Exposed

by RJ Crayton

  She’d found Lijah’s letter accidentally, but she’d been so preoccupied with what the letter could mean and with what Lijah and Josh had gone into the woods to talk about, that she hadn’t even thought to go through her pack. She leaned forward and unzipped the bag, her eyes glancing up briefly to make sure Willie was still sleeping. He was. She gave an involuntary shiver. Willie gave her the creeps, especially with what he’d suggested. And that so-called hug. He’d groped her without permission and pressed himself hard against her. Even that small act fully clothed made her feel violated. The thought of what he actually wanted to do to her made her want to vomit. Perhaps that was part of the reason she couldn’t go back to sleep. She knew her brother would do all in his power to protect her, but Willie had a gun and there was very little Lijah could do about that. Except get shot. She shuddered. She didn’t want anyone hurt.

  She pushed from her mind all the things that could go wrong on this trip. Returning her focus to the bag, she pulled out the contents and set them in her lap. At the top of the bag were the jeans and long-sleeved shirt she’d worn before changing into the military fatigues. Beneath that were more clothes, neatly folded: six underpants, two bras, three pairs of wool socks, three long-sleeved shirts, and two pairs of leggings. The leggings had been a strategic decision. They weren’t the warmest pants, but they were thin and easy to pack. There was another sweater, a thin black cashmere one. There were also a couple of soft N-95 face masks, the kind people had worn during the outbreak, to keep germs away. She didn’t really need one, since she was immune. Maybe it was for show, so she’d seem like other worried people and not stand out. Finally, there was a thin, clear packet a little larger than a four-by-six photograph, with a silvery foil in it. In black print on the plastic, it said “Mylar covering.” She didn’t know what it was for, but figured it had to serve some use if her father packed it.

  And that was it. The complete contents of the pack. Or maybe not. Even though it looked like it should be the bottom of the pack, it wasn’t. The smooth nylon fabric matched the rest of the inside of the pack, but it was hard and lumpy beneath the fabric. She squinted into the bag, holding it out toward the light on the other side of the boxcar. She couldn’t see much, as the backpack interior was all black. She stuck her hand in and ran her fingers along the edge of the bag, feeling something rough and ridged: a zipper.

  A hidden compartment? Or just a second pocket that appeared somewhat hidden in the crappy light. Probably the latter, she thought. She ran her fingers along the edges until she found the zipper’s hook and then unzipped the fabric. Folding back the flap, she pulled out what was hidden: a rectangular black nylon pouch that was heavy. It closed like an envelope, the flap held in place by Velcro.

  “What is that?” Lijah asked.

  She turned to see him staring at her. She’d forgotten he was there. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I realized I hadn’t checked what was in the pack, and Dad packed it. I thought maybe he’d left me a letter too.”

  Lijah nodded. “He did.” Elaan stared intently, wondering why he sounded so confident. “His letter says he left letters for both of us. That we need both letters, because each one has part of what we need for the trip.”

  Elaan pulled back the Velcro flap and peered inside. Her mouth opened in surprise but she managed to muffle the gasp. She threw a glance toward Willie to make sure he hadn’t awakened and then back to the pouch. Silver and gold coins. They were in plastic containers, as they were collector’s pieces, but she knew exactly what they were. Her parents had given her and Lijah each a coin every year for their birthday. Most years were pure silver and worth fifty or sixty bucks a piece, but for years that were multiples of fives, their parents had given them a gold coin. Those were worth more, a lot more. She’d thought each coin had cost around a thousand dollars. She had remembered her parents saying they’d appreciate them when they got older. They’d only seen the gold coins on their birthday, and then their parents had put them in the safe in the house.

  Only, they weren’t in the safe now. They were here in her bag. Stuck among the coins was a small USB flash drive. The letter G had been written on it with a Sharpie. Clearly it was meant for her, because her middle name was Grace. Because she and Elijah had the same first initial, her parents labeled all their stuff by their middle initials. Her things were G and his were J, for Jacob.

  Also inside the pouch was the thing she had wanted to begin with: an envelope with her name on it. She pulled the envelope out and handed Lijah the nylon pouch. She thought he’d seen what was inside, but she wanted to make sure. He took the bag from her but didn’t say anything. She eyed the letter in her hand and wondered what it said. Even though she’d wanted this letter, a wave of apprehension hit. Curiosity about what it said percolated in her brain. Yet overwhelming dread simmered there, too, especially since Lijah hadn’t told her what his letter said. She wondered if the contents of the letter could somehow make their situation worse.

  “Open your letter,” Lijah said.

  She slid her fingers along the outside of the smooth white envelope but made no attempts to open it. Lijah’s insistence that she read it was making her more nervous about its contents. “What’d yours say?” she asked, laying the envelope down on the pile of clothes in her lap.

  Lijah made sure Willie was still in his corner. “Read yours, and then we can swap,” he said.

  Unable to hide her confusion, her eyebrows squished together. At home, Lijah was a complete “don’t touch my stuff” kinda guy. The idea that he’d just hand over his letter was as bizarre as a destitute Bill Gates. “You’ll let me see yours?”

  He nodded. “Read yours,” he said. “You’ll see.”

  Her brow creased at his refusal to speak, at his insistence that she see for herself. What was so bad that the words couldn’t be spoken, even in brevity, on a boxcar chugging through the darkness toward St. Louis? The knot in her stomach tightened, yet her curiosity had gained the upper hand. She took a deep breath, her hands trembling from the bumpy ride, opened the envelope, and pulled out her letter.

  Elaan,

  If you’re reading this, it means the worst has happened; I’ve died. It saddens me to think that I’ve seen you through such a short part of your life. I was lucky enough to keep my mother through her sixties, and into my thirties, though you never met her. I got to keep my father another twenty years, and you, of course, met him. Still, losing them was hard, and I was an adult.

  Losing both your parents at seventeen seems unduly cruel. However, I know the world we live in now is one of cruelty, danger, and disease. Part of that is my fault. I should have been an “alarmist” with the rest of them. I took comfort in science and logic. Then God laughed at me and said, “Let me remind you that science is all about discovery. Here is something new for you to discover.”

  I’m writing this two days after we moved to the scientist housing. I keep it in a locked box inside my room. That is just enough security to keep it safe from prying eyes, but loose enough to allow you to retrieve it when the time comes. I know Lijah knows what to do, but you, my sweet Laani, are in the dark.

  So, let me start at the beginning. A few months ago, I learned that Mark Dayton, the man who started this awful pandemic, was not an only child, as we believed. His mother gave birth to a daughter, whom she gave up for adoption shortly afterward. She didn’t tell her family, and Mark barely remembered it because he was only three at the time and his mother never spoke of it. He’d almost thought it a figment of his imagination. That is until his mother died two weeks before his scheduled missionary trip to South America. He held the funeral and also had the task of clearing out her personal belongings. He found a document with the baby’s footprint and adoption papers. He hired a private eye to find his sister, asked his aunt to wrap up the remainder of his mother’s estate, and went on his trip.

  As you know, he returned a month later and began unknowingly infecting people. Among the first people he saw was the det
ective. The private eye had found his sister: Shonda Woodson.

  I’m sure that news is a shock to you. It was a shock to me, as well. Dayton was glad the detective had found his sister, and he wanted to see her. But, this was new to him, and he wasn’t sure how to proceed. So he decided to find out all he could about her before introducing himself. He read through the detective’s file, but also Googled her to learn what the Internet could tell him about her. There was a decent amount of information to go through, so he busied himself with that, as well as getting reacquainted with his life.

  A week after he returned from South America, he’d decided to call his newly found sister. But before he got a chance, he received a call from the CDC. The first case of the Helnoan virus had been detected in this country. A man on the flight he’d taken from South America was sick. Medical officials told him it was unlikely he was sick, but asked him to watch for symptoms and go to a doctor immediately if he experienced them.

  We know now, he never had any symptoms and never would. But he didn’t know that, and decided he wasn’t going to try to find his sister until the mandatory three-week incubation period had passed. The CDC nurse told him that many people got sick before the three weeks, but that he should wait the full period, just in case. He tried to stay fairly secluded, but he’d already spent two weeks ministering to his congregation.

  Then two members of his church became sick. It was odd since they hadn’t left the country. Why were they sick? He had a sinking feeling that he might be at the root of it, but how could he be? He had no symptoms.

  He took the file the detective had given him and put it in his bank’s safe deposit box. He didn’t know why he wanted to lock away this information, but he did. Another church member became ill, and that’s when he turned himself in to the CDC for testing. We know what it showed. Only it was too late to stop things. The epidemic had begun already.

  Before we were sent underground, the government decided Mark was too dangerous to live. Mark asked to see me. He told me that he knew they were going to kill him. I don’t know how he knew. When I asked, he simply pointed to the heavens. I was never much a man of God. That was more your mother’s dominion. He told me that his safe deposit box had information in it, information about his sister who’d been given up for adoption. His sister’s name, he told me in a whisper, was Shonda. He said she’d had been adopted by a Missouri family. I thought he was trying to rile me, trying to do something nefarious. Though, I could not figure out, for the life of me, what that nefarious thing was. There was no advantage to lying to me. It was what he said next that chilled me, and roused me to action. Those are the words I will never forget: “If she’s like me, protect her. Promise me you’ll protect her.”

  His eyes were wide with sorrow, grief, fear, and even, dare I say it, mercy. Mercy for me because I had decided his fate and hers, too. “Promise me,” he begged again.

  I nodded and left. I just knew he was wrong. It couldn’t be her. It couldn’t be. But I went to a pay phone. Do you know how hard it is to find a pay phone? No one uses them anymore, but I found one in a rundown neighborhood, and I called your mother. I told her what I was worried about. She drew two samples of blood and had DeeDee bring them to me at the lab. When I tested them, when I found out that the blood behaved very similar to Dayton’s — it had a symbiotic relationship with the virus — I was devastated. I told her she had to leave, and she had to stay away from people.

  We created a plan and she left.

  I can’t tell you where she went. Lijah knows. You’ll need his help to find her. I feared putting too much information in one letter, lest someone find one and use it to try to hurt her. But I also wanted you to know. You are not all alone in this world. Even though I am gone, you still have your mother. And you can see her. Your immunity means she poses no harm to you. In fact, she can be a comfort and help to you.

  When you leave the scientist housing, when the pandemics are over, go and find her, so that you are not alone.

  The last thing you need to know is that I’ve put you and your brother’s coins in your bag in case you need them. Yes, there are banks and we have money in our accounts, but it’s not clear how easy it will be to access all of those things once the disease has run its course. I’ve heard already that people have panicked and tried to pull money out of banks, and the government has stopped multiple withdrawals. Some people only want silver and gold. Luckily, you and Lijah have some. You each have three gold coins. But Lijah has sixteen silver and you only have fourteen. I thought your mother was silly for giving silver and gold coins as a gift, but it was something her parents had done for her as a child and she cherished those coins. She took hers with her when she left.

  After Dayton died, I offered to help the government settle his estate. I closed his safe deposit box and burned the file on your mother. The only evidence that he had a sister is in this letter and now in your and Lijah’s heads. Burn the first pages of this letter. I know sometimes we find sentimental value in holding on to things, but nothing but danger for you or your mother can come from this. I’ve created one additional page that you can keep forever as a memento. But not these pages.

  Dad

  p.s. You and Lijah need to work together. Tell him F3, N11; Crystal Circle

  The letter ended in the middle of the sheet. Burn it, he’d said. Only keep the last page. Her fingers glided over the cursive. She pictured her father’s hands laboring over the paper as he wrote down the dangerous truth. She sighed, and shook her head. It was all too much. Her father wasn’t dead, as he’d thought he’d be, but he was gone from her life for the moment. The reality of that started to hit home. She took a deep breath to steady her mind and calm herself. She didn’t want to be overwhelmed by the feelings of loss the letter had dragged to the surface. There’s more to the letter, she told herself, as she moved the top sheet of paper to find the single page her father suggested she keep.

  “Courage isn’t having the strength to go on — it is going on when you don’t have strength.”

  -Napoleon Bonaparte

  You have courage and strength. Go on, my love. Know that you have brought me more joy than you can ever know. I will love you for all of eternity. When things seem grim, think of me and know I will be watching over you on your journey. Think of me when you need to be reminded that you still have strength. All my love,

  Dad.

  A tear trickled down Elaan’s cheek. She sighed. She missed him already. Even though he wasn’t dead, he’d given her this letter and these coins so they could make it to her mother.

  Lijah put a hand on her shoulder. “You alright?”

  “Yeah,” she mumbled as she wiped away the tear. “Let’s swap.” She handed him the first sheets of her letter, opting to keep the last for herself.

  Lijah handed her his letter, but he didn’t appear to keep anything back. A twinge of guilt emerged, and Elaan wondered if she was being selfish for not sharing the same way Lijah had.

  She started to read Lijah’s letter.

  Elijah,

  If you’re reading this, it means I’m dead.

  I’m so sorry that I’m not there for you now, in what must be a difficult time. There is so much I wanted to say to you while I was alive, and if you’re reading this, it means I’ve died without saying it. You are a brilliant and strong young man, stronger than I ever have been or could hope to be. Even though I know you’ll cringe when I say this, you get your strength from your mother. She has a force of will that most human beings have never encountered, let alone had burst forth from their own bodies. I think you are much the same, only this world being how it is has caused you to doubt yourself. Don’t. You are very capable and very strong.

  I know you think that what’s happened to you is a curse. And I can’t say that I blame you for thinking it. Receiving a vaccine that didn’t do what it was supposed to do is awful. I apologize for not being there to direct you, to help you understand the ramifications of what could happen. Though,
truth be told, neither Kingston nor myself had any inclination the side effects would be as dramatic.

  Still, I do not want you to be despondent or think things are over for you. We are men of science, and we know that every problem has a solution, even if we are unable to think of it immediately. Your solution is there. I feel it in my bones. Kingston and I have been working on it, and you’ve been, too. You know there are possibilities, if only we can illuminate the right ones. Part of me hopes I’ll find this note a year from now (which is just after we’ve entered the SPU), look at it, and laugh because we’ve come up with a solution.

  But if we haven’t solved this problem, know that you can continue the research. You and your mother. You have everything you need at your fingertips. You just need a safe location to work things out. I’ve provided you a map of a place you can go. You and your sister must work together though. She’s immune to the virus, and you’re both young, so I think you’ll stand a better chance in the post-virus world if you are together. She has something you need. And you have something she needs. Together, you make a whole. Our whole family for the moment. Take your sister and go to your mother.

  I know you worry about her condition. Please don’t. Hah. Easier said than done, right? Yes, she’s a carrier, but she is only a carrier of the heavy particulate strain. This is a good thing. It means she’s unlikely to contaminate anyone, especially you. Her status may even be a good thing. I’ve sometimes wondered if her strange situation — immune to the airborne strain, but carrier of the fluid-passed strain — somehow holds the key to engineering a vaccine that actually works. You should talk to her. She’s a good person who loves you very much.