Chapter Seven
“You have known all along what’s inside the dome?” I ask stunned.
How much has Renka kept to himself? I remember thinking Renka is just an annoying egotist who loves talking about how good he is; maybe that’s all a cover, although that would make him a brilliant liar. To think I listened to so many theories about the stupid dome, and Renka providing some of them, makes me annoyed. How much more will Renka reveal? And what will he keep to himself?
“The committee sent some of the objects from the safe house and instructions about how to use them in case someone showed potential as an immune donor”, Renka says, wiggling his eyebrows at the word ‘someone’.
I cringe at the thought of people talking about me and making plans about my future ‘potential’ for anything. Who knows if the Sickness will show up again? I can get another fresh sore at anytime and all of what Renka believes will go up in smoke. On top of that, the evidence to confirm Renka’s claims is conveniently located in the apparently impenetrable dome. Unless… maybe Renka knows how to open it too. I ask Renka just that as soon as I think it.
He shakes his head in response claiming, “No, I don’t know how to open it. I was only told that the dome would open automatically when we reached the docking port, it’s something controlled by the ship itself”, with a scowl on his face.
“Well, that’s awfully convenient. The only hard evidence you have to support your story is locked away in the only part of this damn ship we can’t access. You expect me to believe everything you have said based on a few facts about my parents even though I have caught you lying. I’m not that easily convinced”, I spit sardonically.
“Look, it’s not my job to convince you of anything. I don’t know what possible gain you think I could get from making this stuff up. Believe it or not you can’t ignore some of the facts. One, you got really sick from Age-Sickness and then miraculously woke up. That in itself is unheard of, well by most people anyway. Two, your parents both had symptoms that came and went in a very unusual way for the pattern of the Sickness as we know it. Three, I know so much about your parents that I couldn’t have found out on my own. I’ve never been to your commune and I haven’t spoken to you or Max about them. And finally, four, I knew how to open the BAS door which seemed like magic to you, that is proof of the safe house existing in my commune. As for anything else you think you need justified, work it out yourself. I don’t have all the answers. But after what I have seen of your sickness and your recovery I believe you are the immune donor and I intend on treating you that way”, Renka responds angrily thrusting his finger towards my chest to emphasise his point.
After this passionate speech Renka stands up and makes to leave but I block his way. I need a few more answers to some of the things that don’t make sense to me and while I have him in my cabin I intend to make the most of it. Although, I can feel exhaustion seeping into my body and my vision is going a little fuzzy around the edges so I have to work quickly before I lose my train of thought altogether.
“Wait, I have a couple of questions. Why did the survivors kill the people from your commune if they knew they couldn’t die from Age-Sickness? If there was a small group of people with apparent immunity why didn’t they just organise to give their blood to the others before people went crazy? And why did the committee choose you to ‘watch’ me and send some really important instruments along with you then not give you access to them or a way to communicate with them?” I fire these questions at Renka, who stands close to the door, because these seem like the most important ones to ask, not the only ones by far. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath then lets it back out again in frustration. When he opens his eyes again he’s glaring at me as if I infuriate him.
“I don’t have all the answers to those questions. My Dad’s theory about why they attacked was because they had gone a bit insane after being locked underground for so long, but your guess is as good as mine. As for why they didn’t just give their own apparently immune blood, it was described to me as chaos, no governing body, everyone frightened to the point of violence, it just didn’t work. And isn’t it obvious why the committee chose me? I’m from ‘C’, I was the eldest and I already knew so much about it because of my Dad, I was the perfect choice. I’ve been wondering the whole time why they didn’t give me a way to contact them and why I don’t have access to the dome, so you’ll have to work that one out yourself. Satisfied?” Renka hisses.
No, I am far from satisfied but I have pushed my body, and obviously Renka, too far already. I need to eat and sleep, there’s no point in going on with this right now, for all I know my brain will distort facts or miss key details because I’m refusing it what it needs.
“I’ll think about what you’ve said and talk to you again”, I say barely masking the weariness I feel.
I don’t want to thank him for speaking with me or for his honesty because the first one was done in sufferance and the second one may not be true. He simply nods and leaves the cabin, shutting the door behind him. I notice that there are some biscuits and fish soup on my bedside table, probably left there by Max earlier. I hardly notice how cold the soup is or how tasteless the biscuits are because I’m absolutely famished. I make a mental note to thank Max for being so thoughtful and feel a pang of guilt for getting rid of him without much of an explanation. I crawl into bed and expect sleep to come straight away, but I can’t stop my mind from working. I try to relax my whole body with slow breathing, something I heard Sadie suggest to Richard when he was sick, but it doesn’t work. I decide to let the thoughts run their course and hopefully I’ll drift off to sleep at the end. The thought of Richard makes me feel a little creeped out, to think I helped nurse him through his worst hour when he was spying on Max and me. What a horrible thing to do. He betrayed my trust.
My thoughts are interrupted by the squeak of the door opening. I roll over and see Max enter holding his sketching book. I smile at him and he walks over to sit on the bed.
“Hey, how did the sketching go?” I ask holding my hand out for the book.
“Good, what did you have to talk to Renka about?” he wastes no time in asking, levelling me with his stare.
I didn’t expect to have to talk to anyone else about this stuff just yet. I haven’t even thought about the implications for myself if everyone knows what Renka believes. But I can’t lie to Max either. What was I thinking? I should have just pretended to be asleep when he came in.
“I can’t tell you just yet, Max, I’m sorry. I will tell you I promise but now isn’t the right time, alright?” I say calmly wishing I wasn’t the cause for the frown between his eyebrows.
He looks at me for ages and I half expect him to say that it isn’t all right and demand to know exactly what Renka and I spoke about, but instead he nods and places his book in my hand.
I flip to the first page and se lots of shapes and lines where Max has practiced different shading techniques. Even this looks artistic to me, abstract but creative none-the-less. The next few pages are human and animal eyes, similar to the first sketch Max had ever shown me, but these are really good. They have expression and depth. I’m really impressed and tell Max so. I wonder how many sketches he did on paper before he got hold of this book. It occurs to me that if we were back home, he never would have been able to do this, with no paper to do it on. It makes me think of Tomas, how did he pick up this skill or practise it? As far as I know paper shortages are common in all the communes. Most have none at all.
I pause at one of the sketches in Max’s book, it is a mirror image. One side is obviously done with Tomas’ skilled hand and the other by Max’s. It’s Max looking in a mirror, he is frowning and he looks tired, almost sick. It must have been done when I was sick because I’ve never seen Max look this way. He must have been so worried and I wonder why Tomas would capture Max like this. I thought Tomas only sketched happy things. That he sees the world differently to others, but that doesn’t seem to be the case anymore. Or mayb
e I made my judgment of him too early, like I did with Renka.
There are no more detailed sketches, only a few where different techniques are experimented with. I hand the book back to Max and give him a hug, I am so proud of him.
“Great job, Max, you have got real talent”, I say over his shoulder.
“Tomas is a great teacher”, Max responds.
“I’m sure he is but Tomas told me that he couldn’t take credit for what you’re capable of because you were meant to be an artist”, I respond releasing Max from my hug.
“He wouldn’t have said that. He doesn’t think of what he does as art and he never calls it that”, Max ducks his head hesitant to accept the compliment.
“Well, not in exactly those words but the meaning was the same”, I stifle a jaw-cracking yawn.
“Go to sleep, Pia, you look awful”, Max pushes me back onto my pillow.
I smile at this and my eyes close before I can respond.
I catch up with Renka a couple of days later only by chance. I’m walking down the hall on my way up on deck when his cabin door opens and he walks out in front of me. I call to him and he turns reluctantly. I want to ask him one more question. I had thought about our conversation a lot and still don’t know if I believe what he said. It was so much to take in and too good to be true for the most part. But worse of all, I can’t be sure I’ve been told everything. Renka’s tale could be a whole series of carefully selected half-truths. At first I thought the idea that my family had been watched for years was crazy, creepy too, but mainly crazy and absolutely unbelievable. What a boring job, nothing ever really happened in our family. Day to day life was pretty similar to everyone else in terms of the chores and routines that were necessary to life. To think a series of people agreed to live for years next door or close by observing us is ridiculous. But the more I thought about it I started to remember things, like how when my parents got bouts of sickness, even when they were mild, the man down the street would come over every day and talk to them about it, asking a lot of questions. This is a childhood memory which could be a little distorted, and in truth could just be a kind neighbourly thing to do, but in light of what Renka said, it made me think. I also remember him at the funeral of my parents, crying way too much for just a neighbour, as if their deaths meant so much more to him. The neighbour died a little while after that. Could he be one of the spies Renka spoke about or am I looking for something that just isn’t there?
“Hey, Renka”, I greet him kindly enough.
“Hi, you’re looking a lot better”, he states as he looks me up and down repeatedly, not in a lewd kind of way, but in a doctorish kind of way, equally as unpleasant as far as I’m concerned.
“I wanted to ask you one more question about what we spoke about the other day”, I say.
Renka looks up and down the hall then nods for me to go ahead.
“Why don’t you want everyone to know? What difference does it make to you?” It is one thing I just don’t get. Why does he feel that he has to keep this a secret from the others? Who are we going to tell? It’s the question I need answered so I can make my mind up about what I’m going to do. Renka looks a little frustrated at the question and answers it with venom in his voice.
“Can’t you work it out? I have sworn not to tell and if everyone knew this there would be chaos, people would see immune donors everywhere. It would be chaos. On top of that, imagine what their reaction to the committee would be? We need to keep it quiet, know for sure before we make any announcements, we don’t want to make the same mistakes they made before”, Renka responds vehemently.
On the surface this seems pretty reasonable, if we were back at home, but how is it relevant here, in the middle of the ocean on the way to isolated ruins then onto unchartered land? There must be something else to this. Can it be that Renka feels tied by the oath he made? He didn’t need that much convincing to tell me the story at first, even if it was only half the story. That doesn’t strike me as someone concerned about their honour.
“That would make a lot of sense if we were back at home, but why can’t we tell the others here? What are you scared of?” I ask narrowing my eyes at him.
“I’m not scared of anything. Think about it, Pia, how did you feel when I told you that Age-Sickness could only be caught, that it wasn’t something inside of us that we would all inevitably get? Great, right, hopeful, looking at a future of possibility, I bet. Then I shattered that dream when you realised it wasn’t the whole truth. Can you imagine everyone’s reaction if we told them that you might be immune to Age-Sickness and could possibly give us all immunity? What happens if it turns out that you’re not?” Renka says a little too passionately.
“You expect me to believe that you are so concerned about the feelings of everyone on this ship and that’s why you don’t want them to know? That’s very altruistic of you, Renka. I hadn’t pegged you as someone who considered the emotional state of near strangers as a priority. Are you sure it’s not because you’re worried that they might blame you for keeping this to yourself, for being part of a cover-up that could have changed the lives of the family we left behind? Or maybe it’s some misguided attempt to keep your honour intact, you did swear to keep the conspiracy under wraps after all”, I counter angrily barely constraining the bitter sarcasm in my voice.
Does he really think I am so naïve that I’d believe such obvious lies? I’m offended and angry.
“I don’t care what you think, Pia, but know this, if everyone on this ship thinks you have immunity your life will change forever, you will be priceless and if you think you’ve been smothered now while you’ve been sick, you don’t know what smothered is. They’ll want to wrap you in cotton wool and lock you in a padded cell to keep their ticket to health safe. Think what you want about my motives but it’s in your best interests that they don’t find out about this”, Renka spits at me then storms off down the hall leaving me staring after him.
I have avoided thinking of myself as having immunity. It seems impossible, why would I be immune to the Sickness that has killed billions of people? Me, an insignificant seventeen year old from Commune G? Besides the impossibility of it, I don’t want to believe it. I’ve experienced the letdown of hope on a minor scale, but it is enough to know that to fall from this would be disastrous. I haven’t even let myself think too much about how my life will change if it is true, but Renka paints a pretty clear picture that seems fairly accurate to me.
A door opens behind me and I start walking down the hall again. Standing frozen in the middle of the hall doing apparently nothing doesn’t look good for the person who is on a mission to prove she can start up her sentry duties again. I’ll have to leave the question about telling everyone to another time. It seems that I’m all too willing to block it all from my mind. I feel immediately guilty, I accuse Renka of having selfish reasons for keeping all of this to himself and here I am doing the same thing.
“Hey, Pia, wait up”, Fiona calls from behind me.
“Hi, Fiona. Heading up on deck?” I ask as I turn to face her.
“Yeah, it’s a really nice day, I just ran back down to get my fishing stuff. Do you want to join me for a fish?” she asks enthusiastically.
“Sure, sounds great”.
We walk down the hall and up the stairs, I’m aware that Fiona is slowing her step for me so I quicken my pace. I’ve improved heaps in the last few days. I am nowhere near as out-of-breath from walking as I used to be. I really am ready to get back into the normal day-to-day stuff on the ship. I had come up to watch some of the drills over the last few days and am itching to try them. Some of the others look pretty skilled, either they have come a long way under Renka’s instruction or I’ve underestimated their potential as fighters. The drills are basically self-defence stances and knife attacking techniques, a lot of the self-defence stuff is really valuable. I like the deflecting of arm blows that turn into a twist to the wrist bringing your opponent to the floor. I saw Isabella bring Vont
euse down with that move and he didn’t seem to be going easy on her.
“What about over there?” Fiona asks pointing towards the area of the starboard side that is sheltered from the sun by the dome.
Tomas is on duty with Gerla and I don’t really want to be in earshot of him, still being a bit angry about how he tried to stop Renka seeing me and he hasn’t spoken to me since. Max’s spent most of his time drawing with Tomas in his cabin or on deck, not in our cabin anymore. If that isn’t a clear statement that he doesn’t want to talk to me then I don’t know what is. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable with me fishing right next to him or force a conversation that neither of us is interested in having.
“What about here, Mayther usually knows what he’s doing”, I suggested as I pointed to where Mayther is sitting in a chair watching the steel reel that fits snugly into a brace in the wall of the ship. There are a lot of them around the ship’s wall, it doesn’t take us long to realise the small lines we brought from home are not going to be very useful onboard a sea-faring ship. The reels have thick sturdy lines attached and once the sinker attached to the line hits the water, the movement of the ship and the weight of the sinker takes the line a fair distance out so there isn’t much you have to do except wait.
“Okay, you’re right about Mayther, yesterday he caught a huge snapper”, Fiona replies happily.
We set up next to Mayther and talk about normal things, the weather, drills practice, the potential of getting a big enough catch to feed everyone, it’s nice. I wonder if I hadn’t have gotten sick would I be able to interact this way with Fiona and Mayther? I still preferr my own company and to a certain extent my mission is to get as many people as I can to see how much I’ve improved so I can get back on sentry and start drills, but in truth I feel relaxed and comfortable with them. A few weeks ago I never would have thought that possible or even desirable.
The reel in front of me spins rapidly and I stand up to push down the lever to stop the line from pulling out, this is the equivalent of me tugging my small hand line at home when I have a bite. I release the lever after a second and the reel goes crazy, I let whatever is on the end take it for a couple of seconds then press the lever again and begin turning the handle that is attached to the brace on the wall. It takes out the heavy work of pulling in a big catch but in my not-fully-recovered state it’ss still tiring. With the line high enough out of the water I see the fish wriggle free and splash into the water as my line recoils at the break of tension.
“Damn, it took my hook and bait too, do you have spares?” I asks Fiona and Mayther.
“Yeah, in the box over there”, Mayther points to a small wooden box that looks very out of place on this ship, he must have brought it from home, maybe he thinks his hooks are better than the ship’s supplies. I remember him saying he’s from ‘F’ which is surrounded by an inland lake. This explains Mayther’s skills in fishing. F is one of the communes that are built close to a BAS ruins site. There are plenty of superstitions about ghosts and unusual activities associated with it but that isn’t uncommon for ruins anywhere.
As I got to work attaching a new hook and sorting through the fish guts to bait it the conversation turned to the dome. I hadn’t thought about the inevitability of being involved in this conversation when I know what is inside the dome and I become a little flustered at the prospect of having to lie.
“I’ve been thinking that the dome is some sort of super weapon from BAS that the Committee are trying to keep out of the hands of an enemy”, Mayther says with exaggerated intrigue in his voice and Fiona laughs. I laugh too late and it sounds a little off to me. I think Fiona sends a curious look my way, but am not sure.
“Maybe, Mayther, but I was thinking that it’s an impenetrable vessel that holds the tools to cure Age-Sickness. That this ship’s control board is the only thing that has the power to open it and no one knows when it will happen, not even the Committee”, Fiona says this in a fake conspiratorial whisper with a smirk, but I’m floored. Can she possibly know or is it a lucky guess? I realise I haven’t laughed like Mayther is doing. Instead I sit staring at Fiona in silence, until she looks at me in concern and her features twist in to a solemn mask.
“I’m so sorry, Pia, I didn’t mean to offend you, I just meant to joke”, Fiona pleads anxiously.
She looks so sincere and I realise that she thinks I’m upset about her mentioning Age-Sickness when I am so clearly still getting over my bout of it. I’m relieved I have that as a cover for my stiffness in this turn of the conversation.
“No, don’t worry about it, I’m not offended, just impressed at your imagination”, I hope that’s sufficient enough to get me out of this uncomfortable conversation.
“You’re looking heaps better, Pia, how do you feel?” Mayther asks eagerly, as if this is the discussion he has been waiting to start.
“I feel so much better, I can easily start doing my sentry duties and drills practice now, I’m sure everyone is sick of covering for me by now”, I respond thankful for the conversation change.
“Not really, Tomas and Max have been doing most of it. Tomas has been running himself to exhaustion doing so many duties but refuses help from anyone”, Mayther wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
Obviously embarrassed at Mayther’s insinuation, Fiona saves me from my discomfort by jumping in before I can say anything.
“Yeah, that’s because Tomas knows Max is really only comfortable with him and he didn’t want to make Max do sentry with anyone else”, she explains quickly.
That sounds true, Max is more comfortable with Tomas and really enjoys doing sentry with him so they can talk about sketching. But, Max had taken a lot of pride in being able to do sentry duty. I don’t think he’d have refused to do it with anyone. I was going to have a hard time getting him not to do it anymore once I am back on the roster. Although grateful to Fiona for saving me embarrassment from Mayther’s suggestion, I don’t like talking about Max with anyone, it seems a betrayal.
“Oh, alright, that’s nice of him”, Mayther responds with some reluctance to talk about Max, for which I’m relieved.
The talk turns to fishing after Fiona pulls in a good-sized fish – a bonito, Mayther thinks. I stay for about an hour and catch nothing, then say goodbye and venture over to watch Mickael, Merva, Diego and Linton do drills practice with Renka instructing each move. I have to admit that Renka is a good teacher, or should I say commando? Teacher implies a sense of rapport with a student and I can’t say the way Renka speaks to everyone resembles rapport.
Mickael notices me watching and calls out for me to join them. I really like Mickael at that moment. I’m expecting to have to convince people that I’m fine before they let me join in with stuff but Mickael had just made it so easy. I jump up with a big smile on my face and walk over to where they’re all standing.
“So what are we doing now, more self-defence stuff or knife work?” I ask enthusiastically. I want to show them that I’ve watching and have a bit of knowledge about what they’re doing.
“No, you can’t join us today, Pia.” Renka states with authority.
My face falls with disappointment but then anger takes over. Who does Renka think he is telling me what I can and can’t do? When did I decide that the others on this ship would have a say in what I do? Turning my body so that I’m facing Renka head-on, with shoulders squared I look directly into Renka’s eyes.
“And why is that Renka? If it’s about partner numbers, I can partner with you. I’ve seen you do that with most of the others”, I challenge.
“It’s not about that and you know it. You are not well enough yet to be doing this physical training”, he argues and begins to move away and continue instructing the others as if the discussion is over.
Mickael and Diego hesitate to follow Renka with a look of apprehension on their faces.
“I am perfectly fine to do this training, Renka. I am the one who determines if I’m well enough to do something and I don
’t intend on being a defenceless dead-weight on this ship if we get attacked again because you think I’m too fragile”, I call this out to Renka’s back and he freezes.
We both know what he’s really objecting to. He doesn’t want the potential immune donor to get hurt. He is treating me the way he said everyone else would treat me if they knew.
“She’s right, Renka, she looks fine to me, just let her join in”, Mickael says while Diego nods in agreement.
I would have smiled their way but I’m too angry with Renka to take my eyes off his back or move the muscles in my face to form a smile.
Renka turns slowly and glares at me, ignoring Mickael, he is furious that I suggested this in front of the others. He comes to some decision and determination flitters across his features. He walks quickly towards me showing no signs of stopping what is considered a respectable personal distance away, but marches on with fierceness like he is going to attack or at least physically intimidate me. My body tenses in readiness for some sort of confrontation and I automatically reach for my knife at the back of my waistband but it isn’t there. I grope around ridiculously for a second and my face falls when I see Renka smirk and come to a halt.
“Do you still think you’re ready?” he asks in a cocky voice.
He planned the move to show me I’m not ready because I’m not wearing my knife all of the time. Do I think I’m ready? I’m ready to kill him that I know for sure. I close the two-step gap between us and feign to kick him between the legs then just as he bends to protect himself I swing my right hand around in a wide arc and punch him in the eye. A comically high-pitched sound escapes his open mouth and he grabs at his face.
“Yeah, I think I’m ready”, I hiss at him and march away, struggling not to hold my now injured hand.
It feels like I broke something but it was well worth it for the noise that escaped Renka on impact. That little stunt he tried to pull backfired in his face, literally and I feel on a high because of it. At least he now knows that he has no hold over me. I am not going to play up to his stupid arrogance. He might like to think he is empowered with everyone else because of the information he has or the defensive and attacking skills he teaches but I’m not going to bow down and treat him like some sort of God.
I reach the stairs, just out of sight of Renka and the others doing drills practice before I see the fallout from my punch but I’m too angry to stay and watch. Besides, my hand is throbbing in agony so I hold it close to my chest instinctually exerting pressure to ease the pain. Just as I get to the bottom of the stairs I bump into Tomas, actually bump in to him as he’s rushing back up on deck carrying his fishing gear. He must see the pain in my face because he drops what he’s carrying and leads me by my elbow down the hall to my cabin frantically asking what’s wrong.
“I punched Renka in the eye”, I say with leftover anger in my voice.
Tomas has the grace not to look surprised, pleased or confused by my response. He just opens my cabin door, sits me on the bed and proceeds to get a cold wet cloth from the basin in the bathroom.
“It’s alright. It’s not that bad”, I say rather lamely because by this time my fingers are swelling pretty fast and I can’t close them anymore.
Tomas leans over and takes my hand from my chest, searching my eyes for permission. I nod my head and he proceeds to lift my injured hand. He is very gentle and reminds me of the time I saw Richard approach an injured stag in the forest surrounding our commune. The stag had fallen down a steep incline and broken a leg. It was kicking wildly, frantically trying to get away from us. But Richard looked at it in the eye and spoke in gently swaying tones until it calmed. He slit its throat as soon as he got near enough and I remember the look on everyone’s faces when we hauled it home. I hope Tomas isn’t planning on such a tactic with me, the thought makes me chuckle and Tomas looks up in concern. He probably thinks I’m delirious or insane.
“I think you have broken these two fingers”, he says pointing to the unrecognisable appendages on my hand.
“Yeah, it feels like it”, I respond in a hiss of pain.
“Keep it cold for a while to see if the swelling goes down. Then I’ll have to splint them together. It’ll be a while before you can use them again I think”, Tomas has genuine sorrow in his voice.
Great, there is no way I’m going to be able to join in with drills practice now. Renka got what he wanted after all. How frustrating! How could I be so hot headed? With two broken fingers I’ve just proven that I am as fragile as I still look.
“Don’t worry about it, you’ll still be able to do stuff, just with your left hand”, Tomas consoles.
I look up at him, momentarily having forgotten he was there and see real concern and affection on his face. It halts my angry thoughts and the earlier question I wanted to ask him comes to mind.
“How did you learn to sketch without paper?” I blurt out.
It’s clearly an unexpected question because Tomas looks at first befuddled then contemplative, as if he is waiting for me to ask another irrelevant question in my delirium. When I just wait for a reply he sits back on his heels and looks down at his hands.
“My father used to make paper. He’d collect flowers, leaves, seeds, pieces of rag or cloth, anything organic really and soak and grind them then press them into big sheets with a stone press before he dried them out in the sun. The people in our commune thought he was crazy, who would waste their time doing that when they could be collecting food and making something valuable, right? Dad got everything else done as well. It was just something he wanted to pass on to me”, Tomas looks up with a touch of sadness in his eyes.
In that moment I have a real insight into Tomas’ life. My first impression of his skill as a useless waste of time is obviously something he has heard before. I imagine him living among people who consider his family weird and wonder if that is why he didn’t live with anyone in his commune when his parent’s died. What is it about Tomas that makes me feel sad for him? Everyone’s story is one of death and hardship but Tomas just seems to reach that part of me that registers empathy. It is an uncomfortable feeling.
“It sounds like hard work. How do you feel seeing the piles of paper stored on this ship? I know I was amazed that it was untouched after all of this time. I virtually had to handcuff myself from hoarding it to take home with me”, I comment trying to lighten the mood.
“It’s different to what I’m used to and I know what you mean, I didn’t stop myself though. I’ve got stacks of it in my cabin”, Tomas says with a grin on his face. I had forgotten what it looks like to see him smile, it’s been so long. I respond with a smile of my own and resolve not to talk about him trying to stop Renka from seeing me. I value our friendship and I don’t want to wreck this newfound ease with a convoluted question about Renka.
“I’ll go and see if I can find something to use as a splint for your fingers, do you want anything while I’m gone?” Tomas asks as he stands up to leave.
“I’m really hungry actually. Could you go past the supplies room and get me something please?” I wouldn’t usually asks but I’m suddenly so tired, the injured hand is sapping my energy. It is probably more the emotional incident with Renka.
“Sure, what do you want, roast pork, baked potatoes and beans served with a buttered bread roll?” Tomas asks in his deadpan humour.
Thinking of one of the BAS cookbooks I burnt I respond, “Yeah, that’ll do, but can I have a side dish of asparagus soaked in butter too please?”
“I’ll see what I can do”, he smirks as he turns to leave.
I lie down on the bed and fall immediately asleep only to be awakened by a pain in my hand that shoots up my wrist like fire. I jump up and try to pull my hand away. It’s Tomas trying to splint my broken fingers while I sleep. He has done a fairly good job; I can’t believe I’ve slept through it.
“Sorry, I couldn’t leave them till you woke up, they might set at the wrong angle”, Tomas says apologetically as he maneuvers my third
finger so that it rests up against a sawn-off lead pencil.
I wonder if he can afford to use his pencils for this but am in too much pain to put any words together to ask. I concentrate on my breathing and scrunch my eyes closed so I don’t have to see my swollen fingers. Tomas wraps a cloth over his work then he taps my arm to communicate it’s finished. I look at my hand and am surprised to see a neat job. My two middle fingers are dead straight and wrapped tight with a chequered cloth. They feel much better already and I’m extremely grateful that I ran into Tomas when I did. The extent of my medical knowledge does not extend to broken bones. I would have likely ended up with two useless crooked fingers.
“Thanks, where did you learn to do that?” I ask Tomas as he packs up the tools he used - a pair of scissors, the scrap of chequered cloth that looks like an old shirt and a few more of the shortened pencils.
“My Mum was a healer. I used to help her when people came to our house. These are not the first broken bones I’ve set to a splint”, Tomas answers with a small smile on his lips.
I thought about how I had felt sad for him before when he spoke of his father but now I feel like Tomas is the luckiest person I know. He had skilled parents who worked hard to pass on their knowledge so he could survive without them. I was wrong to pity him, I envy him and I’m not sure which emotion is worse.
“You’re lucky to have healing knowledge, it comes in handy – excuse the pun”, I comment lamely as I flourish my hand in the air. The movement makes me wince, which brings on a chuckle from Tomas.
“I think you should rest it for a while, maybe retire from boxing for now. What did Renka do anyway?” Tomas asks flippantly but I can tell by his exaggerated and precise movements as he packs and re-packs his equipment that it’s more important to him than he is making out.
“He tried to tell me what to do, or what I couldn’t do actually, in the cocky arrogant way he has”, I reply with anger in my voice at the memory.
“Oh, so why didn’t you just ignore him and do what you wanted anyway, you might still have the use of your fingers”, Tomas comments as he turns to give me his full attention. It’s as if he is looking for something important in my response. All I hear though is him trying to teach me the error of my ways – it’s annoying to say the least.
“Thanks, I’ll remember that for next time”, I say, thick with sarcasm.
“Sorry. I just did the very thing Renka got a black eye for, should I duck about now?” Tomas jokes as he holds up his fists to cover his head and looks at me from behind them.
I have to laugh, he looks really funny. It’s hard to stay angry with Tomas when he disarms me this way. I wonder why it has been so strained with him recently and remember the sketch I saw him doing of me at my sickest. The smile dies on my lips and I feel immediately exposed. How am I to move on from the fact that he saw me so vulnerable and disgusting? Can I ask him about it now?
“Tomas, the day I woke up I saw you were drawing me when I was sick”, I mumble.
I can’t form it into a question. I just want to get it out there. I want him to know that I have an issue with it. That it was wrong and intrusive but I don’t want to have to tell him these things.
“Yes, I was. You didn’t like that?” he asks letting his hands drop to his sides and creasing his brow questioningly.
That’s putting it lightly. Did he really need me to spell this out? I was embarrassed, ashamed at my loss of dignity in front of him and angry that he had to record it on paper where he could look at it anytime he wanted or show it to anyone. I settle for a nod in the affirmative.
“Why, you know I sketch to record in my journal?” he replies tentatively.
“None of the other sketches I’ve seen in your journal have anything remotely as disturbing as that drawing. I thought you recorded the other side of things, the happier side”, I respond fighting to keep the emotion out of my voice but failing miserably if Tomas’ reaction is anything to go by.
He looks at me with deep sadness in his eyes before his cheeks flush and he returns to fumbling with something in his hands. He responds in a soft voice that I have to strain to hear.
“There wasn’t another side… a happier side at that time”, he whispers.
I don’t know what to say, I hadn’t really thought a great deal about how it was for everyone when I was sick. The first time I saw Max when I woke up gave me a hint as to his suffering but I didn’t think that way about Tomas. I thought he just supported Max and did extra duties to cover for me and that was why he looked so awful. I never considered that he suffered because of my sickness. I stare at him for a long time until he becomes uncomfortable with the silence and begins to speak again.
“I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable with it, I can rip it out if you want”, he offers in a shaky voice as he looks up from his hands.
I feel terrible that I just forced him into an apology for recording what happened in the only style he is comfortable with. There would be gruesome descriptions in everyone’s journal no doubt and I would never consider asking everyone to rip them out. How vain do I sound?
“No, I’m sorry I brought it up, it was just a shock to me. I hadn’t seen myself before then and I was embarrassed that I looked that way. It’s your journal and your right to put anything you like in it”, I respond quickly trying to undo the damage I’d just caused.
Tomas contemplates this for a while then looks up with a semi smile.
“By your reasoning I should punch you in the eye right now”, he says mischievously.
I laugh aloud and go to shove him as he mimes warming up his punching arm, but I use my sore hand and feel a painful jolt up the length of my forearm as I make light contact. Wincing in pain, Tomas quickly holds my hand between both of his keeping it still and adding a bit of pressure right where it’s needed. The door swings open and Max walks in freezing in the open doorway. He looks between Tomas and me, then walks in like it is a scene he sees everyday and shuts the door behind him.
“Everyone is talking about what you did to Renka”, he comments matter-of-factly.
Tomas lets go of my hand and I lean it against my chest where it feels safe and would remind me not to use it.
“Yeah, what are they saying? That I’ve gone insane?” I ask sardonically.
“Some of them think the Sickness went to your brain, that you have a mutant strand of it that makes you crazy and the rest think Renka deserved it”, he responds blandly.
“Huh, I’m not sure which one I like better.”
I get out of the bed and start picking at the soup and biscuits Tomas brought for me. Soup is now on the menu almost every day because we’re catching a few fish and we have enough leftovers after filleting that make a good broth with the seaweed we’ve added to our diet. It isn’t bad at all, but eating the same thing every day, sometimes more than once, becomes more of a chore than an enjoyment despite how it tastes.
“And what do you think?” I ask Max out of curiosity.
“I think you have a bad temper and don’t like to be told what to do”, he answers a little too quickly for my liking.
Tomas laughs at his response and goes to leave. I suddenly have the unreasonable feeling of loss at his going. I’ve had a good time with Tomas and am relieved we’ve broken through the discomfort from earlier, even if it took a few broken fingers to do it.
“Wait”, I call a little too loudly then don’t know what to say when he turns to look at me.
“Um, thanks for my hand. It feels much better already”, I mumble lamely, flushing a little in embarrassment.
Tomas nods and smiles widely enough to show his scar/dimple.
“I’ll see you both later”, he says as he walks out of the door, closing it behind him.
I feel Max staring at me and concentrate very hard on my dry biscuit until he looks away. He shuffles around and I look to see what he is doing.
“I’m getting a jacket, it’s getting cold on deck and I have sentry”, Max answers my unvoic
ed question.
“Don’t worry about it, I’m fine to get back to my duties now, you have a break”, I stuff the last of the biscuit in my mouth and walk to the bathroom to get a drink from the basin. When I get back Max is dressed in a jacket and is just about to leave.
“What are you doing? I said I’m going”, I ask looking at him incredulously.
“With broken fingers, I don’t think that’s a good idea”, Max responds confidently as if he tells me what to do every day.
“I don’t know what you do on sentry but as far as I can remember it involves walking around the dome or the ship, not very demanding on the fingers”, I don’t want to argue with Max and usually he never feels strongly enough about anything to go too far against something I say, or maybe he knows I have a bad temper and tries to avoid it.
“And what about all the questions and looks you’ll get from the others?” he asks raising his eyebrows daring me to deny the truth of his words.
He is clever, of all the things that could deter me from doing what I set my mind to it’s having to deal with unwanted attention from questioning people. I falter for a second but decide that it’s better for everyone to see me now, before too much time passes and they think I’ve seriously hurt myself or really gone insane.
“I’ll deal with it. Come up if you want but I’ll be doing sentry”, I say to Max as I carefully and rather clumsily pull a jumper over my head with one operational hand. I hide my wince of pain as I move my injured hand through the sleeve so Max doesn’t use it as an excuse for me not to do the duty.
We walk up on deck in silence. I know Max is thinking about how to stop me from doing sentry and I find this beyond annoying. When we get to the dome Tomas takes over for Vonteuse and I see Renka taking up his characteristic march around the outskirt of the ship wall. I think everyone except for Renka has become a little slack with that part of sentry, I’m pretty sure that Mayther throws lines in when he’s on duty and just strolls around occasionally checking his lines as he goes. He was probably on duty when Fiona and I were fishing with him this morning. I guess you can only be diligent for so long. When there’s been no sign of problems for over two weeks and we have a deafening alarm to alert us to any it’s understandable. I look closer at Renka’s face and I can see that he has red swelling around his eye. I’m secretly glad that I left a mark, even if I am the one worse off.
“What are you doing here?” Tomas asks just as Isabella spots me and relief that she can go washes over her face.
“It’s my duty. Bye Isabella”, I comment to her retreating back before walking past Tomas taking up the route.
Tomas catches up to me with three big strides and Max falls into step on my other side. I sense him feeling a little smug and can guess why, he expects Tomas to convince me to go and rest.
“Pia, you should be resting, you just broke your fingers and you’re still not completely recovered from the Sickness”, Tomas argues in frustration, perfectly on cue.
“I’m perfectly capable of walking around the dome for a few hours, Tomas. Besides, someone did a good job on my fingers, I can’t feel a thing”, I wave my hand about in front of him to prove my statement.
“This is ridiculous, just let Max do it and you can sit and watch if you want, what difference does it make to you, Max doesn’t mind, do you Max?”
Max smiles slyly at Tomas’ question. They’re ganging up on me. They’ll have to tackle and restrain me if they want to stop me walking around the dome and I don’t think they’d go that far. I decide to try for humour; two black eyes and more broken fingers won’t look good for me.
“Sorry, you’re both stuck with me, unless you want to take me on of course. Renka can attest to my skills in physical combat”, I jest, keeping a steady pace to prove I’m fine to do the duty.
“Your hand can attest to your skills in physical combat”, Tomas mumbles grudgingly.
Max visibly slumps with the realisation that he’s not going to get his way. I wonder if it really is about me or if he just wants to talk sketching with Tomas. Either way, after two laps with us he mumbles about going to do some drawing in the cabin.
It turns quite cold and I’m glad I put a jumper on but a shiver rocks my body as the wind picks up and rips through my clothes anyway. The water looks choppy around us and sprays of salty water occasionally brush across my face. The weather has been really nice weather so far. I wonder how this ship will fair in a storm, the thought bringing with it a feeling of unease at possibly having to live through huge swells. I didn’t get sea sick like some of the others did the first few days we were aboard, but that’s not a great accomplishment when the ocean was dead quiet.
“How has Max been sleeping lately?” Tomas asks. He clearly isn’t too bothered by the change in weather.
“Not too bad actually, did you hear him the other night? That was the first time this week. It’s a huge improvement from what it was like at home.”
For some reason I don’t mind talking to Tomas about Max anymore, it doesn’t feel like a betrayal because Max likes him.
“I did, but I don’t think the others would have, I just got used to waking up to him when you were sick”, Tomas replies.
I haven’t even thought about Max’s night terrors since I’ve gotten better. I’ve been too wrapped up in dealing with everything Renka told me. I haven’t even asked Max about it, I just assumed he slept in our cabin on the mattress on the floor in between looking after me and doing sentry. Had Tomas slept in there too or did he come in from his cabin down the hall when he heard Max?
“How bad was Max when I was sick?” I ask tentatively with embarrassment colouring my cheeks, he must think I’m so selfish not to have asked earlier.
“He was pretty bad, night terrors every night. He didn’t get a lot of peaceful sleep the whole eight days. The day you ‘woke-up’ to Max sleeping on the mattress he had been dead asleep for sixteen hours, his brain probably just shut down. I wondered if it was that bad all the time or if it was just …the circumstances”, Tomas cringes on the last word.
“He used to be that bad when he was younger. I guess it was the stress of the whole thing that brought him back to it. Usually he falls asleep and has screaming fits while he’s still sleeping. It takes some time to calm him down, but here he has been great, well while I’ve been lucid that is”, I say feeling guilty about how Max and I disrupted Tomas’ life while I was sick.
Tomas is quiet for a while and I want to know what he’s thinking, I also want to know if he slept in our cabin with us.
“Did you hear Max from your cabin when I was sick?”
A roundabout way to ask the question but he’ll know where I’m going with it.
“No, Fiona and I took it in turns to sleep on the chair in your cabin, between you and Max though, there wasn’t much sleeping. We tried to get Max to sleep in one of our cabins when we weren’t using it but he wanted to stay with you”, Tomas replies matter-of-factly.
I should thank him but the words are nowhere near enough for what he and Fiona did for Max and me. Discomfort worms its way through me as I struggle to find the right thing to say Tomas’ revelation that he basically gave up sleep for a week and babysat my brother and me. To think I’ve been angry at him for seeing me in the state I was in and haven’t really made an effort to be nice to him since I’d woken up, in fact I’ve actively pushed him away and avoided him where possible, is abhorrent. I stop walking, Tomas takes a couple of steps before he realises I’ve stopped then turns around looking at me quizzically.
“Thank you, Tomas, for everything and I’m so sorry I haven’t shown how grateful I am for what you have done. I’m just not used to accepting help from people”, I say looking directly in his eyes.
It is as honest and sincere as I can be. I make a mental note to seek out Fiona and do the same with her, it’s the least I can do.
“No problem, you’d do the same for me”, he replies with a shrug of his shoulders.
I shudder at
the thought of Tomas covered in Age Sores and shaking violently from fever. Hopefully I will never have to see him that way. I quickly erase that last thought from my mind, it sounds a little too much like I believe what Renka said about immune donors and I’m not going to start thinking about that. With that thought I look more intently at the dome as we walk around its circumference. It really does look impenetrable, I mean there are no handles but given that they didn’t seem to use them BAS that doesn’t mean much. The whole surface of it is smooth, except where it’s been soiled by bird poo, but there are no differences in texture that indicate there could be a panel or window or something to wave my hand in front of. I assume that Renka would have tried everything he knows to open it, and he knows a lot more than me about it.
“Hey, Pia, how’s your hand?” Mickael jumps out in front of me and asks.
I shrug the question off and try to hide my splintered fingers from view but am a little too late.
“Whoa, did you break your fingers? I always suspected Renka had a hard head”, Mickael laughs hysterically at his own joke and I smile remembering him backing me up before I punched Renka.
He seems really genuine to me, a bit over-the-top but genuine and that is a quality I respect.
“Yeah, well I’m not so sure it wasn’t my style of punching, I got a bit carried away”, I reply.
I don’t want everyone to think I’m some sort of hothead who goes around hitting people whenever I feel like it. Although, I might as well have said nothing because Mickael has his own story to tell, he isn’t listening to me.
“You should have seen him after you stormed off. I’ve never heard anyone swear so much and so loudly. When I asked if he wanted us to do the drills on our own he told me to stick the drills and went to follow you I thought, but he changed his mind and turned the other way. Gerla offered to get him a cold compress but he just glared her down and growled like some sort of animal before he stalked away swearing under his breath. Everyone has been talking about it”, Mickael recounts excitedly.
“So I’ve heard”, I mumble, maybe I should have stayed in the cabin.
Gerla walks towards us as well and I dread hearing her version of events, or worse her enquiries into my injuries. She stumbles and falls onto the dome wall when a big gust of wind picks up. I hadn’t noticed just how bad the weather is getting but I look around and see that the deck is mostly empty. Everyone who doesn’t need to be up here, or who doesn’t want a gossip, is down below.
“Hi, Pia and Tomas, how’s your hand Pia?” she asks eagerly.
“It’s fine”, I respond with little expression, hopefully she can tell I don’t want to talk about it.
“Well, Renka isn’t fine, he is furious, he’ll probably have a black eye tomorrow. You obviously got him a good one. I think he’s just embarrassed that he didn’t see it coming, I mean considering he was instructing us on self-defence moves and all, you’d think he let you hit him on purpose or something. I’ve seen him block moves like yours a few times in practice. But who knows, he really wasn’t expecting it I suppose. I’ll just warn you now, Merva is saying that you punched him because of some sort of pent-up sexual energy you and Renka have. I think he heard her say that and it made him more angry”, Gerla says with the air of someone relaying vital top-secret information.
She goes on and on, oblivious to my increasing agitation. Could Renka have let me hit him on purpose so that I am out of action? Are we giving him too much credit? Maybe he isn’t as good as he makes out he is. But I’m not very good either, he is surely be better than me, I’d punched only one other person in my life and I ended up with a sprained wrist because of it. The thought that he planned to get me riled up so that I injured myself is infuriating. It also suggests that he knows me better than most people, to know how far I’ll go to prove a point, or at least how far my temper will take me. Was this more proof that he has information about my family and me? Could it be so detailed to involve personality flaws? Why would Renka be so angry if his plan actually worked though? Question after question runs through my head. I’m not even going to address Merva’s stupid comment about the whole situation, obviously any feelings of friendship or loyalty that may have passed between her and I when she helped nurse me are gone, or maybe this is how she treats a friend. As for Gerla, this is a side of her I haven’t seen, I thought she was generally a timid nice girl, but she is thoroughly grating on my nerves.
I look over at Tomas to see if he can somehow get rid of Gerla, he has spent heaps more time with her than I have with all the sentry duties he’s covered, not to mention drills practice, but he just has a vicious scowl on his face. He must feel my gaze because he looks at me out of the corner of his eyes, there is anger and some other emotion in them, is it pain? I frown in confusion at him and he quickly turns away. Something draws my attention over Tomas’ left shoulder. Squinting so I can get some focus in my vision with the wind causing splashes of salt water to wash pass my face, I work hard to see clearly what has drawn my gaze. My mouth drops open and my eyes widen impossibly when I realize what it is I am seeing. A great wall of water heading directly for the ship.