Skylight (Arcadium, #2) (21 page)

At the end of the
world as we know it, I was, of all things, shopping. Events
happened so fast. The entire centre was put on lockdown. I haven’t
left since that day. I still don’t know what happened to my family,
and my friends, my neighbours, my house, my things. It makes me sad
to think of them, although sometimes I think I don’t feel sad
enough. Like I don’t feel enough about anything. Because I was
never in harm’s way, blissfully unaware, charging worthless things
to my credit card. There were never infected people inside
Skylight, so I can’t understand what it was like for those on the
outside. I watched it all unfold on flat screen TV screens in JB
Hi-Fi, with a coffee and a stale piece of cake in hand—shopping
bags at my feet. So far detached from reality. And when the TV
channels stopped working, I honestly thought they’d come back on
and everything would be fine. You know? Like it was just a big
practical joke. But I’m still here, and the infection is still out
there and I’m helpless. I can’t help anyone, can’t save anyone,
can’t do anything. So I sit in this shopping centre like it’s
purgatory. And I sit and I wait and I don’t know what I’m waiting
for anymore.

Edit: I’ve been here a
while now, helping to set up a shelter, clear the shops to make
room for beds, compile food and clothing. We have guards, we have
hot meals, hot showers. I think we’re doing pretty well. Everyday
survivors turn up, but it’s less and less as time goes by, like
they’re loosing the fight out there. But we have hundreds here. And
we won’t die anytime soon. —A

I read all
morning, then break for lunch with Lisa and two other nurses — a
thirty-year-old guy, John, who looks serious when he’s resting but
lights up when he speaks, and an old lady called April who has to
lean in and get us to repeat things all the time. Jessie stays
behind to cover.

I don’t say
much. Lisa and John ask lots of polite questions, tactfully
skirting around anything that would lead the conversation to dead
loved ones. April smiles and nods along.

In the
afternoon I hang around the nurses station, because I don’t have
anything better to do. I sit with Lisa and she shows me what she
does, mostly paper work and patient files and making appointments
for people and stuff like that. A few people come in for
appointments. Mostly for therapy. I see one person waiting for an
appointment with John reading a couple of the diaries, and I wonder
if she’s written one. I wonder if any of the stories I read were
from Lisa or Jessie or John. And then I have to stop myself from
thinking that, because I might just go crazy with suspicion. I
don’t want people to think I’m disturbed, which they probably
already do since I spent so long on the outside and I survived.

KEAN AND
TROUBLE start their training early the next morning, which leaves
me and Jacob at the breakfast table alone. The room bubbles with
conversation around us. People pass through, come and go as they
please. Some eat at the square white tables surrounding us, others
take their rations back to their rooms. It’s way more relaxed than
Arcadium ever was. You collect your single food portion (today it’s
a choice between a tinned vegetable wrap or Sultana Bran and long
life milk), get your name ticked off a list and if you want, you
can spend any credits earned on extra stuff. I forgot to pick up my
credit yesterday. Jacob buys two mornings worth of double portions
with his credit.

“So what are we
doing here again?” I ask, peeking inside my breakfast wrap. “I
mean, you haven’t blown anything up yet.”

Jacob glances
around to make sure no one’s listening. “I’ve mapped out this
portion of Skylight, but it’s nothing more than refugee camp. The
science centre is the interesting part.”

“You think
they’re testing on people here too?” I bite into my wrap and regret
it. The slimy mushrooms and peas have made the wrap soggy. I
swallow reluctantly and give up on it.

A few seconds
later my stomach rumbles.

“Your guess is
as good as mine,” Jacob says.

“Mmm.” I stare
at the grossness on my plate, then at Jacob’s huge bowl of crispy
Sultana Bran.

“What?” Jacob
says.

“Nothing.”

Jacob’s brow
goes up. “How’s your wrap?”

I look down.
It’s leaking water onto the plate now. “It’s totally
disgusting.”

“Use your
credit.”

“I forgot to
pick it up.” My stomach enters the conversation by rumbling
loudly.

Jacob shakes
his head and crunches on a huge spoonful of cereal. I put my chin
in my palm and stare sadly at my soggy food. I don’t dare take it
back in case I offend someone.

Jacob chews and
crunches, looking from his food to mine. His eyes are a curious mix
of hard and soft.

“Swap then.” He
pushes his bowl forward.

“No, it’s
fine,” I say instantly. I don’t mean it, but I still say it.

Jacob slides my
plat over as he pushes his bowl forward. “Swap.”

“You don’t have
to…”

Jacob sizes up
the wrap, folds it up tightly and devours it in two bites.
“Interesting,” he says.

I stare at him
for a long time, kind of confused. I mean, you don’t just give up
your food in this world, not for someone who isn’t part of your
family anyway. You just don’t do that. Especially if you’re
Jacob.

“But your extra
rations,” I say. “Do I owe you now?”

Jacob rolls his
eyes. “Hurry up. Eat. I want to catch this magical clock show.”

I shrug. You
also don’t leave food too long in the apocalypse, so I eat up.

We watch the
clock open up and blast out its patriotic song from the balcony.
There are only two other people watching. I guess the novelty must
wear off. But everyone who walks past glances over their shoulders
at the show. It kind of demands attentions.

“I’ve never
seen this before,” Jacob says.

I glance across
at him. “Never?”

He shakes his
head.

“What I don’t
get,” I say, “is how they power everything here.”

“Curious, isn’t
it?”

“Are you going
to destroy the science centre?” I ask, scratching my nail against
the gold railing. “Skylight seems like a good kind of place.”

“I want to get
into the labs. I want to know exactly what’s going on. How it
started. How it spread so rapidly.”

“How to kill
it?”

Jacob’s eyes
cut to me but he says nothing.

“And then
what?”

“Then what,
indeed.” Jacob pulls a quick tight smile. “I should get to work.
More chance of finding a way into the science centre.”

I work until
lunchtime with Jessie, and then I meet Kean and Trouble for
lunch.

“How’s
nursing?” Kean asks. He’s wearing a navy blue peaked hat, which I’m
pretty sure has nothing to do with driving trains, even though he
swears it does. It’s more like something for an officer of the
navy.

“Fine,” I say.
“How’s train driving?”

“So cool.
There’s a lot to learn technically, but Bruce let me take the
controls on a training run. Trouble too. Heavily supervised, but
whatever. Can’t say I thought I’d be doing this at the end of the
world.”

I smile and
fill my mouth with rice.

“I’ve been
thinking, Flo, maybe…” Kean stalls. “Maybe when this is all done we
should come back to Skylight. We could have real lives. Henry and
Liss would be safer than ever. There’s medical treatment, food, air
conditioning. Real jobs.”

I avert my eyes
to the table and chew slowly. I’m not sure what Jacob’s plans are
for this facility. His plans are always vague. Does he just want
information or is he going to blow this place sky high? I certainly
don’t want to be planning a life here if it’s the second
option.

“I mean, yeah,”
Kean says, either ignoring or misunderstanding my silence. “We can
think about it. I kind of miss the mountains though. The trees, the
fresh air, the independence. We could do it like a winter exchange
program. Spend summers out in the mountains and winters at
Skylight.”

“If you want to
risk the journey every six months. How would you get Henry across
all those stones?”

Kean shrugs.
“Carry him, I guess. It’s just a thought. And one we don’t have to
think of for ages yet.”

I nod.

Trouble stares
into the distance, his elbows resting on the table,
daydreaming.

“So what do
they make you do for nursing?” Kean asks.

“Well,
yesterday I read therapy journals, today I was learning how to draw
blood from patients. It’s pretty weird. Apparently you get lots of
credits for being the person to draw a survivor’s initial sample.
And Jessie thinks I’d be good at it. She’s really pushing for me to
get as high as I can in the job, and as quick as anything. I don’t
have the heart to tell her I’ll be gone soon. I mean she even let
me practice on her arm.”

Kean looks
surprised. “Drawing blood on your second day. Don’t you need to
read a textbook for that?”

“Apparently not
in the apocalypse. I mean, she kind of helped. I didn’t do very
well.”

“Next week
you’ll probably be doing surgeries or something.”

My eyes go
wide. “I hope not.”

Kean laughs.
“It’s my hard labour day today. So I have to work until dinner. But
at least it’s only once every two weeks.”

“Do you know
what you’ll be doing?”

“Yeah, laundry,
then serving for the first hour of dinner.”

“That’s kind of
a gross combination.”

“Exactly my
thoughts.” Kean touches my hand for a moment. “Anyway, I’ll see you
guys later.”

Trouble and I
wander around the centre all afternoon, exploring every passage
until we hit dead ends, peeking into the open roller doors to see
what other people’s rooms look like, nodding and smiling when we
pass other people. We find plenty of stores still filled with
goods; clothes stores, a specialty tea and coffee shop, an outdoor
camping place with a green two person tent still pitched on a patch
of fake grass in its window.

We spend ages
staring up at the cone of glass, just kind of marvelling at how
impossible it is. It seems way too epic to be standing. But it just
is. I swear, I could look at it all day, like it’s one of those
spinning hypnotism wheels or something. I wonder if Trouble’s ever
seen it before, and then I feel sad that I can’t ask him. I don’t
even know how I’d sign that to him.

“I hope window
cleaning isn’t part of the hard labour day,” I say. And I know
that’s crazy, because Trouble doesn’t know what I’m saying. But he
nods anyway, then looks over at me and smiles. After a minute or
two he says something — a string of highly complicated Chinese
words — followed by a sentimental laugh.

I nod. I get
the feeling that I’d agree with him, if I knew what he’d said. I
think me and Trouble would agree on a lot of things if we could
just have a long conversation.

I still wonder
who Trouble was before. If only he could write it all in one of
those therapy journals. What he did, who he lost, how he got here…
what would he say? Would his tale be five lines, would it fill the
entire book? Would it be anything like my story?

We do a few
laps until we end up at the exit where me met Hank. I just want to
see what’s out on the street — if they have any more security out
there, if infected are just strolling around freely. I pull back
the curtain corner and stick my head in. Hank’s not there, in fact
the guard chair is empty. I shrug at Trouble and slip through. One
partition of the wood structure is folded back. I walk right up to
the glass door and peer out. Trouble follows.

The street is
empty, grey in the building’s shadow. I press my ear to the glass
and swear I can hear infected in the distance. Trouble does the
same thing, and he nods softly to himself.

“Wonder where
Hank is?” I say. “It’s kind of weird they’d just leave this all
open and unattended.”

A click behind
makes me spin. The curtain swishes, as if someone’s just pulled it
back and let go. The movement distracts me for a second, and then I
realise that the wooden partition is closed. I walk back and give
it a shake.

And it seems to
be locked.

“What the
hell?” I say.

Trouble rattles
the gate as I glance around. There’s no way out unless we climb up
to the platform.

“Hello?” I call
out, long and loud. There’s no way someone just locked us in
without noticing us. “Anyone there?”

“Trouble?”
Trouble says softly. His face is etched with concern.

“Hey, we’re
stuck here!” I yell. “Can anyone help?”

My voice echoes
down the empty space.

A raspy groan
sounds beyond the glass, so I stop yelling. I’m just attracting the
wrong kind of attention. An infected man has his eyes locked on us.
His steps are jerky, his jaw snaps menacingly. He still has a big
colourful traveling pack strapped to his back. He traces our
movement as Trouble and I step back.

“We’ll climb,”
I say, and point up.

Trouble nods.
He kneels down and gives me a boost. I search for the best grip and
hoist with my arms as Trouble pushes my feet up.

And suddenly
the glass doors behind us whoosh open. Hot air pours in with the
sounds of birds and infected in the distance.

The infected
traveller man freezes then starts stomping toward us.

He’s so fast.
He grabs at Trouble’s head and Trouble grips the infected’s
shoulder straps to hold him back.

I sidestep
frantically and kick at the infected man’s head. It doesn’t do
much. This time I really plant my boot in his face and Trouble
shoves the infected man away at the same time. The traveller
stumbles back. The weight of his pack sends him over and he
pancakes awkwardly on his back, just outside of the door.