George closed his eyes. “I was in the dump.”
A large, grey rat emerged from a crack in the wall near the floor, and Amy quickly spotted it. “We could use another rat, Joseph! Quick!”
Joseph grabbed a nearby slingshot and fired a rock straight into the animal’s head. Amy grabbed the rat by the tail and threw it over the fire to singe off its wiry hair.
George watched in disgust.
Amy pulled the blackened carcass from the fire and began to scrape off the remaining hair. She wiped the body down, ensuring that it was clean, and then cut up the meat and organs into fine cubes. She added the meat to her soup, then stirred it well. “It’ll be a few more minutes now,” she said apologetically.
“You eat rats?” George asked, coughing his disapproval.
“You don’t like rat?” Amy asked. “Why didn’t you say something before I put it in the soup?”
George shook his head, not having a suitable answer.
“We were playing
c
hess,” Joseph said, intentionally changing the subject. “Do you play?” he asked George.
George and Virginia had used to play
c
hess
often
back when it was just the two of them. It was a decent enough way to pass the time, and it was engaging enough to take over for a while
when
the conversation
went
flat. Virginia and George hadn’t played in a decade, but still just the thought of contemplating his various possible strategies sent images of Virginia’s face to the forefront of his mind. “I’m not very good,” he said with a shrug.
“I’m sure you’re being modest,” Joseph said. He returned to the chessboard and contemplated his next move.
George found his bag close by, and he remembered the picture he had packed. “I’m looking for someone.” He pulled the framed picture from a pocket and faced it toward Joseph and Amy. “She looks like this . . . only she might have deviant eyes now.”
Joseph and Amy both got back up to look at the picture, confused even more about the eyes. Neither recognized the face, and they both shook their heads apologetically.
“She’s very pretty,” Amy said.
George gave her a pained smile, and then tucked the photo back into his bag. “She’s been missing since she left the hospital last week,” he said, still trying to convince that small remaining slice of doubt inside him that she was still, indeed, alive.
“I hope you find her,” Amy said, moving to stir the soup. She looked at the meat cooking in it and decided it could go for another minute or two.
Joseph and Amy returned to their game, and Joseph won after only two more turns.
“Cheater!” she joked.
“Is that a challenge for a rematch?” he asked.
George sat up straight, his heart suddenly pounding. “What day is it?” he asked
.
Joseph and Amy each looked to the other for an answer, neither knowing.
George stared back for a moment, dumbfounded that the couple didn’t know something as simple as the day.
“Are you okay?” Amy asked, alarmed by George’s quick change in behavior.
“I have to get back! My kids! What if I already missed work?” George cried, starting to panic. He got to his feet and began to walk across the room, and then stopped and bent over, shaky and exhausted.
“I’m sure they’ll understand,” Joseph said. “You had a terrible fever.”
“Yeah, that was my excuse last week,” George muttered, feeling nauseous.
“Sit down and have some soup. You can eat around the rat meat,” Amy said, going to the cauldron and giving it one last good stir. She ladled the dark soup into three bowls, making sure the men both got hearty servings.
George stirred his soup with his spoon, still not sure whether it smelled like something he would want to eat. Nothing but the rat meat was identifiable. “What else is in it?” he finally asked.
Amy shrugged,
noting
George’s finicky palate. “A little of this, a little of that. It’ll give you your strength back.”
George watched Joseph and Amy eat the soup with no hesitations. Too hungry to pass on the meal, he tried a sip of the brown broth. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t terrible, either. “Not bad,” he said.
“Try it with a piece of meat,” Joseph said.
Amy beamed.
Suddenly worrying over whether he was being a courteous guest, George tried the soup with a small cut of meat. He chewed slowly at first, and then gave Amy a satisfied smile. “Tastes like chicken.”
“I’ve never tried chicken. I’m sure it’s good, though, if it’s anything like rat,” Amy said, smiling back.
“It’s better than rat,” George said, and then chuckled at the sound of himself discussing the taste of rat.
Joseph went to the door and cracked it open. A few items of trash piled in from above as he peeked out, along with a bit of snow. He kicked them aside,
notably un
concerned
over
their presence. “The storm still hasn’t returned,” he observed. “Looks like some of the snow is beginning to melt.”
The stench of the trash piles came pouring in, and George realized that they were sitting inside one of the enormous piles. He took another look at his soup, and suddenly had to wonder where Amy had gotten all of her ingredients. His stomach going sour, he set down his bowl and pushed it away.
Joseph closed the door with a shiver. “It’s still colder than hell out. Best to wait another day before making another attempt across to the market.” He returned to his soup, noticing that George appeared to be finished. “Full already?”
George nodded. “You said there’s a market on the other side? A deviant market?”
Joseph nodded. “I can take you there tomorrow as long as the weather holds up. We don’t need the two of us getting snowed in on the way. Poor Amy would have one hell of a time dragging the both of us back to the fire,” he said, turning and giving Amy a quick smile and wink.
George considered the offer, although a nagging thought in the back of his head told him that he was a fool not to be on his way home already, despite the persisting cold. Job abandonment was a serious offense, and the longer he waited, the more serious the repercussions would be when he did finally return. He wished he had at least some idea of what day it was.
He considered the repercussions that potentially existed if he did end his search for Virginia, knowing he might not be able summon up the energy or the courage to travel the district like this again. If he went back home, chances were he would return to the monotony of his job, lose himself trying to provide for his kids, and eventually give up on the idea that she was ever out there to begin with.
If he turned around now, everything he had gone through to get this far would all be for naught. Perhaps it was all for naught anyway, but he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he gave up without trying to find her.
George turned to Joseph and bowed his gratitude. “Thanks. I’ll take you up on that.”
SHELLEY
moved through the crowds of people assembling in the church’s main lobby. Organ music played softly through loud speakers placed throughout the large area, and the acoustics created by the marble floor and vaulted ceilings caused the music to reverberate with an ethereal intensity. The lines to the registration consoles began to pick up and Shelley hurried outside, hoping no one important had seen her.
Shelly registered the family, solely to remove the threat of
w
orship associates coming to their apartment that evening. The
y
often came conveniently around dinnertime, wanting to know why the family missed their services, never failing to invite themselves to whatever happened to be on the dinner table. It was best to keep the family on a low profile right now, given the circumstances.
The cold air hit her as she stepped outside. Sunlight broke through small gaps between the clouds, but it was not enough to take the chill away. The snow still stood several feet in most areas, and as a result, foot traffic was temporarily restricted to enclosed walkways. Luckily, most of the Sunday shuttles were running, some of them even on time, or services likely would have been canceled.
Shelley had no intention of finding her assigned seat and attending the morning sermon. She was there to find Charlotte, to see if her friends really could offer a better alternative to a life within the Mart Segregate. She only brought a single book bag with her, knowing she would stand out at church if she carried her enormous bags of clothes and notebooks with her through the lobby. Deep down, however, she left her other bags behind because she hoped
her father
might return before she had the chance to leave for good. She wanted to get Kurt’s death off her chest. Perhaps she even wanted him to keep her from going through with her plan, to keep her from making such a grave mistake.
Running away was a serious matter. Part of her knew that she was walking a thin line even by considering working outside both of the Segregates, and a nervous feeling in her gut told her that she was too young to be leaving the safety of her parents’ home. At the same time, she felt compelled to take a leap into the unknown, to be independent, to make her own rules, and to know real justice. Perhaps she was just looking for an excuse to escape the hell that had become her life. Either way, something needed to change.
Shelley entered the halls and slowly moved toward her old Sunday class building. She had a couple of hours to kill, so she took her time getting there. When she reached the appropriate building, she crouched down against the wall and wrapped her jacket tightly around her, hoping to protect the core of her body from the cool air blowing through the halls. The news associates wouldn’t be out for a while, and not even a security associate stood outside the church’s walls, the cold having driven everyone into the sermon room. All was silent beyond the rushes of cold air rolling through the halls and Shelley’s shaky breaths.
She wondered how safe she was, at least a quarter of a mile away from the nearest
security associate
. If she had so easily registered for the morning and left, how many other people had done the same? The trick seemed simple enough to pull off, but she also just could have gotten lucky. Although she hadn’t seen any security personnel guarding the entrance when she left, there had to be at least a few on the clock, watching the exits for potential deserter
s
. Corporate seemed hell-bent on perfect attendance, and by the looks of the filled
arena
every Sunday, it was usually close.
Shelley looked down the hall in both directions, satisfying a sudden pang of apprehension that required she verify, without a doubt, that she was still alone. She wasn’t sure why she was suddenly so anxious, and then she reminded herself that she had many life changes planned but still little idea of where she would be going. At least now she had some say in the direction she would be taking, whatever that would be, but when it all came down to it
,
her life was still just as uncertain as ever.