Divided (The United Trilogy Book 2)

by Wheeler, Jaci

  The morning is spent on logistics and catching up with my parents. Masters and my mom are in the kitchen going over “the plan”. I’m actually glad I don’t have to get stuck doing the logistic portion of this tour. Come to think of it, Masters always gets stuck with that gig, thank goodness. I decide to use this time to try to pick my dad’s brilliant brain and see if he can unknowingly help me with some of my problems.

  “Hey, sweet girl.” He looks up from the book he's reading and smiles at me with all the love in the world. I have missed him so much.

  “Hey, dad. While they have their little pow-wow in the kitchen, do you want to go take a walk and get some fresh air? It’d be nice to take a walk around the old neighborhood.”

  “That sounds great. Let’s go,” he gets up.

  We walk down the old hiking path that Wes and I used to use. Just seeing the log down by the lake makes me want to cry.

  “Want to take a little break?” he asks

  “Sure, Dad.”

  “Is it hard being back?” He looks down at me with worry in his eyes.

  “Not hard; it’s wonderful to be home, yet it’s also…I’m not sure how to put it, unsettling maybe. It’s weird to come back to a place that hasn’t changed when I’ve changed so much.”

  He smiles at me. “We are so proud of all the good things you’ve already done, honey. I can’t imagine how stressful your job must be, but you are doing such a wonderful job with it. Don’t let yourself get lost in the worries of a country, sweetheart. Remember, you are only 16; have some fun too.”

  I smile at that. He knows me so well. Even when I can’t tell him what’s going on, he can still somehow tell.

  “What would you say is the hardest part of the job?” He asks me. This makes me laugh. I almost want to say “all of it”, but I sit and think about it instead.

  “Honestly, there a few hard parts, but I think the worst for me is the secrecy. I understand why it’s needed, but you know me—I’ve always needed to talk out my problems. It’s hard to know you can’t talk to the people you trust. I know I’m not lying, but I still feel like I’m keeping things from the people I love, and it’s hard.”

  My dad nods like he knows that would be my answer. “I was wondering how you were going to do that. I’ve never worked for the Ministry, but with my job, I know as much as I can without actually having to work there.” He chuckles a little like he has just made a joke. “I know that secrecy comes with the job, and I don’t know how you do it. You know me; I’m honest to a fault. With History it comes naturally, it’s just a retelling of exact events, but to protect people with and from the truth, I don’t think I could do that.”

  I never really thought about that. Maybe that’s why this is so much harder for me than for the past Presidents. Maybe it’s just my upbringing. Can it be that the monitoring and keeping of secrets really is what best for the population? Maybe I’m taking this all out of proportion? Great, all I’m getting is more confused, but I have time to figure that out later. I have my dad who is an amazing History professor here; I should be using my time to figure out how to win people over with a like mind.

  “Dad, I have a question for you,” I say suddenly.

  “Shoot, sweet pea.”

  “I’m not sure how to word it exactly, but how can you be guaranteed that history will not repeat its self? I mean, how can you move forward if you are so afraid of the past?”

  “You can’t, honey. The past isn’t anything to be afraid of. Fear stops progression. You have to see the past and its events as something to learn from,” he explains.

  “So the rebellion for instance, how can you keep one from happening again?”

  My dad gives out a little laugh, but it doesn’t sound like he thinks it is funny.

  “Sweetheart, you can’t keep people from rebelling. The only way to learn from a past rebellion is to look at what made the people so desperate and to try to get an idea of what drove them to that in the first place. There isn’t usually one thing that happens to cause a rebellion. It is a huge build-up of things. Rebellions come from people feeling like their rights are being taken away, clear and simple. Our forefathers rebelled because they felt so strongly about their rights that they were willing to risk the lives of themselves and their families because they felt that what they were doing was right. “

  “Was it?” I’m not sure why I ask. We have had similar discussions my whole life, but suddenly I am seeing everything from a different perspective now.

  “Was it the right thing to do? To rebel?” he asks. I nod.

  “If you are coming from a straight history perspective, then I say yes. The country was going downhill and fast. They wanted to save the future; they wanted something better for their children and grandchildren. The pollution, the food covered in chemicals, it is no way to live.”

  “So how do you know if the fight is worth it?” I press on.

  “The only reason losing lives can be worth it is to make life as a whole better. When people start rebelling and fighting for selfish reasons, good can never come from it. You have to be fighting for something bigger than yourselves.”

  “So if it’s mixed, if some people might not feel the same as you about it, what will happen?” My dad ponders about this for a minute and eventually answers: “Then you walk away and remove yourself from the situation. Fighting for something that other people don’t want isn’t right either.”

  He is right; this is what the Outcasts did. They don’t like the control and rules of the Ministry, but they know that some people do. Some people find comfort and safety within the rules. That's why they are happy to be cut off. It all makes sense now.

  “You’re right, dad. But how can you make two sets of people happy if they want two different things without causing a war?”

  “That’s a very hard question, sweetheart. That’s one that if you can find the answer for, you will be a much better leader than all those before you. Finding peace is one of those things that many have tried and all have failed. People aren’t peaceful; it’s been proven time and again. But let’s say they are; that everyone wants to live in harmony. The best way to find it is through compromise.” I am going to have to mull this over. There has got to be a way to find a perfect compromise without asking people to give up their freedom.

  “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate the talk.”

  “If you just follow that good heart of yours, honey, you will make the right decisions. Just remember, you aren’t responsible for others actions. There’s nothing you can do to change the world. People are flawed, everyone has flaws, and until people are perfect, the world never will be.”

  “How did you get to be so wise, dad?”

  My dad lets out a hardy chuckle.

  “I love you, Dad.”

  “I love you too, sugar bean.”

  When we get back, my mom and Masters have finished their meeting and the dinner is ready and waiting for us. My mom made pasta with garlic bread and salad, my favorite. Masters is chattier than I’ve ever seen him; it must be because he is around people who are closer to his own age. I never really thought about that before. I wonder if he sees himself as my babysitter. It must have been much different working for Vaughn than for me.

  After dinner, we all go into the living room to catch up. It is so nice to just be at home and not worry about anything. We will start our tours to the other Zones in the morning.

  I am a little nervous about what to say to the dying people, but my mother assures me that I will be fine. “Just don’t act weird around them and you’ll be fine. The worst thing you can do is walk on egg shells. People tend to act strange once they find out someone’s dying. They are alive now, and they want to be treated the same as anyone else.”

  “I’ll remember that, mom. Well, I’m beat and I’m going to head to bed. Are you okay with your room and everything, Masters?” He nods and I give my parents a kiss before I proceed to bed.

  Chapter Nine

  Masters decided
that the best way to tour is to work our way from my parents and around until we end up at the Ministry. Since we already visited the Center in my Zone, we move on to the next. My mother gave me very detailed instructions the day before. She made sure to tell me not to be intrusive, but that I can talk to whoever I want to. I have a full run of all the staff, and the patients who wish to talk to me will light their nurse light on the outside of their room. Clearly, those whose lights are off do not want to be bothered.

  On the train, I open my bag to take out my note book when I see a folded piece of paper. I open it up and smile.

  “Freedom is not worth having if it does not include the freedom to make mistakes.” –Mahatma Gandhi

  I love you, sweet pea. You make me more proud every day! Good luck on your tours!

  Dad,

  It’s nice to find consistency even in the small things. My dad’s notes will never get old. I have almost forgotten how much I missed getting them until I received this one. As always, it gives me just that extra bit of confidence to get me through.

  I walk into the Center for the dying. Oddly enough, the official name is R&R for rest and recovery, but most people in the Zones are very honest and upfront. So it's dubbed "the home for the dying". Because my mother has always worked there, I have grown up with a respect for these people, an understanding and hurt for their struggle. I expect to walk into a sad and depressed place, but I am pleasantly surprised.

  My mother has explained the breakdown of the Center for me. There is the children’s ward off to the right, the elderly’s on the very opposite end, and in the middle is the ward for the middle-aged. It works out nicely to have the division by age. There is also a common area in the middle where all ages can hang out and talk, play games, and have meals if they want. It has a very homey feel to it.

  We start out at the children’s ward. My mother has told me that she is going to take Masters to get a look at the security and computers. I am hoping that Masters will be able to track down Ed, but I am not holding my breath. Once my mother returns, she introduces me to the staff. The nurses are all very friendly and they seem oddly upbeat. My mother is a very positive and happy person by nature as well. I always thought it is odd that she can have the job that she does and still stay so cheerful. Sure, there are times when she comes home crying over losing a patient, but she never dwells on it.

  I talk to the nurses first and ask them about restrictions and requirements before entering the room. There is a very detailed scrubbing process that I have to go through and there’s a mask that I have to wear in certain rooms but other than that, it seems pretty simple. We go from the smallest to the oldest in order. It is so sad to see babies in there. I can’t believe how small and helpless they look. I meet several parents who look exhausted and down. The nursery rooms are all soft colors with some animals or butterflies painted on the walls. I found out that the kids can pick between open rooms which all have a different theme. There’s jungle, space, mountains, or beach; they are all beautiful and relaxing. I guess it is a way to give them an escape from their problems.

  Most of the kids don’t talk much. They are hooked up to machines and wires or tubes. The underlining factor seems to be exhaustion. Several of the kids fall asleep in the short time I am there. We get to one room where there is only an empty bed. I look at the nurse in panic and she just smiles.

  “R.J., you have a visitor.” I can’t figure out who she is talking to. The bathroom door is open and empty and as I look around the room, I don’t see anyone. Just then, I see movement coming from the bed. There it is again. The blankets shift only slightly. I turn to the nurse and she just smiles and nods at me. I approach the bed and get down on my knees to peer underneath.

  I can’t believe my eyes. Under the bed is a little boy who looks around 7 or 8, just hanging on the frame of the bed. He smiles at me but continues hanging. I look around the room and sure enough, he has a jungle-themed room.

  “Oh, excuse me. I must have the wrong room. I am looking for a little boy named R.J. I must have made a wrong turn and wound up in the zoo. I didn't realize they have monkeys here.”

  R.J. giggles and makes a monkey sound.

  “Hey, that’s pretty good. I would join you but I know I’d get stuck and only manage to hurt us both. How about you come down from there and talk to me?”

  He eyes me for a moment. “Will there be chocolate pudding?”

  “But I thought monkeys liked bananas?” I ask him teasingly.

  “Bananas AND chocolate pudding,” he clarifies with a big grin.

  “Oh well, that’s good to know. I think I can manage to scrounge up some pudding. I’ll go find out, but only if the monkey is back in his bed upon my return.” I turn to find the nurse in the hall.

  “Do you think we can get some chocolate pudding in here, please?”

  The nurse whose name is Tammy just laughs. “Oh, R.J. wants his morning snack, does he? Will he be eating it under or on the bed today?” she asks with a chuckle.

  “Well since there’s no way my body is contorting in that manner, above the bed it is.” She hands me two chocolate puddings and spoons.

  “Also, here are his meds. See if you can get him to take them with all the water before the pudding. He hates to drink, but it’s better if I can get him to hydrate himself without the I.V.” I nod and take the tray and walk back toward his room.

  There is the cutest little boy I’ve ever seen laying on his bed, smiling at me. There is not one hair on his whole bald head, but he is adorable. He has huge blue eyes that dance with humor.

  “Well, if it isn’t the little monkey himself. Hello, R.J., my name is Roz. Can you do a favor for me and take your meds so that you can eat your pudding?”

  He gives me a slight glare. “You never said anything about meds. You just said I had to come to bed.”

  “Yes, that was an oversight on my part, I am sorry, but to make it up to you, if you promise to take the meds and drink all this water, I will give you my pudding too, but don’t tell Tammy.”

  The idea of one upping the nurse is too good to pass and he nods his head excitedly. He takes a handful of pills and swallows them all down like an expert. Then he finishes off the water in three huge gulps and puts his hands out for the pudding. I give him both cups and laugh as he tears into them.

  “You like pudding, do you?”

  “Mmmmhmmmm, it's da bet eber,” he says through a mouthful of pudding.

  “Do you know who I am, R.J.?” I ask, knowing they have been told but not knowing if he understands what being the President means.

  “Sure do. You are the President who wants to come and see all of us before we die. You are really important and I’m supposed to be on my best behavior,” he says, grinning up at me. The fact that he so openly talks about death has shocked me. Suddenly, I am not sure how to respond.

  “Oh, I’m not that important; it is just a silly title. But I do get to have chocolate milk anytime I want so I guess someone must think I’m pretty special.” He smiles at me and nods his head up and down.

  “Well, I get chocolate pudding whenever I want.”

  “Wow, you must be pretty important too! What is your title, king of the Monkeys?”

  This makes him go into a fit of laughter. “I like that! King R.J. of the Monkeys!”

  “So how are you feeling, R.J.?” I ask him, trying to sound casual.

  “Meh. Not too bad anymore now that they have stopped giving me those nasty treatments.” I know from his charts that he is in the last stage of leukemia. He stopped responding to the treatments and according to the nurses, it is just a matter of time. I am surprised to see that R.J. has so much energy and he doesn’t seem at all like a little dying boy.

  “And how do you feel about that?”

  “Good. I hated those treatments because they made me feel so sick that I didn't even want to eat my pudding or play monkey!”

  “Oh yuck, I would hate that too.”

  “Yea. Doc said
that I’m not going to feel as gross anymore now that we stopped the medicine, but it also means I’m going to die.”

  I am so shocked. “He told you that!?” I say in almost a shout.

  “Of course not! Grown-ups don’t actually tell kids anything important. If you want to know what’s really going on, you have to pretend to be asleep while they talk to your parents. That’s how I found out. Mom cried a lot, but there’s nothing they can do, the doctor said.”

  My heart is breaking. It takes everything I have not to let my tears fall. This poor sweet boy is being so strong, even though he knows that he is going to die.

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “Dying?” I nod.

  “Okay, I guess. I mean, I’ve been sick for a really long time, and my mom told me that in heaven you aren’t ever sick. That will be so nice. Do you think they have monkeys and chocolate pudding in heaven, Roz?”

  “Oh I’m sure they do! Only the best things are in heaven, and those two are pretty cool.” He nods in agreement. “Have you ever seen a monkey? A real one, like at a zoo?”

  R.J. looks sad now. “No, I’ve seen them on TV and in movies only, but I’ve always been too sick to go to the zoo. That sure would be cool to see one though, huh, Roz?”

  “Yes, it would be.”

  “Wait a minute. Can’t the President do whatever they want? “I laugh at the child-like innocence.

  “Not whatever, but some things, yes.”

  “Can you bring me a monkey?” he asks this with so much hope and excitement in his eyes, I can’t help but want to move heaven and earth for him. I think about this for a moment. Well, why not? I don’t see the harm in bringing in one monkey from the zoo. I mean, it’s not like he can get more sick or anything.