Flicker (8 page)

“Can I take something out?” I ask him, thinking of my embroidery hoop.

“There’s nothing in those bags, or in the life you just left, that you’ll need, Vessel,” he says, patting my head.

I walk in obedience towards The Light, but not without thinking of the threaded sun on the muslin. How the majestic purple trail of color around its rays was never finished, and how I may never get the chance to create a trail of my own.

chapter twelve

S
tepping off the boat and onto the island, I grip Mom’s hand in mine. She may have her eyes set on this new future, but I’m scared of the unknown. It was just days ago I was in our domed house with everyone I thought I loved. And now we walk into a new life with what feels like blindfolds on.

              The blindfold disappears fast because the light illuminating the path keeps any hint of darkness at bay. Light shines on everything and everyone as we walk. The sun set an hour ago making the world pitch dark. Back at the compound sundown meant no light until morning. We were lucky to have one small lamp we kept running through the night; thanks to one of us taking a substantial walk on the treadmill to recharge it’s battery.

The Refuge must have a different light source. No battery could provide this amount of energy; it would be impossible to generate. Lampposts line the walkway, guiding us to the front doors of a giant stone building, one story high. Greenery climbs the flat walls, grabbing the smooth gray surface. Metal arms reach over our heads casting bright light over the path and I steal a look at Mom, her eyes are fixed above too, brimming with tears. I’m sure she remembers when the whole world had light.

The lights went out the day I was born.

I was brought into a world of darkness and this is the first time I’ve ever seen light like they had in the world Mom and Dad were a part of. Hana and Basil’s faces are painted in wonder as they point towards the light. I thought walking off the boat would be terrifying, but it isn’t. It’s like I can finally see.

“This way. Please, enter the showers here,” a woman tells the four of us as we reach the end of the path. Her hair hangs past her waist and she wears a white dress that barely skims the ground. Her slender hands direct us towards a bare cement courtyard.

We’re ushered into outdoor showers. A dozen stalls in a row, each with towels and bars of soap.

“Please deposit your clothing outside the stall and take a shower, as long as you need. The water’s warm.”

The four of us stare at one other, but then Basil moves first, pulling her tank top over her head. She turns the knob in a stall, and we watch as steaming water sprays out of the showerhead.

“Hana, you first. Come in here, the water’s warm, like the lady said.”

Hana sticks her hand in the water and squeals.

“See, told you. Now take off your clothes and get in. Make sure you use the soap.”

“What’s that?”

“This.” Basil points out a bar. “Come here, sis.” She’s patient with Hana, who listens and then undresses before getting in the shower. “Now I’m getting in, okay? But I’m right next to you if you need anything.” Basil wriggles her jeans off and gets in, leaving Mom and I to stare at one another.

“I guess it will feel nice.” Mom’s shoulders are stiff, but she turns around and unzips her coat. I do the same, facing the stall, trying to create a bit of privacy.

“Lucy, I can’t believe I hesitated, this feels amazing!” Mom calls from the shower stall next to me.

“Okay, yeah, I’m getting in,” I answer, distracted by the girl coming over to me.

“Please hand me your clothing, Vessel. I’ll bring you a clean robe.”

“Sorry.” I tug off my shirt and bra, feeling exposed, but I have no choice.

Soon the water’s blazing hot against my skin. The four of us stay in long enough for me to rewash my hair three times, intoxicated by the vanilla-scented shampoo. I’ve never experienced a continuous supply of hot water; lukewarm water was a luxury that rarely existed.

When I turn off the water, the girl who took my clothes comes back, giving me clean underclothes. She helps me into a silky, light yellow robe, and then she wraps orange cord around my waist. The dress hangs loose like a tunic; I’ve become a Grecian in Aristotle’s court.

“The newest Vessels wear yellow robes. Once you are given a new name from your Humbleman, you begin wearing white like me,” the girl explains.

Once dressed and with thin slippers on our feet, the four of us are led through the big front door into a large room. I take in the Refuge cautiously; the stark white walls and cement floor feel cold and sterile. There’s a row of wooden chairs and a table in the center. Mom smiles and nods towards me as I walk in. Soft music makes its way throughout the room. It’s odd to hear such rich sounds since I’ve led such a quiet life, my ears tickle with the sound.

There are women and girls of all ages lined along the perimeter of the room, holding hands, with serene smiles and closed eyes. Their quietude seeps into my pores as Mom and I take our seats.

“We’re here, Lucy,” Mom says, sitting next to me. The internal struggle I’ve had since we started this journey … the bitterness of leaving the compound on such horrible terms, the sadness of not having a choice in the decision to come here, the apprehension at Mom’s belief that there’s a purpose waiting for me here … slips away with each breath I take.

The woman who directed us at the entrance to the Refuge stands at the front of the room, smiling graciously as the four of us fall silent with her presence.

“We welcome you to our Refuge.” Her voice is larger then her frame, but she isn’t loud, she’s gifted at communication because my pounding heart stills. Her gentle tone cascades over me, quieting my mind.

“My name is Honor, and as the First Vessel of this Refuge, I offer you a sincere welcome. Our desire is that every newly-committed Vessel and their offspring will find a unique and ordained place in this fold. We strive to nurture every soul by finding each one a place to work with their hands, their mind, and their spirit. Surely there are many questions waiting to be answered as you have travelled here with uncertainty. We ask that you practice the discipline of patience. Questions are best answered as you discover the Truth. That process takes time.”

A murmur passes between Basil and Hana. Basil’s furrowed brows reveal she’s unhappy with the vagueness of this woman’s statement. I look at Mom. Her face remains still.

“Gentle now, Vessels,” Honor says to Basil and Hana.  “Our Nobleman did not enter this world the day it was created. He waited many years before his time came. Can you not wait to understand your place in The Light?” The room becomes quiet around me as I try to absorb the ridiculousness of that statement. A person named the Nobleman created the world? I’ve been taught the world was formed by a big-bang-meteor-crashing-explosion; at least that’s what Dad’s old books said.

I look at Mom, to any outsider her face remains steady, but I know her better than anyone. Her eyes narrow, and I know this earth-creation-information confuses her as well. 

A woman on the perimeter comes to our table, passing around a tray filled with steaming mugs of tea, filling the room with an aroma of apples and spices. I inhale the intoxicating smell … although I immediately regret my choice. Tea was an accomplice to the deaths on the compound. This cup represents everything I lost.

But maybe it holds everything I’m meant to gain. Mom must notice my hesitation because she squeezes my knee, encouraging me to drink it. I listened to her wishes last time and it saved my life, of course I will listen now. Still, as I lift the mug and take a sip there is trepidation in my heart for the unknown. As I swallow, warmth spreads through me, although my body’s fatigued from hunger, the tea restores me with each drink I take.

After the tea, Basil, Mom, and I are given a packet of papers and a new, sharpened pencil. Dad used the same pencils when he taught me to write, showing me to trace my letters impeccably, not allowing for any slight error.

Honor indicates how we are to proceed. She explains how although each test is the same for Vessel’s over thirteen years of age, different answers reveal different parts of our character, and that will determine our roles as members of The Light. We are to answer each question to the best of our abilities, and afterwards we will be partnered with another Vessel for training purposes.

Hana is led to another room, where someone will give her a test orally, and although Basil begins to argue, she settles down, knowing there is nothing she can do.

Basil scans the pages quickly as if she is looking for something.

“Is there something wrong?” Honor asks.

“Oh, it’s just, I can’t read.” Basil answers without shame. Being illiterate seems impossible, I’ve been reading since I was young.

“What is your age?” Honor inquires.

“Almost fifteen.”

“Very well. You will be given the test with a proctor, like your sister. Follow me.”

Honor leads her through the same door Hana exited. I crane my neck, wanting a glimpse into what else we have in store. The idea of being assigned a job based on intelligence intrigues me.

At the same time, it doesn’t feel fair. I grew up in a warm home with clean clothes, and though the environment felt hostile at times, it was still a family. I was able to focus on my education instead of survival in a dangerous world. Dad and the others at the compound spent years quizzing me on facts and figures. I went through every book in the library more than once and sure, the adults I lived with treated me as a child, but I could outsmart them in a game of chess any day. Guilt spreads through me as I watch Basil leave, realizing what a privileged life I’ve lead.

“Lucy,” Mom whispers after Honor’s walked away. “You will do well on this, but don’t reveal too much about yourself, we don’t know everything about these people yet.” She discreetly points to my palm. It’s the first thing Mom has said to me to indicate she may have apprehensions about The Light.

“Sure, Mom.” I’m glad she said I could wait before I say that my hand can flicker with light. Before I mention that my palm can untie rope and cure headaches with a simple touch, I need to understand these people. Honor’s back in the room and I turn my head down towards the test.

As the assessment begins the women sing an octave higher. The test is several pages, but as I flip through them I realize I have nothing to say in response to the questions. They want to know our knowledge on The Light. I exhale, disappointed that I’m not able to put my considerable knowledge on the history of the world into practice. I take a closer look, realizing this test is a chance for the leaders here to gauge what new Vessels understand about their group. My ability to divide fractions and write a five-paragraph essay means nothing.

The only portion of the test I can answer are the questions about me. Who I am, where I come from, what day I was born. I’m relieved there’s at least something I can write, although I don’t think Mom would want me to write the entire truth. If I told the truth, I’d have to say the life I lived was a lie, a paranoid farce orchestrated by my father. Instead, I decide to focus on the parts of my story that don’t rely on the individuals I lived with.

I’m a girl captivated by the sun and I come from the countryside four days from here, never traveling so far from home in my life. I am a child born the day the lights went out, always looking for light. And when the world is dark or confusing, I close my eyes, and things get brighter somehow, reminding me that everything is going to be okay. A light appears within and all the pain and fear and unknowns around me disappear and I can rest knowing there’s a flicker inside me.

I don’t know if I’ve said too much or too little, but I leave plenty of empty space because the real truth, besides what I wrote, is I haven’t heard or seen or dreamed of much in my life. I don’t know what else there is to smell and taste and touch, because I’ve only just begun. Touching Charlie’s hand is the closest thing to living I’ve done, and that doesn’t count anymore, because he’s left like every other person I’ve known.

I set the pencil down and sigh. I hadn’t noticed how long I took, but Honor walks over to our table saying, “You certainly had a great deal to say.”

I don’t answer, instead I just hand my test to her, thankful to be done.

Basil and Hana rejoin us, and Honor announces it’s dinnertime. While we eat, the tests are reviewed. Women continue to sing gentle melodies, each song soothing my tired body from days of travel.

We’re served a spread of bread, honey, goat cheese … a delicious food I’d only heard of … and blueberries. We inhale the meal and grow delirious. If Hana and Basil have lived anything like us, food so rich with flavor is intoxicating.

Hana stuffs her cheeks with berries and, never having been around a girl younger than myself before, I find myself unable to resist laughing at every little thing she does. Basil eats wildly, swiping the cheese with the bread and stuffing it in her mouth. That answers the question I had if she’s been as starved as me. After every bite Mom takes, a slight groan escapes from her lips, as she satisfies herself in a way she hasn’t in over a decade. It’s a decadent scene. We avoid talking, with the test over we don’t know what is to come, but speculating in front of the singing women feels strange.

Once we’ve demolished all of the food on the table, and a burp comes from Hana’s mouth, we turn around looking for direction on what we should do next.

Honor strides to the center of the room to address everyone. The room goes flat now void of the singing voices.

“New Vessels, there’s been a slight setback with one of the tests, but hopefully that will be ironed out before it becomes a problem. So, without further ado, your partners will now join you. Remember, they will help you with everything you need from here on out. Now, Agreement, meet Basil.”