The Wall

I relaxed. Gave up. I inhaled deeply. There was no way I could escape this. The boy would call the man in the truck, who would alert the neighbors. I would be up on the center podium tomorrow and my mother would have to watch as they cut my heart out, slit my throat, or did whatever horrible punishment traitors received.

I let out a sigh and closed my eyes, fists clenched, thinking maybe I could punch him, do some damage before I was dragged off.

My thoughts went to Joseph. I was so selfish for wanting to come here. My heart clenched and jolted. I would never see him again. I would never see my son again.

“Soar?” I opened my eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?” A sharp whisper emitted from a dark shadow of a face. I knew that voice.

I peered into it, trying to pick out the features, dark brows, dark eyes, my height. Then he smiled.

“Rash.”

The word escaped my lips like a soft wind.

I gripped both his hands with my own, hard, feeling his skin, his pulse, making sure he was real. They were the same as always, rough, cool. My mouth moved quicker than my brain and the words tipped out of me like a barrowful of dirt.

“Yes, it’s me. Look, we don’t have much time but I’ve come from the outside. There’s a settlement. If you want to come with me, I’ll take you. It’s so much better there. You can be free, safe,” I blurted out in one breath.

Rash watched me, absorbing my words, absorbing me. He looked the same but there was a new sadness behind his twinkling eyes. I wondered how he had ended up here, collecting garbage.

He smiled broadly and that smidge of sadness disappeared like a mirage. He squeezed my hands back fully, the complete action of a friend, a brother who had never let me go. I felt a stitch being sewn, my heart pulling itself back together. “I can’t go. I have a promising career sorting through other people’s garbage for the rest of my life,” he said with a wink. He pulled my ear close to his mouth and whispered, “Let’s get outta here.”

I shivered from the warmth of his breath and smiled.

The driver of the truck was now really worked up, thumping the side of the truck in a temper. “You hopeless good for nothing idiot. Get over here before I chuck you in the compactor.”

“With charming coworkers like that guy, why would I even think of leaving this dream job?” he whispered, and my heart swelled. “Coming!” he shouted to the driver.

He tried to move but I jerked him back. I couldn’t let him go. I couldn’t believe he was standing in front of me.

“I’ll need those back,” he said warmly, his eyes resting on our joined hands.

I nodded and released him, feeling instant pain at the separation. I whispered, “Meet me at the gate for Ring Eight at 3:45 AM. Can you get away?” I asked.

“Hey, for the ghost of Construction Class, anything!” Rash said and he sidled away casually, without looking back.

He may have been useless as a laborer but he could act. He slipped naturally back into his garbage-collector role like nothing had happened. And like that, an old ache eased. It lifted and left a tiny, white scar behind as a reminder, but one of my ghosts was freed.

I stood there, waiting for the lights of the truck to recede into the distance. Filled with new energy, I weaved through the shadows like I was air and light. Rash, I found Rash. How he was here, I couldn’t fathom but I’d found him—he was coming with me. I would let this good news cradle me against the grief that was threatening to destroy me, the grief of losing my mother, twice.

I stole my way through the gates without incident, noticing for the first time how empty the streets were. Even on a quiet night there were usually a few police patrols strutting down the pavement, talking loudly and being generally obnoxious. Where was everybody? My feelings of joy at finding my friend were coated in a sap of suspicion. Dust swirled up my nose as a vague breeze swept across the ground. The air never moved very far in here.

I hoped the Spider Careen retrieved would have some answers for us. I prayed her rescue had gone smoother than my own.

Ring Eight—the end of the line in so many ways. It was the end of Pau Brasil; it was the end of life for its inhabitants. For me, it was the end of Woodlands. I would never come back here.

I waited in the shadow of an empty bin on the curb. I would have to wait for at least an hour so I hunkered down on my knees and rested my back against the side of the bin. It was empty but the stench of past garbage was almost too much. I took my breath in small bursts through my mouth, wondering what they did with all the rubbish.

I lifted my hand to my face gingerly, feeling the bulge where Paulo had struck me throb under my fingertips. Paulo. I smiled darkly. By now, the police would have him in custody. Maybe that’s why there was no one in the streets. They were all attending the disturbance I’d made in Ring Two. It seemed unlikely. There should be more, I was sure of it.

I watched as two men in police uniforms set themselves up in a little shed that rested against the outer ring. They must have been on watch and had just changed shifts. They began to play cards on a flimsy table the man had carried in under his arm, talking loudly. There was an older, heavy-looking man with big, muscled arms and stringy hair that fell in a flap over his balding head. The other had a small snip of a face and when he spoke, his voice matched it perfectly, whiny and full of pinched resentment.

“Didn’t you want to go?” the older man snorted.

“They said I couldn’t go, bad legs,” the snip said, slapping his thigh. “There’s a lot of walking, y’know.”

“Sure, sure,” the older one said, punching the whiny one’s arm. “You’re just worried the scary Survivors will getchya with their magical powers.” He wiggled his fingers at the young one like he was casting a spell.

“Shut up! You’re not going either—what’s your excuse?”

“Too old,” he said and went quiet for a while. I shifted on my haunches. “Ha! I win. Another round?”

“Why not? Nothing going on around here,” the younger one shrugged.

I tried to put this together, not that it was hard. This puzzle had flat edges and only two pieces to match up. If the police were not here, they had begun their search for the settlement. Only I didn’t know how long ago they’d left and whether they’d found anything.

After about an hour of watching and listening to this back-and-forth conversation, which mostly consisted of the big one teasing the whiny one and the whiny one, well, whining, I started to wish they had caught me or that the bigger one would slap some sense into the snippy man. He complained and carried on about every single thing. How hot it was during the day, how cold it was at night, how his leg ached in varying temperatures. It seemed to me it ached in every temperature. I was about to stand up and offer to amputate it for him when I saw Rash leaning against the gate, looking for me.

It didn’t take him long to see me crouching behind the bin, rolling my eyes. He walked towards me and my heart started to pound. He would expose us both. But he walked straight past me without casting me a shadow of a glance and made his way up to the policemen. They had a hushed conversation and he shook hands with the older one. They walked away from their post.

Charm can get you quite far it seemed.

The dark mischief walked towards me with his beautiful grin. I felt my own mouth lifting. He was here. He was real.

“How did you do that?” I asked in wonderment as I took his hand and let him pull me up.

“Oh, I just told them I saw an old man had carked it in the house around the corner and he had some nice stuff.”