side of the road, there was a group that had set fire to a trash Dumpster and had gathered around it for warmth, giving up for the night.
I didn’t like the idea of joining a group of people I didn’t know, so I wasn’t tempted to join them. But even then, that fire looked comforting.
Behind the wall, the sunlight disappeared a centimeter at a time. It smeared fiery light across the darkened buildings. The moment the light departed fully, a chill filled the dimming sky, increasing the urgency to find someplace to hole up for the night. There were too many things that could happen in the dark in a cold land with no laws.
Ric took my hand and we entered the building behind us, the last of the apartment buildings on the block. I was surprised to find it open.
Inside there was a long hallway with six or seven doors down on either side. Ric tried the first door, but it was locked.
I tried the one across from it. It was locked too.
Down the row we went. Each door, secured shut.
Halfway along the hall, one of the door handles twisted in my palm. I called Ric over. Truth was, we were breaking in. There was no telling what was on the other side of that door. But it was evening, and we had no energy left to come up with any other ideas. The people in East looked less inclined than the people of Central to loot and pillage. Even still, I wasn’t about to take any chances. Besides, I was so exhausted. I would have been satisfied with sleeping on the
floor of the hallway. Still, the idea of a bed was too much of a temptation.
Ric rested his hand on the gun in his waistband and nodded. I turned the door handle.
Pushing in, I peered into the interior of a small apartment. In the corner of the room, sitting on a small table beside a double bed, a single Auberge flashlight was lit, pointed at the ceiling and casting the room with shadows.
“Ric,” I whispered, indicating the flashlight.
Someone was home.
I was just in the process of quietly stepping out and closing the door when I heard a woman’s voice. “Justen? Is that you?”
I froze.
Before I could get the door fully shut, a young woman’s face appeared in the crack. She held a baby on her hip, a boy. He wasn’t much younger than Adena and Clea.
The woman’s eyes caught mine and fear flashed inside them. “What the hell?”
“Sorry,” I said, pulling the door to close it.
She shoved her foot in the jamb, stopping me. “Wait!”
The force of her thrust caused my palm to slip from the handle, and the door rebounded, bouncing off the sole of the woman’s shoe and banging backward, opening wide.
The baby boy on her hip squalled at the noise. The young mother’s eyes searched Ric and me, from top to bottom.
“You from Central?” she asked.
We must have had a look about us. I hesitated to answer, not knowing if she considered it a good thing, or bad. She looked different than any young mother I’d ever known. She wore clean slacks and a nice sweater, and the baby had on a one-piece set of pajamas with fuzzy socks on his feet. They were clean. Fed.
But still scared.
Ric spoke first. “Yeah. We’re from Central. We need a place to stay tonight. You know if any of these apartments are empty?”
The young woman’s eyes grew wide in the reflected light from the flashlight. “You’ve breached the gate.”
I nodded. “This morning.”
“And the guards?”
