The Only Ones (14 page)

Then the match went out.

So great, I’m in a room with who knows how many total strangers in the total dark with Ani.

At least I don’t have to worry they will notice anything.

I just have to worry they will steal Ani.

Somebody lit a candle and like three, four people approached with the candle and stood watching Ani go to sleep on my lap. They watched for a long time, and I’m like why do they watch her sleep? Are they waiting for the right moment to steal her or do they notice something? It took them quite a while for any of them to talk. Then one of them said, “How old is it?”

Twenty-two days old.

Still alive.

Another one said, “You put her down wrong.”

She is face up on my lap. She should lie face down. Or she will get wind.

No, says another. Face down, she gets SIDS.

So that’s it. They just wanted to watch what I do and tell me what is wrong with it.

I turned her face down, and everyone calls out, “Watch out for the neck!” That woke her up.

So, great, I have to pick her up and walk her. That is wrong too. Do not pick up a baby when she cries, or she is spoiled. She has to learn. Somebody else says, nobody does that any more. I mean, nobody does anything any more, but anyhow, no one could stand it when she cried, they all want to pick her up them-self, and to tell the truth, I would of let them, so I could take a break, but somebody else says no, don’t let them pick her up, she might get something from them. You can be sure I didn’t mention why that wouldn’t be a problem. Anyhow, maybe it would, I don’t know.

All I know is, we stayed there, all of us, for two days. When she cried, everyone told me what to do. When she slept, even if just for ten minutes, it was like whoa, I have a head. I have space in my head. Let’s party. We had water, MREs. For two days, I fed Ani by candle with everyone watching, mix the bottle, clean the vagina, lay her down, whatever I did, everyone watched everything I did and told me what was wrong with it.

When it was over, we all got water and MREs to take away with us. In fact, the next day I found extra water at our door, outside, in those mega jugs.

Ok. By now I worked out when I’m scared, put a bottle in her mouth and walk, so she won’t cry.

Because I was scared now. Worse than with the K of L on our tail. Worse than from the wrapped-up man watching Ani.

If they put the water at our door, of all the doors on the floor, all the floors in the sector, they noticed where we live.

I packed up what I could, even the mega jugs, wrapped Ani really good, and headed out where it still stank of Hygiene spray to Northern Boulevard as fast as I could. If they know where we live, they could tell someone about us—cops, some kind of Authority, which I still do not know what that even is but I was pretty sure it will not turn out well.

I saw a group shaw heading east, ran after, jumped on, and took it to Jackson Heights.

iii

Remember environmental factor? How Rini said the child will not be me, because of different environmental factors? Well, I am Ani’s environmental factor.

But she is mine too.

At Jackson Heights, I jumped off, hid till the shaw left, and walked to Elmhurst. Not East Elmhurst. There is two Elmhursts. This is the other one. I walked there now.

Before Ani, I was no one’s environmental factor. Now I’m hers. What I’m saying is, that is an environmental factor back to me, and here is how you know. I never used to worry like this. I worried now.

Elmhurst looks better than Queensbridge. There are people. No cops, that I saw. I worry about cops.

Before Ani I wasn’t exactly like, oh? Want to call a cop? Great. It was more like, try to find one. Throw me in jail? Try to find one. Now I’m like, where do I put Ani then? I’m pretty sure they did not put babies in jail. Well, I never even saw a jail. Well, I never even saw a baby. I mean, before.

I did see kids before, a few, like I told Rauden. In Francis Lewis Park just by the Mound, they would hide in the toilet with their mother when an Inspector showed up.

So even regular mothers hid regular kids. Now that I thought about it, how did I even know how regular they are?

Before Ani, I never would of gave a thought, are they regular or not.

I gave it now.

In Elmhurst, we found a unit upstairs in a house, with a balcony. There is a lot of bike wheels and metal and some nylon in big rolls.

There is power! They have a working Board! The credit came through! They even have a store. I got all the water we want. Rice too. The store has a working stove and for extra coupons the Singhs let you cook on it.

Rauden is ok about no Haven. She’s four weeks old. She’s still alive. I could tell her age myself, now that I got Board access. Just press UpDate button for what day it is, then count back from there to her birthday. Then you know how long she is alive. Rauden’s big thing now is, get her weighed!

Well, I’m not going to do that.

The Singhs have a scale. And they were pretty nice. But come on, they never even saw her, except the bundle I carry under my shirt. I’m not saying they don’t suspect what it is but they do not want trouble. Put that bundle on the scale, it’s going to hit the roof, and there could be trouble. The Singhs do not want trouble. They say, “Queensbridge. Trouble, trouble, trouble. All the time Exodus, and it is just panic.” There was some big vaccine drive and the Queensbridge population panicked and fled to the beach.

The Singhs do not fear shots. They take shots.

When the Singhs run to the Ridgewood clinic in such a rush they leave the store unlocked, I sneak in, put Ani on and off the scale so fast she doesn’t know what hit her. Three kilos.

Still alive.

This is what I mean about is she me? If she was me, I would just say, whatever. What do I care how much I weigh? Now I’m like, three kilos. Is that regular? She is so small she fits right under my shirt.

At least under my shirt, I don’t have to worry, does she show?

I just have to worry, does she breathe? I keep ducking in doorways to pull her out from my shirt and check, does she breathe? She does breathe.

Then I start to worry, did someone see me pull her out to check?

In Elmhurst they have services, the streetlights work. Some of them. Someone could see her. Nobody got that close though.

Anyone sees anyone, they pretty much cross the street to the other side. They are worried they could get something. I crossed the street too.

So this is different too. I used to think, if I thought anything, oh, I’m a Powell’s Cove hardy. I’m not going to get anything. Whatever!

I didn’t even used to know I was a Sylvain hardy. If I knew, I would of thought, whatever.

Now I was something else. I was an environmental factor.

I worried now.

When I stopped worrying so much is she alive, or does she breathe, or show, I am so used to worrying, I worry if I don’t worry. So I come up with something else to worry about. Is she regular?

Come on. How regular could she be?

But I would like to see a regular baby. I would just like to see how regular it looks.

One day I saw a pile of springs and broken plexi on Dry Harbor Road. It’s almost like the parts of the tank that Ani grew in. I started to look closer but heard somebody coming, and I left.

I came back next day. The whole street is closed, caution tape’s everywhere, and there was a smell I recognize, like heavy-duty Hygiene spray, antiPatho strength. So someone had got something. I don’t know what. If anyone grew in that tank, I don’t know if they had it.

I don’t know if the Singhs had it. They didn’t come back from the clinic. I sneaked in at night and took their scale. Still three kilos. Still alive.

Still bald.

I saw a sign in a park one night, you could get work mornings as Courier. Next morning I came back to check it out. The park is caution-taped. We just went home.

There is more of that smell around.

I don’t need work anyhow. The credit is coming through. I don’t even need credit. With the Singhs gone, I can just go in the store and help myself. They even got dydees.

At least if I don’t have a job, we don’t deal with anyone. No one will notice if she’s regular or not. Except me.

Like, Ani cries most of the time. She goes crosseyed. She goes ballistic.

I go to the nearest Board to ask Rauden is that regular, but the Board crashes. I walk to the next Board. It has already crashed.

I go so far to find a working Board I have to cross a Zone checkpoint, and this one has crossing guards. And I was really worried now because Ani started to fuss, and we will attract attention, and—oh, shit. A cruiser cop is cruising toward us. “Get it out of here,” one guard shouts at me. “They’re doing quarantine sweeps.” It is a long time since I ran into quarantine sweeps. I almost don’t remember how they work, let alone, with Ani. The guard doesn’t even check our ID.

If you want to get through checkpoints fast, bring a kid. A baby’s even better. They just want to get you out fast. They are afraid it’s going to cry. No one can stand that. Even a guard can’t stand it.

By the time we got through the checkpoint, Ani is going nuts. Wah, wah! Where are we? It could be Middle Village. There is a cemetery. There seem to be a lot of cruiser cops. There is a toilet in the cemetery. I just duck in, like I used to see mothers do. What is it with Ani? Yowl! Yowl! She’s coughing. She’s going red, spitting out the bottle, nothing is working. I’m starting to worry she’s so loud, even from the toilet, a cop could hear.

Then I hear a kind of crackling noise. A stall door opens. A lot of plastic is inside, with something inside that, and it has a bundle. The bundle’s moving.

I just froze where I stood. It’s a mother with a kid.

I could hear the cruiser horn approach.

All I’m thinking is, so this is a regular mother.

She isn’t even the only one. Another mother comes out of the other stall with a smaller bundle and a smaller kid inside.

This other regular mother has a bag. She reaches in the bag, gets out a pin, a safety pin. I am worried she is going to stick Ani, but she just takes the bottle, sticks the pin in the tip, makes the bottle squirt, and sticks it right in Ani’s mouth. Ani sucks it so hard she is, like, panting. Then she conks out.

Then it is really quiet.

And it’s like, in the Queensbridge basement, when she slept, it felt like a party? Like, oh! I have a head. Now it is like, it’s so quiet, I can hear everything, and what I hear is a cruiser horn. Shit! It’s getting louder. I’m not the only one thinking, shit. We all are. Now it’s like that time when Rauden and I were in the truck in the woods, quiet, while the Knights of fucking Life rode by on horses in the dark. Even the kids are quiet. The cruiser’s right outside. Then it is a little less close. Then I’m pretty sure it’s further off than that. When it’s totally gone, these other mothers look at each other and nod. Then they looked at me. You can be sure I looked at them.

I was waiting so long to see a regular mother. So this is a regular mother! I haven’t seen a mother at all, this whole time, regular, nothing. I wanted to see a mother, any mother, just to compare. Here are two.

The first one wears one of those, you know, plastic burkis, like are supposed to keep off germs but they don’t work? The second one just has a plastic raincoat, which also doesn’t work. The first one’s face was sort of red, the second sort of brown, but you couldn’t see much of either one except the face, and how the faces looked was, tired.

So. I had that in common with them.

Their kids seemed pretty young, young enough to bundle up and hold. Still, Ani seemed to be the only baby. The mothers seemed really interested in her. They leaned right over her. I just unwrapped her, so they could see. And I’m thinking, why did I do this? They’re going to notice something. Still, they’re not going to call a cop. Call a cop, they’ll be in quarantine.

Anyhow, they didn’t act like they noticed something. They said she was cute.

So I had that in common with them too. I thought she was cute.

They ask if Ani had her shots and I say I don’t know. So they look at me funny.

The second mother finally says, “It’s ok. Mine didn’t either. Look.” She unwraps the bundle, so you can see her kid’s legs. They hang like, I don’t know, worms. “That’s what happen if they don’t get their shots.”

“Mine did,” the first mother says and unwraps her bundle. The kid was totally gray. “That’s what happens if they do.” It was cute though. Its hair was red.

The other kid wasn’t gray. He had shiny eyes, brown skin, and long curls.

He was cute too.

I really think Ani was the cutest one. I got the feeling they thought so too. She got the little tiny face, the crunch-up eyes and little tiny stickout mouth. She is a regular color now, not red. Still bald though.

The one whose son didn’t have his shots was nice. She didn’t worry what he would get from us. He already got polio. At least he was alive. You know how everybody tells me what I’m doing wrong? This regular mother said, “If your kid’s still alive, you’re doing something right.”

What she had in common with everybody else is, if I did it right or wrong? She knew. They both knew what was right or wrong.

Like, one asked did Ani get the Check Up? Bring her to Pomonok Center, in South Flushing. They have free Check Ups with a regular MD.

The other mother said right, but they give you a hard time about shots. They are not allowed to force the shot but if you refuse, they could say you endanger the kid’s life and are a bad mother. They could Alert the Authority and take your child away. Go to the Myrtle Avenue Center, this mother says, in Ridgewood. They do not make you take the shot and also they give free Process, the green kind, you feed it to your kid by hand.

The first one said but watch out for Hygiene. Your kid could get something from some other kid who had something. I didn’t even know there was enough kids to get anything from.

Whatever I do, both mothers agree, don’t let them give my kid the shot for Mumbai. It is experimental. Maybe she won’t get Mumbai. But she’ll get something else. They call it Stealth Virus. You end up with challenged Immune and that will cause problems as bad as Mumbai. She won’t be able to have her own baby.