Searching

by Kelli Kimble

  I dropped the dish I was holding into the washer, and I scrambled to quiet it so that I could hear Tabitha’s response. “They’re already gone,” Tabitha said. I dropped the dish again—this time, cracking the flimsy glass.

  “They won’t find it,” Tennie said. “Even if they do, they can’t get inside.”

  I moved to where I could see Tabitha, teetering back two legs of her chair, her arms behind her head. “That’s Preia’s problem, isn’t it?” she said.

  “Why’d she send someone there?” Leif asked.

  “She’s paranoid, I guess.” She dropped the chair legs with a thump on the wooden floor. “Anyone want to go see the markets?”

  “I broke a plate,” I said.

  Tabitha shrugged. “Breaks happen.”

  “That seems like a pretty cavalier attitude,” Leif said.

  “Nothing lasts forever,” she said.

  Tennie met my eyes from across the room. “Are we still talking about the plate?” Tennie asked.

  “Yeah,” Tabitha said. “It’s just a thing. Who cares?”

  “No one,” I said. “It was just a plate.” I went back to the kitchen to pick up the pieces.

  ◆◆◆

  By breakfast, Tennie was ready to go home. “Honestly, Silver. What more proof do we need? These people remember that there used to be a world full of people, just like history says—and I don’t like the way we’re being treated.” She paused and listened for movement from Tabitha’s room. “I don’t trust her, and I certainly don’t trust Preia. Let’s just tell Preia we’re going and go.”

  I chased eggs around my plate with my fork. I didn’t want to leave, not yet. I wanted to get to know Tabitha, especially, but I also felt like I could be something here—that my ambition would carry me far. I glanced over at Tennie. She was looking out the window. She was wearing her own clothes that she’d rinsed out in the bathtub yesterday and hung to dry overnight in the bathroom. Even from here, I could smell the slight damp emanating from her.

  “Aren’t you going to answer me?” she asked.

  I set my fork down. “I can’t stop you from going home,” I said, “if that’s what you want.”

  “I thought it’s what you wanted, too.” She swung her arms wide. “You wanted to go home a hero, right? To show them you could do something—and you did. You not only found proof, you found that we’re not the end. That’s pretty big, and it’ll definitely show Maestro.”

  “It’s not about Maestro anymore,” I said.

  “Who’s Maestro?” Tabitha asked, slipping into the room.

  “Nobody,” I muttered, picking up my fork and shoving eggs into my mouth.

  “Ah. The person you want revenge against, right?”

  “Yes,” Tennie said. “That’s him.”

  “Don’t act like he’s never hurt you, either,” I said.

  “I wouldn’t worry about him anymore,” Tabitha said.

  “Why not?” asked Tennie.

  She went into the kitchen and scraped the rest of the cold eggs from the pan onto a plate. “These look good. Did you make them?” she asked.

  “Why not?” Tennie asked again.

  “I don’t want to upset you,” Tabitha said. She opened the fridge and fished a red, goopy liquid out of a jar with a spoon, then spread it over her eggs. “Catsup?”

  “You’re already upsetting her,” I said. “Just answer the question.”

  “I think it’s pretty obvious that Preia doesn’t intend to let you leave.”

  “She can’t just keep us here,” Tennie said. She crossed her arms over her chest. “We’re not prisoners. We haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Nope,” said Preia. She turned her attention to eating.

  “So, why can’t we leave?” I asked.

  She paused, a forkful of eggs halfway to her mouth. She set it back down on her plate.

  “What?” I sat down in the chair next to her. “What aren’t you telling us?”

  “You’re not the first people that have come to the city,” she said. “Our beliefs limit us.”

  “Limit you, how?” Tennie asked. “What beliefs?”

  “You have to understand the history of the city,” she said. “Do you know anything about it, from your studies?” she asked me.

  “Not really,” I said. “Nothing more than a vague idea of its location.”

  “Have you studied religion at all?”

  I shook my head.

  “All right. At one time, the city was populated mostly by Mormons. They were members of the Church of Latter-Day Saints. But, a segment of the church broke off and formed a new church after the original leadership decided to no longer allow polygamy. That group left the city and started fresh, and they continued to allow and even encourage polygamy.”

  “What’s polygamy?” I asked.

  “It’s when the group has far more members of one sex than the other, usually women. So, they allow the smaller group to take multiple spouses,” she said.

  Tennie’s eyes widened. “You mean, multiple spouses at the same time?”

  “Yeah. Great; I see you’re following along.” Tabitha rolled her eyes. “Back to the story. So, the new group, they got run out of town. They were mostly viewed as a curiosity, and in the United States, polygamy was illegal. The religion faded to a sort of secret society because nobody wanted to get caught. Eventually, though, a more aggressive leader took over the group. He felt that we should be proud of our heritage, and our beliefs, and he built a plan to take back the city and expel all those who wouldn’t adopt the doctrine. It was he who orchestrated what you call the ‘winter’. He thought the true path to acceptance was simply to remove those who didn’t accept. There were pockets of humanity that survived the winter all over the world. Yours was one of them. We’ve encountered others before, and what happens is always the same: We accept anyone who comes willingly to the city, and we assimilate them into our culture, and any who won’t come are extinguished.”

  Tennie let out a little squeak. “Extinguished?”

  “Sorry, I thought that was more polite than saying, ‘We kill them.’” She picked up her fork and resumed eating her eggs. “These really are good,” she said. “But, can you pass the salt?”

  I pushed the shaker towards her. Numbness was spreading through my body. I couldn’t say I’d be terribly upset by the deaths of my siblings still in the mountain. Most of them were just strangers who happened to share my DNA. But, I was worried for Fiona. “What if they can’t find their way inside the mountain?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “We’ve never failed at extinguishing. I mean, the winter, right?” She laughed at her own joke, but inhaled sharply when she saw my expression of horror. “Look, it’s humane. We’re Christians, after all. There’s no need for suffering.”

  “Do you agree with this policy?” I asked. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. All this time, we’d thought the winter was a natural phenomenon, brought on by man’s misuse of the planet. But, someone—a single person—had killed millions of people and desolated the land, just so they could have multiple spouses?

  “How I feel about it is irrelevant,” she said.

  “It’s why you’re being punished, isn’t it?” said Tennie. A flush crept up Tabitha’s neck. Tennie pointed. “Yeah, that’s right. You don’t like how things are.”

  “Like I said,” she said, swiping up her plate and taking it to the sink. “How I feel about it is irrelevant.”

  “You can’t possibly believe that the winter was justified,” I said.

  “Of course not. Nobody these days really does, but it’s over and done with. What’re we going to do about it now?”

  “You could stop killing other people; that’d be a start,” said Tennie.

  “I didn’t say I agreed with that, either. Look, I’m just trying to get through my course of good works and get back to my life. I’m here, doing what Preia demands, because I just want things to go back the way they were.”

 
Tennie narrowed her eyes. “Why, exactly, do you have to do these good works?”

  “Someone wanted me to marry them, and I said no. That’s all there is to it. See?” She splayed her hands in front of herself.

  “Why would you be punished for saying no?” I asked. A tingle of relief was rushing up and down my arms. She wasn’t married.

  “It wasn’t exactly for saying no,” she said. “He’s Preia’s nephew, and he already has three wives. I didn’t want to be one of many.” She turned her attention to her feet but glanced up at me once through her eyelashes. “I want to be the, uh, special one. I want to marry for love.”

  Leif entered the room. “What smells so good? Eggs, I hope.”

  Tennie couldn’t contain herself. “They caused the winter, and they’re going to the mountain to kill Fiona and our siblings, and if we won’t take on their way of life, they’ll kill us, too.”

  Leif blinked. “Good morning?”

  “You can’t even ask Preia to leave,” Tabitha said. “Just put it out of your mind. You’re here now, and there are plenty of opportunities to build a nice, stable life without leaving the city.”

  “But—” Tennie started.

  Tabitha held up a hand. “No. You can never ask to leave. The moment you do, they’ll turn against you. Preia won’t stand for you questioning our way of life.”

  “I think maybe we need some time to absorb this,” I said to Tabitha. “Can you give us a little time alone?”

  She nodded. “I understand. You got a raw deal; I get it. Just don’t leave the house, okay? I’ll be in my room.” She got up without waiting for our agreement, and we listened as she crossed to the front of the house. Her bedroom door clicked shut behind her.

  “I need some coffee,” Leif said. “That’s one way to start the day with a bang.”

  “This isn’t a time for jokes, Leif,” said Tennie. “We’re never going to see Fiona again.”

  “Oh,” he said. “I was hoping you were joking.”

  “No. They went to kill anyone who won’t join up.”

  “Maybe Fiona will. I bet some of the siblings will,” he said.

  My mind flicked to Maestro. I could imagine him easily giving up the mountain to come here, with the right motivation. But, would any of the others? More importantly, would Fiona? My heart told me no; she’d stay in the mountain to die.

  “I’m going back to bed,” Tennie said. “Maybe when I get up, this nightmare will be over.” She left the room, and I listened to her steps, heavy and slow; first, on the stairs, and then, to her room. Bo followed, his nails clicking on the hardwood floors. The door shut with a soft click.

  “What’re we going to do?” Leif asked.

  “What can we do?” I returned. “We’re prisoners here. You heard Tabitha; if we ask to leave, they’ll get rid of us, too.”

  “You’re all just about self-preservation, then? Don’t want to put yourself out there?” he countered.

  “What would you suggest? I mean, they’ve never failed to kill off other people they’ve found. Never. So, how are the three of us going to stop them?”

  “We’re not—not with a shitty attitude like that,” Leif said. He stomped from the room and went upstairs. He knocked on Tennie’s door, and as he opened it and entered, I heard them speaking to each other in low, soothing tones before the door clicked shut again.

  It left me feeling hollow and alone. I stood and paced around the room, but I kept stopping and finding myself staring at Tabitha’s door. My stomach flip-flopped, and I realized I wanted to talk to her—maybe even needed it. I approached several times but kept turning away, my hand raised midway but always retracting at the last moment. On my fourth or fifth attempt, the door swung open just as I raised my hand.

  “What?” she asked. She cocked her head to the side and smiled.

  “Um, nothing, I guess,” I said. I wanted to kick myself. What had I decided to say just a moment ago?

  “Nothing. So, you walked over here six times to tell me nothing?”

  “I think it was only four,” I said. My face felt hot.

  “I know this is upsetting for you. For all of you. Why don’t you talk with the others? They seem to have found comfort together.”

  “Yeah,” I said. I slid my gaze to look out the window on the front door. Outside, there was a boy with a satisfied look on his face, bouncing a red, rubber ball down the street. It made a smacking sound on the pavement, and I imagined the sound was the source of his satisfaction.

  “Hey, the conversation is over here,” Tabitha said.

  “Right. Sorry, Tabitha.”

  “Call me Tabby. Okay?”

  I tried to say okay, but my mouth dried out. I nodded instead.

  “So, is it a secret? Why you don’t hang with them?”

  “I do, usually. I mean, we all get along very well. It’s just, they don’t share in my . . .” I struggled to find the word.

  “‘Ambition’ is what you called it before,” she said.

  I sighed. “Right, that, but there’s something more. The two of them always clicked together better.” I shrugged. “I’m sometimes the odd person out.”

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she said. “Are they a. . .you know, a couple? Because that’s kind of weird, if they’re siblings.” She looked at me from the corner of her eye.

  “Says someone who believes in having their own harem,” I said.

  “Hey, I don’t believe that. I already told you that I refused—”

  I held up a placating hand. “Whoa, I was just kidding. I agree; it’d be weird if they had a thing together. But, I don’t think they do. I’ve asked before, anyway, and they said no.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be defensive.” She looked down at her feet and wiggled her toes. “Let’s go out on the porch. Have you ever people-watched?”

  “Everyone I know basically looks like me,” I said. “It’s not a very interesting thing to see.”

  She cuffed me on the shoulder. “Come on out here.” She went out onto the porch and sat down on the swing. “Sit down,” she said, patting the seat beside her. “It’s a great view. A lot of people are heading off to do their work for the day, so. . .lots to see.”

  I sat down beside her with my butt-cheeks clenched. I wanted very much to have contact with her, but touching butts didn’t seem like the best plan.

  She pointed out things around the neighborhood: The oldest house; the tree that someone she knew as a kid fell out of; how the squirrels were red because the black ones were considered a delicacy.

  “Newsflash,” I said. “They all taste the same.”

  “Hey, I didn’t make that one up. It’s been a thing for two or three-hundred years. I’d be willing to bet it was because the black ones were more numerous during a famine,” she said.

  “Famine? You’ve had those kinds of difficulties here?”

  “Sure. Didn’t bad stuff happen in the mountain?”

  I frowned. I didn’t want to tell her the weird history of the comings and goings of the people in and out of the mountain. Anyway, she’d probably be disgusted that I lived inside a tank longer than I’d been outside of one. “Yeah, of course,” I said.

  “Well, that’s a loaded answer if I ever heard one,” she said. “What happened?” Someone rode by on a bicycle, slowing down to gawk at me. Tabitha jerked her thumb at him. “Get outta here; it’s not a zoo,” she said.

  “You think you could teach me to ride one of those?” I asked.

  “I can’t ride one, remember? But, there’s probably one around; you can try if you want. I used to like it a lot, before the tumor.” She tapped the side of her head as she said it.

  “How long have you had that? The tumor?”

  “I know you’re changing the subject,” she said.

  “I know you are, too.” I turned and half-smiled at her. She burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it, then, and I started to laugh, too. We laughed so hard that someone walking by on the street stopped an
d stared for a moment. Tears squeezed out the corners of my eyes, and I took a deep breath to try and quiet myself, though I didn’t know why; it felt great to laugh. It felt wonderful to watch her laugh.

  I let out a long sigh as the laughter finally faded. Inadvertently, I relaxed my butt-cheeks. My thighs felt like they were melting as they spread into their relaxed state, and my leg just barely touched hers. Then, her leg relaxed, as well, touching mine. I looked at our legs, then at the spot where we were touching, and finally, up at her. She sprayed my face with spit as she started to laugh again, and even though it was gross, I wiped the moisture away and laughed, too.

  ◆◆◆

  We spent most of the rest of the day in the street, trying to learn how to ride a bike. I crashed multiple times, and over the course of the day, I scraped both knees and my left elbow. Tabby pushed me from behind at first, holding me up awkwardly as I wobbled along. When I graduated to short distances on my own, she stood between the rows of vegetables in our front yard, calling out corrections that weren’t specific enough to make sense to someone with no experience, like “Push!” and “Keep it straight!”

  “Keep what straight?” I yelled back, as I tipped into a large zucchini plant next to the street.

  She ran over to me and picked the bike up as I struggled. “You’ve got to keep the handlebars straight, silly,” she said. “You point it in the direction you want to go. So, if you want to go straight, you hold it straight.”

  “I wasn’t turning it on purpose,” I said, as I tried to wipe dirt from my palms by wiping them down the side of the strange, wrap garment I’d found in my dresser. “I was concentrating on getting the pedals moving.”

  “That’s important, too,” she said. “You need to push to keep up your momentum.”

  I kept at it, and by dinnertime, I was able to ride up the street, almost as far as the fence, then make a big, sweeping turn and return to the house without falling. A few times, I even managed to negotiate an obstacle.

  We went into the house laughing and in a good mood after we put the bike away. Tennie and Leif were sitting at the table, and they cast an immediate pall over our moods.