The Deepest Red (27 page)

“What do you mean by soft can get you killed?”

Tom stopped adjusting his supply bag. He stared at me never breaking eye contact. At that moment, he was not the old man who had been my trainer into the red zone. It was like he turned into someone else entirely. Tom’s expression was empty with the lines of his face hard and sharp. He stared at me as if seeing someone else.

“You best learn now, things happen you can’t control. You will see things you don’t want to. People do things- things to you that you can’t predict. You have to make hard decisions and stand firm in them- suffer the consequences of your actions and enjoy the great moments because they are few and far in between.”

“Tom?”

I had lightly put my hand on his shoulder. I could tell the moment when he stepped back from the past. His eyes, though still dark, shimmered with unshed tears. I tighten my grip on him when he broke eye contact. I don’t know where the words came from but they strengthened me as I said them.

“I’m not my mother, Tom. I can do this. I can survive. I will.”

Tom glanced up at me with that same countenance I had found on Connor’s face after he watched his cousins together.

“I know Millie. I don’t doubt that at all.”

I stood there as his shaking hand tucked away a loose strand of my red hair.

“Now, move your sorry ass. We’re going to be late!” he exclaimed as he walked away.

As the memory fades my mind begins to clear once again.

“Come on, Millie.”

Lonnie taps my shoulder rescuing me from any more of my memories.

“I would say race you like old times, but after this trip I don’t think I’m in the mood,” he jokes.

I glance up toward him and take hold of his offered hand.

“After this trip, I think I want to sleep for a week,” I say. “Hell, screw a week how about a month?”

I wipe at my wet cheeks and let the cool air dry them.

“I’m not looking forward to hashing this all out for Herdon,” Lonnie says with a weary voice.

“Yeah, and an hour isn’t enough.” Jay declares from behind us. “It’s just enough time for us to go to the bathroom and get pissed off that we can’t rest yet.”

I find myself smiling at him.

“You know for a guy that hardly talked before this trip, you sure are becoming Mr. chit-chat,” I say as I hear Jay’s bitter laugh.

“Ha. You just don’t know Millie,” Lonnie prattles out in a educator’s tone. “I mean, I live with the guy and he is always telling me about his new favorite color and which flowers he can’t wait to bloom.”

Lonnie talks theatrically, waving his hands about.

“I mean really, he won’t shut up,” he finishes in a grand gesture.

I laugh and venture not to trip on the uneven ground. It lightens my soul to see Lonnie’s quick wit and humor return. However, Jay seems not to enjoy Lonnie’s found sense of humor as much as I do. He walks past us bumping hard into his twin’s shoulder.

“You know you love me,” Lonnie calls out to Jay’s backside as he receives a extended middle finger in response.

I laugh louder, enjoying being back home to the familiar. Lonnie’s wicked smile beams toward me.

“He does, don’t worry,” Lonnie remarks.

“You know you shouldn’t tease your brother. It’s mean,” I say, attempting to hide my smile.

“Oh please, you started it,” he says, mockingly and gives Evie a shy wave.

Her cheeks redden as she continues to pick herbs from a tiny herb garden located beside the prison’s cement wall. No one bothers us as we make our way through the thinned out crowd. Many of them are just going about their day, finishing up chores that need to be done. A few of them, pulling weeds out of raised plant beds, give a slight nod in greeting. We finally break apart when we reach the cold stones of the prison’s main entrance. I give Lonnie a quick punch on the shoulder and head toward the doors. He stays behind knowing where I’m going to.

“See ya, soon,” I say.

“Yeah, one hour Millie,” he calls, taking a step back.

As the dark metal door swallows me up, I try to revel in the safety and security of home but the old feelings don’t surface. Instead, I feel alone and hesitant.

Chapter Sixteen

The welcoming scent of the library almost knocks me down. I have always loved the smell of books. All those words for the taking. They calm me with their poems, give dreams on the wings of fairies, but also frightens with stories of vampires and monsters. I grew up within the world in which these books formed. I grew up here, right within these sturdy walls of the prison’s library.

I enter into the large space cautiously, searching all the large oak book shelves and tables. The repulsive green carpet covers the cold concrete floor. Faded posters of long ago books grace the tan walls. I run my fingers lightly down the slick surface of a poster, it’s picture of a hot air balloon floating in a blue sky warms my insides with the familiarity.

Out in the redzone, the thought of never seeing this place again had crossed my mind frequently. I’d longed to come back and declare some kind of truce with Dad- to apologize for anything that would make it right between us.

“Dad?” I call out into the empty space. The room remains quiet.

“Dad?” I yell a little louder without response.

I proceed through halls of uniformed books to a door hidden in the back. When I open it and step into the well lit room, I can see him on the far end sitting at our game table. The old worn wood brings back memories of sitting for hours playing chess, checkers, or any game he could get his hands on. We would spend nights in this cozy room by candle light talking and playing. The space was living quarters assigned to our family by the prison leaders because of my Dad’s fondness for literature.

Dad had became the librarian when he was only a teenager. The last librarian having gotten sick with the flu, asked if my dad, Micah, would take over his duties. He had died a few days afterward. My dad mournfully accepted the position as permanent, having been close with the sick stricken scholar. Sadness aside he was a good fit for the job. Dad had always occupied the vast room with it’s ugly green carpeting, learning all the knowledge a textbook or novel had to offer. He never tired of books and every time the scouts brought back new editions, his eyes would light up. At moments like that I was jealous of the books and the scouts who had brought with them treasures from another lifetime. I wanted to be able to bring the same kind of light to Dad’s expression.

His eyes are now locked onto the pages of a worn book, staring blindly at it’s black print. Dad’s face indicates no interest in the world around him or his latest novel. His messy light brown hair hangs dirty from his head. I can tell he hasn’t shaved since I left.

“Dad?” I say calmly as I walk toward him. He doesn’t hear me.

“Dad!” My loud voice seems to break the barrier around him, reaching into his state of oblivion. He hesitantly turns toward me dropping his book on the floor. It lands with a thump.

“Oh thank God!”

He stands up abruptly and pulls me into his arms.

“Oh thank God!” he says again and hugs me so tight I can barely breathe.

I latch onto him smelling his sweat mingled with a stale odor- an uncommon duo for him. Moisture builds in the corners of my eyes as worry grips my heart. I missed him so much these last few days, wanting the chance for one more conversation, one more story time before bedtime.

“Dad, you’re suffocating me,” I joke, attempting to break away so we can talk. From his appearance I can tell he has been punishing himself because of how we left things. He lightens his embrace allowing me to breathe.

“You didn’t come back. No one came back,” he says.

Dad steps back and tries to run a hand through his tangled hair- one of his nervous gestures.

“I was so worried,” he whispers.

In an unsteady motion, he beckons for me to sit on the bed.

“Dad, you look like crap,” I say wanting not to weep.

I didn’t think I was capable of so many tears. What would Tom say? Was I too soft? I glance around the room and notice my old bed still in the corner surrounded by books I had left behind. Dad had kept my corner untouched even though I had moved out into my own room. A cell masquerading as a bedroom in a cell block newly restored for growing families.

He sits his chair in front of me as if the questions will begin shortly in which they do.

“What happen Millie? Are you okay? How did you get all those scratches? Why were you late?”

His eyes are focused on me so intently I have to peer away.

“Dad, I only got an hour before they debrief me. So don’t freak out, just listen.”

I take a deep breath and fidget with the strap of my supply bag still strapped to my shoulder.

“Tom is dead. We were attacked in the woods. I survived with the help of two people that I ran into. They’re cousins and believe it or not, they are Tessa’s family.”

I look up at him and register the disbelief on his face. I continue quickly not giving him a moment to interrupt.

“I stayed with them for a while and gathered supplies. We ran into what we call infected people. They are-” I stop, not knowing how to describe them. “You don’t want them around. They try to kill you, no questions asked,” I finish, attempting to mask my emotions. “We survived through a horde of them and stumbled across Lonnie and Jay.”

I take another breath and focus on the glassy eyes of my father. He falls back into his chair. I can see the lines of concentration appearing on his forehead.

“I survived, Dad. I made it back. I just- I had no idea,” I say and search for more words to fill the empty space between us. Nothing comes.

He sits still a while before he speaks.

“I told Tom one day he wouldn’t return. I told him that the red zone is not a place for him or for you. Outside these fences the world snatches up anything or anyone that’s good.” He leans forward in the chair taking a deep breath. “After all I’ve lost, I can’t bear the thought of losing you too, Millie.”

I reach for him, placing my hand on his shoulder.

“You didn’t lose me, but I can’t not go out into the red zone. I was trained for it. There are things we need. Things left behind for us to find. We can’t cage ourselves up behind these fences forever.”

He shakes his head nestled in his trembling hands.

“Millie, please,” he hisses and glances at me, a flash of anger in his eyes.

I stand, not wanting to have this same argument again, and walk to the door. As much as I long to stay with him and apologize for my actions before, I can’t. Saying I’m sorry would only encourage his efforts to banish me to my old corner of the room- an area I have no desire to be in again.

“I’m going to go now. I got to go talk to Mr. Herdon and the others.”

I hold back my disappointment and open the heavy door to leave. I halt in the door frame. When I turn, Dad is tense and still, watching my escape. I can tell he wants to say something but he keeps himself quiet.

“I know you don’t think this but my mother would be proud of me today. Unlike her, I came back alive.”

The words burn my tongue when I say them but I don’t care. I’m tired of always having to justify my actions. I want him to trust me and trust in my decisions even if he doesn’t agree with them. His emotional grip on me is too constricting and I’m too stubborn not to resist. With a heavy heart, I decide making things right with him will be a process not fulfilled in a few moments. I let the door close behind me.

I make my way through empty halls to my cell block and enter my newly assigned living space. I drop my supply bag on the floor and feel utterly cold. I should have turned in my bag already to be checked and categorized but all my energy has faded. I’m a little surprised Tyrus let me get away with the breach of protocol but he was distracted. Not having adjusted to my new room yet, it seems unfamiliar and hollow. I’m lucky in a way though. For lack of a better term my cell is more cozy than most. The room sits on the top floor overlooking the cells below and nestled on the end. Usually the location comforts me, allowing me to embrace my new found freedom away from my father. Now, I feel differently- cut off from those who might distract me from my thoughts.