The Island (14 page)

Filina sat at the table. She was watching Hannah; she must have been waiting for her to regain consciousness. Hannah jerked up on the cot she was laying on, trying to stand, but her limbs were bound. She stared at the twine wrapped around her wrists, hope dying in her chest. She looked up at Filina, who still sat, quietly watching her.

“What happens now?” Hannah hated herself for the quaver in her voice.

“Now we get you ready to go.” Filina sounded completely exhausted.

“Mother?” A girl, not much older than Polly, emerged from the bedroom doorway. She was holding a cloth doll. He face was round and fat-cheeked, sweet as anything Hannah had seen. “Is this her?” The girl nodded toward Hannah.

“Yes, Lethe.” Filina’s voice took on a gentle quality. “This is her. Her name is Hannah.”

“And she’s very sad?” The girl tilted her head.

“Yes.” Filina sighed. “She’s very sad and she needs you to help her. Like you did the others.”

Lethe walked over to where Hannah lay on the cot. She regarded Hannah shyly. “I’m sorry you’re so sad. Do you want to forget? Will it make you feel better?”

Hannah struggled to sit up. Lethe carefully set her doll on the edge of the cot and took Hannah’s arm, helping her. She patted Hannah’s shoulder. “It will be all right. Don’t worry.” She sounded just like Polly did when she was playing doctor.

“Who are you?” In the cave, everyone knew everyone and Hannah didn’t think she’d seen this girl before. She’d called Filina
Mother
, but Hannah knew Filina was childless. “Who is she?” Hannah didn’t really expect Filina to answer.

“This is Lethe.” Filina still spoke gently.

“I came from the ocean.” Lethe spoke the words like they were the beginning of a story, one someone had read to her many times.

“You came from the ocean and now you’re mine.” Filina held out her hands, and Lethe ran to her. She wrapped her arms around Filina and hugged her.

“And I help people who are sad.”

“Yes, you do, Lethe.” Filina hugged the child back. She stared at Hannah over Lethe’s shoulder, her eyes dispassionate. “You can help Hannah, too.”

“I don’t need any help!” Hannah was shaking with anger, but she couldn’t stop the tears welling up in her eyes. “I need to go home!”

Lethe unwrapped herself from Filina’s embrace and turned to face Hannah. Her lower lip trembled and her voice wavered when she spoke. “She’s saying it, too, Mother. You said they don’t want to remember their homes, but she’s saying it too, just like the man did.” She put her thumb in her mouth, sucking anxiously.

Filina took hold of Lethe’s shoulders and turned the girl to face her. She smoothed the hair back from Lethe’s forehead and murmured to her. “Sometimes people don’t know what’s best for them, Lethe. We talked about this. Sometimes you have to help them even when they don’t think you’re helping.” Her eyes grew sharp and she focused on the little girl’s face. “Help Hannah now, Lethe. Help her to forget.”

Lethe swayed a bit, and when she turned to look at Hannah there was a blank quality in her gaze. She pulled her thumb just far enough out of her mouth to speak. “I’ll help you, Hannah. Don’t worry.”

Hannah shook her head, sobbing. She knew what was going to happen. She’d heard the rumors, the whispers from family members about how past Honorees didn’t recognize them during the last visit, how they didn’t know anything about the cave, or the community. Somehow, this strange little girl was the cause of it. It must be her talent. What a horrible thing, to have been born with that as your talent, Hannah thought. There had been times when she’d wished she could do more than ping, when she’d wanted something flashy as her talent, something like fire-starting or stone carving, but she couldn’t imagine having the sort of power Lethe had, couldn’t imagine wanting it.

Hannah squeezed her eyes shut and thought of Tom, picturing his face in her mind, his smile, his eyes, the bump on his nose. She concentrated hard, holding on as tight as she could to his image. She peeked at Lethe, who was still standing before her, sucking her thumb. When she closed her eyes again, Tom’s image was fainter. Something about his eyes was less . . .Tom. Hannah whimpered. She tried to imagine exactly how he looked, but the image just got hazier. She thought of Polly, of her mother and father, of their homey front room. Pictures appeared in her mind and faded. She couldn’t hold on to any of them long—they slipped away like time.

Later, Hannah became aware of someone humming, softly, tunelessly. She opened her eyes and saw a girl standing in front of her, a little girl, holding a doll and humming. The girl peered at her and smiled.

“Are you happier now?”

Hannah frowned. She didn’t know what the girl meant. She looked past the girl and saw a man and a woman talking at the table. They noticed her, but they didn’t get up. The little girl held her doll out to Hannah.

“Do you want to play for a while?” The girl seemed so hopeful, Hannah couldn’t say no.

Jim shook his head. “It’s eerie how they do that.” He kept his voice low. David had left as soon as they’d carried Hannah in, but he’d stayed to take the girl back to the office. It seemed like it was always his job—escort them here, escort them back.

“Do what?” Filina sounded distracted.

“Just . . . change. Forget. And they don’t even know it.” Jim had to suppress a shudder.

“Yes, well. It’s lucky for us. For all of us. That child is a gift to us.” She moved the oil lamp slowly back and forth between her hands, sliding it along the surface of the table.

“But what she takes.” Jim didn’t look convinced that Lethe was such a gift.

“She can take. But she can give back, too. It’s just . . . there’s been no call for that.” Filina thought about that. The ones who were supposed to come back. The ones who never did. She shook the thought off. There was nothing to be done about it. “After you take Hannah back to the office I need you to check on Sarah.”

“Sarah?” Jim frowned. “Why?”

Filina didn’t look up from the lamp. “I just want to know where she is, what she’s up to tonight. Tomorrow we have to be prepared. Those new people—I don’t like how they’re acting. And nothing can go wrong with the transport. I might need her.”

Jim shrugged. “She invited me to dinner tonight, so checking on her should be pretty easy.” He’d had an eye on Sarah for a year or so, had hoped her dinner invitation was a sign that she might be feeling the same way, until he learned that several people had been invited. Still, he was pleased to be among them. It was a start. Sarah was a fine woman, and now that her father was gone, she needed to settle down, make a home with someone. “I’m sure if you need her she’ll be there for you.”

“I’m
not
sure, Jim.” Filina’s voice was razor-sharp. “So do as I ask. Sniff around, see if anything seems amiss.”

Jim lowered his eyes. “Fine.” He stood. “I’ll get her back to the office now.” He walked over to Hannah and Lethe and bent down, speaking to Hannah where she sat on the cot, watching Lethe play with her doll. “We need to go to another place, now.” He took her hand and helped her up. “You can sleep there tonight, and tomorrow some people will come visit you.”

Hannah just nodded. She felt tired. Sleeping sounded like a good thing.

Filina sat next to Lethe’s bed, watching the child breathe. She should go. Jim had left an hour ago, and she had things to do to prepare for Celebration. But watching Lethe was peaceful, and she craved that peace. She could still see Lethe as a toddler, wandering alone on the far beach, cold tears streaking her fat cheeks, fear in her eyes. Filina had been digging for clams, hoping to bring a basket back to the cave, where the people had just begun to build their settlement in earnest. She had been shocked at the sight of the child alone—children were precious, the hope for a future, and they were carefully watched over by all.

At first she thought the child must have been one of theirs, but when she approached her she didn’t recognize her. She knelt before her and wrapped her in the shawl she’d been wearing, cooing soft words to comfort her. The child was freezing and clung to her tightly.

Then she saw him. A man, huddled by a clump of sea grass, watching. She lifted the child up, glared at the man. A stray, for certain. Some of the people who had survived the bombs had split from the main group—it happened so long ago that Filina didn’t even know why. She only knew those people were avoided, and they avoided her people, too. They were rarely seen, and it was thought that most were long dead.

“You should take better care.” Filina walked toward the man, ready to hand the child over.

He stood and backed away, shaking his head. “She can’t come back.” The man held his hands in front of him, warding them both away. “They’ll kill her for what she’s done.”

Filina didn’t understand what she was hearing. “What she’s done? What can a baby like this do, to deserve to be killed? What sort of barbarians are you people?”

The man stared at the child in Filina’s arms. “I’m her father.” He met Filina’s glare with his own. “They’ll kill her if I bring her back.”

“Why?”

The man looked at the sea. He watched the waves rolling in, oblivious to the harsh wind. “She erased her. Her mother.” He spoke the words as though he was a robot. “She made her  . . . forget.” His face crumpled. “I know she didn’t do it on purpose. I know she didn’t realize. But they’ll kill her if I bring her back.” His eyes watered, from the wind, or from something else. “I’ll kill her myself.” He turned his back on her then, on her and his child. Filina had watched in amazement as he stumbled down the beach, watched until she couldn’t see him anymore.

It hadn’t been easy to hide her. Filina had enlisted Keith’s help—well, perhaps enlisted was too mild a term. She’d had him carve a secret unit, just for the girl, all those years ago. She wasn’t certain why, but she’d known that Lethe had to be a secret. Little by little she’d learned what the girl had done to her mother, how she made her ‘feel better’ by helping her forget ‘bad’ things. Until she made her forget almost everything.

Filina had trained Lethe in her talent, showing her how to use it carefully. She’d chosen people to bring to the secret unit so the child could practice, making certain Lethe erased their memory of being there at all when the session was done. Nobody really noticed that they’d forgotten the color blue, or the smell of eggs. And once Filina had stumbled upon the fact that the child could restore memories as well as remove them, there hadn’t been any obstacle to their practice sessions. Still, Filina was extremely cautious. She hadn’t really known why she was doing it. But that day that the government men came, it all became clear to her.

She knew it was meant to be this way. The child had been revealed to her, to Filina, because only
she
would have the strength to save her people. Only she would be able to make the sort of sacrifices she’d had to make.

Lethe snuffled breathily in her sleep.

Filina smiled.

S
arah watched the door of the unit. The rest of the people she’d invited—both of the other amps in the group and three of the dozers—had arrived. People were drinking and laughing, and she hoped none of them noticed the common denominator of the guests. But Jim, the last of the dozers, hadn’t come yet.

It was crowded. Sarah’s unit wasn’t any bigger than the rest even though her father was the man who had carved them. Keith had always laughed with her about carving a huge, grand palace of a unit for their family—at least until her mother had died. He’d stopped laughing about much when the fever took her, but he had always been a good father, and kind to Sarah. Still, fairness was key in the cave. Everyone watched to be certain things were shared equally, and for the most part, they were. Sarah didn’t mind that. She did wish the unit was larger tonight, if only because it would be easier to explain having her gathering here rather than in one of the common areas out in the cave. But having this particular gathering here, where it was private, was crucial.

She smiled at a joke someone made, poured more wine for people, and kept her eyes on the door. If Jim didn’t show up, all their plans could be ruined.

“Jim!’ One of the others announced his arrival. “Where have you been? Late as usual.”

Sarah pasted a smile on her face before she offered Jim a drink. “Thought you might not make it.” She strained to sound casual.

Jim didn’t smile back. He whispered to Sarah. “I need to talk to you. Later.” Then he took the drink and turned his attention to the others in the room.

Her smile didn’t falter, but Sarah didn’t like what she’d heard. Jim sounded worried. She tried to focus on the story one of the amps was telling about how honing had gone that day—something about amping a fire-starter a little too much—but she found it difficult. Finally, when she was arranging more bread on a tray, Jim approached her.

“Everything going all right with you?’ He spoke the words lightly, as though he was just greeting her, but Sarah knew better.

“What’s going on, Jim?”

“Filina asked after you.”

Sarah kept arranging slices of bread. “So?”

“So she never does that.” Jim leaned toward her. “Is something wrong? Are you okay?” He actually sounded concerned.

“I’m fine.” Sarah felt a little guilty for what she was about to do, but Jim’s words made her even more certain it had to be done. “She’s probably just nervous about Celebration. She always gets that way.”

“I hadn’t noticed that.” Jim watched her pick up the tray. He raised his glass to her. “To another year in peace.” He studied Sarah’s face carefully.

She nodded. “To another year.”

“I can take that for you.” Jim reached for the tray. “Looks like they could all use refills.”

Sarah looked up sharply. He couldn’t know, could he? But his face betrayed nothing. He was just offering to help. “Yes, thanks. I’ll get the wine.” She waited until he was on his way to the table with the bread. Looking around to ensure nobody saw, she slipped a vial out of her pocket and poured it’s contents into the wine flask. She gave the flask a quick shake and returned to the table. “Here we go.” Sarah smiled gaily. “I heard replenishments were needed.” And she poured wine for everyone.