“I’m sorry,” I said, insufficiently. “I’m not sure what to say. Can we talk about it tomorrow?”
I kissed him, wholly, intensely, feeling the fire of molten gold washing over us both. I wrapped that feeling up, let it cool, and hung it like a chain around my neck. The feeling was not gone, just postponed.
I could feel his restlessness; I knew he wanted to press me for answers. But he knew me. He knew he would have to wait.
We curled up under the covers. He reached out his hand and placed it on my hip, then lifted it tentatively. “Can I?”
“Of course.”
I flipped over and snuggled into the crook of his arm, laying my head across his bare chest, exhaling slowly. It would be easier if I could just let it all go, but I couldn’t. And I knew the truth of the matter was—if I loved him, there was no rush. It deserved more than we were giving it.
As I let sleep grab me with its wispy, white fingers, my mind wandered to my friends, friends I sorely missed. Rash would have been able to make light of this. And as I pictured him, his dark eyebrows raised, absolute mischief in his eyes, I knew he wasn’t a ghost, and maybe that’s why I couldn’t let him go. I didn’t know what happened to him.
Clara. Clara was gone. And I carried her memory around with me, holding it close to my chest, stitching it in there. She would have offered some consolation, some wisdom, to make me see the sense of my decision.
I cursed their absence. Then I cursed my selfishness, my undeserving luck at being the one who survived, who got away.
I turned my head and started to weep. A pathetic, self-pitying noise that I was ashamed emanated from my lips.
Joseph’s hand cupped the tip of my shoulder. “Rosa,” he whispered tentatively, “was it something I did?” His words were so sincere, so full of worry. Was I always to be a source of worry for him? How could I tell him, in this moment, that I missed Rash?
I couldn’t.
He pulled my body back towards his chest. It curled away from him, curled around a feeling I couldn’t quite name, but that was tied up with missing, aching, unfinished business and somewhere in there, anger.
The last thing I remember thinking before sleep finally engulfed me was, Mother, I curse you.
You didn’t prepare me for anything. I am lost and you probably don’t even care if I’m alive or dead. You taught me nothing about what it would be like, how it would feel to give yourself to a man. To trust him entirely. How could you teach me anything about love? You chose so poorly and I have been paying for that choice my whole life.
I wish you had chosen me.
I forgot where we were. I let the cozy, timber home envelope me and make me feel safe. I let the people in. Let them help me. They made me believe in something that wasn’t real. I forgot that with the green, the plushness, and shiny plant life that pushed up and surrounded us, with the nourishment it provided came—the fur, the claws, the teeth.
This was not our place. We were borrowers. No longer were we the dominant species. Our time had passed.
We were small in number and frame.
We were supposed to run.
Climb.
Cower
I forgot.
Joseph and I danced around each other the next couple of days. Neither of us willing to bring it up, until it went too long without being addressed and we started to just ignore it. We looked after Orry, explored the surrounding forests, cooked, and cleaned.
I began constructing a cot for Orry, which calmed me down immeasurably. I walked up to the patch of woods that sprung up just past the final row of houses. I shook down the bendy saplings, chipping my numb fingertips with tiny icicles. These trees had bad timing, much like myself. They’d seeded in the wrong season. They’d popped up just before snow had started to fall and would never survive winter. Their bendy trunks made the perfect frame for the rocking cot I wanted to make.
I cut them down and hauled them back to the house, dragging up filthy ice as I went. Quite often a neighbor would see me and offer assistance. Everyone was so friendly it made me feel a bit ill. I tried to be nice, said thank you, offered them help in return. But it all felt like pressure. I just hoped I would get there eventually.
Joseph seemed unused to idleness and after a few days, he was aching to do something. He took a spinner down to Deshi and a few hours later he came back with a job offer. He was going to work in the hospital, study under Matthew and become a real doctor.
“You sure you can handle all that blood and guts?” I teased.
“I handle you on a daily basis. Can’t be worse than that!” he said. Quickly pulling it back and saying, “Sorry. I mean, I was just joking.”
I rolled my eyes. Things were too polite between us.
I was gathering clients of my own. After I’d finished my cot, curious eyes poked through windows. Then hands rapped on my door. Once they saw what I could do, I was asked to build things, fix things, and come up with designs. This I could do.
Careen even came and swapped game for company. She ate with us sometimes. She seemed to have very little cooking skills despite her affinity for carving meat. I taught her the basics. It was nice feeling… like I had something to give, to offer.
One night after we had shared dinner, we decided to stoke the fire and sit up for a while. I’d started to trust Careen a little more with Orry and she held him close, touching the tip of his nose and showing him her big teeth. He reached up and clasped her pledge necklace, twisting it in his fingers. We still hadn’t been asked about that and I wasn’t going to volunteer.
Joseph’s eyelids were fluttering; I could tell he was close to sleep. He had been at the hospital a lot. He was avoiding me.
Careen watched me, her eyes twitching a bit.
“What’s the matter with you? You having a stroke?” I whispered
She blushed, her usual confident demeanor awkward.
“No,” she said. “It’s just, I wanted to say something. You don’t make it very easy.”
“What?” I was worried she was going to profess her love for Joseph.
“I met someone,” she whispered. It was her treasured secret. I had the cruel thought that maybe she had invented it in her head, but held my tongue.
“That’s… nice. Who?”
“Oh, he’s a hunter. He’s a bit older but then everyone is. He’s great! I’ll bring him up to meet you both.” I bobbed my head along as she chattered on about him. I was happy for her. Maybe he was deaf! My ears were filling with suds and water noises as I started to feel myself drifting off too.
Then we heard it.
It was a sudden and terrifying roar, a hollowing sound that seemed to be louder and wider than any one creature could make. But it wasn’t the worst noise to hear; I could have heard that noise a million times over the noise that followed.
It was the scream of the worst suffering known. Like someone had reached inside this man, pulled out his spine, and was rattling it for fun. And for all I know, that’s precisely what was happening.
Careen stood up and handed me Orry, gracefully running to the rifle she had left against the wall.
“Tigers,” she muttered to herself.
“What? You can’t go out there,” I said, shocked at how readily she jumped at the chance to put herself in danger. She’d certainly changed from the girl who’d left Joseph for dead.
Joseph snapped out of light sleep and strode to the door. I caught his arm and felt him stiffen.
“What are you doing?” I screeched.
“Someone’s hurt; I have to try to help.”
“What?” I didn’t know exactly what a tiger was but by the roar and the scream that followed, I knew it must be dangerous. Careen was gripping her rifle hard, turning her knuckles white. I looked at them both, pleading with my eyes. “Please. You can’t go out there, neither of you can.”
Joseph glanced at me briefly. He relaxed his tense shoulders, bringing them down in a jerky movement like he was trying to convince himself no
t to be angry. If he was going to explain, or try to make me feel better, he decided against it.
“Barricade the door,” he yelled as he stormed out, following Careen. A pair of perfect-looking, perfect idiots. I was furious, my thoughts harried and weakening. What was he trying to prove? I dragged a chair over and jammed it under the door. I then started my nervous pacing around the room, every now and then peeking out the window.
I couldn’t see anything and apart from the initial scream, there was no sound. I tapped the glass nervously with my newly grown back nails.
Click, click, click.
Grabbing the torch, I scanned the backyard, then went to the front yard and did the same. The thin stream of light barely managed to harass the darkness out of the way so I could see one snippet of a scene. I did this for about half an hour, gripping Orry close and trying to breathe. As I walked, I got angrier and angrier, feeling flames wrapping around me and heating my temper. If he wasn’t dead, I was going to kill him.
On my rounds of poking the torch out the window, something flagged in the corner of the small shaft of light. A paw. It stopped dead in the torchlight like it was a solid barrier. The creature was a still as stone but in the cold I could see mist floating away from its muzzle. I moved the torch inch by inch over its body as slowly as I could, the light shaking and dancing with the trembling of my hands.
It was the strangest creature I had seen yet. Its flame-orange fur pooled in its chest and then fanned out in a diluted white and orange spray. Along its back, black stripes ran like jagged scratches, hugging its ribcage. The black and orange markings spread all the way down to a fluffy, long tail that was only slightly shifting under the light. It was enormous.
It had been facing forward up until now, its long body pointing towards the other homes, its face focused on something further away. I flicked the torch light behind it, discovering several other paws, under several other tall, muscular creatures. There were five of them. When I came back to the leader, it turned and seemed to be looking directly at me. My heart stopped. I swear its ears reacted to the change in my heartbeat. It knew there was blood flowing through my veins. I could feel it pumping hard and inviting this terrible creature closer.
It opened its mouth wide and I could see the damaging fangs. It didn’t roar—it yawned. Had it had its fill? The idea made me feel sick. That man, that poor man.
A shot cracked open the silence and the animal started running. I held my breath as they turned and ran through the gap between our house and our neighbors. They went file like foot soldiers in ineffectual camouflage. My gaze connected with the man that lived next door, his eyes unblinking and wide with fear in the window across from ours.
They padded through noiselessly, a whisk of orange and white blur, and they were gone.
The entire house shuddered in relief. But I couldn’t un-see that scene. Now I knew they were out there.
The door rattled and I jumped. Fervent knocking startled me to action. No animal was going to politely knock at the door. I let out a hysterical laugh at the thought of it. ‘Excuse me, would you mind terribly if I came in and ate you?’
“Rosa, open up.” Joseph’s voice was ragged. I knew he had to be alive. Somehow, I thought I would have to feel something if he were really in trouble.
I opened the door and several men pushed past me, dragging what I assume used to be a person under what was left of his arms. I gagged involuntarily.
They laid him down. He stared at the ceiling, a barely audible whimper coming from his bluish lips. How he was alive, I’ll never know. I wondered whether will took over at that point. His body was devastated. There were parts of him that didn’t look human, straggly streams of torn flesh attached to his body, or protruded out of his shredded pant leg. Anyone could tell he was a dead man. He must have been hanging on to life by sheer force of will.
Let go, I thought.
The men stood around him in a broken semi-circle, bewildered looks on their faces, gripping their guns like they were teddy bears.
I watched Joseph calmly and methodically move around his patient, wrapping up his wounds, compressing bleeders. All the while, talking to the man in reassuring whispers. It gave me insight into what he was capable of, his talent and his strength. If it was possible, it made me love him more.
He looked up, his eyes piercing and focused. “Has anyone called the hospital?”
One of the men stepped forward. “He won’t survive.”
Joseph’s broad back shivered. The acceptance was in his face but when he looked at the man, he spoke comforting words.
Joseph put his hand to his forehead like he was trying to read something in his head. He rolled up a jacket and placed it under the man’s head. Reaching into his small medical bag, he pulled out a syringe, loading it with clear fluid.
“For the pain,” he said.
The man took his one good arm and crawled it to his chest with his fingertips, finding the pledge charm and gripping it tightly. His dark face was going grey as the blood drained from his body.
I kneeled down at his head, trying not to look at the rest of him, just his face. His eyes rolled around but when he found mine, they locked onto them. “Marina? Marina,” he gurgled, blood pooling in his mouth.
I nodded. I would be Marina. I stroked his hair
He stared at me and I could see a smile crossing his lips as he breathed out once and never breathed back in.
It took the men, Careen, and I a couple of hours to clean up the blood. I made them cups of tea and tried to keep them in the house but they were anxious to get back out there. They wanted to make sure everyone was safe and then report to the town leaders.
Joseph was in shock. After his efforts, he’d collapsed in a chair and hadn’t moved since. His face was pale, with his shirt rolled up to his elbows and crusted with blood. His eyes stared vacantly off into space.
After everyone left and Orry was settled, I turned my attention to Joseph. He was shaking a little, a dark look on his face. I tugged his sleeves down over his wrists, running my finger along the old, scooped-out scar on his forearm. I gently pulled the blood-soaked shirt over his head and tried to put a new one on.
He grabbed both my wrists tightly and shook me once. He stared at me intensely, his green eyes swirling and slightly wild.
“Just leave it,” he whispered almost angrily and pulled me into his arms roughly. I balled the shirt into my fist and threw it on the floor.
I curled up in his lap and pressed my ear to his chest, listening to his heart beating so fast I thought it would wear out. I slowly moved my hand in circles across his skin until his breathing slowed. We fell asleep in the chair. Both reminded that we were not protected and that even though we were in a house, this was the wilderness. We were prey.
The day after our encounter with the tigers, we were summoned to a meeting at the movie theater. Although to me, it seemed more like we had walked into the middle of an argument. I wondered if this was how they ran things? It almost made me miss the rigid order of the Superiors. At least they just got on with things. These people were talking in circles.
Five people sat on the stage behind a low desk covered by a frayed tablecloth. A podium was set up facing them, where people were taking turns addressing the leaders. It was a mess of yelling, swearing, and heated emotions. What I could gather was people were upset about the tigers and they were thinking of moving the ‘plan’ date forward. It felt like I’d flipped open to the middle of a book. I could read the words, get a sense of the action, but had no idea why they were doing what they were doing. As they talked though, things started to clear.
“We’re not safe here,” a man with ash-blond hair shouted, brandishing his fist in the air.
“Calm down, everyone. I’ll admit that what happened was a horrible tragedy, but we all know not to go out at night. Feliks knew that too.”
A woman piped up, “Maybe we should go ahead with the plans, you know, the ones we’ve been talking about for yea
rs. Maybe this is the motivation we need.” She glanced sideways at me. I shrunk away. What did they want with me?
“Let’s think about this logically. We have few weapons and no choppers. Our numbers are small. It’s not the right time,” a man on the stage said calmly.
“What about the Spiders?” a woman yelled. I noticed it was Gwen. Her eyes fierce, she seemed ready to storm the concrete walls of the Woodlands right then and there.
I was lost. I turned to Cal to ask but then felt an arm link with mine. My first reaction was to shake it off. It was too familiar, that was Clara’s place. The arm felt like crinkled paper and I knew it was Addy.
People obviously knew what Gwen was talking about because the emotions in the room raised higher, voices and heated breath pushing the roof off the place.
“What’s a Spider?” I whispered to Addy.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I felt like saying, Get on with it, old woman. Every time she spoke it was an ordeal, like it took too much energy to open her mouth at all. “Spiders are our people on the inside. They live in the Rings and feed us information about what’s going on in there.”
The name dawned on me… like the spider that had nearly killed Joseph. These people would have to be invisible, part of the rings, unnoticeable. Clever.
One of the leaders spoke again, trying to regain some order. “Look! The Spiders have reported unease amongst the people. They have now announced that no children will be born after a certain date. They have provided contraception and have already started their usual pattern of selecting out examples to punish. The Superiors do seem to be plotting something. They are pulling more children into the Classes and training most of them as soldiers. Of course, this doesn’t sound good. But they seem to have a timeframe in mind. They are waiting for winter to end before they move. As far as we know, they are still unaware of our location. We have time. We need to keep gathering intel and find out what else the Superiors know.”
The room swayed and swirled with hundreds of voices. Some angry, some scared. Most just trying to understand what she had just said—me especially.
The Wall (The Woodlands) Page 15
