The Deepest Red (36 page)

She crosses her hands on her lap and gazes back out into the surrounding forest.

“It’s another sorrowful story to add to your burden so it might be better left untold.”

She falls back into silence as I study her hand with the missing finger tip.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours?” I say.

She turns to me and begins to examine my face.

“Okay,” she agrees in a low voice, “you go first.”

I brace myself for the words that start to flow from my mouth.

“I was raised without my mother. I love my dad but the secrets surrounding her death only serve to drive a wedge between us. I’ve recently realized that I’ve lived my life afraid that if I found the truth I would destroy any pretend version of her that I’ve created in my mind- which is the only version of her I know.”

I fold my arms trying to drive away the coldness I feel inside.

“Tom took me under his wing and trained me- giving me another piece of my mother, if only by experiencing the same things as her. I knew he was fond of her and just the chance of him being fond of me made me feel closer to her.” I pause. “I know it's stupid but that’s how I felt.”

Elizabeth’s face displays an expression of sadness but also of understanding, so I continue.

“The day he died I also lost the new piece of her I had found and all the answers I lacked the courage to ask, disappeared.”

I unfold my arms and turn toward her so she can read the betrayal on my face.

“I also realized people have lied to me this whole time. Maybe not on purpose or with any ill conceived notion but they have withheld the truth from me- even my father refuses to talk about my mother.”

I pull out the prison record of my great grandmother and position the photo for her to study.

“I had to find out on my own that my great grandmother was an inmate of this prison with a rap sheet a mile long from a pile of dusty old boxes, not to mention her lack of sanity and here I was assuming my family had been good townsmen from Zebulon.”

Elizabeth takes the papers from my hand and looks over the printed words- her fingertips brush over the picture of the red headed woman.

“There were no good people from town,” she says as if reliving some scene in her mind. “I’m guessing Tom told you a few things about his past, about Ms. Ana being his teacher?”

I nod.

“I’m sure you figured out she was your grandmother?” she says as I nod again, waiting.

Elizabeth refolds the prison papers and lays them gently on her lap- her fingers resting on top of them.

“When the children were led to the gymnasium of the school, Ms. Ana was one of the teachers who stayed with us. Parents that lived or worked nearby the school came searching for their children. Unlike what you may have been told, not all cars stopped working because of the EMP. Cars older than the 70’s didn’t have a problem. The newer cars died though, leaving roads blocked and people stranded.”

I watch as a light breeze lifts a thin strand of hair from off her forehead. The wrinkles of her skin deepen as she struggles to remember the painful past.

“I stayed four days with my remaining peers, living in the gym. Tom and I were the last children unclaimed and Ms. Ana decided she wouldn’t leave us behind. I don’t know what happened to my mother but by then the town was in chaos as well as the whole country.”

Elizabeth takes a weary sigh, “You see Millie, law enforcement was left powerless without radios and phones. They had no way of knowing where the crisis were and how to react. Gas stations were overrun and people were shot by one another for little to no reason. It was terrifying to see but the real horror was at the hospitals.” She takes a deep breath. “The EMP had fried the back up generators leaving people on life support to die.”

Her hands begin to shake as she brushes a strand of hair from her face. A tear falls from her dispirited eyes.

“My father was in the hospital on life support. He’d been in a bad car accident days before,” she says and wipes at her eyes. “So many died those first few weeks. Many couldn’t get a hold of medicine they needed to stay alive. People with asthma, heart disease, diabetes, they all perished within days and weeks of when their medicine ran out. Others killed themselves after watching those they loved suffer and pass away.”

Elizabeth unfolds the prison record one more time, looking at my great grandmother’s picture. Her hands shake, either from her memories or the cold.

“When the remaining people of our town grouped together and decided to head to Fort Benning, Ms. Ana stayed behind with us. She still believed our parents would come for us. Traveling was hard at that point and took time. We seeked refuge at the local prison thinking the remaining police force would be there. However, when we arrived the prison had been taken over by the inmates and Ana’s mother was one of the leaders.”

She hands me the picture.

“Your great grandmother was one of the most dangerous women I’ve ever met. Even the men of the prison were scared of her.”

I memorize the picture in front of me.

“She was scheduled to be sent to a psycho ward in Atlanta.” I say, folding up the record and sliding it into my back pocket.

“I don’t doubt it,” Elizabeth says, a small smile appearing on her face. “but once Ana said we belonged to her, your great grandmother took care of us. She loved us and we loved her.”

She glances back out toward the trees.

“The people in this prison did some bad things to survive but it was your great grandmother who talked the rest of the remaining inmates into allowing the last survivors of the town into the fences. We all became a community just wanting to survive.”

“What happened to the country?” I ask. “Wouldn’t an army or someone show up eventually?”

Elizabeth shrugs, “I don’t know. I guess when the bombs started to drop they had other problems. We have no way of knowing.”

“If the EMP hit first how do you know about the bombs? I didn’t find any areas of the red zone that looked destroyed,” I reply.

“The whole ground shook hours after the EMP. We found out years later bombs had hit Barnesville, a neighboring city. I can only guess other areas were hit.”

We are quiet for a few long moments. I let her words sink in- imagining all the chaos of those days following the attack. The knowledge is heavy on my heart but this time I’m grateful. I understand now sometimes even though the truth is hard it is important to know it- that you understand it and learn from it.

“What happened to Ms. Ana?” I ask, the question blurting out of my mouth.

Elizabeth stares down at her hands and begins flexings her fingers.

“She died in childbirth,” she pauses. “Tom raised your mother like she was his own.”

“Do you know how my mother died?”

She looks at me then, her face visually shaken.

“I don’t know all the details, only Tom and Micah knew but what I do know I swore never to talk about.” She reaches out and cups my face in her wrinkled hand. “Don’t fret. The truth never stays hidden for long,” she says as she stands she pulls out an envelope from her jacket pocket and gently places it in my hand.

Her eyes shine knowingly as she squeezes my fingers. I watch her unsteady walk along the pathway and disappearance around the corner. Continuing to sit on the bench, I examine the white envelope. I turn the smudged paper over and over in my hands reliving each revelation Elizabeth shared and how good it felt to confide in her. I open the envelope and pull out a piece of paper. The handwriting is sloppy but readable.

To my audacious Millie,

              If you’re reading this I’m no longer around to keep you out of trouble. You can’t blame an old man for dying. Death comes for us all sooner or later. There are many things I regret in my life and I’m ashamed to admit I was too much of a coward to correct them.

Millie, I want you to know I have loved you since the day your mother laid you in my arms. She was like a daughter to me and watching how she fussed over you made this old man wish to give you everything you could ever want. Unfortunately, I fear I have only brought you more pain by not sharing with you what happened to Kayla. I made a foolish decision when I let Micah persuade me into remaining silent. For that I am sorry.

Though your father felt he was protecting you, I’ve never agreed with his methods and I can’t rest in peace knowing the truth is still being withheld from you. Sometimes knowledge is painful and crippling, however, sometimes it’s needed to move on.

Your mother had a twin sister named Katlin and I loved them both. I remember their first steps, first words and even their first haircuts.. They were thick as thieves, never leaving each other’s side until the day they both developed a crush for Micah. It was your father that tore them apart. In his young age he couldn’t decide between them. I’ve always held a grudge for how he treated them both in those early adolescent years.

In the end your father fell in love with Kayla and Katlin was devastated. Many times I would witness her tempting Micah but once your parents moved into the library together, he was no longer interested in childish pursuits. He wanted Kayla to stay within our fences and together have a family. After you were born, Kayla agreed and gave up her position in the scouts, She wanted to dedicate all her time to being a good mother. She loved you more than anything.

One night, I was on my way to the guard shack to begin my shift when I saw an upset Kayla running toward the gate. She was too fast for me to keep up with and I lost her. I couldn’t track her in the dark so I retraced my steps and found Micah lost.

He had tried to go after her but had never entered into the red zone before and couldn’t navigate. I convinced Micah, once safely back inside the fences, to stay. Kayla wasn’t naive about the red zone and I was confident she would return. When she wasn’t back by the afternoon of the following day I began to worry.

I found her two days later dead and in the arms of her sister. Katlin’s expression was a mixture of confusion, shock and complete horror. She had tracked Kayla only to discover her body broken and cold at the bottom of a cliff.

I didn’t believe Katlin’s story. Your mother’s clothes were untouched by a fall. When I accused Katlin, she ran.

There is a field east of Meansville with a large single oak tree standing alone among the tall grass. I buried your mother beneath its strong branches and marked her grave on the map in my supply bag. Follow the creek and you will find her. I’m sorry Millie for withholding all this from you. I’d promise Micah I would but death is like truth, they both set you free.

Tom

My hands shake as I read the last sentence, tears dropping on the fragile paper. How could so many people keep the fact my mother had a sister secret for so long?
Do they know my aunt might have murdered my mother?
Pain surges through me.
Why would my father keep this from me?
I quickly stand on my feet and run, leaving the binoculars forgotten on the bench.

I don’t really know where I’m running too but my feet lead me to the entrance of the library. I burst through the familiar wooden doors.

“Dad!” I yell, not caring if anyone else is in the library. “Dad, where are you?!”

Tom’s letter is clutched in my hand. I sprint through the aisles and open the doorway to his living quarters. He sits at the table, skimming through a thick textbook, a pen in his hand. I slam the letter on the wooden table in front of him.

              “You should’ve told me. You never should have kept so many secrets from your own daughter.” My lip quivers as I let Tom’s letter sink in further. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

I tighten my hold on the fragile paper hearing the sound as it wrinkles.

“Millie, what’s wrong?”

Tears stream down my cheeks as my father reaches for the letter and begins to read. His face pales.

“That bastard! He shouldn’t have…” he stops talking and crumbles the paper.

“Stop!” I yell, reaching for Tom’s confession as if destroyed, my life would be destroyed as well. “That’s not yours!”

I rip it from his hands.

              “What do you want me to say Millie?”

I glare at him.

“How about the truth!” I take a deep breath struggling to calm my beating heart. “How about you start with what happened that night?”

I sit beside him, my hurt dissolving into a vast hollowness in my chest.

“Help me understand,” I say, reaching a shaking hand to lay atop of his.

He looks into my eyes, his face seeming to age rapidly.

“Kayla and Katlin were always so beautiful,” he begins. His eyes glaze over as if wandering into the past. “They were identical twins- completely. The only way you could tell them apart was from a silver cross necklace Kayla wore.”

An image flickers inside my mind of a recurring nightmare. I recall the simple silver cross necklace lying among grey ashes.

“She’d found the cross out in the red zone when she was a child. The girls were always getting into trouble for sneaking outside the fence. They would be gone for hours at a time.”