The community, p.13
The Community, page 13
Nora and Dewey scrambled to get out of the vehicle, and, once outside, they half-jogged, half-hobbled behind Les to an entrance that Barney’s chip allowed. Upon admittance, Nora stood, startled, to see Les pointing in the direction of a small building next to—
“What is that?” Dewey asked.
Barney looked at Dewey and grinned. “Helicopter, man. You two are going to flyyyyy.” Both men burst into laughter at the horror on Dewey and Nora’s faces.
Nora reeled. Air travel was a death sentence – the Community made it clear that flight was a one-way ticket to being burned to death. Too many electromagnetic particles in the air. In the early years, train travel was a thing. But that was before the Protectant ripped out all the metal and concrete to help keep the earth cool. No pavement. No train tracks. It was a D-less on dirt roads or nothing.
“No! No, we’re not doing this! We’re not doing this!” Labor camps at least gave her a fighting chance. Why were they being sent to a guaranteed death? She looked to Dewey for help, but he looked equally stricken.
Dewey walked over to Barney, eyes narrowed. “Isn’t this illegal?”
Barney shrugged, then shook his head. “Would it matter for her anyway?” He chuckled at the expression on Dewey’s face.
Barney led Nora and Dewey toward the large square of concrete and pointed to a sun-sheltered bench at the edge of the cement, the far end of which the terrifying helicopter crouched, waiting to carry them off to their death.
Nora slumped on the bench, not wishing to expose herself to the sun longer than necessary. Not like it mattered – she was about to die – but it was sheer habit.
Dewey paused, watching Barney and Les lumber toward a small office, then set off toward the car. Inside the weather-worn shack, Barney and Les argued with a man who was apparently the pilot. All three had taken to waving wildly at the inactive helicopter. Nora watched as the pilot yelled back.
Dewey returned from digging around in the D-less, carrying water and some fruit. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t think he knew we were coming. Something about a last-minute change from that Dane guy? Sounds like the solar panels aren’t charged enough,” Nora said, choosing an orange from the fruit pile and peeling its soft edges.
“Seriously?” Dewey eyed the helicopter drenched in sunlight. “How is that even possible?”
Nora shrugged, chewing. Up until ten minutes ago, air travel was as impossible as riding a unicorn. She hadn’t the slightest idea how a helicopter worked.
They sat in silence, waiting. Minutes passed, and the men remained inside, arguing.
Nora picked up a small green apple and rolled it between her palms. Backward. Forward. Backward. Forward.
“Dewey?”
“Yup.”
“Micah.”
“He’s … with Nate.” Dewey avoided Nora’s gaze and focused on her apple. Nora threw it at him instead.
“But – how? My brother doesn’t even have a chip. He won’t last two seconds.”
Dewey opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated and shut it.
“Dewey, what are you not telling me? Is Micah in trouble?”
“Noooope. Nothing like that. It’s just – um, he’s not exactly chip-less.”
“Explain.” Nora leveled Dewey with a look she reserved for clients who were clearly guilty but lying halfway to Sunday. “Either you have a chip, or you don’t. It’s not complicated.”
Dewey shrugged. “It’s a little complicated.”
“How so?”
“To start, he’s not a Level One or Two. The bottom Levels make up a good 95% of us,” Dewey said, his hand raised, pointing fingers as he ticked off all the ways Micah did not fit in. “He was also an outsider to your family.”
“That was his choice.”
Dewey ignored her, still counting on his fingers. “He hasn’t committed any crimes.”
“Hasn’t been caught you mean.”
“And, your family respected his space. Your family’s decision to respect his exile—”
“What?! Faking his death is not respecting anything—”
“As I understand it, he ran away well before your parents died.”
“Technically … yes. But he had come home. He was in the car with us when the wave hit. He covered me with the heat shield.” Nora sat up, glaring at Dewey, angry for making him drudge up the past. “It’s why I survived, and they didn’t.” Nora shrunk back against the bench. Her survivor’s guilt whenever she described the situation – even though she was just fourteen at the time – was all-consuming.
“But you never got a confirmed body, did you?”
“… what? I was fourteen, Dewey!”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Your uncle must have known something was up. Nora, look – it’s the best thing you could have done for him. He isn’t banned anywhere. Even when his face is recognized by the Protectant, it doesn’t raise any red flags. You may have thought he was dead, but the Protectant always knew the truth. And for whatever reason, Paul never told you different. Now, that, I can’t figure out.” Dewey shifted on the bench, chewing as he considered, swallowed, then shrugged.
“But it was great for us. Micah could come and go, make purchases, use transit, whatever our group needed without causing suspicion.”
“Not really,” Nora said, automatically returning to her legal training. “He’s too old to be protected by the Youth Clause and too poor to pay Level Four taxes. There’s no way he could maintain his Level.” Nora’s voice dropped in uncertainty, already doubting her argument from the amused look on Dewey’s face.
“Let’s just say Micah pays his annual tax bill right on time,” Dewey said, grinning.
“But …” Nora sat on the bench, still confused, remembering her and Micah’s conversation next to the scary butcher lady. “… his scar? It looks like everyone else’s scar. Or is that a lie, too?”
Dewey shook his head. “Not a lie, exactly. He had his arm ripped into all right – hurt like hell, just like the rest of us. But he didn’t have anything actually ripped out.”
Nora’s mouth formed a perfect ‘O’. So, her brother was still a legit Four after all. Turns out her hard work to maintain Level helped Micah, though Micah would probably be the last person to admit it. “Why is it a secret?”
Dewey scratched his neck, thinking. “It was more to protect him than it being some big secret. If our insiders are known, then the entire group would overwhelm them with requests. And come to think of it, Micah volunteered to do that kind of work. He saw for himself how his Level could help us.”
Nora nodded, then remembered what Dewey first told her. “So – Micah’s with Nate. That’s a good thing, right? He’ll protect him? Make sure he’s safe?” Dewey held up his hands in surrender, attempting to stem the flow of questions.
“Hold up there, girlie. I only know a little more than you. Paul threatened Micah with a camp – calm down, he’s not there, I just told you that – and between me and Micah, it made way more sense for a Level Four to hang around and keep an eye on Nate. Dane made it clear Micah would be fine. If you ask me, Dane isn’t as loyal to Paul as Paul thinks he is.”
“Oh.” Nora looked at the ground, scuffing her toe in the swirls of dirt. “I guess I should be glad you two got to stick by us in the first place,” she said in a small voice, stuffing her hands in her pockets, away from the wind that began to pick up.
“I’m a little surprised myself,” Dewey said, adding with a raised eyebrow, “surprised and suspicious.”
Nora looked away, staring into the nothingness that was the landscape of their world. They sat in silence, the only sound the wind that carried their frustration to the labor camps, whirling it in united misery among the prisoners.
The doors to the office banged open, and Les came barging out, followed by a less effusive Barney.
“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Les shouted at the pair. Behind Les, the pilot jogged his way to a side door in the massive steel contraption, throwing a bag inside and then running around the outside, doing last-minute checks.
Dewey watched, arms folded across his chest. “Sure this is safe?”
Nora laughed, a short, hard burst. “Does it matter?”
Dewey looked over and frowned. “It matters if you want that little baby to come safely into this world.”
Nora’s face fell. “Maybe that’s the point, Dewey. Maybe I’m doing a bad thing by bringing a baby about.”
“Nora,” Dewey said, watching the pilot apprehensively, “I’m sure every parent that ever lived – way before the Burning – has said that exact same thing.”
She stared at the barren landscape surrounding the facility. “Yeah, but that was before any of this. It’s all dying.”
“Look,” Dewey said, as the pilot eased into the front seat and started pushing buttons. “We’re still here. Who knows? We might not die in a massive fireball. And even though where we’re going is most likely terrible, we don’t know that for sure.”
“Did Dane tell you where we’re going?”
Dewey wrenched away from staring down the pilot and turned to face her. “There’s only one place it can be.”
Nora swallowed hard. The Fringe. She hadn’t believed Dane until now. Nora felt a sensation clawing at her insides, tearing at her to get out. Hope – it was hope, that she so often shoved away, resigned to the existence they all lived. Maybe the outside wasn’t as terrible as the Protectant claimed, but the oasis people whispered about.
A sudden whirring created a tornado of dust, whipping their calm vista into a sea of grime. Whatever the pilot did had caused the helicopter’s blades to stir, slowly at first, then gaining in speed.
Alarmed, Dewey and Nora instinctively hit the ground, keeping their faces from the wind that blew in choppy waves outward from the helicopter.
“WE’RE SUPPOSED TO GET IN THAT?” Nora yelled, trying to be heard over the noise. Her palms bled from smacking the jagged concrete.
“I THINK THAT’S THE GENERAL IDEA.” Dewey winced. His large frame hadn’t taken well to slamming on the ground with such force.
“LET’S GO, LET’S GO, LET’S GO!” Les yelled once more, this time from the helicopter’s entrance. Les turned and shouted at Barney then climbed inside. Barney waved frantically from where he stood at the helicopter’s side, indicating that Dewey and Nora should go to him.
“YOU CAN DO THIS,” Dewey encouraged. Nora whimpered in response, pressed flat on the cement. The pilot waved his hands in a ‘hurry up’ motion.
Dewey pushed up from the ground, plucked Nora off the tarmac and flung her over his shoulder like a rag doll, half-running, half-loping to the door. Barney shoved Nora in when they got there, then both defied nature and managed to heave their massive bodies inside the steel death trap.
Nora took deep, measured breaths, trying not to panic as she fumbled with the seat harness. “HERE.” Dewey buckled his own straps, then leaned over and did Nora’s. Barney gave a thumbs-up to the pilot.
A sudden jerk and a moment later, they were in the air. Nora gripped the arm rests, terrified, waiting for it all to crash to the ground and explode.
But nothing happened. Instead, Nora watched in amazement as they soared upward, banked left and moved swiftly west. The speed was astonishing. Nora noticed the helicopter kept low to the ground. Some of the propaganda probably still held – fly too close to the sun, and you’re finished.
Nora watched as the labor camps, greenhouses, and, further east, geo farms, grew smaller and smaller. She was watching her entire world disappear and she didn’t know if she would ever see it again.
CHAPTER 15
“If he doesn’t wake up in the next twenty minutes, I’m going to have to go,” said a girl’s voice. “I’m starving.”
“Consider this a diet,” a man replied. “You could lose a few pounds.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s not like you haven’t thought it.”
“If I hadn’t just been asked out by Landon Bookwalter, I would slap you. I look amazing.”
Silence.
“… should we worry he’s been out a long time?” asked the woman. “Shouldn’t he have woken up by now?”
“It’s not like he’s getting beauty sleep,” the man replied. “He was just beat up and put on house arrest. Let the boy rest.”
“Easy for you to say. You were there.”
“Correction, I showed up after the debacle, and as usual, now I’m here to clean up the mess.”
“Still, you were there.”
“There’s a nurse here,” Dane protested. “Isn’t that worth something?”
“Shhh!” Another voice, this one stern, joined the conversation. “You two are impossible. The man is trying to rest and if you keep on like this, I’m going to have to page Ms. Cecily.”
“Sorry, Nurse Linda.”
“Yeah, sorry.”
Nate kept his eyes closed as the whispered bickering continued. He figured out the man was Dane, and was pretty sure the younger woman’s voice was his mother’s assistant … Lisa? Lana? He wondered if his parents’ assistants always knew each other this well.
A fourth voice chimed in, “Ooof … sorry, Lolita. Maybe you two should go outside.”
Lolita. He’d been close. That was Micah. If Micah was here, maybe Nora was nearby after all. Nate lay still, eyes closed, hopeful. He couldn’t remember how he got here, not even a shred of memory.
Nate attempted to open his eyes, but it felt like he was pushing against heavy weights. He moaned instead, an unintelligible sound breaking through the barrier of immobility.
“He’s awake!” Lolita announced.
“Rrrrrmmmpt,” Nate repeated.
“Nurse, what is he saying?” Dane sounded as if he was hovering nearby.
“He’s saying to get out of this room and let the nurse take care of it.”
Nate listened to protests from Lolita and Dane. They were pestering Nurse Linda, the sound traveling past his bed, out the entrance, then muffled as the nurse shut the door with a quiet click.
“Thank you,” said Micah, who was, apparently allowed to stay.
“You’re only here on good behavior,” the nurse warned. Nate could feel her breath as she leaned over him, and his stomach clenched tight from the kindness of it.
“Arrrrrrddddkuh,” Nate mumbled, his eyes still closed.
“Is he okay?” Micah again.
“You won’t be okay if you don’t leave me to my work,” the nurse replied, the sound of typing coming from behind Nate’s bed.
“Nate, dear? You’re at your parents’ house. I’m just going to give you a little something to ease the pain.”
Nate’s eyes fluttered open only long enough to see his caretaker fill a syringe with a blueish liquid, then he heard, “Just a slight poke,” only a moment before he felt the large needle.
“Not to worry,” she said, in a kind, soothing tone to Nate while plunging the concoction in his arm, “You’re going to feel better soon.”
But the truth was, Nate would not feel better soon. He probably wouldn’t feel better at all. It wasn’t just Nate’s heart, or the beating he took on his way out of the illegal clinic. Nate’s physical pain was about to be engulfed by emotional agony. Even healthy men don’t recover from that.
“One, two, three, GO!” yelled Joseph, dropping his arms and unleashing the gaggle of ten-year-olds around him.
“Faster, Bean! Faster!” yelled the boy, near the tall cluster of trees that represented the finish line.
Bean dropped her chin. The pace of her bare feet quickened, pushing off the hard dirt track that was scattered with leaves and pine needles from the forest. Today was the day. Today she would run past her brother and finally win. Bean balled her fists and pushed forward in front of Bobby. Victory was so close; she was one lap away. She ran harder, a last burst of energy as she neared the finish line.
Woop. Woop. WOOP. WOOP. The helicopter blades pulsated louder and louder, interrupting village life below.
“TAKE COVER!” screamed Ayako, a friend of Bean’s mother.
“No!” Bean rounded the bend. She was only 200 meters away from the finish line.
“STOP! NOW!”
Bean ran faster.
Ayako burst onto the dirt path and yanked Bean off the trail and under the cover of trees.
The children scattered, covering themselves with their arms, protecting their bodies behind the large pines and hiding underneath bushes as the helicopter whipped its way into their world.
The group, including Bean – perhaps more bitterly than the others – watched as the chopper descended. It must be a special occasion. Most aircrafts were the large supply planes that left from the agricultural center. Helicopters were a phenomenon that were only tied to someone – or something – important.
Thwack, thwack, thwack, the blades hummed, slowing to a stop. Word of the surprise appearance spread quickly, and already a crowd was growing. But the helicopter sat on the ground for a long time, and no one emerged. Inside, the helicopter’s occupants were reeling from the journey.
The pilot was flicking switches and running through a checklist, while Nora sat in silence next to an equally stunned Dewey.
Trees – trees! – existed. They weren’t fake decoration that dotted the boulevards and flanked luxury penthouses. What’s more, grass, flowers, rivers … real, all of it … real. She had briefly fallen asleep and had woken up in a land of her mind’s making.
The helicopter’s flight path eventually gave way to more and more scrubland before the chopper flew up and over, then descended into a lush valley sprouting wild growth, and – amazingly – an entire forest. The two sat in shock as eventually the helicopter rose higher and higher, further up and into mountainous terrain where animals that Nora only read about roamed freely.
Nora had watched in awe as the animals below drank without restriction, from an actual riverbed, no pre-sanitation cycle necessary.
Together, she and Dewey observed the ever-changing surroundings, silently absorbing the spectacular nature unfolding before them. By the time they landed, it was almost too much to take in; both sat against their seats, not speaking, minds processing what they just witnessed.
“What is that?” Dewey asked.
Barney looked at Dewey and grinned. “Helicopter, man. You two are going to flyyyyy.” Both men burst into laughter at the horror on Dewey and Nora’s faces.
Nora reeled. Air travel was a death sentence – the Community made it clear that flight was a one-way ticket to being burned to death. Too many electromagnetic particles in the air. In the early years, train travel was a thing. But that was before the Protectant ripped out all the metal and concrete to help keep the earth cool. No pavement. No train tracks. It was a D-less on dirt roads or nothing.
“No! No, we’re not doing this! We’re not doing this!” Labor camps at least gave her a fighting chance. Why were they being sent to a guaranteed death? She looked to Dewey for help, but he looked equally stricken.
Dewey walked over to Barney, eyes narrowed. “Isn’t this illegal?”
Barney shrugged, then shook his head. “Would it matter for her anyway?” He chuckled at the expression on Dewey’s face.
Barney led Nora and Dewey toward the large square of concrete and pointed to a sun-sheltered bench at the edge of the cement, the far end of which the terrifying helicopter crouched, waiting to carry them off to their death.
Nora slumped on the bench, not wishing to expose herself to the sun longer than necessary. Not like it mattered – she was about to die – but it was sheer habit.
Dewey paused, watching Barney and Les lumber toward a small office, then set off toward the car. Inside the weather-worn shack, Barney and Les argued with a man who was apparently the pilot. All three had taken to waving wildly at the inactive helicopter. Nora watched as the pilot yelled back.
Dewey returned from digging around in the D-less, carrying water and some fruit. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t think he knew we were coming. Something about a last-minute change from that Dane guy? Sounds like the solar panels aren’t charged enough,” Nora said, choosing an orange from the fruit pile and peeling its soft edges.
“Seriously?” Dewey eyed the helicopter drenched in sunlight. “How is that even possible?”
Nora shrugged, chewing. Up until ten minutes ago, air travel was as impossible as riding a unicorn. She hadn’t the slightest idea how a helicopter worked.
They sat in silence, waiting. Minutes passed, and the men remained inside, arguing.
Nora picked up a small green apple and rolled it between her palms. Backward. Forward. Backward. Forward.
“Dewey?”
“Yup.”
“Micah.”
“He’s … with Nate.” Dewey avoided Nora’s gaze and focused on her apple. Nora threw it at him instead.
“But – how? My brother doesn’t even have a chip. He won’t last two seconds.”
Dewey opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated and shut it.
“Dewey, what are you not telling me? Is Micah in trouble?”
“Noooope. Nothing like that. It’s just – um, he’s not exactly chip-less.”
“Explain.” Nora leveled Dewey with a look she reserved for clients who were clearly guilty but lying halfway to Sunday. “Either you have a chip, or you don’t. It’s not complicated.”
Dewey shrugged. “It’s a little complicated.”
“How so?”
“To start, he’s not a Level One or Two. The bottom Levels make up a good 95% of us,” Dewey said, his hand raised, pointing fingers as he ticked off all the ways Micah did not fit in. “He was also an outsider to your family.”
“That was his choice.”
Dewey ignored her, still counting on his fingers. “He hasn’t committed any crimes.”
“Hasn’t been caught you mean.”
“And, your family respected his space. Your family’s decision to respect his exile—”
“What?! Faking his death is not respecting anything—”
“As I understand it, he ran away well before your parents died.”
“Technically … yes. But he had come home. He was in the car with us when the wave hit. He covered me with the heat shield.” Nora sat up, glaring at Dewey, angry for making him drudge up the past. “It’s why I survived, and they didn’t.” Nora shrunk back against the bench. Her survivor’s guilt whenever she described the situation – even though she was just fourteen at the time – was all-consuming.
“But you never got a confirmed body, did you?”
“… what? I was fourteen, Dewey!”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Your uncle must have known something was up. Nora, look – it’s the best thing you could have done for him. He isn’t banned anywhere. Even when his face is recognized by the Protectant, it doesn’t raise any red flags. You may have thought he was dead, but the Protectant always knew the truth. And for whatever reason, Paul never told you different. Now, that, I can’t figure out.” Dewey shifted on the bench, chewing as he considered, swallowed, then shrugged.
“But it was great for us. Micah could come and go, make purchases, use transit, whatever our group needed without causing suspicion.”
“Not really,” Nora said, automatically returning to her legal training. “He’s too old to be protected by the Youth Clause and too poor to pay Level Four taxes. There’s no way he could maintain his Level.” Nora’s voice dropped in uncertainty, already doubting her argument from the amused look on Dewey’s face.
“Let’s just say Micah pays his annual tax bill right on time,” Dewey said, grinning.
“But …” Nora sat on the bench, still confused, remembering her and Micah’s conversation next to the scary butcher lady. “… his scar? It looks like everyone else’s scar. Or is that a lie, too?”
Dewey shook his head. “Not a lie, exactly. He had his arm ripped into all right – hurt like hell, just like the rest of us. But he didn’t have anything actually ripped out.”
Nora’s mouth formed a perfect ‘O’. So, her brother was still a legit Four after all. Turns out her hard work to maintain Level helped Micah, though Micah would probably be the last person to admit it. “Why is it a secret?”
Dewey scratched his neck, thinking. “It was more to protect him than it being some big secret. If our insiders are known, then the entire group would overwhelm them with requests. And come to think of it, Micah volunteered to do that kind of work. He saw for himself how his Level could help us.”
Nora nodded, then remembered what Dewey first told her. “So – Micah’s with Nate. That’s a good thing, right? He’ll protect him? Make sure he’s safe?” Dewey held up his hands in surrender, attempting to stem the flow of questions.
“Hold up there, girlie. I only know a little more than you. Paul threatened Micah with a camp – calm down, he’s not there, I just told you that – and between me and Micah, it made way more sense for a Level Four to hang around and keep an eye on Nate. Dane made it clear Micah would be fine. If you ask me, Dane isn’t as loyal to Paul as Paul thinks he is.”
“Oh.” Nora looked at the ground, scuffing her toe in the swirls of dirt. “I guess I should be glad you two got to stick by us in the first place,” she said in a small voice, stuffing her hands in her pockets, away from the wind that began to pick up.
“I’m a little surprised myself,” Dewey said, adding with a raised eyebrow, “surprised and suspicious.”
Nora looked away, staring into the nothingness that was the landscape of their world. They sat in silence, the only sound the wind that carried their frustration to the labor camps, whirling it in united misery among the prisoners.
The doors to the office banged open, and Les came barging out, followed by a less effusive Barney.
“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Les shouted at the pair. Behind Les, the pilot jogged his way to a side door in the massive steel contraption, throwing a bag inside and then running around the outside, doing last-minute checks.
Dewey watched, arms folded across his chest. “Sure this is safe?”
Nora laughed, a short, hard burst. “Does it matter?”
Dewey looked over and frowned. “It matters if you want that little baby to come safely into this world.”
Nora’s face fell. “Maybe that’s the point, Dewey. Maybe I’m doing a bad thing by bringing a baby about.”
“Nora,” Dewey said, watching the pilot apprehensively, “I’m sure every parent that ever lived – way before the Burning – has said that exact same thing.”
She stared at the barren landscape surrounding the facility. “Yeah, but that was before any of this. It’s all dying.”
“Look,” Dewey said, as the pilot eased into the front seat and started pushing buttons. “We’re still here. Who knows? We might not die in a massive fireball. And even though where we’re going is most likely terrible, we don’t know that for sure.”
“Did Dane tell you where we’re going?”
Dewey wrenched away from staring down the pilot and turned to face her. “There’s only one place it can be.”
Nora swallowed hard. The Fringe. She hadn’t believed Dane until now. Nora felt a sensation clawing at her insides, tearing at her to get out. Hope – it was hope, that she so often shoved away, resigned to the existence they all lived. Maybe the outside wasn’t as terrible as the Protectant claimed, but the oasis people whispered about.
A sudden whirring created a tornado of dust, whipping their calm vista into a sea of grime. Whatever the pilot did had caused the helicopter’s blades to stir, slowly at first, then gaining in speed.
Alarmed, Dewey and Nora instinctively hit the ground, keeping their faces from the wind that blew in choppy waves outward from the helicopter.
“WE’RE SUPPOSED TO GET IN THAT?” Nora yelled, trying to be heard over the noise. Her palms bled from smacking the jagged concrete.
“I THINK THAT’S THE GENERAL IDEA.” Dewey winced. His large frame hadn’t taken well to slamming on the ground with such force.
“LET’S GO, LET’S GO, LET’S GO!” Les yelled once more, this time from the helicopter’s entrance. Les turned and shouted at Barney then climbed inside. Barney waved frantically from where he stood at the helicopter’s side, indicating that Dewey and Nora should go to him.
“YOU CAN DO THIS,” Dewey encouraged. Nora whimpered in response, pressed flat on the cement. The pilot waved his hands in a ‘hurry up’ motion.
Dewey pushed up from the ground, plucked Nora off the tarmac and flung her over his shoulder like a rag doll, half-running, half-loping to the door. Barney shoved Nora in when they got there, then both defied nature and managed to heave their massive bodies inside the steel death trap.
Nora took deep, measured breaths, trying not to panic as she fumbled with the seat harness. “HERE.” Dewey buckled his own straps, then leaned over and did Nora’s. Barney gave a thumbs-up to the pilot.
A sudden jerk and a moment later, they were in the air. Nora gripped the arm rests, terrified, waiting for it all to crash to the ground and explode.
But nothing happened. Instead, Nora watched in amazement as they soared upward, banked left and moved swiftly west. The speed was astonishing. Nora noticed the helicopter kept low to the ground. Some of the propaganda probably still held – fly too close to the sun, and you’re finished.
Nora watched as the labor camps, greenhouses, and, further east, geo farms, grew smaller and smaller. She was watching her entire world disappear and she didn’t know if she would ever see it again.
CHAPTER 15
“If he doesn’t wake up in the next twenty minutes, I’m going to have to go,” said a girl’s voice. “I’m starving.”
“Consider this a diet,” a man replied. “You could lose a few pounds.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s not like you haven’t thought it.”
“If I hadn’t just been asked out by Landon Bookwalter, I would slap you. I look amazing.”
Silence.
“… should we worry he’s been out a long time?” asked the woman. “Shouldn’t he have woken up by now?”
“It’s not like he’s getting beauty sleep,” the man replied. “He was just beat up and put on house arrest. Let the boy rest.”
“Easy for you to say. You were there.”
“Correction, I showed up after the debacle, and as usual, now I’m here to clean up the mess.”
“Still, you were there.”
“There’s a nurse here,” Dane protested. “Isn’t that worth something?”
“Shhh!” Another voice, this one stern, joined the conversation. “You two are impossible. The man is trying to rest and if you keep on like this, I’m going to have to page Ms. Cecily.”
“Sorry, Nurse Linda.”
“Yeah, sorry.”
Nate kept his eyes closed as the whispered bickering continued. He figured out the man was Dane, and was pretty sure the younger woman’s voice was his mother’s assistant … Lisa? Lana? He wondered if his parents’ assistants always knew each other this well.
A fourth voice chimed in, “Ooof … sorry, Lolita. Maybe you two should go outside.”
Lolita. He’d been close. That was Micah. If Micah was here, maybe Nora was nearby after all. Nate lay still, eyes closed, hopeful. He couldn’t remember how he got here, not even a shred of memory.
Nate attempted to open his eyes, but it felt like he was pushing against heavy weights. He moaned instead, an unintelligible sound breaking through the barrier of immobility.
“He’s awake!” Lolita announced.
“Rrrrrmmmpt,” Nate repeated.
“Nurse, what is he saying?” Dane sounded as if he was hovering nearby.
“He’s saying to get out of this room and let the nurse take care of it.”
Nate listened to protests from Lolita and Dane. They were pestering Nurse Linda, the sound traveling past his bed, out the entrance, then muffled as the nurse shut the door with a quiet click.
“Thank you,” said Micah, who was, apparently allowed to stay.
“You’re only here on good behavior,” the nurse warned. Nate could feel her breath as she leaned over him, and his stomach clenched tight from the kindness of it.
“Arrrrrrddddkuh,” Nate mumbled, his eyes still closed.
“Is he okay?” Micah again.
“You won’t be okay if you don’t leave me to my work,” the nurse replied, the sound of typing coming from behind Nate’s bed.
“Nate, dear? You’re at your parents’ house. I’m just going to give you a little something to ease the pain.”
Nate’s eyes fluttered open only long enough to see his caretaker fill a syringe with a blueish liquid, then he heard, “Just a slight poke,” only a moment before he felt the large needle.
“Not to worry,” she said, in a kind, soothing tone to Nate while plunging the concoction in his arm, “You’re going to feel better soon.”
But the truth was, Nate would not feel better soon. He probably wouldn’t feel better at all. It wasn’t just Nate’s heart, or the beating he took on his way out of the illegal clinic. Nate’s physical pain was about to be engulfed by emotional agony. Even healthy men don’t recover from that.
“One, two, three, GO!” yelled Joseph, dropping his arms and unleashing the gaggle of ten-year-olds around him.
“Faster, Bean! Faster!” yelled the boy, near the tall cluster of trees that represented the finish line.
Bean dropped her chin. The pace of her bare feet quickened, pushing off the hard dirt track that was scattered with leaves and pine needles from the forest. Today was the day. Today she would run past her brother and finally win. Bean balled her fists and pushed forward in front of Bobby. Victory was so close; she was one lap away. She ran harder, a last burst of energy as she neared the finish line.
Woop. Woop. WOOP. WOOP. The helicopter blades pulsated louder and louder, interrupting village life below.
“TAKE COVER!” screamed Ayako, a friend of Bean’s mother.
“No!” Bean rounded the bend. She was only 200 meters away from the finish line.
“STOP! NOW!”
Bean ran faster.
Ayako burst onto the dirt path and yanked Bean off the trail and under the cover of trees.
The children scattered, covering themselves with their arms, protecting their bodies behind the large pines and hiding underneath bushes as the helicopter whipped its way into their world.
The group, including Bean – perhaps more bitterly than the others – watched as the chopper descended. It must be a special occasion. Most aircrafts were the large supply planes that left from the agricultural center. Helicopters were a phenomenon that were only tied to someone – or something – important.
Thwack, thwack, thwack, the blades hummed, slowing to a stop. Word of the surprise appearance spread quickly, and already a crowd was growing. But the helicopter sat on the ground for a long time, and no one emerged. Inside, the helicopter’s occupants were reeling from the journey.
The pilot was flicking switches and running through a checklist, while Nora sat in silence next to an equally stunned Dewey.
Trees – trees! – existed. They weren’t fake decoration that dotted the boulevards and flanked luxury penthouses. What’s more, grass, flowers, rivers … real, all of it … real. She had briefly fallen asleep and had woken up in a land of her mind’s making.
The helicopter’s flight path eventually gave way to more and more scrubland before the chopper flew up and over, then descended into a lush valley sprouting wild growth, and – amazingly – an entire forest. The two sat in shock as eventually the helicopter rose higher and higher, further up and into mountainous terrain where animals that Nora only read about roamed freely.
Nora had watched in awe as the animals below drank without restriction, from an actual riverbed, no pre-sanitation cycle necessary.
Together, she and Dewey observed the ever-changing surroundings, silently absorbing the spectacular nature unfolding before them. By the time they landed, it was almost too much to take in; both sat against their seats, not speaking, minds processing what they just witnessed.
