The Ark

Someone was in the room with me. Someone with a rifle pointed straight at my chest.

Four (#ua8e59aee-4d27-5a6e-999d-f9076a19126c)

“Hold it right there, Missy.” The gravelly voice paused long enough for a wracking cough.

I raised my hands as slowly as possible. In my experience, there were two kinds of people who point guns at other people. The first kind weren’t going to shoot you unless they had to. Suckers, we called ’em. Suckers made it easy to get away. Sometimes you didn’t even have to give their stuff back, as long as you started running before they got too jumpy. The second kind were just looking for an excuse to pull the trigger. As I was sizing her up, she chambered the cartridge.

This was definitely the second kind.

I made my voice as small and feminine as possible. “Look, I didn’t mean any trouble. I thought you were gone.”

“Doesn’t give you the right to steal my stuff.”

I turned around, slowly. “Really, I thought the house was abandoned. Please don’t shoot.” The woman in the corner was elderly and heavyset and sucking hard on a nicostick, the kind the government had approved the year they banned cigarettes. I had no doubt this wasn’t the first time she’d handled a .30.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, anyway?”

“I was hungry,” I whimpered. “And I needed clothes.”

“What for?”

“For the OPT.”

“I saw them clothes in the bathroom. You don’t belong on no transport.”

I breathed out for a moment, and sniffed, and realized that my tears weren’t actually fake, even though I had planned them. “I know.”

“But you’re going anyway.”

If I spoke loudly enough, maybe Isaiah would hear me. Would he try to leave, or try to help me? Would he even be able to help? “I have to. My family went, and I was in lockup, and they left me there.”

The rifle sagged to point at the ground. “Okay, alright. Don’t cry.” She continued to stare at me. “It’s my daughter’s clothes, you know.”

“M-Magda?”

“My Magda. She died thirty years ago. You look a little like her.” She jerked her head toward the wall beside me, where a series of yellowing photographs showed a happy family. The youngest, a girl, did indeed have dark hair and light eyes, but I thought the resemblance ended there. Not that I planned on pointing that out to my hostess, who still had two hands clenched around the rifle. Its butt folded into the ample flesh over her ribcage. I bet she wouldn’t even feel the kick, with padding like that.

“Had a son, too. He worked at the detention center. Kellan Notting. Maybe you know him.”

I shook my head. “He’s on the transport now?”

She mirrored my head shake while taking another drag on her nicostick before answering. “Not anymore. Now he’s on the Ark. Left a couple weeks ago. He drew the European one.” She blew out the vaporized tar and glanced back at the photographs. “They called this morning to tell me he made it.”

“I’m glad,” I said, and meant it.

“So what are you in for?”

I coughed. It was a delicate situation. If I lied to her, she might shoot. But if I told her the truth, she’d probably think I was lying. Everyone else had.

“Robbery. I didn’t do it.”

The rifle twitched, barely, then she jerked it to her shoulder. The shot came an instant later, exploding into the wall above my head, louder than I thought possible. The carpet was suddenly coarse against my hands, and I found myself struggling not to scream. The anger on her face was terrifying. This was a woman who had no games to play. Whatever she wanted, she was determined to find it, and fast.

“Do I look like a fool to you?” She must have been shouting, otherwise I’d never have heard her.

I couldn’t see why she cared what I said, but I was far too shaken to think it over. Everything came spilling out. “I mean, I did! Before. But not this time. I was out, and I had my family back, even though they still acted weird around me. Even that was getting better. So I told the gang I was leaving, but they didn’t let me. They needed me to get into the best houses.” I knew I was barely coherent, but I could not stop talking. “I broke up with my boyfriend, but he tricked me. I went out to meet him, just to talk, you know? And he drugged me and I woke up in this house, and everything was broken. The cops were already there. I never wanted any of it. I thought I did, but I missed them. My family. And then it was too late. Please. Please don’t shoot.”

I clamped my jaw shut, finally silent.

There was a long pause. Too long. But then she nodded. “Alright, get up. I’m going to help you. Needed to decide once I’d met ya.”

I nodded, shaking, as though I totally understood the thought process there.

“I’m Meghan,” she croaked.

“Char.”

“Not anymore, you’re not. You’re Magda Notting, now. Best remember it. They’re definitely going to ask. You won’t get far with an expired ID, but it’s better than nothing. They can’t afford to look too close tonight anyway.”

In my opinion, they couldn’t afford not to, but Meghan continued. “Now, where’s your friend?”

I started.

“I seen him come in with you.”

“Um. I don’t know. Shower, maybe?”

There was a slight rustle on the stairs. “I’m here,” said Isaiah.

“You-all come with me. You’re gonna need a car.”

I stared at her. She might as well have told me I’d need a parakeet. “Wait, you’re … you’re giving us a car?”

“Sweetheart, it’s eleven hours to midnight. You know they close the gates at midnight, right?” She shouldered into the door on the other side of the kitchen and stepped into the garage.

I followed, numb, stealing little glances at Isaiah, who looked equally surprised. “No.”

“Well, you do now. And you’ve got a ways to go. And you’re not the only one who’s headed that way, either.” She pressed the car sensor into my hands, pausing to activate the thumbprint scanner, and looped a state-issued grocery bag over my arm. “Was that ham and jelly?” I nodded, and she made a face. “Whatever rings your bell. I made a few more while you was changing clothes.”

I stood next to the car door and stared at her.

She coughed nervously. “I figured you was hungry, coming from that place. We hear the stories. It’s a crime, what they done with you. Now get in.” She nodded approvingly as Isaiah climbed into the passenger seat. “You know how to get to Saint John?”

I looked from the car to Meghan. “I think so. Thank you, Meghan.”

“Yeah, okay. Car, I’m authorizing this driver.”

The car blipped on, and a warm female voice acknowledged the transfer. “Authorization accepted.”