I stiffened, trying to hold my shaking bones together. All this grief would kill me. I had to find a way to put it aside so I could be strong.
He looked up at me, searching. “I just don’t get it. They didn’t want to destroy us, or the town. All they wanted was Deshi?”
The car park was hushed as the Survivors told their stories to the ones who had failed to get here in time. The occasional cry of someone’s name pierced the silence like a pointed needle. These were the names of the unburied bodies lying in the crater. These names left us wounded.
Alexei walked towards us with Hessa in his arms. The child had finally succumbed to sleep, though he still hiccupped leftover cries with eyes closed and body slack. I left Orry sitting on the rug and rushed to Alexei, embracing his skinny frame with Hessa cradled between us. He shuddered.
“I’m so sorry,” I managed.
Alexei looked at me, puzzled. “About what, dear?”
Joseph just shrugged. “About Apella,” I said, confused, my face contorted in a half-smile/half-frown.
“Apella? Apella is fine. She’ll return when she’s done taking care of her patients at the hospital.” Hope crept up like a slow wave, and then receded as I saw Joseph shaking his head in the background.
He placed a toy in front of Orry and stood, sliding his arm around my waist and whispering in my ear, “Let him be.” I struggled with opposing feelings. The warmth and electricity I felt with Joseph’s arm around me battled with sadness at watching Alexei go through this denial. The two existed in a weird equilibrium I didn’t really get. But I guess that was emotion; everything kind of squashed together, amplified and hard to separate. When time felt small, was there any point in separating desire, sadness, and grief?
Doing as Joseph asked, I let Alexei be. I stroked Hessa’s head and choked back tears, thinking of how much Deshi must be missing him right now. Alexei stayed for a few minutes but seemed eager to leave. I watched him scuttle back towards the entrance and pull up a chair beside it. He glanced at his watch and then stared at the door.
I turned inwards, put my cheek to Joseph’s chest, and let his steady heartbeat comfort me as I watched Alexei curiously. “What’s he doing?” I asked quietly, trying not to disturb the steady rhythm.
Joseph’s chest constricted and relaxed as he sighed. “He’s waiting for her.”
We ate a dinner of dried and packaged food salvaged from what I was told was once a ‘convenience store’. Uncooked dried noodles and little jellies that tasted like toilet cleaner smells. I had to laugh at the convenience of a store perch on the edge of bombsite, but few shared my humor.
We planned to head back to the settlement in two days. Just to make sure the soldiers had cleared out, and the site was safe. The Spiders and Survivors were well trained. They would hide if necessary. I told Joseph about Addy, and we thought we might try to convince Matthew to let us go back earlier, but he said no. I thought about going anyway, but the thought of facing that crater full of my comrades was enough to make me pause and listen for once.
We had two whole days to do nothing but worry, and although on the outside it seemed Joseph had forgiven me, I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure of a lot of things.
*****
We slept cradled in each other, Orry in my arms and me in Joseph’s. I tried to release some of the guilt and grief in little pieces. I waited for Joseph to fall asleep, and then I wept. Poor Orry’s head was soaked wet. I shuffled forward out of Josephs arm and put Orry in the capsule. It only just fit him now, but he was snug and not getting rained on. I returned and snuggled my back against Joseph’s chest. My heart filled with wonderment that I had made it back to him. His words bounced around in my head. I shouldn’t have gone without him. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone at all. The regret left a hollowness in an already cavernous space inside me.
It was dark save for a few candles in the corners, which barely illuminated three inches around them. I exhaled, restless, exhausted, but unable to sleep. Turning towards Joseph, I studied his shadow, listened to his breathing. I could just see the outline of his lips and leaned in, pressing mine to his softly. “I love you,” I whispered.
He stirred and, half asleep as he was, he responded, opening his mouth and kissing me strongly, his hand running under the back of my shirt. He pushed closer, and I let out a small moan. Then he opened his eyes.
He stopped abruptly. Fully awake now, he put distance between us and said, “Rosa, can we just…wait?”
My cheeks flushed. “Of course. I’m sorry,” I said, flustered.
“Don’t be sorry. Its just… there’s a lot going on. There’s a lot we need to talk about. This doesn’t seem right, right?”
I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I nodded.
He shifted his weight, put his elbow up, resting his head in his hand, and groaned. “Now I can’t sleep,” he said grumpily. “Tell me about what happened on your mission.”
I talked until he fell asleep, getting right up to the part when we were just about to climb the wall. Sleep crept up and placed a weight over my eyes. I uttered the words, “Hot plate or safe plate,” and yawned long and loud. I couldn’t remember what Careen called the plates that zapped the wolves, and I collapsed with exhaustion.
I awoke, blinking and disoriented. Something black and dull obscured my vision. I shuffled back, seeing a boot and then a long, thin leg attached. It tapped impatiently, like it was keeping time to some imaginary music. I thought of Gwen and bit my lip.
Pelo.
I elbowed Joseph in the ribs, and he started with a snort. He stretched his arms and wrapped them around my waist, pulling me towards him.
“Mr. Sulle,” Pelo said, drawing it out like a question.
Joseph registered the voice, released me, and scrambled backwards.
“Mr. Bianca?” He rubbed his eyes comically and blinked hard, trying to work out if he was still asleep or not. When he worked out he wasn’t dreaming, he jumped up, knocking me in the back with his knees, and went to shake Pelo’s hand. Pelo gave him a stern look, which quickly cracked into a smile, and he embraced Joseph like a long-lost son. I secretly released the little knot inside me that had twisted around the thought that Joseph knew about Pelo all along. The surprise on his face was genuine. I didn’t need to ask that horrible question of, “Have you been lying to me?” Joseph had not known Pelo was a Spider.
I sat on the floor, looking up them jealously like a child left out of some secret club. Orry started fussing, throwing his head around, and blinking. I pulled him out of the capsule and lifted him to my face to check his nappy.
Pelo’s shrewd eyes ran from Joseph’s broad grin to me holding Orry, and his hand clapped over his mouth. His head swung from Joseph to me, putting it all together. I waited impatiently as the sharp cogs rotated in Pelo’s brain. I felt like screaming at him, ‘Yes! This is our baby—Joseph’s and mine. What do you think of your little protégé now?’ but I bit my tongue.
Pelo’s examined Orry like a specimen and proclaimed, “He has my eyes!” His thin face was uncomfortably close to mine. I tipped my head sideways and observed the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, his dark hair going grey at the temples.
“He has my eyes,” I muttered, but Pelo wasn’t listening.
He pointed at Joseph and exclaimed, “And he has your hair—how can this be?”
Joseph began to explain the complicated situation to Pelo. Living it was hard enough, and I didn’t have the patience or inclination to listen to Joseph’s romanticized version of the last two years. Making my excuses, I asked where the bathroom was. I truly disliked the congratulatory looks Pelo was giving Joseph. I don’t know what I expected, a little bit of fatherly protectiveness maybe? I wasn’t going to get it.
I turned back mid-step and watched them interacting so easily. I wasn’t sure if I wished it were that way for Pelo and me or for Joseph and me. All I knew was I wished it were different.
I shrugged and shivered as I walked to the bathr
oom, which was really just a sectioned-off part of the car park with a bucket and some bottles of clean water. I attempted to wash myself, slapping the precious handfuls of water on my face and neck. There was no mirror, which was good. I was quite sure I was a mess anyway. My hair felt like the frayed end of a rope and my skin was covered in a layer of dirt, which was covered with a fine layer of ash.
When I returned, Orry was gone and so was Joseph. I found them talking with Matthew and Gus about what to do next. The Spiders were waiting at the hospital, so they decided they would send a small party back today. I wasn’t going. I had to wait.
“What about Addy?” I said.
Joseph’s face pushed up with hope, until Matthew squashed it back down with his words.
“If she’s alive, which is a big if, she’s in good hands. Some of the Spiders are medical staff. They’ll take care of her,” he said, patting my arm.
“I see you two have made up,” Joseph growled, whilst staring at Matthew’s hand on my forearm.
I took Joseph’s arm and slid it around my waist. Looking up into his painful eyes, I could see he wasn’t there yet. He still blamed Matthew for Cal’s attack.
“Please. With everything that’s happened, I think we need to let some things go,” I said quietly.
Matthew hoisted a length of rope over his shoulder as he said, “It’s all right, Rosa. Everything in time. He has a right to be angry, and so do you.” Then his voice softened. “But I hope the time comes soon. We need to work together.”
Joseph nodded, but his jaw was tight. I could see what he saw. I knew it so deep inside me. Me… broken, curled around a hammer, and blood. Those things didn’t wipe clean so easily. For me, it was different. I was pushed to forgive. Joseph was like a stone in mud; you couldn’t push him anywhere. He would walk forward when he was ready.
The group left to return to the hospital. They took deep breaths and walked away. I wished, with my hand scrunched into tight fists, that the wind had covered the bodies. To pass it again was to go through that trauma all over again.
*****
Joseph left me to tend to the wounded. Almost everyone had scratches, cuts, and bruises from fleeing. He was the only person with any medical training.
“Can I help?” I asked, swinging my arms at my sides.
He took big strides towards me and put both hands on either side of my face. I bit my lip and realized his hands would get caught in my hair.
He ran his thumb over my eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. “No, I think you should rest. You’ve got a nasty cut on you head.” I sighed in disappointment.
His hand moved down my cheek, and his fingers rested on my bottom lip. A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest as he said, “I’ll examine the rest of you later.”
I felt the blood running to my cheeks and shook his hand free.
I wanted to say something smart, something snappy, but instead, all I did was grin stupidly and say, “Fine with me.”
He smiled, and I melted. But there was sadness in the corners, and I wished I could somehow erase it.
I strolled around aimlessly for an hour or so. Odval watched over Orry while he napped. I was trying my best to avoid Pelo, which was hard in such an enclosed space. He bounced animatedly, resembling a stick-like puppet, from person to person, waving at me if he caught me as I moved between concrete posts and ducked down, pretending to be part of other peoples’ conversations. Unfortunately, it meant I avoided Joseph too, because they always seemed to be together. They were like an annoying duo now, laughing and clapping each other on the back. It made me miss Deshi and his snide commentary.
I spotted Alexei and thought I’d relieve him of his door vigil, so he could go eat and clean himself up. He didn’t want to go, but I pretty much upended the chair and flipped him onto the floor. I felt so sad for the denial he was in, but I couldn’t crush his hope, not now when we all needed it so badly. So I played along.
He returned with an armful of tattered books, golden edged with yellowing pages. I left him reading a story to Hessa, about a gingerbread man and a fox that ate him even though he was a walking, talking biscuit. I’d rounded the car park once, and then I heard him telling another story, but this one was about a gingerbread house and a witch who ate kids. Seemed to me people had a weird fixation with gingerbread back then.
*****
Faces were drawn and dirty. People huddled in corners, talking low and gripping their charms. Not used to doing nothing, they all seemed agitated. I tried to think of something to lead them in, laughing to myself when I thought of our mass exercise classes in the Woodlands. I could just see myself jumping up and down in front of them, flailing my arms like a demented, flightless bird. Flashes of gold tassels flapping across shoulders sucked the humor from my head. They were the reason we were here.
A loud banging pulled me from my vengeful thoughts. In the far right corner, a man kicked a door with unhappy enthusiasm. When I got closer, I saw it was Frederick.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my eyes focused on the giant, boot-sized dent in the door.
“I just want to be alone,” he said, frustrated. I understood that. This was one open space. There was no privacy. I agreed and started kicking the door as well, the shock of it not giving, shooting shockwaves of pain up my leg.
Finally, the lock snapped and splinters of wood flew everywhere, like sharp rain. We pushed door gingerly and saw that it lead to a stairwell. It went down one flight and up about six, until I could see a fragment of open sky overhead. Frederick patted my arm. “Thank you. I just need some time to think about Hana without everyone watching me.”
I put my hands behind my back, standing on my tiptoes to try to catch his eyes. “Do you want some company?”
He shook his head slowly. “No, thank you. Don’t take this the wrong way, little rabbit, but you remind me of her.”
“Oh, that’s ok. I understand.” As he swung around the first handrail, I said, “Can you just let me know when you come down? I want to know that you’re safe.”
“Sure,” he said as he took two steps at a time with his extended limbs.
I closed the door and left Frederick to mourn. Something I felt I couldn’t quite do yet, because I wasn’t sure who I was mourning.
*****
I returned to my little rectangle of concrete and stared at my hands, picking out the dark creases that ran across my palm like rivers of mud. When Frederick tapped me on the shoulder an hour later, I felt like he had zapped me with a stunner.
“You should go. It will be good for you,” he said, pointing to the door and upwards.
I got up and made my way over to the door, tripping over people and ducking when I saw Pelo. After only twenty-four hours in here, I felt like I needed air, even if it was ashy. I wanted to taste the wind. Pushing the door open, I ran up the stairs.
I reached the top, and the howl of the wind brought me back to the bodies buried in ash. Gulping, I put my hand over my mouth. This was where the rest of the car park had broken off and slid towards the Hole. I crept towards the edge and peered over. It all looked so precarious, so ready to crumple and squash everyone inside. I shook my head and pulled back, the tips of my ears and nose screaming for warmth. I turned back and scanned the level. Everything was violently snapped in half. Although this violence had happened hundreds of years ago, it still lived in this gaping lesion of a building.
A burning smell crept up my nose, filling me with a sense of comfort, with home. I followed the smell to glowing embers and a small pile of debris, glowing against a bright green, shiny vehicle. One car was left behind. Did the others make it out, or were they somewhere in that Hole with the others?
I sat down with my back against a crumbling wall and searched the sky, my head scratching against the rough concrete that was all-too familiar. The moon was a sliver, like a wound stabbed through the sky. I could almost imagine on the other side was some bright, golden world—almost.
The wind still howled, bl
owing embers and smoke around me like a sparking tornado. I stamped out the fire and reached out to touch the car. It was such a vibrant color. A yellow stripe ran down the side. It represented a life I couldn’t understand, and a life that was lost down a loud, whirling tunnel of fire and hate. But for all of that, for its wastefulness, it was still beautiful.
I swiped my hand across the window and peered inside. It was dark and clean. Strands of beads and gold and red ornaments hung from a mirror in the center. I tried to open the door, but it was locked. I moved around the car, trying each one, but they were all locked.
I pulled on the handle harder and felt it give slightly, the metal making a gritty noise as it fought against me.
“Are you trying to escape?” a familiar voice asked, an edge of gruffness to it. I jumped at the voice and pulled my finger out, reopening a cut as they grazed the rusty metal.
“Ouch!” I put my finger in my mouth, instantly regretting it as the taste of rust made me want to vomit.
He was there fast, wrapping his arms around me and inspecting my finger. “Are you ok?” A question that seemed impossible to answer.
I nodded and returned to pulling at the door handle, bringing my foot up to try and lever it open.
“I’m fine,” I said, my forehead creased in concentration. “I just want to see inside.” I twisted, feeling the ache of my broken rib seesawing over my abdomen. I doubled over with my hand still hanging on limply to the handle. “Ah.”
I heard an exasperated sigh. “Of course you do,” he said, placing his hand over mine and tugging the handle. My body hummed at the contact. The door popped and creaked open slowly, solid, compacted dust falling from the crack.
Joseph looked down at me with concern, and then he smirked. “I think you better let me give you that examination.” He swept his arm in front of him and indicated for me to go inside the car.
The Wounded (The Woodlands Series) Page 7
