Текст книги "The Wounded"

Автор книги: Lauren Nicolle Taylor

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Plastic chairs shuffled and Orry stirred in my arms, his little nose twitching.

Rash smirked. “I still can't believe you're a mother. A real deal mother.” His teeth flashed white and proud at me.

Joseph shuffled closer and stood over Rash. “And a good one.”

I yawned, saying, “Yeah right,” and rubbed my eyes. I leaned my head on Rash’s shoulder, and Joseph flinched above me. It had been like this since they met at the hospital. Awkward. Weird.

I lifted my head to Joseph; he looked weary but still beautiful. His freckles faded from spending so much time inside. “Are you going to do that every time we touch?” As soon as I said the words, I regretted them. He didn’t say anything; he just clenched one hand in a fist by his side and walked away.

My eyes returned to Apella’s grey, papery hand. I hated her like this. You could probably lift her skin off like a silt blanket, and she wouldn’t care or notice. Sleeping, she already looked dead, except for the labored breath and the slight flick of her eyes under her eyelids as she dreamed.

“You shouldn't have said that to beautiful, blond man, you know,” Rash said, his dark eyes focused on his neatly clasped hands between his knees.

I smiled weakly. “Don't call him that; he hates it.”

Rash flashed me a grin. “Well, I won't say it to his face anymore. Geez, you'd think he'd take it as a compliment!”

“I don't think he knows how to take you,” I said, knocking his shoulder.

“Like the amazing guy I am, baby.”

“You’re an idiot,” I said, swiping a stray tear from my cheek.

Rash shrugged. ”Yeah, but you love me.”

“Yep, I do.” Like family, like a brother.

Apella’s eyes dashed around under her lids. Thin blue veins spidered their way across her brow. She was fighting, at least for now.

I stood and placed Orry in the crook of her willowy arm. Pulling up the bed rail, I tucked him in. Alexei slept in the other bed, sedated. Hessa was curled in a cot between them. I made a wish for Apella to dream of her family, her babies. Something safe and warm.

I leaned down and kissed Rash on the forehead. He shook his head like it was gross. “What’d you do that for?”

I poked my tongue out at him. “What do you reckon?”

He just smiled.

“Go home and get some rest, Rash,” I said shoving him gently.

“You’ll be ok?” His tired eyes flickered concern.

I wasn't sure, but I nodded. My heart hurt like the spaces inside it were being scraped down and widened. I would be ok, but Apella wouldn't. She hadn't woken up, she coughed in her sleep, and she muttered incoherently. Matthew said she might not wake up at all.

Rash’s steps grew quieter, and I was alone with the breaths of the dying and grieving. One came in gasps like gravel, and the other like a cry. Would Alexei survive losing her?

I twisted my hair in my fingers as I paced, watching my son breathe happily beside her. He was perfect. He was the good thing, the unbreakable thing, that would make me be ok. I would make sure I survived this for him.

All this intervention. Bags dripped to replenish her fluids, and oxygen swirled in what was left of her lungs. Ash had set like concrete inside her.

I leaned in and pulled a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She’d probably hate that I touched her like that. I felt the cry trying to escape from my throat, and I held it in. This grief, this sadness, was like a scrabbling animal with razor sharp talons. It hurt but I knew if I let it out, it would be too much for me.

Her face was so unfamiliar. Was she in there? I wanted to talk to her so much I felt like shaking her. I took a step back and knocked one of the chairs to the ground.

I bent down to pick it up, the leg scraping over the tiles.

A finger flicked.

I looked up.

And Apella opened her eyes.

I grasped at the red button and click, click, clicked it, fast understanding it was broken. Picking up Orry, I went to Alexei, rattling his lonely body until he woke. He rolled over and gazed at me confused. “Ro…sa?”

“It’s Apella,” I said, with a rigid smile, forcing myself into it because I wasn’t sure what it meant. “She’s awake!”

He sprung to her side like they’d always been attached, and I ran to find Matthew and Joseph.

*****

She woke slowly, as in it took hours. She seemed to be grasping at consciousness, digging her nails in and hoisting herself up, only to have something drag her back under. Alexei coaxed her like you would a child hiding under the bed from monsters, and gradually she pulled free of her coma.

She flung her hand haplessly at the glass on the table in front of her, and I placed it to her lips. She took a brief sip, pursed her lips like it tasted bad, and shook her head, pushing it away. She attempted to clear her throat, but it was like urging cement uphill. “Deshi?” she croaked desperately, her eyes moving hollowly towards Joseph.

He dipped his chin to his chest before finding her eyes. “No… I’m sorry.”

Her eyes were wet, but no tears fell. I sensed she didn’t have the energy. She attempted to breath and collapsed over coughing. “Whaaat now?” she wheezed after it stopped. It was exhausting watching her fight for every breath. Each word she spoke punctured her throat and sent her into a coughing fit. Every time she took a breath, I was so scared it was her last.

Her eyes still begged for an answer.

What now?

No one answered. We didn’t know.

*****

Hours later, a speckle of stars had pushed their way through the dark windows.

Rash tugged at my shirtsleeve. “Take a walk with me,” he said in a forced, casual voice.

I swung my head to the others crowded around Apella’s bed. “Go,” Joseph said with a cranky shrug. “Get some air.”

I ignored his attitude and grinned “Mmm… air,” I said, smacking my lips. “I wouldn’t mind something other than recycled hospital air!” He rolled his eyes at me, but there was slight smile in the corner near his dimple.

I followed Rash through the hospital doors, scrapes of cleared debris running in rainbow arcs of dust on the pavement. “Where are we going?” I asked as he grabbed my elbowed and steered me towards Addy’s apartment. “Um… no,” I squeaked, my eyes scanning the slanty cottages poking their roofs into the tarry sky. I imagined I could climb up there, reach out, and pull it back to me, getting my hands all sticky.

“Um… yes,” he grunted tersely. “This denial or avoidance thing isn’t going to fly with me. Let’s just get this over with.”

“You’re the only one that can get away with pushing me like this, you know?” I muttered as I begrudgingly tramped after his dark, determined silhouette.

“Not the only one,” he called out behind me.

He was right. Addy could and did talk to me any way she pleased. I crumbled my hands together, pausing on my grief mid-step. Rash stood on her doorstep with his arms crossed impatiently. Amber light pooled over his concerned face.

I took in a warm, pollen-filled breath and met him.

*****

“Right. Take this… and this…” Rash ordered. “She wanted you to have this thing as well.” I hated the ‘e-d’ on the end of his words. He hurriedly piled blankets in my arms and then placed a china dragon on top of the toppling tower of junk.

“Wait… slow down,” I breathed. The smell of Addy traveled through me. The feel of the soft, hand-knitted blankets on my skin reminding me of all the times she’d comforted me. They were small, the gestures, like pulling the blanket over my legs after Cal attacked me, but they were so important.

I could just see Rash raise his eyebrows over the clump of stuff in my arms. “Oh, I thought you would want to get this done quickly and run out before you had a chance to miss her,” he said, taunting me.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “That’s not very fair.”

“As your friend Addy would say, ‘Life’s not fair,’” he said, changing his voice to sound like Addy at the end. My chest wheezed out a surprised laugh.

“Oh my God, don’t…” I said, laughing as I placed the things down on a table before I dropped them. “That’s not funny.” I giggled.

Rash put his hand on my shoulder, cooling my hysterics. “Sit down, Soar.”

I did as he asked. Perching myself on the edge of Addy’s sofa, ready to launch if I needed to. Like he knew my plan, Rash shoved me firmly back. “Sit down properly.”

I leaned back and sighed, staring up at the wooden beams of the ceiling fanning out from the center of the room like a spider’s web.

Rash sighed too and I returned my gaze to him, as he pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. “You ready?”

“No.”

“Too bad.”

He breathed in solidly through his nostrils and started reading.

“My dearest Rosa…” he said, his voice all scratchy as he imitated Addy again.

I snorted and smacked his arm. “Stop it!” I said with a smile. I patted the sofa and he sat down facing me.

“My dearest Rosa,

Telling you not to be angry is like telling a bird not to use its wings. So I’m not going to make such a request. You know why? Because I’m angry too. My life may have been approaching its last years, but I wasn’t ready to go. I wasn’t ready to go like this. I just want you to remember who you’re angry at. Don’t be aimless, girl. Don’t fight the whole world, and then be surprised when it crushes you. Use your passion and your anger to protect your family and yourself. You’ve lost friends before, but this is life. You will love, and you will lose. But you choose how you will react and how your life goes on afterwards. Make it count. Not just for me. Make it count for all of us.”

Rash smoothed the paper out on his thigh and handed it me. “She was a crazy old bat, wasn’t she?” He smiled.

I held my hands on my knees, one palm open, and the other scrunching Addy’s letter into a ball. Damn it! I don’t know what to do. I lifted my eyes to the ceiling, trying to keep the hopeless tears from coming out. She thought so much more of me than I deserved.

Rash slung his arm over my shoulder, pulling me closer. “She loved you. I mean, I don’t understand it, you’re such a pain in the ass, but a lot of people seem to love you anyway.” He rolled his eyes dramatically.

I sniffed and leaned on his shoulder. “Thanks, you jerk,” I managed.

Speaking to the iron-framed window I was staring out of, I asked, “How are you coping with all of this?”

Rash’s shoulder buzzed as he answered, “You know, I always wondered if we were alone. And now I know. The people seem nice. The girls are pretty. I know things are a bit crazy right now but hell, it beats picking up trash.” He stroked my hair with his cool hand. “And I have my friend back.”

“So you’re happy you came with me?”

“Of course.”

“Tell me if you need anything, Rash, anything at all,” I said, squeezing his hand, which was draped over my shoulder.

“Well, unless you can set me up with Careen, I’m good for now, but thanks.”

He kissed the top of my head, and it sat there like a calming balm for all my harried thoughts.

We stayed like that for a short while. Then Rash piled the rest of Addy’s possessions back into my arms and kicked me out.

“You better go before beautiful blond man starts wondering where you are.”

I put my chin on top of the blankets and pushed it down so I could see him. “You know I love you, right?” I asked.

Rash raised his dark eyebrows, and I swear I saw a blush rise in his cheeks. “Yeah, whatever, Soar. You’re sooo not my type.” He let the door shut and watched me carefully through the window as I trod down towards the hospital.

Death stung. Friendship loosened the barb. Love would heal it.

*****

Crawling into to bed with Joseph later that night, I shuffled close to where he sat with his strong back leaning against the headboard. I pulled his arm over my shoulder.

Fumbling around on the nightstand, I grabbed the small square of paper. I un-crumpled the letter and handed it to him. He raised his eyebrow and read.

He pulled me into his lap when he was done, cupping my chin with his hand and raising my face to meet his.

“She’s right, you know.” He kissed me softly, releasing plumes of sadness with each touch. “Just remember, you don’t have to do any of it on your own.”

I nuzzled into his chest and let his heartbeat sing its lullaby. “I know.”

Apella was draped in a wheelchair. And I say draped because she was as listless and translucent as a wet shower curtain. She was trying to stay alive for Alexei.

I could see the pull, the way sometimes her head would loll back, and she would cough for minutes without a break. But she wasn’t going to let go.

I wheeled her around the hospital, Rash by my side. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay with Joseph and me?” I winced as I said it.

“Nah, I’m happy amongst the doilies and crocheted blankets. Your friend Addy was a bit of a pack rat.”

My expression twisted, my smile shriveling like a raisin. “She was old. I think that’s what old people are like. They have all these memories they hold onto, you know, in things.” I turned Apella to the door, the wheels squealing. It was still too cold for her to go outside, but I wanted her to feel the sun on her face.

“Not in Pau…” Rash said, his mind wandering.

Apella croaked, and I pulled her back from the stream of sunlight.

Hands wrapped around my waist and a warm breath blew on my neck. I smiled.

“You left early his morning. I left Orry with Odval at home,” and then, like Rash had appeared from nowhere, “Oh hello, Rasheed.”

Rash waved. “Hey Jo…” When Joseph narrowed his eyes, he finished with “…seph. Um, err, I’m gonna go. They need help repairing the façade of the hospital.

“Stay away from the glue,” I shouted after him.

He barked a hard laugh. “Haha! Yeah, very funny, Soar,” he said sarcastically.

Joseph looked at me questioningly. “Inside joke,” I said lightly.

He shook his head. “I hate those.”

I ignored him and turned to touch my nose to his. Looking into his eyes, I felt myself spinning. I reached my lips to his and tugged on his bottom one with my teeth. When I pulled back his eyes were still closed.

“I’m going to go visit Pietre today.” I groaned. I had put it off long enough.

A voice carried across the ward.

“Ooh, my turn then.” Careen bounded towards us and placed her hands on the wheelchair handles. I cringed as she crooned to Apella, “Matthew said you could go outside today.”

“Are you sure?” I asked warily.

“Yes, Nurse Rosa, I’m sure.” She rolled her eyes at me.

I bent down, trying to connect with Apella’s listless eyes. “I’ll be back later.”

She nodded.

I reluctantly let go and left her to it. Joseph and I walked out of the hospital. The air did feel a little warmer. It had that sweet, heavy smell of spring.  I inhaled and tried to remember when this place felt like home. But with every foot placed gently over a crack in the cobblestones, I felt the trudge of thousands of soldiers surging towards the hospital, the panic of the people as they ran. The way the air seemed cut up and filled with screams. I didn’t feel safe here anymore, not when I knew they could come back. And they had Deshi.

The records showed we had lost 281 people. That included Gwen and the others lost on the retrieval mission. The rest were mostly elders.

I stopped walking, my sneakers rubbing over the rounded edge of a cobblestone, and heaved a difficult breath. Everything kept getting stuck. My moments of happiness were shreds that twisted around a much bigger knot of fear and grief.

“What’s wrong?” Joseph had his hands on my shoulders, but I was looking past him. I was in the mess of bodies, searching for Deshi. I wasn’t here.

He shook me a little. “Rosa?”

I blinked, the shutter rising a little. “I miss Deshi,” I said, which was only half of what I was feeling, but I was trying to let it out in small bits.

Joseph found my hand and wrapped his warm fingers around my balled-up fist. “Me too…” His eyebrows rose, and he smiled at me. “I almost forgot. Um, before you go to see Mr. Sunshine, come home. I want to show you something.”

I shrugged. I was in no rush to see Pietre. Joseph had been seeing to his medical needs since he was released from hospital and, from all accounts, he was being the same surly, self-pitying ass he always was.

Joseph dragged me up the hill.

*****

Our home was still our home but, now that I knew Woodland soldiers had picked their way through it, it felt stained. Tainted. I couldn’t stand that they had been here, peeking into our lives. I knew Joseph felt it too. He always stepped over the threshold uneasily, like he was waiting for someone to jump at him. But today, when we got to the front door, all we could hear was Orry making nonsense sounds and Odval clapping her hands.

I was starting to wonder how Orry could do the things he did. How he could bind and break me at the same time. Was this what it felt like to be a mother, or was there something wrong with me?

Joseph took my hand and led me inside. Odval registered our presence, and then returned her gaze to Orry, who lay on the floor with his head up. He saw me and mumbled, “Mm, ah, mm, ah.”

I put my hand over my mouth, my teeth grazing my fingers. Joseph placed his hand in the small of my back and pushed me forward. I knelt down at the edge of the rug and watched Orry rock back and forth on his knees. Odval started to clap. I eyed her suspiciously, wondering what she was clapping about. Then Orry rocketed forward, his face adorably stern, as he concentrated all his strength on pulling himself to me.

Before I could stop myself, I was clapping, squealing, and talking in an annoying voice, beckoning him to come closer. He made it to me. I scooped him up in my arms and held him above my head. “Look at what you did,” I said, rubbing my nose against his. He beamed and copied the clapping around him.

There was a swell. Something small at first, that climbed higher and took over. It was sweet and filled me to bursting. It was pride. I swung him around and around and laughed. I was really getting it now. This was why. If nothing else, we had to preserve this.

I hugged him close to me and breathed in the soft smell of his hair. His unique baby-ness. Joseph went to take him from me, but I wouldn’t let him go.

“Not yet,” I said, clutching him closer. I looked into those weird eyes of his and cocked my head to the side. “What other amazing things can you do?”

A big blob of dribble fell out his mouth and landed on my toe. I laughed loud, my ribcage rattling from it. “Oh, that’s very impressive!”

Odval patted my shoulder, “It is. Very.” She crinkled her kind eyes at me. “Making you laugh like that is a true talent. We need more laughter.”

The fridge opened, and Joseph’s voice carried over the door. “You staying for dinner, Odval?”

“No thank you, Joseph. I’m having Pelo over for dinner tonight.”

I paused and chose not to react. I hadn’t seen Pelo since we had found Apella. Joseph was oblivious. “Oh, that’s nice. Tell him hi from me.”

“I will,” she said shyly, looking to me for a response and receiving nothing but silence. She left.

I swung Orry onto my hip and told Joseph I was going to take him with me. I needed a buffer between Pietre and me. Joseph frowned but let me go.

*****

The door was ajar, warm air tunneling its way out through the crack. Orry grabbed the frame and slammed it shut before I could stop him.

“Who is it?” Pietre’s voice growled.

“It’s me, Rosa,” I squeaked.

I heard a groan and a shuffle as I pushed my way inside.

He sat up on a crusty, old couch, his face as squished and contorted as the cushions. One leg was up on the coffee table, the other a stump covered in bandages.

“What do you want?” he scowled up at me.

I searched for somewhere to sit and found a chair covered in dirty laundry. I pushed it to one side with a look of distaste and squeezed myself in.

“I just came to see how you were doing since the…” Don’t say leg being chopped off, I warned myself. “Um… since the surgery.”

“Stupid question,” he snarled, looking down at where his leg used to be.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I said, staring at the floor, which was covered in fluff and other indescribable bits of dirt.

Silence floated between us for what seemed like ages. Everything was filthy, the whole place screamed to be cleaned. It smelled like rotten cabbage, and Pietre himself looked like he could use a wash down but I wasn’t going to volunteer for that job. I tapped my chin, wondering what I could say to make him feel better.

“Pietre, it stinks in here,” I said, abandoning pleasantries. It was our way, so why pretend now? “Here, take Orry,” I said, plopping the clueless child in Pietre’s lap. Pietre’s face was misery and self-pity, and I couldn’t stand it. I looked away from him and went to the window, throwing open the curtains. It unearthed all the dirt covering the floors and shot waves of dust into to air. I sneezed. Orry laughed, and Pietre gave him a peculiar look, like he wasn’t sure the baby was quite human.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s just a baby. So really, you two should get along fine.” I stormed out of the room and went to clean out the refrigerator.

As I moved through every inch of Pietre’s home, small pieces of conversation drifted towards me like music. My initial reaction was to gag. Pietre was cooing to my kid and blowing raspberries. I heard my child clapping. Then Orry started to cry. A low and beautiful thrum wove its way soothingly through the house washing down the walls. A warm, deep voice, a song I’d never heard, but felt in time with.

It’s up to you

And it’s not fair

Nothing you do comes out easy in the end

The sound and intention behind it was so soft and sweet. I honestly couldn’t believe it came from Pietre.

You’re only new

But it has begun

You’ll reach for stars and they’ll fall down as much as they shine

Please don’t cry

I’m in it with you

We’re all part of the same chain, the same fight

I paused in the doorway, letting the chorus trickle over me. The heartbreaking truth of it wracked me.

Time ticks forward

Time takes away

It will take you away

Away from me

We’re fighting against the seconds

But they always catch you in the end

They always catch you in the end

He was right. We were always fighting, against time, against each other. It never ended, and it never got easier.

I hovered through the house, stripping sheets and dusting the sills, with Pietre’s amazing singing voice stalking me, the words of his song echoing in my own heart. So much of what I felt was in that one chorus. I was baffled.

Everything was always unexpected. I would never have guessed that Pietre was some kind of baby whisperer. The knowledge that he had this soft side had a weird effect on me, turning my stomach and warming my heart at the same time.

I hung in the arch between the kitchen and the living room, watching the two boys interact. I spoiled it by breathing too loudly. Pietre’s head snapped to me, and the moment was broken.

“What are you staring at?” he grunted. I eyed his hand, which was still clasped around my son’s chubby little stomach.

I smiled. “Nothing.”

“You know, I’m not the monster you think I am,” he said, scruffing up Orry’s blond curls. “I wanted one of these for myself one day.” His eyes connected with my son’s. “And then I could teach them all about great Indie rock.”

“You still can,” I said flippantly, noting the name of the band so I could look up the song.

Pietre gave a sour laugh. “Not here.”

I finished cleaning up and left. Pietre didn’t thank me. I didn’t really expect him to.

There was something coming. A change. Not here, he’d said. He was right. We couldn’t stay here.

The idea sucked the air out of me.

Surrounded by the Spiders, the beat of unsteady and different voices drummed at my head. It looked like a small circus had arrived at the Survivor’s settlement. These people were as far from All Kind as you could get, and that distance was pushed even further by their need for change. They were the dissidents, the unwanted, and the mistreated. Except for perhaps Olga. Despite her odd appearance, I was interested to learn she was a well-respected scientist. But like Apella, she found the breeding program hard to stomach.

Eleven Spiders, including my father, hovered around the front of the stage. Some leaned with their arms over a table, others talked to the eager Survivors. It was noisy, and I was glad I’d left Orry at home with Odval.

A circle of red, shiny cans mixed with greenish-blue ones glowed on the table under the theater lights. The Spiders turned them over in their hands suspiciously. I laughed in amusement, as I watched the reactions when the cans were cracked open. Noses were pinched and gulps were taken, resulting in burps. I shook one up and tossed it to Rash. It exploded as soon as he opened it, soaking his shirt with sugary, brown liquid. He flashed his white teeth and took a swig. He seemed to like it. I noticed he had changed his shoes as he crossed one leg over the other and leaned back against a pillar, chugging the rest of his drink and swiping his mouth. He now wore the canvas sneakers we all wore. It suited him.

The Spiders had been summoned, along with the senior members of the community and any of us who had gone on the recovery mission. So Joseph and I were there, Matthew, Gus, Pietre, and Careen. Rash was invited and stood casually leaning against one of the theater chairs, wearing a bemused expression, his eyes running up and down the heavy, velvet curtains. My face cracked into a grin when our eyes connected. There were so many things to explain to him about this place.

The leaders sat at the front as they always did, and the man with the long braid called out, “Welcome Spiders. We are so pleased you made it to our settlement.” He pulled the braid over his shoulder and started twisting it in his fingers. “Unfortunately, we have do not have much time in which to plan our next move. So I will forgo formalities and ask you to submit your passports immediately.”

There were a few murmurs. I searched Joseph’s eyes; he shrugged and returned his gaze to the stage. There was something stiff in his manner. Rash beamed at me. His eyes said, Can’t wait to see what happens next. We watched as the Spiders moved towards the tables, rummaged around in their pockets, and threw handfuls of small, black discs on the table that clanged against each other like plastic coins.

“Can everyone take a seat?” the braid man asked, his face serious.

We filled the first two rows of the theater. I was sandwiched between Rash and Joseph in what felt like a one-sided tug-o-war. Joseph’s hand clamped down on my thigh. I eyed it, and then swept it off. His hand turned to a fist, resting on his own leg. The lights went off, and the velvet curtains parted with a squeak and a roll. The sound of age-old ropes and pulleys not used for years. Clumps of dust the size of cotton balls fell from the ceiling, landing on the stage and at my feet. People coughed and sneezed. A cloudy atmosphere surrounded us, oppressive and dark. My mind wrapped around the moment a little too tightly. Uncomfortable, I squirmed in my seat, my legs jittering. Rash went to put his hand on my leg, but Joseph’s stare was like a shot of flame, even in the half dark, and Rash withdrew.

Gus and Matthew lifted a large, metal box onto the table and fiddled around, aiming it towards the white screen that was revealed behind the curtain. A spot of light grew until it filled the entire space. Gus grunted as he picked up one of the discs, placed it inside a tray on the box, and shoved it closed.

The light flickered, and a wobbly image appeared and slowly stabilized. It was a picture of a crowd of Woodland soldiers, all in black. Two white tents were set up, and the soldiers were lining up. The image focused closely on one soldier sitting in a chair, a woman pulling his hair back as she carefully smudged his face with tan colored paint. The soldier was young, his eyes scrunched tight, and his black curls strung back from his face by the unforgiving woman’s hand. The theater had become so quiet. People leaned forward in their seat, scrutinizing the bizarre behavior. Some soldier were laughing and milling around outside the tents with plastic caps on their heads. The sun hit them when they passed outside the shadow of the wall and brassy strands of dyed hair glinted in the light.

After two minutes, the image flicked over to another scene in which a woman was having a tug-of-war with a soldier, each holding the hand of a girl of maybe twelve. The mother’s swollen belly revealed the reason for the struggle.

There was image after image of Woodland cruelty. Schematic drawings of certain buildings were a welcome respite from the violence. Lists of sympathizers and another list of people particularly loyal to the Woodlands popped up, and notes were taken. Lots of the films were soldiers carrying out punishments. One incidence was particularly chilling, as it showed a soldier refusing to carry out a punishment and his superior reversing the roles and having the offender carry out the finger smashing on the soldier.

As I watched this, my eyelids started to blink for longer. Each time they closed, I waited longer to open them because there was always a new violence, a new atrocity for me to witness. Without meaning to, Joseph had clasped my hand in both of his. He took deep breaths with every new film, his chest expanding with what I imagined was heat. There was anger and shock in all of us, and it was breaking its way to the surface.

When they started showing images of the underground facility, I didn’t identify it immediately. It could have been a hospital anywhere. It was only when they showed a birth, a girl with lolling eyes in a pink room, looking confused and sweaty. There was a crowd of doctors around her, the child burst through with a scream, and then they separated them. The child was laid down on a table and was inspected, eyes poked, skin pinched. Someone said, “Pretty close,” and they swaddled the baby and left.

My lips felt dry, an uneasy, queasy feeling rising and sinking in my stomach. Joseph had released my hand, and I could feel that both his and Rash’s eyes had left the screen and were now staring intently at me. When they showed the exercise room, my whole body heaved. I gripped the sides of the chair like it was rocking in an angry sea. My vision bubbled and bulged. It was starker than I remembered. The pathetic images still flicked. The blue sky overhead was scratched, revealing grey concrete. Bedraggled girls shuffled in lines, their knotted hair falling in their eyes, their giant stomachs weighing them down, hard as boulders.