When
Eva is within a couple feet of me she pauses and tucks her skirt
under her legs to seal out the cold rising from the concrete. Even at
this height the cold feels inescapable. “I had a younger sister
before I ended up here. Her name was Claire. Sweetest
little face you ever saw.” Her smile wanes. She
clasps her hands in her lap. Strands of hair fall about her
face, concealing her from sight. I get the feeling that’s
exactly what she needs at the moment.
“Mom
and dad never planned to have a second child. They called it a
miracle, but I think it was an accident. I never really minded that
Claire was doted on. I guess a part of me was excited about the
idea of my son having someone close to his age.”
Tears
swim in her eyes as she looks up. She wipes them away and
offers me a sad, pained smile. “Before all of this I used
to go pick her up from daycare. I wasn’t able to go to
school anymore because of my pregnancy, so I offered to be on
babysitting duty.”
She
falls silent for a moment. New tears trail down her cheeks but
she doesn't brush these away. “About two weeks ago I went
to pick her up and she was gone.”
“Gone?”
Pale,
thin fingers fumble at the neckline of her dress. I watch as
she grasps a thin chain and draws out a small golden cross. She
holds it between her fingers and closes her eyes. “I
could see blood seeping out from under the front door of the daycare.
It stained the concrete of the first step. I didn't know
what to do. I was scared but couldn’t just walk away. I
pounded on the door for a while but there was no answer.”
She
pauses and stares at her upturned hands, as if the blood was still on
them. “Finally someone heard me yelling. A neighbor from
down the street, I think. He broke the window and unlocked the
door.”
Her
voice catches. “Mrs. Spurneky, the owner, fell out onto
my feet when we opened the door. Her throat had been slit from
one side to the other. I still remember her eyes…”
I
take a deep breath as I fight not to picture my own mother’s
death. To remember the fear and the sounds. “Then
what happened?”
Her
fingers quake as she continues. “We found three other
bodies. All women I knew as teachers from my sister’s
class. Each one had a look of shock on their face. Gun
shots to the forehead and chest. That neighbor rushed out of
there so fast you’d have thought there was a gunman on his
tail. I told myself that he was going for help but no one ever
came. He just bailed on me.”
“I
searched the entire building and couldn't find a single child. I’d
guess there were over thirty that went there every day. All
gone.”
“If
no one was there, then how did you know it was soldiers that took
your sister?” I ask.
Watery
eyes rise to meet mine. Her lower lip trembles. “I
found one of their radios. Must have been left behind. I
turned it on but all I heard was static. When I found my way
back outside I noticed a footprint in the edge of the blood trail.
I’m sure it was a combat boot.”
When
she falls silent this time I let it sink in. I don’t want
to speak any more. I don’t want to hear any more tales of
how messed up our world has become. How could a grown man run
away and leave a helpless pregnant girl all alone? How could
soldiers break into a preschool and steal children? And for what
purpose?
“Did
that happen around here?”
“No.”
She wipes at her nose. “I’m from Ohio. After
we lost Claire and things started to get weird, my mom sent me to
visit my Aunt Edith.”
“Did
you find her?”
Evangeline
shakes her head. “I was on Alex’s plane when we
were rerouted here. When the stewardesses took off and
left me alone, Alex found me. He took me in, kept me safe.”
I
nod, finally understanding why she is determined to see Alex as a
good man. “Well, it looks like he’s done right by
you so far.”
She
offers me a tiny smile. “I should probably get some rest.”
“Yeah.”
I lie down as she crawls back to her bed. It seems like the
easier option for her rather than standing. I listen as she
settles down. It only takes a few moments before her breathing
grows slow and steady.
I
glance toward the door, the only exit that I’ve discovered
since arriving. Maybe I could pick the lock without anyone
hearing, and maybe I could sneak out onto the street and find my
bearings, but not yet. As desperate as I am to leave, I also have to
be smart about it. The only reason Alex got the better of me was
because I was weak and vulnerable from illness. I won’t make
that same mistake again.
I
miss the sun. Miss its warmth and false cheer. I miss how
it chases away the shadows and almost makes me forget all of the
darkness around me.
For
three days I have been stuck here. Three long, endless days
without any hint from the outside world.
Despite
my prolonged captivity, my relationship with Evangeline has bloomed,
far more than I should have allowed. Her laughter is soft, her
humor sweet and innocent. For a girl who has obviously had a rough go
of things recently, her sunny disposition seems like a precious
trait. One that I could probably use a bit more of, if I were
honest with myself.
As
the days passed, I found myself protecting her from Victoria’s
barbs. Eva would always brush it off, claiming that Victoria didn’t
really mean it, but I know better. I’ve met women like her.
Women who get their jollies by lording over younger women,
pointing out their faults with the express purpose of making
themselves feel lofty, still important.
During
one of my chats with Eva over a lukewarm pot of bland tasting soup, I
discovered that old Vicky is a retired high school science teacher.
My initial impression of her was spot on. She is rude,
harsh and a no-nonsense sort of person whose greatest weakness is
having no clue that no one wants her around. I still haven’t
figured out how she fits into the group...or even how the group was
formed to begin with.
Salvador
Jenkins has been unofficially dubbed ‘Sleazy Sal’ in my
books. One of those guys you know are trying to work out a
situation to benefit themselves. Eva told me he used to be a
used car salesman. I wonder why that doesn’t surprise me.
I
watch Sal like a hawk when he comes near Eva. I don’t
like the way he watches her as she moves. It’s not an
entirely lustful gaze but it’s certainly an inappropriate one
for a girl her age and in her condition.
Devon
is a prick. No way around that fact. He rubbed me the wrong way
my first day here and has been grating my nerves ever since.
Whenever Alex is around, he manages to tone down Devon’s
strong personality, but if I stick around long enough we are gonna
clash hard.
Alex
is a wild card. One that I’m still trying to decipher.
Other
than Evangeline, I suppose I trust Alex most. Though he’s a bit
cocky, he seems decent enough. He cares for Eva. I’ve
watched how he tries to help her whenever he can, bearing her burden
of chores without complaint.
A
soft moan draws me out of my musings. I turn to look at Eva,
rising to go to her side but she motions me back. “I’m
fine. Really.”
That’s
the third time she’s said those exact words in the last thirty
minutes. Each time she does, it doesn’t help to convince
me. The signs of her progressing labor increase. The
pains started nearly three hours ago but she told no one. Only
bit her lip and forced a smile. She may be sweet, but that
girl’s got iron in her too.
I
admire her. In spite of her silent throes of agony, she remains
a hard worker. Eva sits quietly in the corner of the office,
peeling carrots with a glorified butter knife. Victoria sits
nearby, plunging her fingernails into a potato to dig out the eyes
that have begun to grow. I’m not really sure where the
provisions came from, especially ones that are moderately fresh. Alex
must have gone on another supply run.
I’ve
learned not to ask questions that I have no hope of getting an answer
to. That doesn’t mean I’m unobservant though. I
watch and wait, learning my companions’ intentions.
None
of the members are related. None seem to have known each other
prior to the week before and yet here they are. Every time I
try to speak to Eva about it she goes tight lipped and I’m
beginning wonder if she wasn’t the only stray Alex picked up at
the airport.
Their
accents don't seem to fit with the Midwest. Alex’s lack
of any discernable accent makes sense I guess, because he’s a
pilot. I’d peg him as a California guy, myself. Eva
has a bit of a northern clip to her words that would match up fairly
well with her Ohio lineage, but I’d bet tonight’s dinner
that one of her parents were from Boston. Only Devon Meeder, the
Peter Pan quoting, thinks he’s in charge of everybody guy who
made the mistake of thinking he’s the boss, sounds Midwestern.
He fits right in.
It’s
my guess that he’s the one who brought everyone here to this
factory. He seems to have an understanding of the area. The
real question is why he chooses to linger when he should be running.
My gut tells me there is something here in the city that calls to
him. I’d love to find out what that something is.
Glancing
over at Eva, I watch as her fingers curl into her palms. Her
breathing hitches, her eyes close as she presses back into the wall.
I capture Alex’s knowing gaze. He says nothing
though he is just as aware of her condition as I am. Why else would
he have joined in with the peeling party? That’s girls’
work, according to Sal.
Casting
a cautious glance at the closed door to my left, I hear voices on the
other side. Devon and Sal are within. In the three days
since I have been here I have hardly glimpsed a sliver of sight into
that room. They are hiding something. Of that I am sure.
There
was never any official vote for me to join the group. No welcome
party or hugs all around. I stayed, biding my time. Sooner
or later the men will have to leave. When they do, I’ve
already decided that I’m getting Eva out of here. Victoria is
on her own for all I care!
With
each day I grow stronger. My ribs ache less. My fever has
been gone for three days and my stamina returns. If it comes
down to a fight I stand a good chance against Sal and Victoria.
Devon, though obviously a once polished businessman, looks like
he’s spent his fair share of time on the streets. He has
the swagger and the large gold nugget bling on his fingers to prove
it. The one kicker is Alex. I’m just not sure which
way he would sway.
Sooner
or later the group will be forced to move on. The food supply must be
running thin. The last of the vegetables at Victoria’s
feet have begun to wilt. Clean water has grown scarce. We’ve
taken to melting some of the icicles that formed overnight in a pot
near the corner.
Burst
water pipes have left the drinking water in danger of contamination.
I’m not nearly thirsty enough to risk it, but I’d be
happy to let Sal test it for me.
A
hiss of breath returns my attention to Eva. I tense, poised to
rush to her side but she offers me a pained smile, shaking her head
again. I ease back and count the seconds in my head. Her
contractions are only five minutes apart now.
“Aren’t
you done yet, girl?”
I
glance up to see Victoria hovering over Eva like a mother hen, too
dense to see what is right in front of her thick lenses. “You’d
think we had plenty of gas to spare for cooking,” she clucks,
jutting her chin toward the gas lantern sputtering near her feet. A
small pot of water struggles to boil.
I
rise to go to Eva’s side, but Alex beats me to it. “Ease
off, Vicky. She’s not feeling well.”
Victoria
pushes her glasses back up her nose and shoves aside the frizzy
strands of hair falling into her eyes. Her stern gaze narrows on
Eva’s quivering lip. “Is she sick? Did that
blasted girl give her something?”
“I’ve
got a name, you know?” I toss my peeled onion into the sack at
my feet and rise.
Alex
raises a hand to motion that I remain back. I begrudgingly stay
put, but not without shooting the old bat a lethal glare first.
“Why don’t I finish up for you, Eva, huh?
You need to get some rest.”
“Yes.”
She nods and hands him the bunch of carrots. As he takes
it from her grasp I realize blood stains her palms, her nail beds
painted crimson. I grit my teeth at the evidence of her
torment. She is young, scared, and practically alone, and I won't
stand by and watch Victoria poking and prodding her.
“Coddling
won’t fix a lazy child.” Victoria tsks and stirs the
soup. “Back in my day—”
“Shut
her up, Alex, or I will!” I wrap my arm around Eva, helping her
make her way across the room, past the Victoria’s pot of murky
water soup. A chicken based stock, or so Alex claims. It
doesn’t smell like any chicken I’ve ever had before.
Eva’s
steps are slow and cautious. I glance back at Alex over my
shoulder. His posture is rigid, his elbows digging into his
thighs as he leans over and steeples his hands before his mouth,
whispering to Victoria. He’d better be putting her in her
place.
Soon
everyone will know that Eva’s in labor. Then the
screaming will start. I need to know if Alex is with me on
this.
What
will happen if he’s not? Will Devon gag Eva and force her
to endure her child’s birth in silence? He is already
wound tighter than a spring. He paces every time he enters the
room, like an animal wild and caged. His own inner demons have begun
to eat at him. Sooner or later he will snap. I don’t
want Eva anywhere near him when that happens.