The Wounded

Pelo stood on the other side of the curtain, humming. “You really shouldn’t curse like that in front of the child, Rosa.”

“He can’t understand me,” I snapped.

I brought the handheld to my face, squinting. Pelo was right. It was time.

*****

I’d expected this, but it didn’t make me any less grumpy. The Survivors didn’t have many traditions, but the celebration of birthdays was one of them. Two months ago, they did this for Hessa. Now it was Orry’s turn.

Joseph held Orry in his clasped hands, so the child was sitting up like he was on a throne. He yawned long and loud, grunting a little and rubbing his eyes. I reached up and stroked his hair, which matched his fathers, a shock of golden curls wrapped around his forehead like a crown. “I know how you feel,” I complained, rolling my eyes. I kicked a stone from the ledge, watching as it bounced jauntily down the giant tiers of this grimy amphitheater.

Pelo walked jerkily in front of me. “Fascinating culture. I heard that our people used to celebrate the date of one’s birth and such before the war. Isn’t it thrilling to be part of such a tradition now?”

Joseph gri

I bumped Joseph’s shoulder lightly and poked my tongue out at him. I was kind of thrilled, well as thrilled as I was going to be at midnight. But Orry wasn’t born until late afternoon, so technically it wasn’t his birthday yet. I had plans for later in the day. But this was the Survivors’ thing, and I was pleased to be part of it.

With Hessa, it had been the same. Nearly three thousand people crammed around the canal, plus the five or six hundred from the Monkey City. We wandered down to the edge, people parting for us, shuffling back with their heads bowed but big smiles on their faces. Matthew stood at the edge with Careen, Rash, Pietre, and Odval. Even Pietre’s face looked calm. I wouldn’t say he was smiling but he seemed peaceful, standing gingerly on his new, carved leg. He had his hands behind his back and stepped forward, producing a crudely carved ship. He held it in front of Orry, whose eyes danced as he grabbed at it. I nodded in thanks.

“I can’t believe he’s one year old,” a tinkle of a voice said from behind Careen.

My heart jumped. Apella had made it. Careen moved aside, and I stumbled over to her. “You came?” I asked, a bit dazed by all the staring eyes.

She coughed lightly into her fist and nodded.

Matthew clapped to get everyone’s attention. I joined Joseph, leaning my head towards Orry and letting him knock me on the head with the ship.

“We are here to mark the first birthday of Orlando, er…” Matthew leaned towards us and whispered, “Does Orry have a surname?”

We looked at each other, confused. We’d never really thought about it. “Bianca-Sulle?” Joseph asked.

I screwed up my nose. “Just Sulle is fine.” Bianca didn’t mean a great deal to me. Sulle meant a hell of a lot more.

Joseph’s chest swelled when Matthew shouted out, “Orlando Sulle, or Orry as we’ve all come to know him.”

He held up a candle, lit it, and placed it in the bow of the ship. Orry started screaming when Matthew took it from him, and everyone laughed.

He gave the boat to Joseph and me and, together with Orry, we knelt down and placed it in the water.

The sound of thirty-five hundred people singing was like nothing I’d ever heard. It was warm and huge, the voices meshing and melding all around us. Together, the simple and repetitive song they sang had a strength and force to it. They loved my little boy. Not as much as I did, but pretty close.

The golden light of the candle bobbed away to the music, slowly disappearing, flashing starry light against the cold, dark walls for seconds at a time before moving on, and eventually disappearing down a tu

Joseph clasped Orry tightly with one hand and the other squeezed my hand. I saw Salim and his monkeys, standing at the top tier. He nodded solemnly. I tipped my chin and returned my gaze to my family.

Happy birthday, Orry.

*****

We dragged ourselves back to bed, accepting gifts and trinkets along the way. My yawn could have swallowed them all. I slunk under the blanket, restless, snippets of dreams pushed at me, shaking my shoulders, and not letting me sleep fitfully.

Orry cried out. Instead of settling him in his bed, I brought him to me. I felt protective, cloudy dreams full of warnings and people long gone swimming in my head.

Just before dawn, I sat bolt upright, sweat soaking my shirt, the chilling image of Clara standing over me, her hands wringing and tears streaming down her face, forcing my heart to stretch and pulse against my ribcage. My eyes swept around the room. Orry was sleeping on his stomach, one hand hanging off the mattress. Joseph lay with his back to me, his broad ribs moving soundlessly.

Just a dream, it was just a dream. But even as I thought it, something caught. These things would always be hard. Because Clara, Addy, Deshi, my mother, they should all be here. With me. With Orry.

I stroked Orry’s head and collapsed between them, always the agitated, wriggly, dark one stuck between these two perfect boys. Like a scratchy shadow between two golden lights.

*****

I rolled my eyes and prepared my tongue and mouth for breakfast. It was always ca

“Ok, which one do you want, Orry? Beans or beans?” I asked, trying to smile so he would actually eat it. He grabbed at the pretty can with the field in the background.

“Beans it is then!” I said as I pulled the ring open.

Joseph rolled over and grabbed me around the waist. “Save some for me… not!”

I laughed as I spooned them into Orry’s eager mouth.

“The last thing you need is beans.”

He chuckled and pinched my stomach lightly. “Oh, that’s really classy.”

I shook my head and continued to alternate one spoon for Orry and one for me. It tasted like glue mixed with liver, but he seemed to enjoy it.

*****

I didn’t have much pla

The world was closed over. We were still in the icy, mud-squelching stage of early winter. Soon we would be snowed in. I drew an unsatisfied breath at the thought of it. More months stuck underground with the monkeys.

Gus had sent some scouts back to the Wall to see if the Woodland soldiers had returned. There was no evidence of it, but no one wanted to go back. It was voted down by the majority. They didn’t want to stay here either, but the idea of searching out a new location and rebuilding the settlement was overwhelmingly exhausting. So we all sat on our hands, waiting for something to make the decision for us, which it didn’t. The only other option was to push forward with the idea of agitating the Woodland citizens, but we needed Deshi for that. We went round and round in circles. I knew what I wanted to do, but it wasn’t my decision. If they pushed me too far though, I would push back and away. I would break from this community. This was no way to live.