The Wall

“How much longer do we have to stay here?” Joseph asked.

“One more week,” Matthew said.

“She won’t make it,” I heard him whisper. “You have to understand—this is much harder for her than the rest of us. It brings back too many bad memories. I think she’s traumatized or something.” I stiffened at this. The number of times I’d heard someone say that about me was starting to add up.

Matthew’s tone was terse when he replied, “Look, this is just the way it has to be. You have no choice.”

No choice. Back to the Woodlands we go, I thought.

Most of the time, Matthew seemed ever-patient and willing to help but sometimes something else slipped through—a shred of impatience, a tight knot of rope that constricted around his throat when he spoke, like the burden of being our caregiver was wearing thin.

After that, Matthew stopped talking to me. He would wave, but took his steaming mug of coffee and pulled up a chair at one of the other pens. I didn’t acknowledge him. But a parade of guests started arriving. I don’t know whether he sent them or if they came of their own volition but they were all unwelcome.

I was an animal on display. A static exhibition—an example of a Woodland citizen. See how she snarls at passersby. It’s because of the way they treat people over there. They have lost their humanity, the tour guide would say.

First was Cal. I was so rude to him but he didn’t seem to get the hint. Pushing my headphones on my head, I turned my back and ignored him. But he just sat there, tapping along to imaginary music, and smiling gawkily at me.

Joseph tapped on the glass and beckoned him over to the far corner of his room, as far away as he could get from me. I watched them curiously while trying to seem uninterested. He whispered something and then I saw Cal’s eyes widen as he nodded. He waved to me and left, walking jauntily off like he had just heard fantastic news.

I walked over to the glass separating us and glared at Joseph, who had a ridiculous grin on his face, distracting me with his white teeth. I picked out my favorite one, the broken one, and focused on that instead of his eyes.

“What did you say to him?” I was sure it was something unkind.

“Nothing,” he said mischievously, his hands behind his back, looking up at the ceiling.

“What?” I threatened. Most of the time, I wanted to break the glass so I could hold him. Right then, I wanted to get through so I could shove him over.

He wouldn’t answer me but was obviously very amused with himself.

“Well, at least you think yourself fu

Careen finally came to see us. I think they asked her to. She repeated some lines I was sure they’d fed her about how she’d been through it too. I knew it wasn’t her own words because she talked slowly for once, her mouth chewing over every word carefully before she spewed them out. She told us it really wasn’t so bad and once she was out, she was free to do whatever she wanted.

“Which is what?” I asked.

“Um. I’m in the hunting party,” she said, twisting uncomfortably under my gaze for a second and then jumping up and down like a toddler again, lifting her butt off the chair with her arms and legs swinging. “Yeah, I get to use all sorts of weapons. We hunt for food and share it with the rest of the people. It’s fun. When you’re out, I can show you how, if you like?” Her words mashed together.

Take a breath, I thought. I wanted to pinch her lips together with my thumb and forefinger. I’m pretty sure that would be the only way to stop her from talking. But I was glad she had found something she enjoyed, even if it was slightly disturbing.

“How fun for you,” I said sarcastically. I was being unkind, but I was jealous of her freedom, and jealous of her ability to assimilate into this new society so easily.

She sat cross-legged on the floor and her face went smooth and serious. Her tied-back hair revealed a scar seamed across her left temple I hadn’t seen before. It was jagged, like the skin had been split apart or burst. “I never told you this before but my father was a butcher,” she said. “He taught me everything about the trade. I know it sounds terribly simple. I mean, to want to be a butcher, but I had a dream that I would set up my own shop once I left the Classes. But then I got pulled into Guardian training and that was the end of my dream.”

This threw me. My assumptions about Careen flew off her body and landed in a pile at my feet. Another person I was wrong about. Her dream was not dissimilar to my own. There was a question I wanted to ask her, but it meant bringing up my own downfall at the Classes. I hadn’t told Joseph yet… I’m not sure I ever would.

I said it anyway. “What did you do to end up underground, with me?”

She shrugged and held her stomach, holding a baby long gone. “I said ‘no’.”

Her eyes meandered around the room, avoiding mine, and I knew she wasn’t going to say anymore.

I put my hand to the glass, remembering the hammer breaking my face, breaking my dream apart in an instant. “Me too.”

There was a moment’s silence, then she shook her perfect hair free of the tie and started jabbering again. She talked about the surrounding woods, which were overflowing with life. There was good game in there. The words just made me ache and I started to feel like the walls were closing in on me, or that I was getting smaller. The glass cube would fold over on itself and I would disappear.

Eventually, when I found a break in her prattling, I asked her to stop. She skipped off to say hello to the others and then left the area. One more week left of hell.

The next morning, I awoke to gentle tapping on the glass. I peeled one eye back and then the other, pulling myself slowly to sitting. What time was it? It felt like I’d barely closed my eyes and now someone was waking me up. I was about to snap at them when my blurry eyes focused and I was rendered speechless.

Matthew stood behind a tiny woman, his hand affectionately on her shoulder. I dragged myself up and walked towards her timidly, fascinated.

She cocked her head and smiled, missing teeth on the bottom row, her crinkly lips curling around her gums like they were searching for moisture. “So this is the one who’s giving you all the trouble?” she said, eyeing me carefully. Her voice sounded like gravel rattling in a paper bag. “She doesn’t look like much.” I would have been offended but she said it with a twinkle in her eye, like she was challenging me to prove her wrong. “You can stop staring, dear, and shut your mouth. You’re liable to catch flies.”

I clamped my lips together with some effort. I’d never seen anyone like her before. I stumbled over my words, selecting probably the most offensive ones my brain could come up with. “I’m sorry. It’s just, you’re so old.”

Joseph chuckled in the corner. He had seen older people before. I’d never seen anyone past the age of sixty. The Superiors’ attitude was everyone had to get around on their own steam, so if you were too old to walk that far, you never made it to the center circle.

She patted down her clothes like she was looking for something and then replied, “Am I? I’m only twenty. This is what living on the outside does to you.”