Immortal (3 page)

Gabrielle walked past the younger children as
they played in the cramped, dimly lit stairway, as she made her way
to the fifth floor where Jericho’s family lived. Though her mind
was preoccupied with her concern over Jericho, she could not help
but notice as the smallest one stood tall and tried to pretend that
he was the same age as all the rest, when in fact he was barely old
enough to walk. As she stepped past them, an older boy tossed a
handful of pebble sized glistening white stones on the dirty
landing of the stairway, as the other children looked on.

“Yep!” The older boy said. His stringy hair
hung down on one side of his dirt smudged face. “You’re gonna get
it. See?” He said as he pointed his dirty hand towards the
haphazard pattern created by the stones. “That’s what it means. My
mom knows how to tell when, but I can just tell if you’re gonna get
it. Sorry Bonita, but the stones don’t lie. You’re gonna get it.”
He said with a solemn look on his face. The little blonde haired
girl next to him looked broken hearted as a single tear streamed
down her dirt smudged face and her lip trembled slightly while she
stared intently at the array of white stones that lay at her
feet.

“Do me next, Jerry! Do me!” A small curly
haired girl said as she put her hand on Bonita’s back to comfort
her, as she left her smaller brother, the smallest of the group to
stand alone.

“Are you sure?” Jerry asked. You might not
want to know.”

“No, Sissie!” Exclaimed the littlest one from
his position at the back, no longer concerned whether or not he was
as big as the rest. His chin quivered as his tears began to flow.
It was obvious to Gabrielle that he had no desire to find out if
his big sister would ever get the plague. Gabrielle didn’t blame
him. She felt sure that no one really wanted to know.

Carefully she made her way around them in the
tight stairway, but dared not interrupt. Even as a child, she too
had played this game. But now, years later, knew it to be all too
real to call it a sham. Whether or not the special white stones
told any truth, she could not say, but growing up here required the
internal strength to face the obvious if not inevitable. At some
point in time, everyone would get it. Throughout her life she
couldn’t count the number of people that she knew, that she had
laughed with, cried with, and even loved, that had finally got it.
They were all taken away to quarantine, never to be seen again.
They had all, one by one, gotten the plague.

Once she passed the children her mind turned
back to why she was there, as she climbed the stairs. She knew that
Jericho’s father worked the dark shift at the factory and that he
would still be asleep, and would have no idea the Jericho had been
controlled. She also knew that Jericho’s younger sister would
already be home, now that evening mealtime for the day shift had
passed, and unless she had seen the incident earlier, she would
have no idea why Jericho was not home. She had to let Jericho’s
family know what had happened, and that she felt partially
responsible. She whispered to herself, as she tried to control her
emotions, she again rehearsed what she would say when she saw their
compartment door open.

“Jericho was controlled, but it wasn’t his
fault.” She said to herself for the hundredth time. She continued
to rehearse her words as she climbed stair after stair, and fought
back the tears that tried to surface. Living on the eighth floor
herself, only a few blocks away, she was well accustomed to having
to climb stairs. Even though it was tremendously hot in the
stairway, she had yet to break a sweat. This stairway had
ventilation ports on every other floor, and if you stood on your
tiptoes you could see through to the adjacent building’s stone
exterior. She remembered the first time that she had looked out of
one of the ports, how amazed she had been at how close the
buildings seemed from this far up.

She reached the landing on the fifth floor,
and hesitated briefly at the stairway door, before she opened it
and walked down the narrow hallway to the compartment where Jericho
lived. As she stood in front of the door, she mustered her courage
to knock, but did so softly so as not to wake his father. Seconds
turned into an eternity as she waited for some response. She raised
her hand to knock again, when suddenly the view port slid
sideways.

“Shh!” Rebecca, Jericho’s sister said with a
frown. Then as she realized that it was Gabrielle at the door, her
frown turned into a smile. “Hey!” She whispered excitedly. “Come on
in!” As she closed the view port and began to negotiate the series
of locks on the inside of the door. Gabrielle swallowed nervously
as she waited. As the door opened up, she stepped quietly past
Rebecca, into the tiny living area of the compartment. In each
direction, it was barely wide enough for someone to lie down. One
wall contained the door with its numerous locks, on the wall to the
right ran a low seat, the full length of the wall. The remaining
two walls were bare, colored the same grey color as the clothes
that they wore. Rebecca leaned into the hallway and looked first
down one side and then back up the other, before she pulled herself
inside and shut the door.

“Where’s Jericho?” She said as she once again
negotiated the locks on the inside of the door. “When I didn’t see
him at mealtime, I thought that he was with you.” Gabrielle took a
deep breath to calm herself.

“He’s been controlled. But it wasn’t-”
Gabrielle erupted into tears.

“Controlled? What? Jericho? Are you sure?”
Rebecca’s eyes were wide as the words began to sink in. She knew
what controlled meant. And it was something that had never happened
to Jericho. “What on earth did he do?” Rebecca managed to ask in
disbelief.

“Nothing.” Gabrielle choked out between sobs.
“I mean, he really didn’t do anything. It wasn’t his-” She
began.

“Oh, Jericho! What are we going to do? Is he
okay?” She looked to Gabrielle for answers, as tears began to erupt
in her own eyes. “Gabby, he’s okay, right?” The tears had begun to
flow, and her voice became hard to understand. “Gabby?”

“I don’t know!” Gabrielle was able to blurt
out between sobs. “I don’t know. He was there, and he had
Donavan-”

“Was it his fault? Donavan’s?” Rebecca asked
between her own sobs. Gabrielle nodded her head in acknowledgment,
as she still cried.

“That bastard!” Rebecca exclaimed.

“And then the Guardian was there, and then
Jericho…then Jericho-” She couldn’t continue, the pain of it all
was so overwhelming.

“What?” Rebecca demanded. “Tell me!”

“He was just lying there.” She cried. “Lying
there like he was broken.” She hugged Rebecca as they both
sobbed.

“I’ve got to tell dad!” Rebecca broke away
from their embrace, and almost in shock she started to walk towards
the far wall of the tiny room.

“Wait!” Gabrielle exclaimed, louder than she
intended to, still all too aware that his dad was asleep. But the
sudden rise in her voice was enough to stop Rebecca in her tracks.
She turned slowly back to face Gabrielle.

“No.” Rebecca said, as fear crept into her
face. “No. Not the plague!” She said, the tremble of fear
reverberated in her voice.

“No.” Gabrielle said as she realized what
Rebecca had implied and tried to console her. “He was controlled
because of a fight.” She sobbed. “But it wasn’t his fault.” She
asserted.

“What happened? What did he do?” Rebecca
asked, as she stepped closer to Gabrielle. She calmed slightly and
dropped her voice to that of a whisper.

“He didn’t really do anything. It really was
Donovan.” Gabrielle said as she began to explain to Rebecca what
had happened, and her tears slowly subsided. She left out the part
about the old man having been quarantined earlier, but then most
stories that were told left those parts out. Some things you didn’t
want to know until it affected you directly, at least that’s the
way Gabrielle saw it. When she finished her story she could see the
mutual concern in Rebecca’s face, whom still seemed to be under the
effects of shock, but whose tears had subsided as well. A concern
that together they would have to tell her dad. Rebecca respected
her brother deeply, and was often worried that she would never be
able to find a man as good as him in her eyes, and ashamed that if
she did, that she wouldn’t be good enough to keep him. She hoped
beyond hope, as did Gabrielle, that he was okay. That he was still
alive. As this thought passed her mind, once again the tears began
to well up. And in just that glance, as Gabrielle saw this in her
trusted friend, her tears began again as well.

“Does he get up soon?” Gabrielle asked, as
she sniffled again.

“Huh?” Rebecca asked, deep in thought as she
tried to digest what she had just been told. She tried to put
perspective on the idea of her brother being in danger, even
thought she did not know where he was, or if he was even alive.

“Your dad. Does he get up soon?” She asked
again.

“Yeah.” She said, as she stepped away. “But
it doesn’t matter. I have to get him up now.” She said, heading
over to the opposite wall.

She placed her hand on an indentation to the
right side of the wall narrow, and suddenly the wall split
horizontally at waist height. The top slid silently into the
ceiling, as the bottom slid into the floor. Inside the cramped
space were two bunks, one over another, each just large enough for
a single person to occupy, and bare except that the bottom one held
the form of a sleeping person. Seconds passed as they watched the
man began to stir. Sleepily, he rolled over and looked up at her
from the bunk. He blinked his eyes in the light as he climbed out
and stood next to Rebecca in the small room. The sleeping chambers
were just that. They were a place to sleep. Not a room, so much as
a closet, with shelves to hold the thin worn mattresses.

“Is it eight already?” Her father asked,
yawning.

“Almost.” Rebecca replied, not sure how to
tell him about Jericho. For the moment, she had her emotions in
check.

“Almost?” Her father asked, irritated. “Then
why am I up?”

“It’s Jericho-” Rebecca said, as she began to
lose her struggle to control her emotions.

“What about him?” He said looking around the
tiny room. “Where is he?” He saw Gabrielle, and said. “Hi,
Gabrielle. Where’s Jericho?” This was too much for Gabrielle, who
instantly melted into a blubbering sob.

“He’s-” She tried to begin.

“It wasn’t his fault.” Rebecca chimed in, as
her tears began to flow again. “Oh, daddy!” She exclaimed and threw
her arms around her father, who was looking more bewildered by the
moment, both from just waking up, and from what he was hearing.

“Not the plague!” He exclaimed, the fear
suddenly noticeable in his voice “Not Jericho!“

“No, daddy. No. Not the plague.” Rebecca
managed to get out, as she drew back from her father.

“He was controlled.” Gabrielle said quietly,
still on the other side of the small room, as she tried her best to
shrink into nothingness.

“Controlled.” Rebecca quietly echoed.

“Controlled?” Her father asked
disbelievingly. “Jericho? For what? What could he have-” He
began.

“It wasn’t his fault.” Gabrielle said, as she
crossed the tiny room to them.

“What happened?” Jericho’s father asked.

Gabrielle, stifled her tears, and as she had
done with Rebecca, told him what had happened to his beloved son.
Jericho’s father loved Gabrielle. He felt as though she was one of
their own, even though every family must have two children, and no
more, he was still as proud of her as he was of his own daughter.
As he sat quietly on the seat that ran along the far side of the
cramped room of the tiny living area, Gabrielle told him all that
she knew, mostly between tears.

“Well it doesn’t sound like it was his fault.
At least there is that.” Jericho’s father said to Gabrielle,
noticeably shaken from the story.

“When the Guardian stepped in, Jericho was on
top and had just knocked out Donovan. I’m sure it used the control
stick to stop the fight. But he was just lying there…” Her tears
began again in earnest.

“Do you know where he was taken?” Asked his
father. Gabrielle shook her head, no.

“That’s why we woke you up.” Rebecca spoke
up. “We thought you would want to go by the control center and find
out before you had to go to the factory.”

“Good. I’m glad you did.” He said, as he
quickly regained his composure. “Yes, you did the right thing,
Rebecca.” He turned to Gabrielle. “Thank you.” He said.

“Can we come with you?” Gabrielle asked.

“Aren’t you supposed to be home? It’s almost
eight.” He said.

“I know my parents will be worried if I’m not
there when they get up, but I’ve got to know about Jericho.” She
said.

“I understand, honey, but we don’t need to
upset your parents, either, and you do not want to be out after
curfew. You’re morning shift.” The look of disappointment in her
face must have been response enough. “I tell you what. I’ll come
back and let Rebecca know what’s going on, and she’ll let you know
first thing in the morning.” He said, wrapping his arm around her
to comfort her. “Now, get your butt moving, and get home before
curfew kicks in, or you’ll be the one getting controlled.” She
nodded, and stepped towards the door.

“Thank you.” She said.

“Now, hurry home, before your parents wake
up. We don’t want them upset at all.” He said as he unlocked the
series of locks on the door. “And don’t worry. I’m sure everything
will be okay.” He said and opened the door for her. She stepped
into the narrow hallway and thanked him again, gave a quick look to
Rebecca and headed back towards the stairway. She knew that she
would have to hurry to make it home before her parents got up, so
when she hit the stairway, she took the stairs two at a time. As
she passed the landing where the children had been playing earlier,
it was deserted. No one wanted to be caught out after curfew, and
she was glad that she didn’t have to slow down to go around them.
She hoped that if she really hurried, she might still make it in
time.