CHAPTER 3 (The first day inside.)
The musty smell within the mountain shelter permeates my nose. Small strands of single bulb lights line the main hallway illuminating the six-foot high tunnel. My dad keeps his head ducked down partially because of his height but my guess is that it's more due to his family having just been ripped apart.
There isn’t much room to either side of us but we can still walk comfortably. I'm grateful in this moment that I'm not claustrophobic. We follow the string of bulbs slowly and cautiously taking turns, feeling the rock on either side of us. A damp artificially cool draft begins hitting our faces the further we get into the tunnel. A few feet later I begin hearing noises: people talking, water dripping, paper crumbling. Up ahead the lights get brighter and we are able to make out a few figures.
As we near closer to the figures their faces become more visible. Everyone looks rather emotionless and they are all dressed identically in pale green scrubs. While the scrubs look horrendous, it is a huge step up from those creepy biohazard suits. I guess since we have all passed the test, they no longer need to worry about contagions.
A plump woman with unusually frizzy brown hair greets us with an arm full of pamphlets. She is smiling broadly and has an uncalled for cheeriness to her demeanor. “Well, on behalf of F.E.M.A. we want to welcome you to your new home.” She hands us each a pamphlet and continues, “Inside you will find instructions and information about life in the shelter. On page two there is a map. Please note which direction you are facing now: it's East. Room assignments are given on a first come first serve basis. May I please see your passports?"
My dad hands her our stamped passports.
"Okay, lets see here," she says while scanning the documents with her eyes. "Looks like you will be in the Blue wing; that's numbers 400 through 499." She continues by giving my dad directions to where the Blue wing is. "We ask that once you find your living quarters you write your name on the nameplate outside of the door and report to headquarters to log it into the system. Once you log in at headquarters you will be given your clothing allotment for your stay here. Any questions so far?”
My dad and I look at each other and shake our heads.
“Good,” she continues. “Well, if you need anything, and I mean anything at all, just look for the hospitality officials dressed in green. Feel free to ask for me personally. My name is Mary and I’m always here to help.” She gives us a huge smile as my dad and I struggle to return it.
It's strange how the world keeps going even when your life is crumbling down around you. Mary's smile seems so out of place in my world. Doesn't she realize that we are still mourning what just happened moments before? Lord only knows how long it will take us to come to terms with everything, if we even can.
My dad puts his hand lightly on my back and ushers me away from Mary-smiles-a-lot. The tunnel we were in opens up into a large cavernous room. I look back at the tunnel exit and see two large steel enforced doors standing open. I wonder if they plan on locking us in here once the final entrants are accepted. The room looks to be the eating quarters due to the small salt and pepper shakers scattered about. My dad and I sit at one of the tables to examine the pamphlet. I quickly scan through mine but find the boring legalities of what is written far too complicated for me. I’ll ask dad for the cliff notes version later. Instead I find the map and begin scanning all of the different amenities. I have a photographic memory, which allows me to memorize the layout quickly. It looks like they threw together a library, a cinema room, a cafeteria, a pool and a bowling alley. I find where they placed the rooms and it seems they are relatively scattered amongst the entire mountain. I scan down to find that there is an entire level, almost as big on the map as the level we are on and the level above us combined, that is under where we are sitting. The map points out locations like a garden, livestock, a chemistry laboratory, and nurse/doctor stations. The garden and livestock areas take up an entire floor. I guess that answers where our food will be coming from. Below this section is another level that is marked: Storage.
“So dad, where do you think we should find a room?” I watch him scan his portion of the map.
“Well,” he says pointing to the map. “The lady said we were in the Blue wing which is located here." He points to a spot on the map that is thankfully color coded. "I believe if we follow this hallway we should run right into it." He attempts to give me a small smile but it falls just as quickly as it started. We get up from the tables with maps in hand and head off to explore.
As we browse through the rooms in the Blue wing we find that they seem to be identical. There are two bunks, a dresser, a tiny couch, an end table and a small bathroom. There couldn’t be more than three hundred square feet of space total.
We end up choosing a room near the elevators and my dad writes our names on the small board on the door.
“Can I have top bunk?” I ask my dad.
“Well, of course. I would rather have the bottom any day. These old legs aren’t what they used to be.”
"Then I guess I better take the bottom two dresser drawers since we don't want to risk those knees giving out when you bend to get your undies." I don't know where the joke comes from but it does lighten the air just a bit.
"Deal." My dad says.
I climb onto the bed and test the mattress. Not a Tempurpedic, but not bad either. I lay down staring at the ceiling. Oh how I wish I had some glow in the dark star stickers to affix to it like I used to have in my room. I close my eyes and pretend that I am lying in my bed back at home. If I try hard enough I can even hear my mom playing the piano softly in the study. The imaginary sound fades away and I open my eyes a few moments later to find the stark white ceiling staring back at me. I take a deep breath and my chest hurts. ‘But this is my home now, remember?’ I say to myself.
“Well,” my dad begins rubbing his hands together. “My watch says it’s fifteen till six and dinner is at seven, so we should head over to register our room and get our clothes before dinner."
I look down at my hideous hospital gown. Ever since leaving my mom and Sebastian back at the testing station, I've felt dazed, like this whole thing isn't reality. Everything feels so ethereal and perhaps at some moment I will just float up out of my body and realize that this has all been one horrific nightmare. My dad looks at me with concerned eyes and when I study how ridiculous he looks in his hospital gown, I understand that there is no way this could be a dream. No pinch will pull me out of this reality. "Yeah, well lets just hope that we don't have to wear puke green." I say to my dad. I see just the slightest twitch in his expression that on another day, with different circumstances would have turned into a smile.
He pulls out his gown and does a slightly lethargic curtsy then says, "After you my dear."
My dad is such an amazing father. I can see that whatever it might take from him, even if it's lying boldly to my face, he's going to be my rock in this situation. I can only imagine how crushed he is feeling right now. We take the elevator to the first floor. I grab my father's hand as we step out and walk down the long corridor towards the headquarters. He holds it so tight that I imagine nothing could separate us, ever. We are all we've got for now. If my dad is going to be a rock for me, then I sure as heck will be one for him.
The Headquarters looks oddly like a mall. Several different shops, or stations are set up in a square that raises two stories high. At least ten shops advertising different types of services are located on each level. From my viewpoint I can see an administrative office that takes up three shop spaces, a pharmacy, a counselor office, a physical therapist office, a small convenience store and three different clothing stores. What I can see from the storefront windows is that the clothing stores all carry scrubs like the pale green ones, but in several different sizes and colors. I don't spot a single pair of jeans in there.
I sigh and my dad squeezes my hand teasingly. We walk to the administrative offices and get in line behind the counter, which holds a large
sign stating: Last Names M-O. In front of us in line there are three other families dressed in similar hospital gowns. I can't help but notice that the family directly in front of us seems happy and complete. And when I say complete, I mean there are four of them...in the same family. A small spark of jealousy mixed with a large spark of envy fills my heart. I watch as a small toddler hugs tightly to her mom's leg. A tear escapes my eye and my dad lets go of my hand for a second to wipe it away and then silently takes my hand and squeezes it even tighter than before. He feels it too.
The line passes quickly and when it's our turn a short red haired man waves us to the counter. "Last name?" he asks.
"Mosby," my dad answers then hands him both of our passports.
"Have you picked a room?"
"Yes, room 442." Says my dad. He knew my affinity to even numbers so he made sure to pick a room accordingly.
The man goes about typing at the speed of light onto his computer. A short minute passes then he says. "You will receive your schedules and work assignments tomorrow." He bends down and grabs something from beneath the counter. He pulls out two tablets and places them in front of us. "Please keep these tablets with you at all times. There is an orientation app on the front screen that will give you all of the information you need to know about your new life here." He presses the app on the screen of my tablet demonstrating how the touch screen works and then closes the app before the video loads. "If for any reason your tablet malfunctions, please bring it back here and we will get you a new one. Do you have any questions?"
Both my father and I shake our heads.
The man seems satisfied with our answer and hands the tablets to us. "You may now proceed to Clothing Room A to collect your new wardrobe."
"Thank you." My dad says and then together, with our tablets in hand, we head towards the row of clothing stores.
The temperature in the common area is a little too cold for my flimsy hospital gown so I am anxious to get something on with a little more coverage. I will say one thing. I am thankful that they aren’t the gowns with the opening in the back!
We come upon the nearest shop and enter in the front door, which has been propped up with a shoe for a doorstop. I immediately notice the lack in variation from one outfit to the next. It is as I feared. The only thing available is scrubs, they simply vary in color. A small beep sounds when we enter, triggering a chain reaction. Walking towards us, in the lead, is a tall, lanky, flamboyant man followed by two women succeeding closely on his heels.
He stops a few feet from us and begins to take us in. He looks us over like he would when making a selection for prime meat. He circles us muttering “mmmhmm,” as he goes. He returns to his original position and snaps both his fingers twice. The women must understand what this means because the one on the left immediately hands him a tape measure while the one on the right wipes his brow. Oh brother, I think to myself. You’ve GOT to be kidding me.
“You,” he points at me. “Come with me.” Snapping his finger, he turns on his heel and walks off with a purpose. I sneak a glance in the direction of my father but he just shakes his head, mouth still propped open in a shocked expression. I turn my attention back to the disaster at hand and follow quickly behind the man that’s about to disappear around a corner.
He stands me on a small stool and has me hold out my arms. The woman, whom I’m guessing is his assistant, comes in the room with a clipboard and pen. She nods her head and he begins taking measurements. He barks out the measurements as she writes them down. They go on like that for ten minutes or so. My arms are on fire by the time he tells me he’s finished. I rub them trying to get the blood circulating again. The woman leaves the room for a moment and comes back with an armful of scrubs in her hands. She leaves them on a chair for me; then retreats.
“Which color you want?” She asks me. I’m taken aback by her accent, which is obviously foreign. Our borders have been closed for years, well, as long as I can remember at least. Since our government passed the 28th amendment all export and import shipping stopped as well as flights overseas. They felt foreigners held too much threat to our society after numerous illnesses wreaked havoc through our nation. Since then we've had a policy where no one goes in and no one goes out. It really sparks my curiosity knowing this woman could be from The Outside as we call it.
“Hmmm,” I respond. “I think I’ll take the periwinkle, the chartreuse and the indigo.” Yes, there’s a reason why I said that. I wanted to gauge if she was a recent immigrant or if she has been here a while. Chances are, if she’s been here a while, she’d have to know at least one, maybe two of these colors.
She gives me a blank stare and then sets the clothes in the chair. “You pick three and take to front.” She turns on her heel and leaves the room.
Darn, thought I had her.
I change into the pink scrubs and when I throw my hospital gown into the metal disposal bin I hear a clinking sound. I nearly forgot! I hastily grab the gown and with a shaking hand I work on retrieving the item that I stowed away in its hem. I don't know how I worked it in there so well because it doesn't come out as easily as it went in. I work the fabric on the hem back and forth exposing it a little more each time.
A knock on the door startles me. The lady who gave me the scrubs comes in without waiting for me to answer. I have to shove the gown behind my back. "Ouch." I cry out as something pricks my hand.
"You okay?" She asks.
I nod quickly and with wide frightened eyes I say, "Can I help you?" My heart is accelerating and I feel nauseous.
"I was just checking on you since it was taking you a while to change." She studies me like I'm crazy.
"I'm fine, I need another minute." I say and tears start springing to my eyes as a dizzy sensation washes over me.
She hesitates and I can tell she is contemplating asking me more questions. Thankfully she doesn't. She just says, "Please try to hurry. There are more people waiting on the dressing rooms." Then she leaves shutting the door behind her.
"Crap, no, no, no!" I cry to myself as soon as she's gone. Tears are flowing out of my eyes as I pull my hands and the gown back in front of me. I look down at my left wrist and see the faintest sign of a puncture mark. "No." I whisper as my heart pounds like drums in my chest. I'm not ready to die! I pull the gown back up in front of me and work the item out of the hem quickly now. The needle had poked through and as I work it the rest of the way out I notice that most of the red serum is still inside it. Maybe none of it went into me. I tell myself trying to calm my thoughts down. I don't know why I took it from Sebastian's room but I did. I guess I did it because I didn't want him to have it. I recall the explanation from the nurse. It might seem selfish that I took it but I felt like I had to protect him. I know the nurse said how painful the virus could be but I can't imagine Sebastian's life being sucked out of him by a single shot.
I sit down and put my head between my knees while taking deep breaths. I tell myself over and over again that none of it was injected in me.
"Please hurry." The lady calls from outside the door.
"Just one more minute." I say out of breath as I sit back up. Standing I have to steady myself against the wall for a moment to allow the dizzy spell to settle. When the world stops swaying, I move into action. I take the needle to the metal disposal bin and empty the remaining serum into it. Red liquid stains the trashed hospital gowns in the bin making it look like they were used to clean up crime scene. Then I carefully wrap the empty needle up with my old gown and shove it down above the red stained ones.
I throw on my new pair of bright white tennis shoes and look at myself in the floor length mirror. My hair looks wild and crazy and my eyes are filled with worry. I keep telling myself that I will be fine. I grimace and then leave the dressing area.
I meet my dad at the counter and see him clutching his clothes for dear life. His face is crimson red, which just happens to match his new set of scrubs. He mutters something under his breath
about being violated. A small smile forces its way onto my face.
“Tablets please,” the man asks while ripping them from our hands. Why he even bothers to ask in the first place is beyond me. He plugs each tablet into a USB port that's connected to a laptop and begins punching away at something. Within a few minutes he disconnects them. “You will each get five pairs of scrubs per season, two sets of pajamas and five sets of undergarments. Obviously there are four seasons per year. We advise you to take care of your clothing; wash on a delicate cycle in cold water, dry on low. If for any reason you are unable to care for them properly and they are damaged, there are sewing kits available for purchase here and in the general store. But I advise you, they are very pricey. In addition to your regular clothing, you will receive one bathing suit per year and one pair of shoes per year. Additional footwear will be allotted for growing children if their sizes should change.” He hands us back our tablets. We grab our new clothes and make our way back into the commons area.
My dad picks a table near the outside and we place our things in the empty chairs. My dad's eyes roam over to a line near the entrance of the meal serving area that currently looks to be closed. "Well, Willow, looks like we should probably get in line. They must be opening for dinner soon."
I give him a half smile and grab my tablet. I'm not sure if we'll need it, but if they said to bring it everywhere, then by golly, I'm going to bring it everywhere.
We wind up in line behind a lady who looks to be by herself. She picks at her nails and shifts her weight back and forth from the balls of her feet. She looks exceedingly nervous and her actions are causing my unease. Suddenly she turns and stares at me. I'm a bit too shocked to turn away.
"We should go. We really should go." She says in a hoarse whisper. My eyes widen a bit in surprise because in all actuality, there is nowhere to go. "Bad things are going to happen--really bad things. We should get out while we still can!" Her breathing becomes more labored as her eyes dart about looking for God only knows what.
I feel my dad's arm wrap around me and give me a slight squeeze. The woman turns back around and begins talking with intensity to a woman in front of her.
That was just bizarre, I think to myself. Her warning did conjure up the accident I just had with the needle. I breathe a sigh of relief knowing that most likely nothing entered my system. The nurse had said the serum would bring immediate death. I think I'm in the clear now that we've past the immediate time frame. I hope that no other 'bad things' will happen though.
A grinding sound has us all turning to stare at the closed, meal serving area. A large metal gate begins to wind itself up revealing a cafeteria like setup. There are serving people behind the counter in hairnets holding giant ladles. Trays are stacked to the right of them along with multi-portion style plates. The line begins to move as we all inch forward. I'm not too hungry myself, but I vow to at least attempt to eat what they serve.
Within a few minutes we finally make it to the front of the line. My dad and I each grab a tray and a plate and set them on the three metal bars. As we move down the line we are served a variety of different scoops of varying colors. I don't pay too much attention until we are at the end of the line. "Tablets," a woman says in a raspy voice. I hand her my tablet and she scans a barcode I hadn't noticed on the back. "Next." She hands me back my tablet and I struggle to carry it with one hand and my tray in the other. Surprisingly, I make it back to our table without breaking or dumping anything. My dad joins me a moment later.
We eat in silence--well, my dad eats and I move things around on my plate, hoping maybe he won’t notice. The colorful mush looks worse than the food they served outside of the shelter. My stomach rolls with nausea and any thoughts of eating quickly fly out of the window.
To pass the time, I take out my tablet and find the calendar on the home-screen. I tap it once and scan down to our current time. It's only seven in the evening although it feels much later. The lack of sun in here makes it impossible to tell time without consulting a clock.
My dad finishes his meal, and then we both carry our trays to the dish wash station to place them in the bins. "Why don't we go back to the room?" My dad suggests. "Unless you want to check out the amenities?"
I look at his tired eyes and say, "Nah, we can check them out tomorrow." I feel relieved that the accident earlier today didn't have any effect on me and that there will be a tomorrow. All of the worrying made me exhausted though. It's taking everything I have not to just curl up in a ball and fade away. Sleep will do me good.