Tent City

Copyright © 2013 by Kelly Van Hull

Edited by Denise Gottshalk

Cover design by Laura Wilson

Miriam Webster Dictionary

AUTHOR’S NOTE

The events and characters in this story are fictional. Fiction is an author’s playground. Many great stories have been weaved with bits of truth and blocks of fantasy. I’ll let you decide which is which.

Because she believed in me

It feels a lot like the night my brother Drake died. Mom’s got that same scared and desperate look on her face. Dad looks blank, and as always, impossible to read. I’ve just come in from feeding the cows, well, the eight we have left, and I know something is up. Something big.

I can tell she is deciding on what to say next. Her eyes have a glossy sheen to them and she looks like she is holding back tears. Her eyes shift and she busies herself with papers on the counter. My first thought is Brody, but just as I imagine the worst, he whizzes by me, flying a small plastic plane in the air. He has fashioned a cape made out of an old baby blanket and his yellow curls are folded under.

“Sit down,” she says, as she brushes the hair out of her face.

“Mom, what’s up? What’s going on?”

“Claire,” my dad says, “we don’t know anything yet. It hasn’t even been announced. My brother could’ve had it all wrong.”

“John, you know he doesn’t.”

My dad’s brother is in the Army and kind of high up, so he always gets the news first and, as far as I know, he’s never been wrong. And since the food shortages started happening, the Army is the new government. It even comes with a new name, The Council.

“Mom, spill it!” I say.

“Well, like your dad said, we don’t know anything for sure, but Randy says that The Council is issuing another new order…” She is stumbling for the words.

“Dad?” I’m trying to stay level. An outburst would just delay things, so I wait.

“They want to take you away,” he says.

“What?”

“They want to take you and your brother to some sort of safety camp. It’s for children, to ensure their survival.”

“We’re fine right here. Why would they need to ensure our survival somewhere else?”

“Well,” Dad began, “they’re running out of food, and the deaths are rising again countrywide, and The Council fears if too many more deaths occur, the human population may be in danger of extinction.”

“We’ve always had enough food, Dad! They can’t do that.” Now I am fearful the tears may spring free. Surely, my dad can stop this.

“Yes, Dani, we’ve done all right here because of the farm, but Randy says they are not going to make any exceptions. All children, ages 5 to 18, are to be relocated.”

“That means Brody, too,” I say.

“There must be something we can do,” Mom says, as she wipes the corners of her eyes with the edge of a tissue.

“Well, there isn’t a lot we can do unless you want to start a war. And in the end, they’d take them anyway. Randy says there are positions for caretakers, but I don’t think they’ll go for it since you’re necessary on the farm,” he says to Mom.

“Dad, Uncle Randy’s pretty high up, can’t he do something about it?”

Dad sighs. “No honey. That’s part of the new order. No exceptions. They believe everyone should be treated the same.”

“I don’t understand. None of this makes any sense. Why would we be better off somewhere else without our parents? Who could ever think that Brody would be better off without Mom? He’s only five!”

At this last sentence, Mom starts to buckle. She sits down on the tan leather couch and puts her beautiful and delicate face into her hands and starts to weep.

“What kind of a place is this and how long will we have to be there?” I ask. I’m trying to get a grasp on reality.

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to let it get to that.”

“And?....”

“I have other plans, but only if you’re up to it,” he says, as he lights up a smile.

"Safety camps are a bad idea,” he says. I don’t want you there." He continues to avoid eye contact with Mom and looks intently at me, careful of my reaction. This is a lot to take in.

"Why?"

"Well for one, they would split you and Brody up. From the way I hear it, the camp you would go to would be more for...er...reproduction."
Before I know what I’ve done, I’ve slammed my hand into the coffee table. It vibrates under my palm and I let out a sigh of relief that I haven’t broken it. I can’t seem to focus on any one thing.

I’m tempted to slam my hand down again, if only to repeat the relief it gave me. I’m lost in thought at what this all means. Dad has to gently shake my shoulder to bring me back to attention.

"Can't we just hide in the cellar?" I ask.

"Yes....it's an option. But I don’t like it. With Brody only being five, I don't think he could handle it. Before long, Mom would cave and start letting him run around in the house. Then he would eventually make his way outside. It’d be only a matter of time before he was spotted. If he's seen, we will all be arrested, including
you
. And then none of us have a chance…and Brody would be sent off to God knows where."
The cellar option isn’t looking good.

So as it turns out, his big plan is for us to run away. The idea sounds preposterous to me. How many times have I dreamed of running away and now it was about to be sanctioned by my father? And on top of that, I’m to be responsible for Brody? He’s only five and he’s a total mama’s boy. He won’t last three days without her.

“I think we should just keep them safe in the cellar,” Mom says. “I just don’t know if I can handle not knowing where my babies are!”

“How can they do this to us? Isn’t it illegal or something?” I dart my eyes back and forth between Mom and Dad, hoping it is. “What’s so great about The Council anyway? The year they took over is when the most people died. Doesn’t that seem weird to you? How can they get away with this?!”

“We don’t know that The Council had anything to do with that,” Dad says. He nudges Mom with his elbow and she nods.

“Yes,” Mom agrees. “The Council isn’t responsible for that. It’s just a coincidence. But I’ve had just about enough of this. I think we should give the cellar some serious thought.”

“That’s not for us to decide,” he says to her, as he continues to look at me. “I’m not going to make you do anything, Dani. If this is going to work, it has to be your decision.” He pours Mom more coffee in a fresh cup, failing to notice she already has one, still untouched. It’s been sitting so long, an oily pool has gathered in the middle.

“You know…we could make the cellar work,” Mom says. “Maybe we could switch our days and nights around. You guys could sleep during the day and at night we could make a real life for ourselves, pretend it’s like it is right now….I think we could do it.”

Just then Brody races into the room chasing an imaginary bad guy. From the sounds of it, he’s back to Star Wars. Brody zips by me chasing the evil-doer, Darth Vader. "I'm gonna lock you in the cellar, Vader!" he shouts as he passes. There was a long silence after he left the room.

Finally, I said, “Mom, is that really what you want?” I’m aware that I’m staring at her, but I don’t want to glance away for even a second, for fear that I will miss a facial expression that will tell me what she’s
really
thinking.

“You’ve got until tomorrow morning to decide. Randy says they are breaking the news on Monday, and if you go, you’ll need to leave tomorrow,” Dad says.

“Where exactly am I going?”

He cracks a half smile. “Remember our cabin I used to take you and Drake when you were little?”

“Out in the Black Hills?” I ask.

“Yes. It’s the only place I can think of remote enough for you guys to stay hidden. Randy says The Council haven’t infiltrated there yet, so I think it could buy us some time until we figure out a better plan. “

“I wouldn’t even know how to get there.”

“Go on to bed. Spend some time thinking long and hard about what’s about to happen.  It’s a big decision and you’ve gotta figure out if you’re up to it.”

“Won’t they be after us? I mean, if they find out we’ve run away?”

“Well, Randy says he can help. It’s risky, but he says he could forge some papers stating you both already died with all of the others. Kind of like fake death certificates. If it works, they wouldn’t be looking for you at all.”

So Dad sends me upstairs and says, “sleep on it.” If I’ve ever been sure of anything, it’s that I won’t be sleeping at all. I start out with paper and pen. I try to put together a pros and cons list, but it’s all just a mess jumbled in my head. How can I possibly leave this place on these terms?

I meant to leave when I was good and ready, and off to an adventure on my own. Not forced into hiding, and certainly not having to take care of my little brother. Am I even capable of taking care of him? What if something happened while we are out on the road? Would I even know what to do?

I’m lying on my bed kicking my feet around restlessly. I stare at the ceiling, hoping it will reveal some answers. I’m so lost in thought that I barely hear my dad’s muffled voice from outside. He’s on the porch that’s outside my window.

I turn my light off and scurry over to the window, pushing the curtain to the side. Thankfully, my window’s already open so he won’t hear the intrusion as I try to eavesdrop.

“You’re not welcome here. Now go on, get moving!” he says to an old man with a scraggly beard that looks to be wearing a couple years’ worth of dirt.

“Just a bit of food is all I’m asking.” Even from here I can see the old man’s injured pride.

“None to spare. Now get moving before I call the cops.”

“All right, all right,” the old man says as he holds his hands up in surrender.

Just then I hear my mom come out to the porch. Before my dad can stop her, she has handed the man a loaf of bread.