As she enters, the second chamber, the riot of doubts and second thoughts fades. Instead, she simply does what needs doing.
Miranda
The two-year anniversary of The Dying is coming up, and it’s a hard time for everyone in the world. Listening to the radio is like being stabbed in the heart. The world has changed, but the sorrow goes on. The world is now a world of men and they are lonely for what they’ve lost.
Even with that loneliness, they seem to have moved into a new normal. The problem with that new normal is that it can’t be sustained. There are not enough women and those that remain are like her, hidden. Either that or in government care. There won’t be enough new children. The human race will end if this continues.
Tom still hasn’t given any indication that he sees Miranda as anything more than a friend and charge. His protection has kept her alive, but also alone. She’s begun to yearn for female company. It started a long while back, but it’s growing into a fierce desire. They’ve discussed it, but Tom insists there are none around that he knows about. When she brings up the government facilities, he passes on the rumors about experiments and other horrors.
The problem is that she no longer believes him. Not about the lack of women nearby, nor about the government facilities.
If there were no women, why would Tom’s congregation spend so much time talking about them and formulating such strong opinions on how women could be helped to survive in this new world. Only people with a vested interest would do that. People like Tom who have their own Miranda tucked safely away from prying eyes.
As they sit in the big kitchen at the oversized table to eat lunch, Miranda pokes at her food more than she eats. Tom eventually notices, as he notices everything to do with her well-being, and asks, “Are you not feeling well? Is everything alright?”
She wonders whether a truthful answer would be of any use at all. They’d only go around and around and wind up at the same place. An idea comes to her. She’ll try a different approach, one that might make him take her seriously.
“Tom, I’m thinking of the government facilities again. I don’t think the rumors could possibly be true. It would be self-defeating to make them horrible places.”
He stops chewing and puts his fork down slowly. It takes him a moment, but he finishes chewing and swallows. The wheels are turning visibly.
“In what way are you thinking of them? You know how unsafe they are.”
“Why do you say they’re unsafe? What do you know, specifically?”
Miranda can’t define it precisely, but there’s something missing in his eyes when he looks up from his plate again. Is there less warmth? Rather than change the subject and do her best to bring back the friendly expression that makes her feel safe, she waits patiently. She tries to summon whatever strength is left inside her and wait patiently, as if she doesn’t see the tug of disapproval on his lips.
With a sigh, Tom pushes his plate away and looks at her evenly. “Everyone knows they experiment on women there. It’s not just rumor. Do you trust any government not to experiment in a way that’s going to turn out badly for the ones being tested? And right now they’ve got a free ticket. Everyone is so desperate for an answer, they ask no questions. What do you imagine that would mean for you?”
The way he says it, the way he emphasizes the you almost makes her shrink away from the table. She can imagine. She can imagine in vivid color and gory detail. But she’s on a path now, and she won’t swerve.
Perhaps Tom senses that he’s pushed her too far, pushed her away, pushed her into thinking of other ways and places to live. His eyes are warm again and he reaches across the table to lay one hand on hers.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re feeling lonely. How could you not? I have my fellowship full of faces and all the men at the shops and in the street. You have only me. And the plants. It’s only that I fear you’ll do something foolish if you get desperate for company. Going to a government facility would be the worst possible decision you could make. The only company you’re likely to have there is whatever guard is on shift near your cell. That can’t be what you want, can it?”
A tear drops to her lap, creating a dark spot on the fabric of her pants. She shakes her head and another falls. Whatever strength she had summoned is now fleeing her.
Withdrawing his hand, Tom sighs. There’s something in the sound that makes her look up. Uncertainty? He’s gnawing at his lip a little, eyes downcast. Yes, it’s uncertainty.
“What is it?” she asks.
There’s such a long pause, Miranda is almost ready to ask again. Inside, panic is beginning the first few rounds of heated fluttering in her stomach. It will grow into a hot spike, and then she’ll be gasping for air, convinced she’s about to die. She can’t let that start happening again. She ran through a period of panic attacks last year, but they’d slowly diminished. That was a terrible time. Miranda has no desire whatsoever to revisit it.
“Tom—” she begins, but he cuts her off.
“Miranda, there are other women here. You were right about that.”
Her mouth drops open and she looks around the huge room. “Here?”
“No, I mean, in this area.”
There are so many things in Miranda’s head that she can’t get a single one of them out. Instead, they tangle in her mind while her mouth spouts nonsense. “Wha…what? No, how…what?” All the little threads disentangle at once, and what’s left at the forefront is anger. “You’ve known all this time and you’ve left me here alone? You’ve left
