Authors: Miriam Bell
Our community tries to space out people until the cell blocks are full, leaving an empty cell in between living spaces. Using wood the scouts brought in from abandoned houses nearby, I’m able to have a wall built behind the iron bars. It isn’t much but with a sheet over the doorway, I have as much privacy as I am going to get.
This prison block is one of the newly opened, cell block E. As families grow and our community expands the leaders allow unused cell blocks to be prepared for us to occupy. Members of the community wall up areas and clean up dirt that covers the floor. I’ve only had to participate once before in opening up a new cell block. My chore had been to sweep the floors of the whole block. My hands had ached for days.
Letting my curtain door flutter close behind me, I leap onto my lumpy bed. The mattress is thin and the pillow is hard but the rough material beats the last few days. I promise myself I will never complain again as I listen for sounds of my neighbors. So far only four families live spread out in the space- me and three others. The ones closest are Megan and her husband David. They’re the newest married couple of the community. The first few nights they moved in were horrible. I tried everything to cover my ears and mask their honeymoon sounds but after awhile I gave up and yelled practice makes perfect in frustration. They quieted down after that but as a result every time Megan greets me, she blushes.
Beneath us is the Collins family. John and his wife Nicole with their daughter Joy who is thirteen. They moved in the day I left to go into the red zone. Nicole’s sister lives one cell block over from them but I can’t remember her name. She is mostly quiet and doesn’t acknowledge me. I’m not sure why she doesn’t like me, she just doesn’t. The whole family was kicked out of their last cell block due to Joy’s behavior. I didn’t bother to ask what she had done but whatever it was the ordeal was enough.
I lay motionless, trying to settle my racing mind. My eyes become heavy with exhaustion but I will myself to stay awake. I’m aware I need to be heading to the debriefing soon but my body is weighted down by all the events of the past few days. I don’t think I can hash out every detail for them- relive every moment in front of their unaffected faces. I have been steadily building sturdy brick walls around all those memories for days. I hate thinking I wasted my time fortifying my mind to only fall apart when left alone with silence.
Tom’s voice hovers at the edge of my brain.
“Soft can get you killed.”
I study the words wanting to pick out some kind of hidden meaning that I know is not there.
“I’m not soft,” I mumble defensively to the cell walls.
My body sinks into my worn mattress below.
I’m in a field of fresh green grass. The softness cushions my bare feet while the smell of rain enters my senses. I hear the laughter of young girls playing and I listen to the song they sing. It is familiar but I can’t remember the words. They’re lost in the warm breeze that scurries through my loose hair.
In the distance, a bright flash of color flickers. A deep red fades in and out as if it is a dimming star. I’m thrust forward without moving, halting yards away from a young woman. She wears a simple white cotton dress. Her arms are thin but not boney. She sits with her legs tucked underneath her, humming a distant familiar tune. What startles me the most about her is her hair. The long wavy locks the color of the brightest rose in the garden, the one that stands out above them all. It reminds me of my own. Her image flickers in front of me.
“Hello?”
The word catches in my throat before echoing off the stormy sky.
The strange woman lifts her head to peer at me. Her eyes are the most beautiful blue- her smile warm and loving.
“Mom?” I whisper.
The sound of static tickles my ears. I was too young to remember my mother but if I had to imagine what she looked like the image would be that of the woman in front of me now. I step toward her only to slam into an invisible wall. My fingers stretch out on a hard transparent surface separating me from the one person who haunts my every day.
“Mom.”
I recognize the desperation and agony in my voice as the static grows louder. I gaze longingly as she stands facing me, an arm reaching. Her hair curls in the wind mirroring my own. She doesn’t walk forward or moves in the slightest. She just stands there studying me, her arm frozen in the air, forever reaching. For awhile, I feel as if I’m stuck- silent and never able to make myself turn away. My stupor is broken when she finally speaks. Her voice deterrent but soft.
“Her feet go down to death, and her steps to the underworld; she never keeps her mind on the road of life; her ways are uncertain, she has no knowledge. Hear me now, my child and depart not from the words of my mouth. Remove thy way from her, do not come near the door of her house. Lest thou give thy honor to others, and thy years unto the cruel; And thou mourn at the last, when thy flesh and thy body are consumed.”
My legs fall away as my whole being slips down the invisible boundary. She watches my slow decline with the expression of pure defeat- her arm lowering. Instantly, she seem frail and sickly. I seize in horror as she begins to decay in front of me.
“No!” I plead.
The pronounced bones of her face sharpen as her beautiful eyes hollow. The soft porcelain skin of her body hardens and then deteriorates at a fast pace. My scream is caught in my heart begging to escape as I watch my mother’s young figure rot into a pile of bones. The only thing remaining is a glimpse of a plain silver cross in the softness of grass.
Chapter Seventeen
Heart racing, I shoot up from the warmness of my bed. My breath is erratic and heavy. Dizziness blankets my whole body as my mind hurries to catch up. I wipe a sheen of sweat off my forehead and let my feet descend to the cell’s stark floor.
Breathe in and out
. I chant the words over and over. Unhurriedly, the world seems to reappear. I’m made aware of my lumpy mattress and the cold cement walls.
“Oh, no!” I howl, realizing I’m more than likely late to the debriefing.
Unable to tell what time it is, I grab my supply bag and dash toward the cell block’s exit. I’ll never hear the end of this from Lonnie. My first debriefing and I couldn’t even be on time. I dodge and weave my way through the common areas toward the conference rooms.
“Excuse me ,” I say, bumping into a familiar man.
He works most of his days out in the fields. Peter? Phillip? His name eludes me.
“Slow down,” He commands, scowling at me.
I quicken my pace.
Crap. Crap. Crap
, I think as I reach the double red doors leading to the scout’s training area.
I fly through the entrance and gain access to the substantial gymnasium. The sound of the slamming doors echos through the emptiness and bounces off the tall ceilings. The large top windows shine beams of light into the space. Floor mats lay unused across the aged floor and block my straight shot to where I should be. When I burst through another set of doors, I run straight into Connor’s unyielding body and bite my tongue on the impact.
“Damn it!” I roar frustratedly, grabbing my throbbing tongue with my fingers.
His hand reaches to steady me but I slap it away and proceed to trip on my own feet attempting to get away. He catches me, amusement sparkling in his eyes.
“Can this get any worse?” I growl.
“I’m going to say yes.”
My temper bubbles then subsides when I recognize Jay’s voice. He chuckles from the other side of the hall, his smirk apparent.
My attention flicks back to Connor as I realize I’m still caught up in his embrace. I try to untangle myself from him but his grip constricts around me.
“Hey. Not so fast,” he says sneeringly. “It isn’t every day a beautiful redhead throws herself at me.”
I stare at him- fingers tangled in his shirt for balance.
“Um. No,” I say scornfully but after a moment add, “If I’d thrown myself at you we wouldn’t be standing upright, now would we?”
His eyes widen.
To my astonishment, I manage not to trip on my feet as I disentangle myself from his strong arms.
“You’re an hour and a half late,” Jay states bluntly.
Clover, who’s standing beside him, gives a sympathetic smile.
“Thanks Jay. I didn’t realize that, and they say Lonnie is the smart one,” I remark, annoyed.
His brows furrow at me as I wait for his retort. The opening of the conference door brings all discussion to a halt. Lonnie steps from of the doorway. His eyes latch on to me as soon as he detects my wavy red hair.
“It’s your first debriefing,” he pauses. “Really, Millie?”
The tone of his voice shames me.
“Sorry, Lonnie. I fell asleep.”
Lonnie steps back beyond the entry of the doorway.
“She’s here.” A moment passes with nothing but low mumbling. “Yes Sir,” he replies.
I lean forward wishing to understand the discussion being held behind the daunting door. Lonnie shifts slightly and motions for me to enter. I study his face, now drained of any earlier humor. I never realized before how fast emotions change- how fast we change in an instant. I pass cautiously, aware of the situation.
“You’re in trouble but I doubt it’ll be too strict, not with all that’s happened,” Lonnie whispers and nods his head toward the unknown.
I’m too distressed to respond. I don’t want to sort through my memories of Tom’s death in front of a group even if their faces are familiar. I think back to the warmness of my bed and long for the rough blanket until the expressions of those in front of me cause my legs to falter.
The room is familiar with it’s bare walls and worn carpet. While deciding on whether or not to be a scout, Mrs. Emerson had called me into the sizeable room several times to talk. She now sits watching my entry from across the room with the other group leaders. They all have a spot at a long oak table positioned as if I’m in an interrogation. My attention strays to Mr. Herdon. He gives me a mournful smile in greeting; His greying hair tousled as if he’d been running his hands through the strands. The gesture was usually his sign of unease.
My gaze travels along the table. An older lady sits beside Mr. Herdon. Her hair is the color of snow and is braided intricately on top of her head. I’ve seen her many times a week sitting outside alone. She always seems to enjoy the wind on her face as she imagines the world outside our fences. I can’t remember her name since she doesn’t usually acknowledge me. Although she seems as delicate as a dandelion, her eyes are sharp and intelligent. The woman observes expressionlessly as I sit down in one of the many chairs around the table. Even though I see her strength in the way she holds herself, she is unable to hide the faint red blotches of her skin where she has been crying.
Were her and Tom close?
The idea that I really didn’t know Tom all that well gives me a quick punch to the stomach. I should have taken the time.
“Glad you can join us,” Mrs. Emerson says curtly.
Her blond hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail drawing attention to her sharp features. Her deep blue eyes reflect her anger and annoyance.
“I’m sorry about being late. I was so exhausted that I made the mistake of laying down,” I say, venturing not to break eye contact even though regret fills me.
“You need to remember Millie what I told you when you approached me about joining the scouts.” She holds my gaze. “If you want to be a scout you need to be able to process everything, good or bad, and not let it demolish our procedure.”
Her eyes narrow on my weary face.
“Procedure leads to order and order provides us our survival,” she quotes the familiar phrase like a mantra.
“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” I reply and attempt to gather as much conviction as I can muster.