Unleashed
Page 77
“It reminds me of my little brothers and sisters. I was always stuck babysitting them.” She smiles ruefully. “’Course I always complained about it back then. Never thought I would miss having to do that, but I do. Being around little kids . . . they’re so innocent. You can forget everything else, you know . . . all the bad stuff, when you’re around them.”
I nod, understanding. There are plenty of things I miss. Family. Friends. So why is Caden the only face I can see? The thing I miss the most?
Why is he the one person who blocks out all the bad stuff for me?
I inhale and look around the cabin, studying its bare walls as though I might give away some of my thoughts if I keep looking Sabine in the face. “So. What else do you do here? When you’re not helping with the school?”
“Oh. Sometimes we ride out in one of the cars Sean works on.” She stops to giggle. “Last week, the car died. We had to walk five miles back to camp. Turns out the thing ran out of gas! Sean was so embarrassed. The guys made fun of him.” She laughs again, rocking back on the bed a little. “He hasn’t quite lived that one down yet.”
She’s happy. I see that. And Sean’s part of that happiness. Does that mean he’s happy, too? I hope so. Desperately. I need him to be. I need his happiness to not be wrapped up in me.
“I feel gross.” I pluck at my shirt. “I think I’d like to take a shower.”
“No problem.” She hops up from the bed, that eager light still in her eyes. “You have something else to wear?”
“Yes.” I gather my spare change of clothes from my pack. Maybe someday I’ll possess a wardrobe again. Not as big as the one I once owned, but something beyond a couple of shirts and pants.
She leads me across the grounds. I blink against the sunlight, still acclimating, it seems, to being aboveground again. I had gotten used to life in the compound. The hum of the artificial air pumping through the vents. The low drone of voices. Out here it’s just openness.
And no Caden. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that.
* * *
It’s time for this country to heal its wounds, and the re-enfranchisement of carriers into the population is the first step in that process. That said, I’ve assigned a special committee to oversee the formation of protected areas for carriers should they want to live in communities together. The choice will be theirs. Not only is this their right, but it is my administration’s act of restitution for their recent treatment. This nation has lost its way, and our only hope for survival is by remembering our legacy and coming together in a spirit of camaraderie and tolerance. Let us all recall the founding principle of our justice system: Any accused person is innocent until proven guilty. Judgment should not be passed without evidence of a crime. . . .
—Presidential address, July 30, 2021
TWENTY-FIVE
THE NEWS IS SEVERAL DAYS OLD BY THE TIME IT reaches us.
US detention camps have been dismantled. The president has discharged the Wainwright Agency and formed a new committee consisting of a mix of high-level officials and HTS resistance leaders. I think of Caden’s General Dumont and assume he had a hand in this. Maybe he’ll be on the committee. As one of the leaders in the resistance, and with his former position in the military, it makes sense. It also makes sense considering his recent absence from the compound and Caden’s explanation that he was away on important business.
As for us, we only need to wait. The tide has turned. If we want to, we can return to the States with no fear of persecution. At least of sanctioned, lawful persecution. Prejudice will always exist. For that reason, most everyone chooses to stay. For now at least.
Only I don’t feel a part of this place. I wait it out. Tell myself to give it time, but two weeks pass, and I’m still not part of the “us” that is Sean, Sabine, and Gil. It’s no one’s fault. It simply is.
It’s not a bad place to be. I’ve started helping in the school, at meals. There’s plenty to do to keep the refuge running. I could have purpose here. Companionship. Friends. Sean, Sabine, and Gil go out of their way to include me, but it feels different. Like I’m an outsider to their threesome, even though I’ve been here awhile now. Long enough to start fitting in.
The news from the United States is met with celebration. The populace of refuge number four mingles around a bonfire and roasts cabrito like it’s the Fourth of July. And maybe in a way it is. A new independence day. Someone drags out a guitar and plays.
“You should sing,” Sean encourages me at the picnic table where we sit. I give a swift shake of my head.
“You can sing?” Isaac, the guy who was working on the truck with Sean the first day, asks.
I shrug. “A little.”
“She’s amazing,” Sean insists, giving me a nudge.
Isaac holds up both hands in mock offense. “You mean better than my rendition of ‘Sweet Child of Mine’?”
At this Sabine, Sean, and Gil bust out laughing. Sabine wipes at her eyes. “Oh, that killed me.”
I look from them to the bonfire’s nest of dancing flames, uncomfortable. Yet another inside joke I’ve missed since arriving here.
“Yeah, you had to be there, Davy, but I’ve never seen a guy sing and dance simultaneously like that.”
There’s been a lot of this. Laughter. Stories I don’t get. While I was with Caden, they had carved a place for themselves here. A life where they can be free. Free to laugh. Free to live. Beneath my lashes, I see Sabine hand the barbecue sauce to Sean. Their fingers brush, linger.
I nod, understanding. There are plenty of things I miss. Family. Friends. So why is Caden the only face I can see? The thing I miss the most?
Why is he the one person who blocks out all the bad stuff for me?
I inhale and look around the cabin, studying its bare walls as though I might give away some of my thoughts if I keep looking Sabine in the face. “So. What else do you do here? When you’re not helping with the school?”
“Oh. Sometimes we ride out in one of the cars Sean works on.” She stops to giggle. “Last week, the car died. We had to walk five miles back to camp. Turns out the thing ran out of gas! Sean was so embarrassed. The guys made fun of him.” She laughs again, rocking back on the bed a little. “He hasn’t quite lived that one down yet.”
She’s happy. I see that. And Sean’s part of that happiness. Does that mean he’s happy, too? I hope so. Desperately. I need him to be. I need his happiness to not be wrapped up in me.
“I feel gross.” I pluck at my shirt. “I think I’d like to take a shower.”
“No problem.” She hops up from the bed, that eager light still in her eyes. “You have something else to wear?”
“Yes.” I gather my spare change of clothes from my pack. Maybe someday I’ll possess a wardrobe again. Not as big as the one I once owned, but something beyond a couple of shirts and pants.
She leads me across the grounds. I blink against the sunlight, still acclimating, it seems, to being aboveground again. I had gotten used to life in the compound. The hum of the artificial air pumping through the vents. The low drone of voices. Out here it’s just openness.
And no Caden. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that.
* * *
It’s time for this country to heal its wounds, and the re-enfranchisement of carriers into the population is the first step in that process. That said, I’ve assigned a special committee to oversee the formation of protected areas for carriers should they want to live in communities together. The choice will be theirs. Not only is this their right, but it is my administration’s act of restitution for their recent treatment. This nation has lost its way, and our only hope for survival is by remembering our legacy and coming together in a spirit of camaraderie and tolerance. Let us all recall the founding principle of our justice system: Any accused person is innocent until proven guilty. Judgment should not be passed without evidence of a crime. . . .
—Presidential address, July 30, 2021
TWENTY-FIVE
THE NEWS IS SEVERAL DAYS OLD BY THE TIME IT reaches us.
US detention camps have been dismantled. The president has discharged the Wainwright Agency and formed a new committee consisting of a mix of high-level officials and HTS resistance leaders. I think of Caden’s General Dumont and assume he had a hand in this. Maybe he’ll be on the committee. As one of the leaders in the resistance, and with his former position in the military, it makes sense. It also makes sense considering his recent absence from the compound and Caden’s explanation that he was away on important business.
As for us, we only need to wait. The tide has turned. If we want to, we can return to the States with no fear of persecution. At least of sanctioned, lawful persecution. Prejudice will always exist. For that reason, most everyone chooses to stay. For now at least.
Only I don’t feel a part of this place. I wait it out. Tell myself to give it time, but two weeks pass, and I’m still not part of the “us” that is Sean, Sabine, and Gil. It’s no one’s fault. It simply is.
It’s not a bad place to be. I’ve started helping in the school, at meals. There’s plenty to do to keep the refuge running. I could have purpose here. Companionship. Friends. Sean, Sabine, and Gil go out of their way to include me, but it feels different. Like I’m an outsider to their threesome, even though I’ve been here awhile now. Long enough to start fitting in.
The news from the United States is met with celebration. The populace of refuge number four mingles around a bonfire and roasts cabrito like it’s the Fourth of July. And maybe in a way it is. A new independence day. Someone drags out a guitar and plays.
“You should sing,” Sean encourages me at the picnic table where we sit. I give a swift shake of my head.
“You can sing?” Isaac, the guy who was working on the truck with Sean the first day, asks.
I shrug. “A little.”
“She’s amazing,” Sean insists, giving me a nudge.
Isaac holds up both hands in mock offense. “You mean better than my rendition of ‘Sweet Child of Mine’?”
At this Sabine, Sean, and Gil bust out laughing. Sabine wipes at her eyes. “Oh, that killed me.”
I look from them to the bonfire’s nest of dancing flames, uncomfortable. Yet another inside joke I’ve missed since arriving here.
“Yeah, you had to be there, Davy, but I’ve never seen a guy sing and dance simultaneously like that.”
There’s been a lot of this. Laughter. Stories I don’t get. While I was with Caden, they had carved a place for themselves here. A life where they can be free. Free to laugh. Free to live. Beneath my lashes, I see Sabine hand the barbecue sauce to Sean. Their fingers brush, linger.
