The Wall

It would have been easier to hate Cal if I didn’t know the truth. If I didn’t know that he was dying, had lasted longer than he should have, that he wasn’t really himself. All of that. It was information that made me feel something for him and I didn’t want to feel anything. As for Matthew, the way I saw him would be forever changed. Yes, I would much rather not have known.

This obsession with babies, with perpetuating the human race, it’s stupid. Maybe we should have forsaken it. Lived out our lives and let it end there. We would end there. I’m pretty sure the world would have been better off. But then I think of Orry and I can’t breathe. The conflict I feel teases at the seams that hold me together until I am slowly tearing apart, each stitch popping and breaking. Because if we let it end there, he would be alone. We would all be dead and he would be alone.

Maybe that’s why it never ends.

Matthew had been silent for about five minutes, which was about all I could stand.

“What is it?” I asked, watching his hands that were gently clasped to start with, wringing each other out like he was trying to dislocate his fingers.

“I am so sorry, Rosa. This is all my fault.” He looked up at me and the agony on his face showed that he truly believed it. I didn’t.

“How can it possibly be your fault? Unless you forced him to do it, it can’t be.” Matthew was a good man. He couldn’t have done this.

“I didn’t but I may as well have.”

“What?” I didn’t understand, and looking around the room, the rest of them were as clueless as I was.

Matthew looked at the ground and stared at his canvas shoes, lifting his toes up in them, rocking his feet back and forth.  “Have you ever noticed that Gus and Cal look very similar?”

I didn’t see what this had to do with anything. “Yes, Cal is Gus’s son; they’re bound to look similar.” Picturing Cal, his features, the ears poking out, the hard, sticky glare, made me cold. Remembering the way his eyes razed the room and darkened the air stu

“No,” Matthew said, shaking his head. “Cal is Gus.”

I searched people’s eyes. They looked surprised but less so than myself. Having the science background helped them come to the answer a lot quicker than me. I went through ridiculous possibilities like Gus dressed as Cal, or Cal with a fake beard masquerading as Gus. But I had seen them together. Was there two of them, twins? How was that possible when one was much older than the other? Cal called Gus Dad. I already had a headache but this made it so much worse. I had double vision and was picturing two Cal’s coming at me, laughing hysterically and calling me darling.

Matthew explained it as simply as he could: The Survivor’s had come at their infertility problem from a different angle than the Woodlands. During one of their scavenging hunts, they found a clinic in one of the main cities in China. It was a research lab, filled with partial notes and equipment. It seemed like they were attempting something—some sort of mass-produced army. Matthew thought their work was complete. It was a stupid assumption. Really, they had no idea where in the cloning process they were before the bombing, or how safe it was. But the Survivors decided to risk it. Take the technology and try to make some babies. Ten families volunteered. They made a clone of the mother and the father.

“If that’s true, where are all these kids? There should be twenty young people here—why is there only Cal?” It didn’t make any sense and the words were starting to swish around in my brain like old dishwater. My hands searched out for something that wasn’t there and then grasped a knot of sheet and squeezed it tight in my splintered fingers. Where was Joseph? I needed him here with me.

Matthew’s face was pained. Deshi put a hand on his shoulder. “Let him finish, Rosa.”

Matthew continued talking, “Everything went well, in the begi

“The children grew normally at first and we thought it had been a success,” Matthew continued, his voice high. Everyone was looking at their feet. “I was thrilled… the parents were happy. There were children in the community for the first time in years.”

“I’m guessing it didn’t last,” I said darkly.

“Rosa!” Deshi snapped.

“No, no she’s right. Those hormones, what I created, caused the growth of other things. Tumors.” His hands were so tightly clasped, they were white. “I tried to fight the cancers but they were aggressive. They all died,” Matthew said, his voice cracking at the end. “Cal was my one success. I don’t know what happened. He was tumor free at his last check six months ago.”

I cut him off, “So Cal’s sick. I don’t see what that has to do with my attack. Are you trying to make me feel sorry for him?” The whole story was wearing me down.

“Cal has a tumor in his brain, in his frontal lobe. The frontal lobes have been found to play a part in impulse control, judgment, sexual behavior, socialization, and spontaneity,” Matthew said, like he was quoting a textbook. A disco

“What are you saying?” I asked. “Are you saying he couldn’t help it, that it wasn’t his fault?”

“No, not exactly, but even though he knew what he was doing was wrong, he couldn’t stop himself. He feels terrible, Rosa, just terrible.” I didn’t want to hear that he felt bad. My head felt like it was going to explode.

“Oh my God, stop talking, just stop. I don’t want to know anymore.” I put my hands to my ears. “Please, get out.” I felt like I was slamming my head against a wall, over and over. Someone listen to me. Look at me. Stop lying to me. Please.

Matthew slumped out of his chair and turned to walk away, his face so downcast he was nearly doubled over. “Wait,” I said.

“Yes,” he barely whispered. There was no hope in his voice at all.

That thought, it wouldn’t let me go. “I want to go back and get my mother.”

Every time I said it, my resolve grew stronger. The words were a march I was already part of. I would never let it go.

Matthew nodded and walked away as Joseph passed him without acknowledging his presence. His fierce green eyes were on me.

When Matthew was out of sight, I turned my attention to Addy. “Did you know about this?” I asked accusingly. The others stared around the room, trying not to get caught in the searing waves of heat that were coming from my eyes. I didn’t care if she was old.

She nodded.

I glared at her, hoping her loose face would join her body and melt into a puddle.

She reacted immediately, not shying away from my glare—she met it. “It is not your right to know anything and everything about everyone. You are new here so I’ll cut you some slack.” She stared me down, daring me to respond. I found I couldn’t. “This was not my pain to share. These were families that lost children.” She huffed and her face softened. “We are on your side. But we all have our own tragedies to deal with. You need to try and understand that.”

I blinked slowly, unused to being talked to like that. I wasn’t sure if she was right but I felt bad for upsetting her so I left it alone. I was suddenly so weary. The tumult of information had run right over me like an avalanche and now I lay bruised and battered under meters of snow. But I was still doggedly and exhaustedly trying to tu