The Wall

“There is one stipulation,” Matthew said seriously. “You will all have to go through quarantine before you can become part of the community. It means two weeks in hospital. If you are ok with that, then I’ll take you now.”

I wish I had thought about it longer. Not just said ‘yeah yeah’ and ignored half of what he was saying. I was too anxious to get down to the trees. They called to me and the rest was just dull humming.

We agreed to the conditions, not thinking to ask why they needed us to do this and what exactly it would involve. We all stepped off the edge of the wall and hit the metal steps with a clang, like we were diving off a board into silky, black water. There was no turning back now.

It was beautiful.

No. More than that. If I had concocted an idea of the perfect home for my child and me, this would be it. I stomped down the steps, enjoying the metallic vibrations, and held out my hands, sweeping the frozen leaves as I went. I wanted to climb. I wanted to run.

There were people watching us, people of different ages mixing together. Maybe I did invent this. I was the one in the coma and this was my dream. I shook it out with a light laugh.

Joseph took my hand and I wound my fingers in his. Breathing in deeply, the smells of wet leaves, dirt, and wood smoke was unmistakable and wonderful. It brought me home. It swam around my heart like a warm drink and made me whole.

Stones made up the road. There was a track cut down the middle and spi

The modest, wooden cottages stood on stacked-stone foundations, simply shingled, with thick, glass windows and smoke coming out of the stone chimneys. They must have been built individually, not by some Class team, as each one had its own personality. They were new too, maybe about five to ten years old. And the plants… My chest swelled at the possibility of it. They had the freedom to plant their own gardens. Any tree, any flower. It was too much to take in. Too much but not enough—I craved more.

This was what my eyes, my heart, took in in the five minutes we had before we were ambushed by people in white coats. Before we were barreled into a spi

Matthew explained that it was necessary, that although it seemed like they had it all together, most of their technology was borrowed and pieced together. Survivors were scroungers; they had eked out an existence here after much trial and error and a new disease would devastate the community. He explained this as we were manhandled up the stairs of a dark, dingy building. He pleaded for our patience as we were stripped of our clothing and forced to stand before scrutinizing doctors, thrown white pajamas, and pushed down halls into a room where we would be separated by glass. Then they made him leave and I was glad. I was having trouble restraining myself. He had not been clear and I knew why. Because he knew we would say no. And they wanted us here. I wasn’t sure why, but they wanted something from us.

Now we sit.

Each room has a bed, a bathroom with a privacy curtain, and a chair. In the corner, to keep us occupied, are stacks of books and a device for playing music with headphones. My first modification to our accommodation was to throw everything at the humming air-conditioning vent and let it land in a pile by the door, which was always locked. Books flew like shot-gu

I was so unhappy, contained.

But they did one thing, a thing that made their behavior unforgivable in my mind. They took Orry.

The books they gave us were all nonsense to me. Made-up stories. No history books, no how-to guides. They didn’t understand we knew nothing of this past world. Although it was interesting, coming from where we did, the ‘fiction’, as they called it, seemed frivolous and self-indulgent. Flicking through a book called ‘Alice in Wonderland’, I dragged my chair over to Orry’s cot. They had pressed it up against the wall so I could see him and he could see me. It was of little comfort. He turned his head at the sound of my muffled voice.

I read a little bit of the story to him out loud, but when I got to the part where the Queen of Hearts started ordering beheadings for stealing pies, I slammed it shut. It sounded too much like Pau.

My mood shifted between periods of shaking wordlessly, to screaming at no one, to trying to breathe and stay calm. I didn’t want to remember these things but being here in this sterile, scraped-down environment brought back memories I didn’t even know I had. Scenes that, up until now, had been pi

“Rosa,” Joseph said, his voice throttling for attention. But I was gone; I stood in the center of the room, my body rigid. My face stinging from a memory that hit me like a broad board of plywood. “Rosa…?”

I was lying on a metal table. My wrists and ankles tethered. My feet pushed up into stirrups. My head lolled around and someone dabbed at my mouth with a tissue.

“Is she worth keeping?” someone asked.

“For now she is—we’ll just have to wait on those eyes.” A pause and a sigh. “She’s ready for implantation. Transport her as soon as possible. Oh, and keep her heavily sedated; she keeps waking and fighting.”

The memory pulled away like a blanket and I was standing back in the white room, shivering from imagined cold, with Joseph watching me. I ran my hands over my wrists, reliving the way the restraints rubbed away at my skin. They hurt still. I shook my head and made my way over to him, my eyes watery, my body feeling pinched and weak.

“Get me out of here,” I said. “I don’t want a baby.”

“What?”

Where did the old world end and the current one begin? I felt half-in, half-out.

“Oh, sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying.” I put my hand to my forehead, confused, like I’d been drugged.

Joseph’s voice was calming, but had an edge of a grumble to it. “It’s ok. You’ll be ok. Just hang on.”

They said two weeks. Joseph argued with them, especially on my behalf. Being trapped held a special sense of horror for me that it didn’t for the others. But I heard them all at different times, pleading and yelling. Deshi was beside himself too. They had placed Hessa on the other side of a glass wall as they had Orry.

The doctors were kind. They were patient with my attitude. They assured us we were safe. They encouraged us to ask questions, but my trust was not so easily won. Joseph tried to be more forgiving but even he found it frustrating.

Watching another woman feed my baby was agonizing. They gave me a pump so I could express milk for him, which I did. When I initially refused, thinking I could blackmail them into bringing him to me, they shrugged and said they would give him artificial baby milk. I was desperate to maintain any co