We looked at each other, confused. We’d never really thought about it. “Bianca-Sulle?” Joseph asked.
I screwed up my nose. “Just Sulle is fine.” Bianca didn’t mean a great deal to me. Sulle meant a hell of a lot more.
Joseph’s chest swelled when Matthew shouted out, “Orlando Sulle, or Orry as we’ve all come to know him.”
He held up a candle, lit it, and placed it in the bow of the ship. Orry started screaming when Matthew took it from him, and everyone laughed.
He gave the boat to Joseph and me and, together with Orry, we knelt down and placed it in the water.
The sound of thirty-five hundred people singing was like nothing I’d ever heard. It was warm and huge, the voices meshing and melding all around us. Together, the simple and repetitive song they sang had a strength and force to it. They loved my little boy. Not as much as I did, but pretty close.
The golden light of the candle bobbed away to the music, slowly disappearing, flashing starry light against the cold, dark walls for seconds at a time before moving on, and eventually disappearing down a tunnel. It was so tiny, yet the light so powerful in this dark-slapped world. Just like Orry, its light was stronger and longer reaching than it had a right to be.
Joseph clasped Orry tightly with one hand and the other squeezed my hand. I saw Salim and his monkeys, standing at the top tier. He nodded solemnly. I tipped my chin and returned my gaze to my family.
Happy birthday, Orry.
*****
We dragged ourselves back to bed, accepting gifts and trinkets along the way. My yawn could have swallowed them all. I slunk under the blanket, restless, snippets of dreams pushed at me, shaking my shoulders, and not letting me sleep fitfully.
Orry cried out. Instead of settling him in his bed, I brought him to me. I felt protective, cloudy dreams full of warnings and people long gone swimming in my head.
Just before dawn, I sat bolt upright, sweat soaking my shirt, the chilling image of Clara standing over me, her hands wringing and tears streaming down her face, forcing my heart to stretch and pulse against my ribcage. My eyes swept around the room. Orry was sleeping on his stomach, one hand hanging off the mattress. Joseph lay with his back to me, his broad ribs moving soundlessly.
Just a dream, it was just a dream. But even as I thought it, something caught. These things would always be hard. Because Clara, Addy, Deshi, my mother, they should all be here. With me. With Orry.
I stroked Orry’s head and collapsed between them, always the agitated, wriggly, dark one stuck between these two perfect boys. Like a scratchy shadow between two golden lights.
*****
I rolled my eyes and prepared my tongue and mouth for breakfast. It was always canned something. Every morning someone would leave a stack of the processed, dented food at our entrance. It was always the same. Six cans of assorted color. We supplemented it with meat from the hunts. I stopped asking Careen what the meat was, because the answer was very rarely something I wanted to hear, like squirrel or rat. Orry’s chubby hand grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back from my position of squatting on the floor. The stack of cans toppled and rolled. I held up two different cans, peering at the labels, trying to discern the contents. One had a pretty field in the background with a bowl of unappetizing brown beans in the forefront. The other one was just green string beans. My stomach gurgled and shook its head in anti-anticipation.
“Ok, which one do you want, Orry? Beans or beans?” I asked, trying to smile so he would actually eat it. He grabbed at the pretty can with the field in the background.
“Beans it is then!” I said as I pulled the ring open.
Joseph rolled over and grabbed me around the waist. “Save some for me… not!”
I laughed as I spooned them into Orry’s eager mouth.
“The last thing you need is beans.”
He chuckled and pinched my stomach lightly. “Oh, that’s really classy.”
I shook my head and continued to alternate one spoon for Orry and one for me. It tasted like glue mixed with liver, but he seemed to enjoy it.
*****
I didn’t have much planned for the afternoon. I just wanted to take Orry to the woods closest to the edge of the city.
The world was closed over. We were still in the icy, mud-squelching stage of early winter. Soon we would be snowed in. I drew an unsatisfied breath at the thought of it. More months stuck underground with the monkeys.
Gus had sent some scouts back to the Wall to see if the Woodland soldiers had returned. There was no evidence of it, but no one wanted to go back. It was voted down by the majority. They didn’t want to stay here either, but the idea of searching out a new location and rebuilding the settlement was overwhelmingly exhausting. So we all sat on our hands, waiting for something to make the decision for us, which it didn’t. The only other option was to push forward with the idea of agitating the Woodland citizens, but we needed Deshi for that. We went round and round in circles. I knew what I wanted to do, but it wasn’t my decision. If they pushed me too far though, I would push back and away. I would break from this community. This was no way to live.
Orry moved around the edges of the room with his hands flat to the stone wall. He had tested standing on his own a few times, but crawling was still his preferred way to get around. I encouraged him to walk because the sooner he could get off the filthy floor, the better.
I crouched down near him and opened my arms. He frowned at me like he knew what I was going to say. “Can you come to me?” I asked, beckoning with my fingers. He smiled and collapsed to the floor, dragging his bum along the hard ground, like he was a human mop. He made it to me and pulled himself up to standing, holding onto my shoulders while he wobbled like the ground was rocking under him.
“You’re so stubborn,” I said, smiling.
A laugh grabbed our attention, and Orry’s eyes lit up. “Just like his mother.” Joseph stood in the entrance, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, that annoying glint in his eye. I turned back and helped Orry into some shoes one of the Monkey City dwellers had given him earlier this morning.
I swung Orry onto my hip and passed Joseph in the doorway. He leaned down and kissed my cheek, then switched to Orry, brushing his nose with his lips. “I’ll see you up there in about an hour, ok?”
“Yep!” I said, anxious to get out and up. “Look how pale he is,” I said, patting his soft skin. “The boy needs some sun.”
*****
We bounded out, barely stopping to acknowledge people as we ran through the various tunnels, winding and weaving, the air getting crisper and colder as we ascended. I talked to Orry, hummed atrociously, and grabbed at the freshening air like it was a lifeline.
When we reached the ground level, it was like breaking the surface of an aching lake. I breathed in deeply, quickly pulling out a wool hat for Orry’s cold head. The deep red cap made him look paler still, his eyes a little tired and yellow. I put my hand to his forehead, squinting in the cold sunlight. He felt cold, but then it was freezing out here. I shrugged and kept moving.
The light was stark, pale shadows dancing over the cobblestones. The shadow lines of the lampposts seemed brown rather than black. We crossed the old iron bridge, stopping to hang over the edge, watching patches of ice float across the water, colliding with others and breaking like crumbling puzzle pieces. Orry gurgled, gasped, and giggled. I let my teeth show, and let my hair get tangled in his wet fingertips.
“Soon, you’ll be a one year old,” I whispered. He frowned at me again, one cheek pushing into a dimple. “Don’t worry. It’s a good thing,” I said, adding, “You know, most one year olds walk.” I gazed at him bouncing on my hip with every step. I swear, I thought I saw him rolling his eyes at me.
We reached the edge of the city. I adjusted the pack on my back, the gun they’d forced me to bring sitting heavily in the bottom. I’d already removed the bullets, but it still made me uneasy. Grass waved around us at waist height, gently
beckoning, come closer, closer. I moved quickly through it, grabbing at the first tree trunk I could, and pulling myself into the forest like I was pulling myself over the edge of a cliff.
We didn’t go too far in, hanging close to the edge so we could run back if we needed, but hunters had swept this area yesterday. It was deemed safe for at least today.
I put Orry on the ground and sat on my pack. He did his usual thing of thudding to the ground and sliding over to me. I shook my head. “Come over here,” I said. I grabbed his feet and removed his shoes, doing the same myself. He squealed in delight at the feel of the mud squishing between his toes.
We played for a while, sticking our hands in the mud, smearing it on the tree trunks, and making a fantastic mess.
I stood, leaving him in his pool of dirt and leaves. “I’ve got to go to the toilet. You stay right there,” I said sternly, waving my finger at him. He looked up at me, blinking, mud smeared on one cheek, and held out a blob he expected me to take from him. “Save it for when I get back.” I moved backwards, bobbing between trees until I could find a bush to squat behind. I knew he’d cry, but I’d be as quick as I could.
As soon as he lost sight of me, he screamed.
I finished quickly and jumped up so he could see my face. He stood in the mud with a stick in one hand and, when he saw me, he took a step forward. And then another. I covered my mouth with my hand, ridiculously proud of him. He was walking. One step, two steps, his hand out in front of him, searching for my legs, which were just a bit too far away. I moved towards him slowly. He stumbled the last step, and I caught his hands to steady him. I kneeled down, pulled him into my lap, and clapped our hands together. “You did it!” I exclaimed, clapping some more.
The child in my lap stiffened, his legs flying out straight and his arms board-like at his sides. The stick still gripped tightly in his hand began to pulse mechanically. My heart stopped. It didn’t beat fast or erratically, it just stopped, as did my breath.
I held him tightly, trying to stop the jerky movements. He didn’t seem to be breathing, his mouth hard and clamped down, his head banging hard against my chest telling my heart to beat, my blood to move. I wrapped my arms around him like a bandage as he convulsed over and over, his beautiful eyes nothing but white framed by blond eyelashes.
Blood trickled down my arm. I looked to his clenched fist, red pushing through the gaps between each of his fingers. “Let go,” I screamed, fear gripping me like a hand around my throat. But I knew he couldn’t hear me.
The air thinned. The trees looked like jagged spears, caging us in. Orry slumped in my arms, the movement ceasing as quickly as it had started. What was wrong with my baby?
“Baby, wake up, wake up,” I whispered, stroking his cheek gently, so afraid he might cave in, or start convulsing again. I put my head to his chest. His little heart was beating so fast, but at least it was beating. The stick fell from his slack hand, coated in red like we had been stirring paint. His palm was indented with tiny holes from each bump of the bark. He’d held on so tightly that it was imprinted in his skin.
I stared down at the blood-covered stick, standing out against the mud and the dirt for one brutal second. It spun like a compass in my vision. Then I gathered him up, rocking him slowly. He felt empty, light. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, though I didn’t know how I spoke. I hadn’t breathed in minutes.
The inhalation was sharp and daunting, all the panic pushing through me on that one breath.
Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.
Not him.
Me.
Hurt me.
I pulled him close, tight, stood up, and ran.
My feet didn’t touch the ground. The cold air would have burned if I could feel anything, anything except this down-to-the-bone panic. Not him, I kept saying as I ran. Not him, not him, not him.
I shielded his head, with one hand squeezing him as close to me as I could, like if I could hide him, I could outrun this. I could turn back the clock. He flopped limply in my arms as we passed the rotted buildings being torn apart by vines. He didn’t seem to be in any pain, but I didn’t know what that seizure had done to him, how it might have felt in his little body as happened. The thought made me sick. I closed my eyes. Maybe it would be ok, just a weird thing, a one-off. I prayed hard, but I knew. I knew the truth like it was etched under my skin. Something was terribly wrong.
I glanced up at the clock as we clambered up the stairs. It read 2:25. Orry, you’re one now. Tears wanted to stream down my face, but I dammed them. I wouldn’t let Orry see how scared I was.
We flew inside, the great hall cutting triangles of cold, white light across my back. I jumped from one to another, barely registering.
Some monkeys swirled down the pillars and followed me, the sound of twenty padded feet and my bare ones echoing dully down the tunnel.
I wasn’t sure when I started screaming, but by the time I got inside, my voice was hoarse and fifty people were heading towards me, Joseph included.
When I saw him, my resolve collapsed like a matchstick house. My eyes welled and overflowed, my chest hurt, everything hurt. Joseph’s eyes met mine and I didn’t want to say it, but I forced the words out. “Something’s wrong with Orry.” His eyes slid to my shirt where thin streaks of Orry’s blood ran across the white cotton like a lazy claw mark. And then back to the limp, ragdoll child that lay across my arms like a bolt of fabric. Every part of my skin went bumpy, the hairs standing on end in terror.
Everyone started yelling and talking at once. We were pushed on a sea of people towards the infirmary. Joseph’s hand was on my shoulder, his fingers gripping me so firm it was painful. He tried to take Orry, but I wouldn’t let him go. We got to the door just as Matthew was about to come out of it. His eyes widened as the force of fifty people pushed him back into the room.
Our eyes connected, my lips quivering, and his whole face fell. “It’s Orry,” I managed to whisper. “Something’s wrong with Orry.”
Matthew nodded shakily and turned to the crowd. “I understand everyone’s concern, but I need room. Everyone out except the parents.”
Everyone shuffled out, but I knew they were waiting just outside the door. I knew more were gathering. The murmurs were louder than an avalanche. It was love. It was support. It was too much.
*****
Without the sounds, the wind rushing past my ears, the people chattering competing words of concern and worry around me, I found the wall. Because I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t hear, and nothing made sense. I would be crushed. I was already crushed. Matthew took Orry from me, and I let him. My eyes slid to the door, a scary set of bloody footprints led a trail back to me.
Joseph’s eyes were ground down. He looked instantly weary and so scared. He glanced back and forth between Orry and me. Matthew laid him down gently on one of the rickety beds. Little rainbows with stupid puffy clouds were printed on the curtain. I glared at them. They might as well have been knives, blood, and forest fires. Matthew pulled the curtain over, and the movement pulled me to my feet. Joseph held out his hand and we walked together towards an absolute nightmare, worse than anything my crazy imagination could have come up with, because this was real and happening while our hearts were being iced and shredded in our chests.
“Tell me what happened,” Matthew said while he leaned over and put the stethoscope to Orry’s chest. Orry opened his eyes briefly, turned his head, and vomited.
Joseph’s gripped tightened, the bones in my fingers starting to squelch and mash together.
I opened my mouth and only breath and squeaking came out. Joseph drew his hands up to my face and stared into my eyes, unblinking. From his nose up, he appeared calm, stern even. But when he opened his mouth, the anguish was there. “Rosa, tell us what happened. Did he fall, did he hit his head?” His voice was hopeful and regretful all in one breath, because he was a doctor-in-training. He knew it was something bad.
I closed my eyes and pictured Orry walking towards me, so happy, so clever
. “He started to walk. He didn’t fall. He walked to me and clapped his hands. And then, then he just started convulsing… I held him down… Was that the right thing to do? I saw the blood and then…” I kept my eyes closed. Please let this be someone else’s story. Let this have happened a long time ago. That I’m reading it, dreaming it, I can’t…
“You did the right thing.” He mouthed or whispered. I couldn’t quite hear him through my anxiety. Joseph let me go and lifted Orry’s tiny fingers, holding the hand that was splintered and bruised. He looked at Matthew, who looked back, confused. Orry eyed me groggily. His expression waned and stretched. He was so confused. He tried to sit up, but it was like a stone was on his chest. I gasped.
We were all horrified.
Orry cried out and vomited again, this time blood-tinged liquid. Joseph spoke first, his voice commanding but with the edge of a shake to it. “Sedate him. Blood, urine and swab just in case. Matt, have you got any idea what this is?” The last part was pleading, the tone inviting Matthew back in.
Matthew shook his head as he swiftly inserted an IV into Orry’s arm while Joseph held it still. “I’m not sure. And I certainly don’t want to say anything until I’m sure, so let’s just leave it at that.” A nurse I hadn’t even noticed handed him a needle, and he injected something into the bag. Orry’s eyelids fluttered, and his eyes quickly rolled back.
Joseph nodded, but I took a few steps towards Matthew, my eyes wild. “What? Just say it, please. I’m thinking the worst right now.”
“It’s what I’m thinking too,” he said sadly as my heart and my lungs turned to liquid and drained away.
Joseph gripped my wrists fiercely and pulled me into his chest. He cursed into my hair and I tried, as hard as I could, to remember how to breathe.
The Wounded (The Woodlands Series) Page 15
