The Broken Peace

by Martha Adele

  Before I can answer, she walks off and speaks to the man who gave her the report. I listen to her instructions and walk off in the other direction. The smoke and airborne debris floats around me as I try to make my way through the fallen bricks and cracked structure, but am bombarded by people with microphones and notepads when I make it to the street.

  “What happened to the prison?”

  “Who caused the explosion?”

  “Was it a bombing?”

  “Will there be another war?”

  I throw my hands over my ears and take off running through the crowds. Why bombard me? Just because I have a camera?

  The people don’t follow me, but turn their attention to one of the famous reporters as she walks through the crowd.

  I take my chance and hop in a cab, head to the office to drop off the camera and the footage, and then make my way home. I trudge through the small woods to make it to the house, through the cold, through some mud, and over a fallen tree branch. When I finally make it inside, the warmth of the fire meets my face and thaws out my nose.

  My eyes immediately fall on Derek. He sits on the couch with one hand in his hair and one hand hovering over the chessboard, with the sound of the news on the radio echoing through the room.

  “Welcome home,” he tells me without turning around.

  I hang up my jacket by the fireplace, taking in the wonderful scent of apple cinnamon candles, and set my boots on our shoe bench. “Thank you.”

  He doesn’t look back at me. He doesn’t move his hand from his hair, nor does he move any chess piece. I make my way around the couch and over to him. He still says nothing.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Yes. I’m fine.”

  I watch him as he stares blankly at the chessboard. His irises have gotten much deeper in color. Almost all of it is now a deep purple shade.

  I can tell something is wrong. I just wish he would tell me.

  “Where’s your mom?” I ask him.

  He doesn’t look away from the board, but he leans back into the couch. “She is in her bedroom taking a nap.”

  I nod and look around the room, trying to get my nerves to calm down from earlier. Twiddling my fingers for a bit, I wait for Derek to put himself in checkmate. He has it perfectly arranged; that one final move will win the game.

  “Do you want to go check the traps?” I ask him, hoping to help him get his mind off whatever he is thinking about.

  He nods and rises to his feet. I pass the board without making the winning move and put on my wet boots that I had just taken off.

  We walk in silence through the woods. Without saying a word, we observe the beauty of nature that I don’t think I’ll ever find in cities. As we make it about a half a mile away, we see a few of our traps have been set off, but hold no game. We walk in a little farther to find that a few of our handmade traps have caught some game while only one of the metal traps Derek and I bought in the marketplace has caught something.

  At the end of our trek, we take our winnings, two rabbits and one squirrel, home. We skin the three, give the meat to Derek’s mother to clean, and take the pelts to the marketplace.

  We walk around the tables to see many different products, ranging from beautiful fruit aligned by color, to animal pelts aligned by the animal’s breeds. This marketplace is toward the outside of the city and is set up like one of the marketplaces we had in Bloot.

  The only things different about this marketplace is the quality of the products, the smells of the structure, and the status of the people. When I walk in, it reminds me of home, but not enough to strike up any uncomfortable memories.

  “Buy and sell your skins right here!” an old man calls out to us as he gestures to his gorgeous fox, beaver, and even deer pelts. He smiles and points to Derek as we walk by him. “You, sir, you look like a hunter.”

  Derek winks at me and heads over to the man’s table. “Why yes, sir, I am.”

  “Oh yeah? What state are you from?”

  “Bloot actually.”

  The man’s eyes grow. “That’s fabulous! So was I.” He pets the fox pelt on his front table. “What do you say? How would you like to make a purchase from a fellow Bloot?”

  “Actually, I’m in the market for a rabbit pelt.” Derek leans over the table and picks up one of the man’s rabbit pelts. “How much for this one?”

  The man narrows his eyes and gives Derek a smile. “For you? Twenty-five.”

  Derek nods his head and gives him the pelt back. “Okay. Thank you, but no thank you.”

  “Are you sure?” the man asks us as Derek and I walk off.

  We nod and head down the line. We pass a stand that sells traps, a stand that sells arrowheads, and a stand that sells different sorts of twines and buttons. Once we get to the next pelt stand, Derek makes his way over to the woman and gives her a light smile. “Hello.”

  She smiles back at him. “Hello. Are you interested in buying or selling a pelt?”

  “We are,” he tells her.

  I hand Derek the bag.

  He opens it up and shows the woman. “Two rabbits and one squirrel.”

  She nods. “Well, you came to the right place. We sell the cheapest here and buy for the most. What kind of offer are you looking for today?”

  He tilts his head and runs his hand through his hair. “Well, we were looking for thirty for each rabbit pelt and ten for the squirrel.”

  “Thirty?” she exclaims. “That is quite a lot for a rabbit pelt. The squirrel pelt I can do for ten, but the rabbit pelts?”

  Derek nods. “You’re right. That guy down there was only going to offer me twenty for each.”

  “Well …” The woman looks down at her table then back into our bag of pelts. “Would you accept sixty for the whole bag?”

  Derek looks back at me for an answer. I nod, trying not to be too enthusiastic. Derek turns back to the woman and accepts sixty in bills.

  He places them in his pocket, thanks the woman, and comes back over to me. “Remember when we’d barely get anything for these pelts?”

  Smiling back at the money as Derek hands me half, the two of us begin walking around the maze of tables and spend the money we just made on canned goods, fruits, and vegetables. As we spend the last bit of our cash on canned meat, we hear Derek’s name called out joyfully.

  Derek and I turn around to find an older man coming toward us with a large smile strewn across his face. “Mr. Page! How are you?”

  Derek extends his hand to the man and smiles back. “Mr. Gregory, I’m wonderful. How about yourself?”

  The man nods. “I am doing pretty good actually. It’s nice to see you outside of work.”

  Derek nods back. “I agree.”

  After an awkward pause where Derek clearly lied to the man, Mr. Gregory turns to me and smiles. “Well hello, dear.” He turns back to Derek. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

  Derek looks back at me, as if asking if it was okay. I nod and hold my hand out to Mr. Gregory for a handshake. “Sorry about that. I’m Mavis, Derek’s friend.”

  He takes my hand and holds it for a moment. “Just a friend, huh?”

  Derek nods. “Yes, sir.”

  Mr. Gregory smiles at me. “Ah. I am Walter Gregory, Derek’s boss.” He brings my hand up to his mouth, and just before he can kiss it, I pull it away.

  “Excuse me,” I say to him, feeling a rush of embarrassment and uneasiness flood over me.

  “No!” He takes a step back. “Excuse me! I am so sorry, I meant no disrespect. That was something I was brought up to do to beautiful women.”

  I nod, trying to hold back my cringe. “It’s fine. It may just be me, but that isn’t something I’m okay with.”

  He nods as Derek takes a slight step in front of me so that he is in between the two of us.
>
  “Again, I am sorry.” Mr. Gregory pulls out a card from his jacket pocket and hands it to Derek. “Here. I was coming over to give this to you and invite you to a group pheasant hunt tomorrow. All the information is on the card, and the guns will be provided by the people who are running the hunt.”

  “Thank you,” Derek tells Mr. Gregory, “but I don’t think I can afford it. These ‘group hunts’ cost a lot of money.”

  “No,” the man tells us, “no, you two would be coming as my guests. I will make sure you two are partnered up so that you won’t have to do much with anyone else. Consider it a treat for one of my best and favorite workers.” He turns to me and gives a slight smile. “And an apology for my action.”

  Derek looks at me, then back to his boss. “We’ll think about it.” He extends his hand and shakes Mr. Gregory’s once again. “Thank you very much, sir. Have a great day.”

  Mr. Gregory nods to us both and walks off.

  Derek turns to me. “Do you want to head out?”

  “Yeah.” I rub my arms and play my uncomfortableness off. “It’s getting a little cold.”

  We head out of the marketplace and find a cab. Neither of us say anything until the cab drops us off by the bridge across the creek. Once we make our way across the bridge, Derek clears his throat and pulls out the card he got from Mr. Gregory.

  “Do you want to go?” I ask him.

  Derek doesn’t say anything as we continue toward the house. He waits until we have to step over a fallen branch. “Do you?”

  I shrug. I don’t want to see Mr. Gregory again, but this is Derek’s boss. If I turn it down, Derek won’t go. If Derek doesn’t go, he may offend his boss.

  “I mean, we get to keep the birds we shoot, right?” I ask him, trying to sound okay with this.

  “That’s what it says on the card. It is pretty much a free hunt that guarantees we leave with meat.”

  “Well …” I look at Derek as the house comes into sight. “I guess that means I better call Mr. Trolly and ask for tomorrow off.”

  Sam

  “She really is great,” Mom continues, “I mean, she came over today to hang out on our break, and she brought this little casserole that was just heavenly! And you know what else? She—”

  I zone out as Mom fangirls about her new best friend for the millionth time today. My mind wanders back to an earlier event, one that I can’t forget.

  I didn’t want to make Eric uncomfortable. It was Eric’s house too. If he didn’t want me to be there, I shouldn’t be there.

  I wouldn’t want to be there if he didn’t want me there.

  So I went into his room to apologize. He stayed quiet as I spoke to him.

  I told him, “Thank you for what you did.”

  I told him, “I’m sorry for lashing out on you.”

  And all he did was stay quiet.

  He wouldn’t look at me, he wouldn’t speak to me, and he wouldn’t even breathe in my direction. I came in, pushed aside my pride, and apologized while Eric couldn’t even look at me.

  No.

  He wouldn’t.

  I had to get out of there when I could. I had to get out of there before I got too angry.

  “You two should really meet sometime,” Mom tells me as she finishes placing a pan into our oven.

  I nod. “Sure.”

  The phone on the wall between Mom and me rings. I rise to my feet from the couch and run over to answer it before Mom can. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Sam? This is Mr. Gohaki. I’m just calling to let you know the mail is here.”

  “Okay, thank you, Mr. Gohaki.”

  We hang up and I slide on my jacket. “Mom, I’m going out to get the mail. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Take as long as you need, honey!”

  I will. I don’t know if I can handle another Carrol story.

  I wave her goodbye and exit the house with the keys to my own individual cart. When I drive it out to the three mailboxes that are all held together by the front of the property, I park right beside it. The chilly air seems to take a break long enough for me to get out from behind the windshield without freezing to death.

  When the mail finds its way into my hands, I discover that they are all the same. Five envelopes, all addressed from the same place, and to my mom.

  Upon opening them, the moment my eyes fall on the numbers, my heart rate skyrockets and I feel my body become weak.

  They’re bills.

  Over thirty thousand dollars’ worth of bills.

  No. This can’t be. This is too much.

  I can’t let Mom see these.

  I head up to Mr. Gohaki’s house and borrow the phone on his porch. I call a cab and head to the address listed on the bills. When I arrive, the building is taller than any I’ve seen before, and the entire building seems to be made of glass.

  I step out of the cab after having him scan my code and wave him goodbye.

  Everyone seems to be using the cab service. On the road in front of me, I can count twenty-three cabs either parked or driving at this moment.

  I wonder what all you have to go through to become a cabdriver. It doesn’t seem that hard. All you have to do is follow the guidance system it has in the car once you put the address in.

  “Sammy boy!”

  I turn my head to find a familiar tattoo of the contorted Diligent symbol making his way through the crowd and over to me. “Bram?” I say as he pats me on the back.

  “How are you doing?” He grabs my shoulder and pulls me with him as he walks down the sidewalk. “What have you been up to since you escaped the mountain?”

  “Oh.” Feeling rushed, I look around at the people shoving past us. “I-I’m working on a farm.” I realize how pathetic this sounds as the words make their way out of my mouth. “But my boss provides me with an awesome house, rent-free.” We continue down the sidewalk, and I catch a large and strong whiff of what smells like a man’s cologne dumped on a sweaty boy to try to cover his original scent.

  It didn’t work.

  “Really?” he exclaims. “I wish my boss would do that.”

  “Where do you work?” I ask him, bumping into a woman, as the two of us continue to weave through the crowds.

  “I’m self-employed,” he snorts and speeds up. “But hey, that means I make my own hours. Speaking of which, I really have to go. I’m on the job right now.”

  “Oh okay.”

  “But I’ll see you later!” He zips through the crowd, weaving like he probably had to do, every day in Bergland. He looks back over his shoulder to me as I fail to do the same. “Where do you work?”

  “Um”—I speed up to try to keep up with his pace—“do you know where Gohaki Farms is?”

  “I do, that’s great! I’ll see you later, Sammy.”

  With those final words, I lose Bram in the crowd of people and find myself lost as well. Lucky for me, the building I have to go to stands out like a sore thumb. I head back through the crowd toward the tall glass building and go through the same process that I’ve been going through every time I enter one of these buildings. I ask the person at the desk, they reroute me to a different floor, and I wait to be called back into an office.

  When my name is called, an extremely short woman comes out from behind her desk and waves me back. Her feet move twice as fast as mine, and yet I can easily keep up. I am so mesmerized by watching her speed through the office that I become lost by the time we make it to my destination.

  She points me over to a desk where another woman, this one taller than me, is standing, waving me over. I thank the vertically challenged woman and head over to the new one.

  “Mr. Beckman, how are you today?”

  “Well, I was doing great until I made my way to the mailbox.” I set the bills down on her desk and take a seat. “How about you?”

&nb
sp; She chuckles. “I’m doing good. Thank you for asking.” She picks up the mail and sorts through it, all with narrow eyes as if she needs glasses. “I’m sorry, but these are addressed to your mother, Bonnie Beckman.”

  I nod. “Yes, ma’am, they are, but I was wondering if I could pay them off for her. She doesn’t have much money right now, and I figure I have some saved up from working back in Bergland.”

  “Bergland?” The woman looks back to her hologram with a confused expression, showing how horribly done her makeup is. “It says here in your file that you and your mother are from Bouw.”

  “Yes, but …” I take a breath as I realize I don’t want to explain once again that I with two others made it through the woods before the war. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say I have money saved up.”

  The woman gives me a little smile and pauses a moment. “Okay. Hold your code under the scanner.” She points to a little upright box connected to her desk.

  I hold my wrist to it, and we go through the motions of the little red line scanning.

  “Okay,” the woman tells me as she types into her hologram.

  “How much do I have now?”

  Her face scrunches up, and she looks back to me. “A little less than two thousand dollars.”

  I take a deep breath. “Before or after paying the bills?”

  “Before.” She turns to me and folds her hands. “How would you like to handle this?”

  Mom is making money. She is making enough to pay for food and the utilities.

  I clear my throat and look around the room to see many people who seem to be in similar situations as I am. “Would you be able to, um, use all but one hundred or two hundred dollars of my money for the bills?”

  “What?”

  “Well, I’d need money for cab rides. My mom makes enough to cover our other needs, so I can use the rest of the money I make to pay off the hospital bills.”

  The woman lets a smile rise up on her face. “You are a good kid, you know that?” She types something into her hologram. “But are you sure you want to do this?”