Girl Divided

by Willow Rose

  Water soon dripped on her face and the sound grew louder.

  Drip. Drip. Drip.

  She took in a deep breath and smelled the rain, let it shower her, but the sound grew louder and louder, the smell violent.

  Jetta opened her eyes and sat up in the attic, feeling groggy. Tyler was still heavily asleep next to her, like the rest of them. She looked around and realized what had woken her up. The faucet in the small kitchen was dripping, hitting a small spoon.

  She got up, walked to the sink, and turned the faucet off. The sound was gone, but the smell still lingered.

  The smell of rain.

  Jetta turned her head and the smell became stronger. She walked towards the mattresses on the floor and sniffed, sensing the smell growing more and more forceful. As she approached Mr. Richards on his mattress, she realized it was coming from him.

  His cheeks were blushing. He was burning up with a fever, moaning in his sleep, if it was sleep at all.

  Jetta rushed to Tyler and woke him up, shaking his shoulder. "Wake up, Tyler. Wake up, something is wrong with Mr. Richards."

  Tyler blinked a few times, and then came back to reality. "What's that?"

  "He's running a fever. It's bad," she said.

  Soon after, more of them woke up. First the mom, Alyssa, then the dad, John, who was white but married to a black woman.

  Jetta had learned their story and how they had been threatened in the beginning of the war by strange phone calls in the middle of the night. They had woken up one day to their house being painted red, decorated with the N-word and big swastikas. Rocks were thrown through their windows when they ate dinner; the neighbors refused to help them with anything or even speak to them, except when telling John that the fact that he was married to a black—to one of them—made the value of their houses drop and was a disgrace to the entire neighborhood.

  When the soldiers came for them, to take the wife and the kids to the ghetto, John had asked to go with them. But life for a white man in the ghetto had been tough. Lots of beatings every day and someone even tried to strangle him while he was asleep. Mrs. Johnson had seen the need to bring them out, especially since the children, being mixed as they were, were being harassed and threatened.

  Jetta had never shown them her whole face, fearing it would scare them, but she felt more closely connected to them than they knew.

  "What's going on?" Alyssa whispered and sat up. "It's still bright daylight outside. You're making too much noise."

  "Something is wrong with Mr. Richards," Jetta said, keeping her voice down. "He has a fever."

  Alyssa and John looked at one another.

  "Let me see," John said and got up. He walked to Mr. Richards.

  "Careful. Don't touch him, John," Alyssa said.

  John looked at her. "If he's sick, then it's probably already too late. For all of us."

  Chapter 20

  The smell of rain grew stronger over the following days. It was all over the attic. So was the fear. While Mr. Richards stayed on his mattress, barely making a sound, barely waking up, his face blushing with fever, the rest of them could do nothing but watch. Watch and wait, constantly asking themselves, who will be next? Will it be me?

  Alyssa and John kept the kids in the furthest corner from the old man, as if they thought the germs couldn't reach that far. The entire family sat most of the day huddled up, blankets around them, drinking hot tea.

  Tyler had told Jetta to stay far away from the old man too, but as the days passed, she began to loathe herself for not doing anything. There were still several days till the food arrived and they had no way of contacting the Johnsons otherwise.

  By the time they had eaten their once-daily meal and just before the sun rose on the third day after Mr. Richards got sick, the old man suddenly opened his eyes and whispered something, "Water. Please."

  Alyssa and John looked at each other. John was about to get up, but Alyssa grabbed his arm and shook her head.

  "Don't."

  Jetta looked at Tyler, who also shook his head. "It's too dangerous."

  "I can't just let him lie there," Jetta said.

  "You'll get infected," he said. "And then you'll infect me."

  Tyler's hand rested on her shoulder.

  "It's time to sleep now," he said. "There is nothing you can do. Get some rest."

  Jetta grunted, dissatisfied, then went to bed like the rest of them. As soon as everyone was heavily asleep, she rose to her feet, walked to the kitchen and poured a glass of water, then brought it to Mr. Richards.

  She helped him raise his head, supporting his neck, and helped him drink. Some of the water ran down on his shirt and made it wet, but some made it into his mouth, saturating his lips that had turned white. The smell of rain was very strong near him. Jetta enjoyed smelling it; it made her feel good. A fact that immediately filled her with guilt.

  "Thank you," he barely whispered and she helped him lay his head down again on the dirty mattress. "You're an angel."

  "More like the devil," a voice said from the other side of the room.

  Jetta gasped and looked up. Alyssa was awake and looking at her. "What do you think you’re doing?"

  "What's going on?" John asked sleepily.

  "This is. The girl in the hoodie just made sure we're all gonna die, that's what's happening."

  He sat up brusquely. "What?"

  Tyler had woken up too and came up behind Jetta. "Hey. She's just trying to help the man get a little water. He is sick."

  John was on his feet now, sweat springing from his forehead, fear causing his eyes to flare.

  "She’s risking all of us getting infected. She'll be spreading those germs to the rest of us, don't you see?"

  Tyler shook his head and put a hand on Jetta's shoulder. "You said so yourself. It's already too late. The old man has been sick for days. Here we are breathing the same air as him. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to escape this thing. If we get sick, we get sick. Nothing much we can do about it."

  John snorted. "Well, maybe not for you, but I’m staying over here with my family, protecting my children. You stay over there in your end from now on and don't bother to come over here. Don't touch anything that we touch, you hear me?"

  Chapter 21

  Mr. Richards was dead when they woke up later in the day. Jetta was the first to realize he was gone. She could smell it. The sweet smell woke her up. She approached the man and looked into his wide-open eyes. It was strange to her how death didn't frighten her. It should, shouldn't it? Yet, it didn't. Not even the least bit. As a matter of fact, it fascinated her. She almost felt drawn to it. To the lifeless body. The stiffness of his limbs was fascinating to her, so were his open mouth and white lips. But most of all, the emptiness.

  It's nothing but a shell.

  Tyler woke up next and came to her. His reaction was different. Jetta was surprised to see tears in his eyes. He pulled Jetta away, but she couldn't take her eyes off the dead body. Something about it made her feel, well, she didn't know how to describe it except with the word comfortable, which seemed so terribly inappropriate in this situation.

  "It's okay," Tyler said and stroked her hair gently. "He’s in a better place now. I guess anywhere is better than here, huh?"

  Jetta nodded. "Yeah."

  The family woke up too and, as they spotted Mr. Richards lying there, one of the children, Kevin, screamed. His mother grabbed him and covered his mouth while he screamed, to be sure no one heard.

  "Make him shut up," John hissed at his wife.

  Jetta had never heard him speak like that to her. He was usually so gentle and sweet. She wondered where that came from so suddenly.

  "It's the fear," Tyler whispered like he had read her mind. "Fear makes people quarrel and say things they don't mean."

  Jetta was thirsty and walked towards the kitchen when John stopped her. "Where do you think you're going?"

  "To get a glass of water. I'm thirsty."

  "No," John said and got up.
He was standing in front of his family like he thought she would attack them using her water cup. "You're not touching the faucet. We don't want your germ-filled fingers on anything around here. You hear me? You stay over there with the disease."

  "But…I'm thirsty."

  "I'll fill you a pot of water and you can drink from that. Just don't touch the handle of the pot. I'll wash it with soap afterward. Scoop up the water with your cup. Okay?"

  Tyler walked closer. "That's ridiculous."

  "Stop. Don't get any closer to us. You two slept all night pretty closely bundled up and close to that…" he pointed at Mr. Richards, who apparently didn't even have a name anymore. "You're filled with the germs too."

  "We’re still alive," Tyler said. "We still need food and drinks and to go to the bathroom."

  "You do that over there," he almost yelled. He ran to the sink, stuck his head in under it and pulled out a bucket, then threw it at Tyler. It landed on the floor and made a loud noise.

  "John!" Alyssa said. "You're gonna let the entire neighborhood know we are in here!"

  He pointed his finger at Alyssa. "Shut up, woman. Just shut up. You people don't know anything about diseases. I was a physician all my grown life. Believe me, I know."

  Alyssa got up and looked at her husband disapprovingly.

  "You people?"

  Realizing what he had said, John froze. "I…I…you know what I mean. The rest of you."

  She shook her head in disbelief.

  "No, that is not what you meant, John. You meant you as in us, as in me and them, as in black and white, didn't you? You never thought I was quite good enough, did you? Or smart enough or educated enough for you."

  "Alyssa, that's not fair. I…I didn't mean to…I never said that…I was talking as a medical professional…"

  "Uh-huh," Alyssa said, placing her hands at her sides. "Was it also as a medical professional that you decided to let three years pass before I got to meet your mother, huh? We had a kid, John. We had a child together. We were married and yet I wasn't allowed to meet your mother. Why is that?"

  John sighed. "You know why that is."

  "Because she's a darn racist, that's why."

  "Yes. I knew she wouldn't approve."

  "And you knew it would kill her if you brought home a dirty black woman and some dirty children as well, didn't you?"

  He scoffed. "Yes. But…that has nothing to do with…"

  Alyssa scoffed and turned her back on him. "Don't talk to me right now. Just don't talk to me."

  John snorted, then looked at Tyler. "Now look at what you've done."

  Tyler threw out his hands while backing up. "I didn't do nothing, man. You the one in trouble."

  "You're the racists," John said. "All of you are. I saw the way you looked at me when you got here."

  "John," Alyssa said from their corner.

  John didn't react. He pointed his finger angrily at Jetta. "It's all your fault. I don't even want to see you. You stay over there. You hear me?" He addressed Tyler. "You better keep her over there or…or…"

  Tyler crossed his arms in front of his chest. He was a big guy, a lot bigger than John.

  "Or what?"

  "John!" Alyssa said.

  "Maybe you should sleep with one eye open," John said.

  Tyler chuckled and shook his head. "Is this guy for real? Is he for real?"

  "Just sayin'. We don't have enough food as it is. You're big. You eat a lot."

  "Are you seriously threatening me?" Tyler said, stepping forward.

  "You keep that little weirdo away from us, you hear me?” John said. "Her with that hoodie covering her face. You make her stay away."

  "My pleasure," Tyler said.

  "JOHN!"

  It wasn't until now that John had realized the desperation in Alyssa's voice. Jetta had heard it from the get-go and she even knew why. She had smelled it.

  John turned around.

  "What?"

  "It's Kevin." Alyssa's eyes were big and wide. Fear was blazing through them. "He's burning up."

  Chapter 22

  For the second time, she dreamt about Tyler when they finally fell asleep again. While Alyssa and John cared for their sick child and argued about everything, every little detail, and especially who was to blame for him being sick, Jetta dozed off into a heavy sleep. Like the first time she had dreamt about him, she dreamt she was in Tyler's mind, that she was looking out and seeing the world through his eyes.

  They were back at the ghetto. She wasn't there. He was inside, walking through the hallway and approaching a door. It had the red mark on it that they painted on the apartments where everyone who lived there had died. Carefully, he pushed the door open. Holding his sleeve to his mouth, he walked inside. It was dark in there and hard to see. As he walked further inside, she saw bodies. Four of them lying on the couches, on mattresses, and even on the floor. She saw Tyler kneel next to a woman and reach out his hand when Jetta was pulled out of her dream and woken up by someone screaming.

  "Kevin! Wake up, Kevin!"

  It was Alyssa, Kevin's mother. She was holding her son in her arms, frantically touching him, trying to wake him up, but the child wasn't reacting. Jetta felt Tyler's arm around her and he pulled her closer like he was protecting her.

  John bent over the child and tried to blow air into Kevin's mouth, desperately calling his name, pressing his chest, then blowing again, crying, sobbing helplessly.

  But it was too late. Jetta already knew it was. The smell of rain in her nostrils was so strong it almost felt like she was outside.

  Tyler started to sob now. Jetta looked up at him and wondered. Why didn't death sadden her? Why didn't she cry? Seeing their sadness, seeing the parents weep did make her feel something, a sort of sadness you might call it, but she didn't cry when she saw the dead child. Why was that?

  Was it because she was evil like her grandmother had told her she was? How did you know if you were evil or not? If you acted by what you thought was best, but it hurt someone, did that mean you were evil? Was it possible to be born evil?

  "Oh, my dear Kevin," Alyssa cried and held her dead child tightly.

  Tyler was crying heavily now too. Sniffling and sobbing behind her. Jetta turned around and hugged him.

  "It's okay," she whispered. "He's in a better place now, remember? Anywhere is better than here."

  Tyler sniffled and hugged her back. "I know. I know."

  Later in the night, after hours of silence in the attic, the grieving parents keeping to themselves, mourning their son, she asked Tyler, "How do you know if you're evil?"

  He shrugged. "That's a tough one. But I guess if you're wondering about whether you are or not, then you're not."

  "Tyler, why don't I cry when people die?"

  He sighed and looked at her with great wonder. Then he chuckled and pulled her close.

  "People have different ways of showing grief or sorrow. Some blurt it out, some keep it inside. I’m sure you feel sad deep inside, but you just don't know how to show it, am I right?" He poked her teasingly. "Either that or maybe you really are pure evil," he added, laughing.

  Jetta chuckled, but she didn't agree. She really didn't feel sad inside.

  Chapter 23

  They were all waiting for death. In the coming nights, no one spoke much even when they were awake. The slightest cough from anyone would result in a wave of fear spreading through the attic. But after three days, no one else had become sick and they were starting to talk about what to do next. Tyler tried to talk to John about how to notify the Johnsons and they decided someone had to stay by the door for when they slid the basket of food through the next day and tell them what was going on. They agreed that Tyler would do it the following day. He was to sleep by the door at the bottom of the stairs so he would wake up when they came with the food.

  Jetta woke up in the middle of her dream about the talking antelope again, telling her wonderful stories about worlds far away. A noise had woken her up and, at fir
st, she thought it was Tyler.

  Had he already gotten a hold of the Johnsons? Was he talking to them?

  Jetta got up and walked to the staircase, but found Tyler sound asleep in a strange curled up position on the stairs. She looked at him, then decided it had been her dream, and walked back to her spot, but as soon as she closed her eyes, she heard it again.

  She looked around the attic. John and Alyssa were asleep, Alyssa whimpering slightly, holding her other child, Clive, close in her embrace. At the other end of the attic lay Mr. Richard's and Kevin's dead bodies, covered in blankets. It was very quiet. She walked to the window but moved away when she heard the humming sound of a drone approaching. It hovered outside the window for about a minute, while Jetta hid.

  When she heard it leave, she peeked out at the gray sky above. It had been a long time since she had last seen the sun. In the distance, she heard a big explosion and it made her jump. She pulled away from the window and wondered if she could sleep anymore, then walked towards her spot, tiptoeing to not wake anyone up. That was when she heard the strange sound again. It was like a jangle coming from a child's rattle. It seemed to be coming from the other end of the attic, where they had put the dead bodies. Jetta looked in that direction but couldn't see anything, then walked closer. The rattling returned and got louder. Jetta had to make it stop, afraid it might wake up the others.

  "Hello?" she whispered.

  More rattling.

  "Is anyone here?"

  Rattling.

  "Hello?"

  That was when she realized one of the blankets was moving. She pulled back at first, but then decided to see what it was and grabbed it. She pulled off the blanket. Beneath it, she found Kevin. Jetta stared at his dead body with awe and fascination, her head tilted, when suddenly he opened his eyes and stared back at her.

  Jetta flew backward and dropped the blanket to the floor.

  There was a loud clang followed by more rattling and Kevin's bones rose out of his body and came together in the air. And while she stared, her mouth wide open, flesh grew and skin covered the bones, but there was no breath in him.