Chapter 10: Desolation Row, Pt. 2
The power came back on right at shift end, and after the collective sigh of relief faded it was a nightmare to get anywhere. Despite dark jokes about plummeting lift cars, the lines wrapped twice around themselves and spilled back into the Hydro bay.
Lily’s stomach gnawed at itself. She wondered why there were no stairs. How was anyone supposed to get around quickly? Maybe that was the point.
“What if there’s a fire,” she demanded, gesturing at the lines.
“We’ll die,” Maggie said, unconcerned. “You’re the most impatient person I’ve ever met.”
It was very, very late by the time Lily got back to her room. She used a little of her water ration to wash her face, then lay down and tried to calm her spiraling thoughts.
The soft knock was a welcome distraction, until she saw Michael on the other side again.
He searched for words on the ceiling, and in the twisted blankets on Lily’s bed. “I’m sorry.”
“You mentioned that already.”
“I had to leave. Where I’ve been staying.”
“So? Sleep in the bunk room.” Lily didn’t want to know where he’d been, if it wasn’t there. She didn’t want confirmation or denial or even acknowledgement.
“There’s someone in there.”
“Someone’s in here too,” she said. Michael looked past her at the empty bed and then, uncertainly, at the curtain screening off the chemical toilet. Lily sighed. “I meant me.”
“Sorry.” He turned to go.
Lily thought of the river.
She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him inside, where he pressed his back against the wall and stared attentively at nothing as she locked up.
“This bed’s mine. That bed’s yours.” She pointed. “Stay in it.”
Michael sat. His shoulders slumped, his head nodded gently; had he been drinking? No, he wouldn’t know a good time if it bit him. This was terminal exhaustion.
Pointedly, Lily lay down on her side. She left the lights on. She could do this. It wasn’t like they were in the same bed; four whole feet of floor separated them.
Michael sat still, his eyes unfocused. How long could someone stay awake before they unraveled like a cheap shirt?
“Go to sleep, if that’s what you’re here for,” Lily said, harsher than she’d intended.
He didn’t look up, or move. The irrational fear that he’d died there gripped Lily’s lungs in a vise.
“Coalition bases are underground,” Michael said distantly. “It smells the same. I close my eyes and I’m back there.”
A different vise squeezed Lily’s heart.
“This was a mistake,” he finished, pushing the heel of his hand into his eye. “I’m sorry. I’ll go. I just need to…”
Lily stood up, dragged her bed away from the wall, and pushed it across the floor until there was just one tile, twelve inches, between the two metal frames. Further apart than they’d been in the tent. Closer than they’d been since then.
Finally he looked at her. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.” She hugged the pillow against her stomach. “You didn’t have to save my life when I drowned. Or in the Wasteland. Why didn’t you say something?”
Michael blinked again. Slowly. “I didn’t want you to think you owed me anything.”
“Well, I do. Go to sleep. In the morning we’ll be even.”
He lay down and was gone immediately, like a switch had been thrown. Lily had lived like an animal long enough to know what that meant, and she hated it. She wanted to put her fist through the wall.
Instead she found herself watching him. Some people looked like children when they slept, others aged a century; Michael only looked like himself, tired and ordinary.
She got up and dimmed the lights.
After a little while, not nearly long enough, he began to dream. His eyes moved behind closed lids, his head jerked to the side—
Lily grabbed him as he woke with a strangled cry. They regarded each other, wide-eyed, clasping arms in the semidarkness.
“Lily?” He didn’t have to say it like that.
“You’re fine,” she said, pulling her hand back. “It’s fine.”
And he believed her. He closed his eyes and, with a shudder, went still. Lily pressed her knuckles against her mouth and curled into herself, wishing she’d left him in that ditch. Wishing she hadn’t let go. Wishing she was anyone but herself.
Time passed. She did not sleep.
—
Maggie was sick again.
Welles, the foreman, took this news with the usual deep sigh and eye-roll.
“We’ve got a quota to make,” he complained, jabbing a finger at Lily. “You. Go to her apartment, see what’s wrong with her. If she’s standing, bring her to work.”
Anything to avoid doing the monotonous work alone. Lily sketched a salute and hurried for the lifts.
With the morning rush over she had a whole car to herself, and the residential corridor was quiet. Most of the people that lived here were dayshift workers, except Ellis, Maggie’s engineer husband. He pulled nights down in the Station’s electric heart.
Lily knocked quietly. Almost immediately the door cracked open an inch and Maggie’s drawn, pale face appeared in the gap. “What?”
“Welles sent me to check on you,” Lily said. Behind her the apartment was dark and quiet.
“I’m fine,” Maggie snapped. “I mean, I’m sick—”
A small, plaintive sound came from inside, and Maggie froze. The color drained from her face as she fixed Lily with a stare halfway between terror and defiance.
“Was that a—”
Maggie grabbed Lily by the front of her jumpsuit and dragged her in, slamming and locking the door behind her.
The apartment was better decorated than Lily’s. A brightly colored knit blanket covered a small couch. A low table sagged under the weight of a radio and a stack of books. Past the small kitchen, a half-open door led to a second room with an empty bed.
Maggie’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. Her mouth quivered as she held Lily’s gaze, unblinking. They were the same height, but Lily felt like she was facing a giant.
“I must have been mistaken,” Lily said carefully. “Obviously there’s no one else here.”
One small tear slipped down Maggie’s cheek. She cleared her throat. “Em, baby, come on out. It’s ok.”
After a long pause, a small head of curly brown hair poked out from under the couch.
The girl had her mother’s round face and wild hair, her father’s dark complexion. She was maybe two years old. Puzzle pieces fell into place: the frequent sick days, the food Maggie smuggled out of the dining facility…
“No one can know.” Maggie jabbed Lily in the chest. “I like you, but if you breathe a word to anyone I’ll drown you in the fucking lettuce tank. Swear it.”
“I swear it,” Lily promised. “How did you get around the tests?”
“I don’t know.” Maggie’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “She was a surprise from start to finish. I thought I had indigestion. Ellis delivered her in the bathroom.”
Slowly, the girl scooted back under the couch, taking the blanket with her. After some shuffling, everything was silent.
Maggie collapsed, her face in her hands. “He spends the days with her, but he hasn’t come home since the blackout and I can’t leave her alone…”
Em’s head poked out between Maggie’s knees. Her solemn brown eyes locked on Lily’s.
“Hi,” Lily said.
Stoically, Em opened and closed one pudgy hand.
“I have something to tell you too,” Lily said, as Maggie combed her fingers through her daughter’s hair. “I came from the surface.”
Maggie rolled her eyes. “Oh, you’re the envoy, are you. Or maybe one of the Fourteen come home.”
“I don’t even know what the envoy or the fourteen are, because I’m not from here,” Lily insisted. “I came in from outside.”
It wasn’t annoyance on Maggie’s face now. Em retreated again as her mother stood. “I didn’t think you were one for stupid jokes.”
“Maggie, have you ever seen my face before? In the dining facility, in Medical, in the lifts?” Lily held out her hands. “There’s only a few thousand people down here, we would’ve met at some point.”
“Only? That’s the whole world! You expect me to remember every face I ever…” Maggie scraped a hand through her hair. “It’s not possible.”
“Neither is she.” Lily gestured to the darkness under the couch. “I just…you trusted me, and I thought I should return the favor.”
Maggie diminished. “Sure. Fine. I’m…tell them I’ll be back tomorrow. Just go.”
Lily didn’t argue. She agreed, and left Maggie in the darkened room with both their secrets.