They walk past the module everyone calls Girls’ Town, which holds all the children left without a mother or father. There is laughter in the yard as older girls play and a man is holding an outdoor reading session, an array of small girls in front of him.
Tabitha smiles and points at a girl doing cartwheels. “You used to do those until you made yourself dizzy.”
Charlotte remembers. It seems like another lifetime, but her mother needs to see her smile, so she does.
The smell of a barbeque finds them before they get to the Family Module. The smoke billowing up is what they see first. Only in Family Modules are there men in residence. Separating husbands and wives— or cohabitating partners —didn’t work out very well, so this is their solution. There are entire families in those, several in each module.
Charlotte does smile when she sees the busy people shuttling plates and platters of food from the oversized grill to the picnic tables. “We should have one of those,” she says, nodding toward the grill.
“It does smell good. I’ll ask about it,” Tabitha replies, her tone eager.
There’s no doubt they’ll have one by tomorrow. There is no request too strange or outlandish anymore. Keeping the women happy means keeping the women here.
They take a different path at the fork, looping back the way they came instead of going further. Down the path is a different kind of module, the kind that holds women who aren’t doing well. It’s called the Care Module and inside its walls are the Care Rooms. It holds women who are likely to turn their faces to the sky soon. This place is separate because the other women don’t need reminders of that kind of death. The Dying might not be physically contagious, but it spreads all the same. One death can lead to many.
As they get close to their module again, Tabitha clears her throat and says, “I’m going in for testing tomorrow, Charlie, but I’ll be back before dinner. Is that okay?”
Charlotte nods, but her mother seems to need more from her, so she says, “It’s fine, Mom. I know you’ll come back.”
The first time Tabitha went to testing, Charlotte got a little panicked. Her wristband light had turned yellow and the doctors came running. Her vital signs were a cause for concern. It was only when they’d walked her to the Hospital Module and let her see that her mother was in no distress or danger that the green light had returned and her heartbeat slowed to normal.
All the testing has done nothing as far as Charlotte can tell. There is no disease that can be found. There is no way to prevent a death. Except maybe the pills. They take the edge off. That’s why Charlotte doesn’t mind the pills. The edge is a scary place to be. When she feels like that, she remembers a video she saw of a tiger endlessly pacing a too-small cage.
There are also rumors that some men are dying, and they’re doing it in exactly the same way the women do. They turn their faces to the sky. That’s only rumor though and it can’t be too many or there would be more than rumor.
Before they re-enter their module, Tabitha stops and asks, “Will you give me a hug? I could really use one right now.”
Charlotte does and it feels good, especially when combined with the general sense of calm the pills give her. It’s warm and fuzzy, hazy and nice. Hazy and nice is better than the edge any day of the week.
Willa
Their expected delivery from the city is late. Two days late. Willa frowns as she leaves their communications shack. The squeak of snow against her boots is loud in the still, night air. Fat flakes fall like a slow curtain, blanketing the world and making it glow. Beau is waiting for her, sheltering under the overhang they built near the fire.
“What are you doing up?” she asks, joining him under the shelter. “You should be sleeping by now.”
Shoving his hands deeper into his coat pockets, Beau snorts a laugh. “The snoring in there is like sleeping next to a buzz saw. If you listen, you can hear it from here, even with the snow.”
Willa laughs quietly. She already knows. Some of the others have been discussing moving places around, putting those who snore too loudly in the same hut.
“You could always move back in with us,” she suggests.
“And wouldn’t the tongues start wagging then.”
“Let them. It will give everyone a lively discussion or two,” she quips.
Beau rocks back and forth a little on his toes, or rather, his toes and his artificial leg, while he considers it. “I might just do that,” he says at last.
They watch the snow fall from the shelter of the overhang. Sounds around them fade as the cover rapidly deepens. Already, the outlines of her boot prints have gone soft.
“We need those supplies,” she finally says.
“I know.”
“They’re two days late and there’s no communication at all. That’s never happened before. Something is wrong.”
Beau nods, his frown deepening. “I know. Then again…” He trails off, his eyes narrowing in thought.
“What?” she asks.
“If one of them has been caught or compromised or anything else, then not communicating might just be them being careful. That might be a good thing. It would make sure the rest of the network isn’t compromised.”
Willa reaches out and catches a few flakes in her hand, turning her hand over to watch them land lightly on her skin. It’s cold, but it also feels good, like icy feathers.
“I suppose that’s true, but if it gets much worse we’ll have trouble,” she pauses and holds
