Project ELE (4 page)

We both look down simultaneously to find Sebastian's cute four-year-old face staring back at us from his passport. Across the bottom of the picture there is a big, ugly, red stamp that states: DECLINED.

"No!" I yell, breaking down in sobs. I clutch Sebastian's back and throw my arms around my mom too.

"This can't be right!" My dad’s voice cracks. He looks behind us to a doctor who is shaking his head.

"I'm sorry sir. Your son has been infected." His eyes look sorry, yet his expression remains controlled in a way that only someone who has had to declare families grim fates can do.

"No, he is coming with us!" My dad demands.

"I'm sorry sir, he cannot be permitted to enter the facility." The man replies. "I will give you a few minutes to say your goodbyes."

"Nobody is saying goodbye!" My dad grabs the front of the doctor's biohazard suit and pulls him so close to his face that you can see my dad's spit land on the clear face shield.

"Sir, remove your hands immediately." Another official standing in the entryway points a gun at my dad. My dad slowly holds his hands up and steps away from the doctor.

My eyes widen in pure shock.

"I'm sorry sir, but you need to say your goodbyes." The man who has a badge stating that he is security, states empathetically. He puts the gun away and escorts the doctor out of the room giving our family some privacy.

"They said they could give him a shot that would allow him to go peacefully, the bastards! They want to put my son to sleep like they would an animal!" My mom says pulling away from Sebastian only slightly. Her face is red and puffy and full of pain. Her eyes are filled with indignation.

"No, no, no." This time it's my dad's turn to be weak. His legs give out beneath him and he falls to the floor. He's crying so hard that his painful moans break my heart into tiny little pieces. My mom moves Sebastian into my arms and goes to kneel beside her husband.

I grasp onto Sebastian as if my life depends on it. He cries and holds me tightly. "Wello, Wello, I so scared Wello." He cries into my chest.

I brush his hair back from his forehead and kiss him on the cheek. "Look at me Sebastian." His giant blue eyes look into mine. I stifle the sob that threatens to unleash itself and say, "You are going to be okay Sabby. We will all be okay. Nobody is going to leave you alone. If you can't go inside, none of us are going inside." Tears of helplessness fall freely down my face.

"No, Willow. You are going inside." My mom looks up at me but keeps her arms around my dad.

"No way!" I yell. "There is no way! I will not leave him!" I yell it so loudly that Sebastian cowers and puts his little hands over his ears.

My dad sits up and wipes his eyes. He takes a few deep breaths, stands up and helps my mom up as well. "Willow, your mom is right."

"No dad!" I cry. "We are a family, remember?"

My dad's eyes are filled with sadness, pain and a hint of understanding. In that moment, I can tell he feels the same way I feel. I can see it there on his face. He comes over and puts his arms around the two of us. Placing gentle kisses on the top of Sebastian and my heads. He takes another deep breath and says, "Willow, you and your mother will go inside. Our family will carry on. I will stay with Sebastian."

"Absolutely not!" My mom declares. "I am staying with Sebastian."

My dad turns to look at my mom. "Alice, I’ll stay with our son. I can’t just leave him. You go inside with Willow."

"No! I can't Henry. I can't!" She crumbles to the floor, the unrelenting sobs starting back up. My dad sits down next to her and pulls her into his arms. He strokes her hair and kisses her tenderly on her forehead, her cheek and her lips. My mom wipes her hands across her nose and says, "I can't do it Henry. I can't go inside and pretend that I didn't leave my baby out here." She sniffles and tears stain her cheeks.

"And I can?" My dad asks her incredulously.

My mom looks at him contemplatively and then answers. "No, I know it's just as hard for you as it would be for me. But, my other baby has a chance Henry. Things are only going to get harder and she needs her father. I know that I can't survive this, I couldn't. You are strong. You will survive. You will do it for me. You will do it for Sebastian. You will take care of our girl." My mom looks up at me with nothing but love and hope.

"No, mom, I need you too. I need all of you." I beg. "We will all stay. The nurse, she told me about the shots. That they could possibly help us if we don't make it inside."

My mom shakes her head and says compassionately. "It's possible Willow. Did she tell you that the other immunizations would negatively react with that shot and could cause death? You can't mix the two."

No, the nurse didn't tell me that! Granted, she probably didn't think I needed that information since I was accepted, but still!

"I didn't take the immunizations Willow. So you are right, we do have a chance." My mom tries to muster up a smile. She looks to my dad whose eyes confirm that he did in fact take the immunizations.

"It's settled then. Sebastian and I will take the shot and we will do our best to survive this. You two will go inside and you will move on. If it is meant to be, we will find you." My mom kisses my dad passionately on the lips then stands up and pulls Sebastian and me into her arms.

"I can't go mom." I cry into her shoulder. My dad comes up behind me and joins in on the family hug. We cling to each other in a mess of limbs and tears.

"I love you so much." My mom cries.

"I love you," My dad whispers.

"Wuv you." Sebastian whimpers.

I take a deep breath and say a very shaky, "I love you."

This is it, the end of the world for me. I had known the second I entered this tent that my life would never be the same. I wish I had known that my heart would be ripped from my chest and trampled on. I wish I could cease to exist at this very moment, but I know I can't. I have to cling to the hope that my mom and my brother will make it. I have no choice but to keep moving on. I'm broken beyond repair but when the officials come to take my father and me into the facility I force my feet to move. I take one step and then another. My heart feels as if gravity is pulling it down so hard that eventually it may fall right out of my chest and become one with the earth. I look back down the long white hallway to see my mom and my little brother walking in the opposite direction. That's when I feel it fall, my heart, it's gone. My chest is only a hollow shell and it will never be filled again.

My dad puts his arm around my shoulders and together we walk through the heavily leaded doors into our new home.

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.