by Ashlee Price
“I tried, sir,” Adam, a member of the Guard Corps, tells me. “I tried to stop her, but she was too fast.”
“Bullshit!” I lunge over my desk and grab the front of his shirt. “Don’t give me your—”
“Michael!” my mother admonishes.
I clench my jaw as I swallow the rest of my sentence and let Adam go.
“Thank you, Adam,” my mother says to him. “Now, leave us.”
I hear his footsteps moving away and the door to the office opening and closing. Even then, I don’t move. I just stand there, staring at my shoes with my fists and jaw clenched. My chest heaves as I struggle to fill the tight space with air.
“What do you think you’re doing?” My mother stands in front of me. “The poor guy was just doing his job.”
“If he was doing his job, Grace would still be in the city,” I spit out at her. “In fact, she’d be here with me right now.”
“The Guard Corps is tasked with keeping people out of the city, not in it,” my mother reminds me. “And yet, Adam still tried to stop Grace. Is this how you repay him?”
I say nothing.
“Michael…”
My mother reaches for my arm but I jerk it away.
“Michael, I know you’re distraught right now, but—”
“Distraught?” I whirl around and look at her. “I’ve just been told my fiancée has left the city without saying goodbye, without so much as a word of explanation. She’s left the safety of the city and gone into the God-forsaken wastelands and you think I’m distraught?”
I shake my head.
No. What I’m feeling is definitely more than that—every worst feeling in the world and nothing all at the same time. Excruciating pain. Crushing devastation. Unspeakable loss. Overwhelming emptiness.
The woman I love is gone. For all I know, she could be dead right now. And I might as well be.
I grip my chest. I’m suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to disappear just like her.
“I’ll send a squad to find her and bring her back,” my mother says.
I look at her with raised eyebrows. “You will?”
She nods.
“But Dad won’t allow it. The others won’t—”
“Who do you think I am, Michael?” my mother cuts me off. “If I want to do something in this city, do you really think anyone can stop me?”
I lean on the edge of my desk. “You would do that for me?”
“Of course,” she answers, reaching for my hand to squeeze it. “Whatever the cost may be, we’ll bring the woman you love back.”
Hope flutters in my chest and I give her a weak smile. “Thanks, Mom.”
I’m about to give her a hug, but I hear a knock on the door.
“What is it?” my mother asks before I can.
Adam re-enters the room. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
He glances at me but quickly lowers his gaze to the floor. A knot forms in my chest and in my throat.
My mother lets go of my hand and faces Adam. “What are you apologizing for?”
“We found her,” Adam announces.
My heart stops and my eyes grow wide. “You did?”
I run over to him and grab his shoulders.
“Where is she? Is she alright? I want to see her right now!”
“Sir, I…”
“Let him speak, Michael,” my mother says.
I let him go.
“Sir, we found her… body.”
I feel all the blood drain from my face. Body?
“And these.”
Adam presents me with a few inches of gold chain and a charred silver ring.
My heart sinks as my knees drop to the ground. My arms hang from my sides.
No.
“Oh, Michael.” My mother wraps her arms around me, but I barely feel them.
Now, I really do feel nothing at all.
“Grace… is gone.”
My mother hugs me tight. “I’m sorry, Michael.”
“Are you really?” I turn my head towards her as my pain simmers into anger. “You hated her. Grace told me so.”
“Of course not.” Her eyes grow wide in shock as her grip on me loosens. “Yes, I didn’t think she was right for you…”
“Because she wasn’t a Pioneer? Because she had a scar on her face?”
“But I didn’t hate her,” my mother goes on. “We mothers all want the best for our children, but even so, our children’s happiness comes first. If you had told me she was the only woman who could make you happy, I would have given you both my blessing.”
The muscles in my forehead ease up. “You would have?”
“Of course.” She wraps her arms around me once more. “I would have gift-wrapped her for you if you were convinced you really wanted her. Why, wasn’t I just about to send a squad after her?”
She’s right. What am I doing making nonsense accusations against my own mother?
None of this is her fault. If anything, it’s all mine. I never introduced Grace to my mother, because I was afraid to. Even when I told Grace I’d talk to my parents about marrying her, I still stalled because I couldn’t find the courage to face them, to make a stand about her. I acted like a coward at the one point in my life that I really needed to be brave.
That’s probably why she left the city—because I didn’t go see her when I said I would, or even send her word. Because she got tired of waiting for me. Because she started to think I wasn’t going to keep my word.
Because I broke her heart.
I failed Grace.
And because of that, she’s dead.
I might as well have killed her myself.
At that thought, my tears break through.
My mother strokes my hair. “Oh, sweetheart.”
I pull away and wipe the tears from my eyes. “I need to be alone, Mother.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod, then sniff as I go back to my desk.
“If you say so.”
The door closes and I sit behind my desk. I bury my face in my hands, mourning over what I’ve just lost.
First my brother. Now my fiancée.
Grace is gone.
I’ll never get to see the glimmer in her blue eyes again or hear her laugh. She’ll never get to be a fashion designer or make another dress for someone. She’ll never get to see the new, improved world we Pioneers are trying so desperately to create.
And worst of all, she’ll never be my wife.
I’ll never get to call her mine again or hold her in my arms again. Or kiss her. I’ll never have another chance to make love to her, to feel the warmth of her body as it quivers and arches against mine.
She’s slipped through my fingers and she’s never coming back.
Strange. The Icebreaker took many things away from me, and yet I lost the most precious thing I ever had not because of any cataclysm but because of my own weakness and foolishness. And now, no amount of regret will bring her back.
My hands fall to my knees and clench into fists. Tears fall on top of my knuckles.
I didn’t even get to say “I love you” one last time. Or goodbye.
And I never will.
I let my limp body slide off the chair and down to the floor as my energy leaves me along with my tears. My shoulders shake as I crouch on the carpet and sob like I never have in my entire life.
Grace, I’d give anything to hold you just one more time.
Chapter 5
Travis
The soft, moss-covered ground feels like freshly baked pie beneath my rubber boots as I walk off the beaten path after my six-year-old golden retriever. Every now and then I step on a puddle and mud splatters.
I glance down at the rust-brown specks on my black boot and frown.
That sure was some downpour last night.
The raindrops had already started falling by the time I’d finished work on the stables, and even more fell as I sat on the front porch. What started out as a drizzle, a gentle spring shower, esc
alated into a nasty downpour, the nastiest I can remember since the Icebreaker. It almost made me worry that another flood would come, this time in Noah’s Ark fashion.
Thankfully, it didn’t. The bullets from the sky eventually tapered off. Then they stopped falling.
All that was left were puddles and a chill in the air that sent me crawling under the quilt, from which warm, dry sanctuary I was rudely roused by a generous coating of canine saliva mere hours later.
I yawn as I look around for Toby and find him restlessly circling a pile of leaves.
Oh well. When a dog’s gotta go, a dog’s gotta go.
As he goes, I turn around and lift my head to look up at the sky.
The early morning mist is clearing now. The sky is making its routine transformation from gloomy gray to serene blue, and even the wisps of clouds are shedding off their dark garments for freshly washed immaculate ones. Through their seams, the first rays of sunlight pass through, lending a shimmer to the tiny drops of rain left on the leaves of the trees and blades of grass and bathing this patch of woods in an ethereal glow.
The glorious sight helps me shake off the cobwebs of sleep better than a cup of coffee would have—if I could get one—and puts a smile on my face. It’s little things like this that make me believe Hope Creek is a paradise.
I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of the soil after the rain, of the dewdrops drawing their final breaths, of a new day triumphantly dawning. Then I open my eyes, exhale and smile.
It’s going to be a good day.
Behind me, Toby barks.
“You think so too, don’t you, Toby?” I ask him as I turn to face him. “Especially now that you’ve done your business.”
Speaking of which, I catch a whiff of foul odor tainting the air and grimace.
I turn back on my heel. “Time to head back, boy.”
But he doesn’t dash past me to race me back to the house as he usually does.
I glance over my shoulder and frown.
Where did that mutt go?
“Toby?”
Nothing.
I turn around and shout louder. “Toby?”
After a few seconds, I hear a bark in the distance.
I sigh. Now what is he up to?
“Toby!” I call, but he doesn’t come.
The barking continues, and the more I hear it, the more my curiosity is piqued. This isn’t a normal bark. It’s a there’s-something-you-got-to-see bark.
“Alright, alright. I’m coming.”
I walk in the direction of the sound and after a few steps, I hear water.
The ditch?
It’s been dry lately, but I guess that downpour last night must have dumped enough water to quench its thirst.
I head towards it. Toby’s bark grows louder.
Soon enough, I see him. At the same time, I see the steel wall, the wall that keeps us separated from the rest of the world, that keeps us safe.
Even after all this time, I find it hard to believe it’s there, working its miracle every single day. Unlike the dome above Hope Creek, the wall can be seen from the inside. That way, the residents don’t carelessly wander out. Not that they ever get tempted to, because it’s also a reminder of the world we live in—of the haven that’s inside the dome and of the wasteland that’s outside. It’s a reminder that we live in a bubble that could burst at any moment.
I look at Toby and frown as I realize he’s barking at the wall.
“It’s just a wall, Toby,” I tell him. “Well, not just a wall. It’s a special wall, maybe the best wall ever, but it’s not worth barking at.”
Like a toddler his age, however, Toby doesn’t listen. In fact, he barks even louder.
I go over to him. “Toby, shh. If someone outside hears you…”
I pause at my own words.
Someone outside?
What if there is someone outside? What if that’s what Toby is barking at?
“Shh,” I tell Toby.
This time, he stops barking, as if he finally understands me.
I lean over to pick up a branch from the ground, a makeshift weapon just in case the person outside is hostile. At the same time, I cross my fingers and hope he’s not.
Hope for the best and prepare for the worst.
Cautiously, I approach the hatch on the wall. When I reach it, I glance back at my dog.
“Are you sure there’s someone out there?”
I get a “woof” and a wagging tail in response.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I take a deep breath, grab the handle and push.
It doesn’t budge.
I push harder, grimacing with the effort, and still it doesn’t move.
Is it stuck? Or is it broken? As far as I know, this hatch has never been opened since the wall was built.
Then I see the round button above the hatch and I remember how the main door works. I place my entire palm on it and press.
The door shifts with a hissing sound. The edges protrude slightly from the wall. I give it one more push, and this time it gives way with a loud creak that I’m sure can be heard all over Hope Creek.
I hold my breath as I open it all the way. My other hand tightens its grip on the branch.
I don’t see anyone, though, or anything.
In fact, there’s nothing there. No trees. No bushes. No buildings. Just a bare expanse of reddish land as far as the eye can see. I pause to take it in.
I’ve been out of the dome a few times before. Still, each time, I feel like I’m waking up from a dream and I have to pause to let myself adjust. That’s how different the outside world is from Hope Creek.
Here, there are no animals or plants. There’s no food. No shelter.
No life.
Or so I think until I see what Toby must have been barking at—something curled on the ground just a few feet away from the edge of the trench.
An animal carcass?
I glance at Toby and gesture for him to go and inspect the pile, but he just takes a step back.
I frown.
“All bark and no bite,” I tell him before stepping out of the hatch.
As soon as I step on the sheet of metal outside the hatch, it jolts. The branch falls from my hand and hits the water several feet below with an inaudible splash.
A lump forms in my throat.
As the sheet extends to form a bridge over the deep trench a foot at a time, I try not to look down. I gaze straight ahead while positioning my feet wide apart and spreading my arms to keep my balance.
After what seems like an eternity, it stops. I jump onto solid ground and after warily looking in every direction, I approach the pile I saw earlier.
Moments later, my eyes rest on a nest of sand-colored hair turned mud, on tattered white robes and pale skin.
Nope. Not an animal.
A human.
I brush away the dirty blonde strands and frown.
A woman.
“Shit.”
I push the woman onto her back and press my ear against her chest. I hold my breath as I listen for a heartbeat.
Come on.
Something flutters against my ear.
A heartbeat.
Thank goodness.
Behind me, Toby barks.
“Oh, now you’re interested again, are you?” I ask him as I look at the woman’s body.
So she’s not a corpse. It’s an astounding fact considering that she’s all alone and wearing such thin clothes. I have no clue where she’s from or how she got here or when.
Was she lying here the whole time?
“Hey!” I shake her, but I don’t get any response.
What’s more, her skin feels cold to the touch.
I frown.
I have to get her warm. I have to get her inside a house and under a thick quilt. Not to mention I have to get her out of this hell where a demon could easily find her and extinguish what little life she has left.
Or do I?
I glanc
e back at the wall and the dome that I don’t see but which I know is there right behind me.
If I bring this woman in, there’ll be one more person who knows that Hope Creek exists. What if she escapes and tells others about it? Or what if she stays and causes trouble? Even if she doesn’t, she’ll be one more mouth to feed.
An impatient bark from Toby snaps me out of my thoughts.
What am I thinking? This woman is a human being just like me, and she needs my help. In fact, I’m pretty sure she’ll die if I leave her here. So how can I? I’ve seen more than my fair share of deaths. I won’t let hers be on me. Angie would never forgive me for it.
Besides, there’s more than enough food in Hope Creek for now, and she’s already come this far.
The decision made, I slip my arms under the woman and lift her up, carrying her like a baby.
A big baby.
She may look small, but she’s still too big for my arms. And heavier than she looks.
I don’t complain, though. After carrying bales of hay and piles of firewood, not to mention injured comrades during my days back on the battlefield, this is no big deal.
Toby barks again.
“Oh, shut up unless you plan to help me,” I tell him as I start heading back to the hatch.
He shuts up, but even with the silence, I struggle to make it over the trench and back to the wall. Keeping my balance earlier was tricky enough. Keeping my balance while carrying someone in my arms is a serious challenge, and I have to stop a few times just to make sure neither of us falls.
Finally, I reach the wall and step inside the hatch.
Toby cocks his head and looks at me curiously.
“Yeah. Thanks for the help.”
He runs off and I set the woman down so I can close the hatch. As I do, I notice that the bridge has already disappeared. Once it’s shut, I give it a push just to make sure it stays in place. Then I step away from the wall and stand over the woman I’ve just brought over the trench.
She’s still not stirring, just breathing.
It makes me wonder if she has internal injuries, or if she’s in some kind of a coma.
I lift her in my arms again and start walking in the direction of the house. Toby’s muddy paw prints squish beneath my boots.
