Gods of Anthem (10 page)

My mother was
terrified of trains, and some of her fear rubbed off on me. Whenever we traveled, my father would shout at her, making it doubly scary from both his yelling and my mother’s tears.

This fear remained, and after strapping into my seat for the trip to the mainland, my hands grip the armrests like I’m going to crash, even before we start moving.

“Well, gel … did I not tell you dat dis be the place where little ones get better?” Desi stands in the aisle like a mirage.

I’m out of my buckle in an instant and hugging him to me like a lifeline. He’s dressed in regular clothes and smells like cheap cologne.

“What are you doing here?” My voice is light just seeing his face.

Desi takes a seat across from mine, dreads pulled back into a ponytail. “I thought I’d take a ride on dis here tin can wich ya.” He laughs. “Close your mouth, gel, before you catch dem flies.”

“Are you going to the mainland?” I ask. “To live…?” I’m on the edge of my seat, itching to hug him again to make sure he’s real.

“Just for a visit,” Desi says, dark eyes softening. “My family works in some of dem rich houses, cleanin’. Thought it’d be a good time to see dem, and maybe help you, too. I have a cousin in Section, and he’ll see dat you get settled. It’s not every day when someone raises from the dead, Leeza.” He draws my name out and winks at me as I blink in bewilderment at his offer.

The train starts to move. Seat belt snapped back on, I grip the armrests again, and then … everything flies past. The compound’s momentarily alongside in a blur, before it slides away into the distance, fading fast.

This part of the track rides high above the ocean on a bridge, before diving into a tunnel through the water. Tough to decide what’s scarier: the darkness, or the heights.

It’s not a long trip back to what used to be known as Florida. We’ve always been very close to home, yet so far away.

Desi’s watching me with a knowing twinkle in his eye. “Gel,” he says, “you be thinking about your friends?”

Facing the window and the never-ending green water, I say, “Mimi.”

Desi nods wisely. “You leave dat Miss Mimi to me. I give all da little ones my special treatment.”

He points into the distance. Some of the clouds this high are still as pale as I’ve ever seen them; dingy cotton balls, and not the dark, ominous bulges I’m used to.

“I’ll keep an eye on Miss Mimi,” Desi says. “She’s a lot like you was, when you first came. Tough.”

The train hits a bump, and my knuckles turn white. Desi finds something humorous in this, and his laugh’s a donkey bray, but all the funnier for that reason. He continues until his eyes water.

We hit the tunnels at high speed, producing a suction noise as we’re submerged. Desi turns into a swaying shadowed outline.

“A gel who dies and comes back,” he says through his laughter, “and leaves dat place where dhere’s no coming out of, yet here she is, scared of a choo-choo.” Desi wheezes. “Trust me, Miss Leeza, if you dat gel who beats da grim reaper dis many times, nothing as simple as dis bucket gonna finish you, boss.”

All the same, my grip stays tight. “It’s irrational, I know. But I can’t help it. I’ve been scared of trains since I was a little girl.”

Desi’s voice drops, subdued. “Little gels, dey grow up. A mon like me, we see tings, up in the sky. We see dat change. Someday, you is gonna see what I do.”

“And what’s that?”

“A gel who took a walk in da clouds and came back down. She’s not like dem others no more. She touched. Dis might be a blessing or a curse, Miss Leeza; a half in bad, and a half in good.” He sighs. “Dat place not want you. Spat you right back out, yeah? Dat other place did, too, dat hot one. So you stuck in da middle here wit us. But either way, a gel like dat, she won’t even do what da gods want.”

I’d forgotten about
my hair. Or lack of it. I’m standing in line at the place with lockers for the deceased, and everyone’s staring with round eyes, afraid to catch whatever I’ve got.

My bald head’s like a neon sign: I’m sick! Stay back!

We’d exited the tunnel to crane our necks at the newly erected walls of undecorated concrete as high as the tallest building. The tops were wide enough to build a house across, and all of it stood to separate the city from the wilds of America teaming with millions of undead.

Our train had bisected an opening set several miles out in the water. Each broad side had been carved into figures (like Mount Rushmore, only with part of the torso chiseled in, as well) as large as skyscrapers—one of a woman, the other a man—watching us approach with steely eyed resolve.

Desi had to prod me from the platform, I was so busy staring. The citizens wore black or grey—dove grey at the lightest. Even little girls wore plain, straight frocks, no frills, hair woven in a single braid.

He was gawked at, too, for his bright clothing.

“Can you get into trouble?” My whisper felt like a yell.

“Probably.” He shrugged and grinned.

Desi had dropped me off at the depot after giving me his cousin’s address, saying he’d check on me later before he left the city. He’d seemed eager to see his family, and to probably change his clothes, since it was becoming increasingly clear he was breaking some type of rule.

Alone….

Again.

“Liza
Randusky? … Liza?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

A lady with charcoal-lined eyes stares at me with a bored expression. She hands me a box. It’s not very big.

“Is this—?” I fight through the lump in my throat. “Is this … for both?”

She raises two thinly drawn eyebrows. Donning her reading glasses, she reads the label aloud—both my parents’ full names—before giving me a questioning look.

My nod’s slow from embarrassment, and she pushes the box toward me with an expression that says:
Well, all right, then. Get out
of here, sick girl
.

What’s left of my family, what’s left of my whole world, I hug tightly to my chest in response. People move out of my way, some pulling their children protectively behind themselves before the double doors release me back onto the sidewalk and out into the smoggy, loud city. Sunlight begins to leave its zenith, turning Anthem into a forbidding shadow.

Left then right, everywhere I look seems the wrong way. My parents’ items shift with each step through the sea of people.

It’s not difficult. They all part away from me.

I’m a hazard.

And their lives are so precious.

The
trip’s only ten blocks south and then three east, yet before long, I’m panting with more than simple exhaustion. An empty alleyway offers me a break from the endless stream of citizens making me dizzy. On the ground with my box, eyes closed and head back against the wall of the building, it’s tempting to simply wait for a solution to arrive.

Watching the sky darken is more interesting than getting up, so that’s where I stay.

When
darkness descends, the noise cuts like the city’s been suffocated. With the box in hand, I’m sorted enough emotionally to start my way again, but an empty city is what greets me.

When I exit the alleyway, there are no lights, no cars—nothing. A ghost town has descended, without even the wind blowing through now.

The moon hides tonight, making the way almost pitch-black dispersed only by layered shadows. I take the direction from before, and the urge to check behind rises along with my heart rate, and paranoia makes me imagine a slithering sound in the darkness.

It’s impossible to read the directions, so I’m hoping I’ve not missed my turn. What if I get lost? I’m squinting so hard at the sheet of paper that the sudden collision with an immovable object forces my parents’ things from my hands and into the street.

The glinting mirrored visor seems to float above me in the shadows. The unmistakable—familiar, hated—guard watches me impassively, as always.

He snags my shirt, and I freeze up at the memory of the last one who’d grabbed me like that. Even now, the bite on my shoulder burns. “No! Stop!”

His grip tightens, and the same robotic-quality voice comes through the breather. “Citizen, you are out past curfew. Come with me.”