“I understand helplessness all too well. I pray your sister is found quickly.” I thanked the man that brought the chair and sat silently, observing Priscilla's daily ritual.
William looked healthy and tanned like he was just sleeping. Several nurses lingered around the bed monitoring his status and recording their findings in meticulously kept logs. My grandmother volunteered me for quite the assignment.
I didn't want to break laws that I generally agreed with, but this man looked alive. How could anyone deny him care? Priscilla seemed so desperate to keep her adult son stay safe.
Disappearing into such opulence while my family struggled to find Karine, was a selfish escape. There was nothing I could do but wait for news of her return or the unthinkable discovery of her body.
My uselessness, when my sister needs help the most, brought on a shameful numbness that I can barely describe in words. I understand now what breaks people into tiny pieces that never quite fit back together again.
Tea and little shortbread cookies were brought to me by a grateful looking woman from the household staff. Priscilla chose an old-world novel to read from. There were dragons and elves, and I found myself comfortable and lost in the melody of her motherly voice.
I contemplated the situation at length while I listened to the story. It was the sort of story my older brother would have read until late into the evening hours as a teen.
Hess never cared for the popular shows on television like my mother and I did. Hess liked his books and his quiet spaces. I wonder if William is the same or if I will ever know anything more about the sleeping man on the bed but what I conjure in my mind.
DREAMS
The tent room was empty when I woke. Looking outside, it seemed to be early afternoon. The shadows cast by the height of the sea walls changed the sunlight to a subtle glow rather than the bright torch I lived under.
The bed Blue slept on had been made. Stacks of clothing were laid out neatly across the pink and purple quilt. This mess wasn't a dream, or wild fantasy caused by a whack to the head as I hoped. My feet were swollen and bruised in the shape of my boot laces. I had never walked so far in one day before. After hobbling to the bathroom and taking a quick shower, I returned to the bedroom to find an older lady dressed in denim and burgundy velvet. She sat at a small table with a cloth-covered basket in her lap.
“Hello,” I asked, toweling the water from my hair.
“Good morning, well afternoon, I suppose. I thought you might like something to eat. Maybe some company.” The lady looked a bit apprehensive and kept a tight grip on her basket. “I'm Violet.” A well-manicured hand poked out from under her shawl, and a silver bangle slid out from under her long sleeve and came to an abrupt stop at the end of her wrist.
I ignored the gesture in favor of keeping my towel secure. “I'm Karine. Where are the other abductees?”
“How funny you are. Um, the girls are with their prospective families. I was hoping to take you out to see the camp and meet the people.”
“I'm not interested in meeting people. I only want to leave before the airstrikes begin,” I explained coldly.
“Yes, I'm aware of your fears. Blue, tells me you are engaged to a young man of some influence. We have a few young men here with real promise of becoming our next leaders. I can introduce you to them.”
“I'm not interested in trading up. I was taken by force. I'm not here by choice. I don't think you all understand what is going to happen if I'm not returned.” Violet rose from her chair and placed the basket on the table.
“A lifetime ago, I lived in old San Francisco. In one of the reeducation centers. I understand more than you know about what happens up top.” Violet seemed wistful about her past. I felt a sliver of hope.
“Wonderful, so you can help me get back. Old Frisco is five stops from Midtown, but once...” Violet put her hand on my arm and shook her head.
“I won't help you leave. But I can help you find a reason to stay.” Violet was an automaton, just like all the rest I met so far. I plopped on the bed and stared at the basket of food.
“These will look great on you. I'm a seamstress, reclaimed, and repurposed fabrics are my passion. I made these pants, oh yes, and this purple blouse over here. Francis, my partner wife, made all the undergarments in these piles. She is a master with stretch fabrics.” A little mountain of soft, frilly garments was being assembled near my damp thigh.
Food, clothing, shelter, weapons, and surveillance of my surroundings, my Tiny Scouts training ran through my brain. Diff was in the pack with me back then. He wouldn't eat the crust off his sandwiches, and I wouldn't eat my dehydrated plums, so we swapped at treat time. I could see him kneeling in the dirt and yelling at my captors. I shook the dark image out of my mind.
Take what is offered by your situation—Adapt and survive—Resist and die. Mr. McNeilly was a strange old man in retrospect, but my old scout master would be proud of me today. I let his calm words replace the screaming in my mind.
I took in a quiet, deep breath. “Thank you, Violet. These pieces all look lovely.” I scooped up the clothing and walked behind the bathroom door, leaving it a bit open behind me, Violet turned away shyly and grabbed a pinch of muffin from the basket.
“I hope you will be happy here once you meet our people,” she yelled. “Noah and his family want
