Elysium (7 page)

People looked to her with questions like this all the time. It made Adrianne uncomfortable. She didn’t know the answers, just what she was told to say.

“Your son’s sacrifice was for a grateful nation.” It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. The eyes of the woman remained the same, maybe grew a bit darker. No comfort gained from this ritual. No solace. Adrianne climbed the marble stairs and tossed the stick in with the other faggots into the cauldron. The flames ate it hungrily.

Beyond the rows of columns, Thomas and the other guards stood. He took this opportunity to approach Adrianne and whisper in her ear. Their eyes met for a moment, then she retreated back into the building. She went inside to the bathroom. The marble walls echoed her every move. Her head felt hot, so she splashed some water on her face and dried it clumsily with a towel.

When she came back out with a bundle of sticks in her arms, Helen asked, “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said. “Look, Helen, I’m going to have to postpone our shopping trip this afternoon. There’s something that I have to do.”

Helen’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. Don’t worry. Everything is fine.”

Adrianne followed Thomas to a part of the city forbidden to her. They passed the tall glass and steel skyscrapers, then the area of small red brick townhouses in the lower edge of the city near the river. Thomas covered her white stola with his overcoat. Sparkling white under leather. No one should see a woman of the cloth step into such unseemly quarters. They went through back alleys where things scurried away. The sour stench of urine wafted in the air. They neared the old harbor where the great ships used to dock, an abandoned place where she had been before. Thomas helped her maneuver over rickety wooden pathways, split rotten by water and time, into a warehouse of crates and the squeaks of rats, to Room 177. Adrianne swallowed, turned the knob, and entered.

Clean and fragrant with perfume. A room familiar. A bedroom. A place she had once shared. Lit with candles. This was their place. Their secret place.

Then he entered. He wore a military uniform. Sharp. Beautiful. Healthy. Smiling. Alive! Antoine took off his beret and walked up to her and held her close. He smelled like cooled-off heat, like sweat dissipating. His bulk surrounded her. She swung in his arms, helpless with shock.

“Antoine?” Words clogged in her throat. “Thomas told me … I didn’t believe … I thought you were dead.”

“Dead? Why would you think I was dead? I was only gone for a few months for training.” She touched his face to feel the breath from his nose and mouth on her fingers. She drank in his warmth.

“But …”

Spinning. Turning. Slipping. Sliding. This was the truth. This was a lie. This was the truth. A lie. This was real. But … it couldn’t be. She remembered him. Another time. Another place. Sick and dying. Then healthy and leaving her.

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“Shh, you silly woman. I’m fine.”

“Something is wrong. …”

“Nothing is wrong,” Antoine said. “Not with us. Everything is as it should be.”

“Everything …” Adrianne touched the nape of his neck, caressed his ear, whispered tender words too deep to recall. She kissed him on the tip of his chin. Smoothed his eyebrows. Touched the back of his head and the softness of his hair. She was his. He was hers. They were one. “Everything …”

“We don’t have much time before I have to be back. The war is not going well,” he said.

“The war …” she said. So far away. Meaningless to her just hours before. Now it was everything.

“I think they will be shipping me out soon.”

“Then let’s make the most of the time we have,” she replied.

They sat on the bed together. He kissed her deeply. She tasted the sweet saltiness of him. The slip and moistness of his tongue in her mouth. The soft juiciness of his lips. She undid her robe and removed her shirt. She moved his hand to a place no one else had gone to before. A promise broken — for him. For Antoine. She opened and received all he had to give.

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** BREAK **

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5.

The owl, sensing the cool of the evening, opened its eyes. It turned its head to see in all directions. It was hungry. There — hiding among the trees — now in the bushes — something scurried. The something knew it was being watched. The owl waited for the slightest lapse in judgment. … Wings expanded. Wide. Wider. Fly. Fast. Faster. Talons extended, down through the air. Silent death. It pounced to take its prey squeaking into the trees. The owl snapped the thing’s neck to stop its scream, then devoured it.

In the sanctuary surrounded by manicured forest, they kept the holy silence. Unnecessary noise was frowned upon. The Sisters walked close to the walls like mice and bowed their heads in greeting instead of saying hello. Their steps were slow and careful lest they make a sound. A tug on a sleeve to get the attention of another. A whisper instead of a spoken word. They lived separate from everyone in these old ways taken from the old country, just like this building, brick by brick, stone by stone, statue by statue, painting by painting. Traditions left unchanged and unquestioned and so ancient that no one remembered when they started or why. Outside, times might be changing. But behind these walls, nothing did.

Sister Adrianne posed near the inner courtyard where a tabby cat lived to enjoy watching him roam among the wild flowers and drink from the stone fountain. Adrianne was one of few who would leave him some food in a tiny bowl. Sometimes she left a little cream or a small piece of salmon. She liked to see him bathe in the sunlight and turn over on his back to expose his belly. But today, a heavy gray sky and a few drips of quickening rain told of the coming storm. Adrianne opened the glass door to let the cat in.

“No need for you to get all wet,” she whispered.

The cat meowed gratefully and slipped through the door, purred lightly, and rubbed against Adrianne’s shin. She bent down to scratch him behind the ears.

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>> reset /s envir.dat

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The rain fell heavier, harder. The sky turned static gray. The cat backed away toward the stone wall. So did Adrianne. The falling water appeared like sheets of perfect white. Pellets of hail ting-ting-tinged against the windowpanes. Adrianne looked at the cat. The cat looked at her. If they could speak, they would both say, “What in the world is going on out there?”

Adrianne had not seen the weather reports today. She sensed it would rain, but not like this. The wind whipped violently. The scene outside the window was like a whirring blender. Trees, leaves, hail, water, dirt flew past. Then, as quickly as it had all begun, it ended. The trees in the courtyard were bent and broken. The plants lay on the ground.

Silence returned to the hall. It was interrupted by a ringing phone. Mother answered. Adrianne could hear her gravelly voice echo as if she gargled with sand every morning. Her words were muffled. Then she gasped.

Bad omens were everywhere.

Tornados had descended onto the city. Two funnels touched down near the water on the west side, mangling trees, throwing rocks, leaving destruction along their intoxicated paths. The Sisters tending the fire failed to keep the flame alive, and the mayor had been called in to relight it. The Sisters who had allowed the flame to go out were arrested.

Eight Sisters flanked the path to the entryway. Two were Sisters who were more than friends. One was the-girl-with-the-curly-red-hair-that-was-slowly-turning-auburn. One was Stephanie the brave. One was Helen. One was the-girl-with-the-gray-eyes-who-didn’t-speak-too-much. One was the Mother. The last was Adrianne. A vigil in white flowing gowns. The drizzle steadily soaked through their clothing, the rain commingling with the water already on their faces.

No one spoke. Adrianne couldn’t swallow as the van pulled up onto the wet cobblestone driveway. Helen and Adrianne’s clasped hands hidden behind their robes. The sound of the side door sliding open felt like a knife piercing her chest. The four climbed out in handcuffs, wearing only white slips, exposing all their shame, shivering. There was only one other thing a Sister could do that was worse than this.

One of the four was Kimberly. Adrianne considered Kim a friend. They were not close, but still … Adrianne liked her. If only for a moment, their gazes met. Almost imperceptibly, Adrianne lifted her chin so that watching eyes wouldn’t notice. Kim nodded in return. They were led inside and taken to one of the sublevels below to await judgment.

“What do you suppose they are going to do to them?” Helen whispered in a shaking voice once they reached their rooms upstairs.

“I don’t know,” Adrianne said.

“I read that they used to kill the girls who let the fire go out,” Stephanie said.

“They won’t,” said the-girl-who-didn’t-talk-too-much. “They can’t … Can they?”

“That was a long time ago, Steph,” Adrianne said.

“It’s still possible,” Stephanie said. “In wartime, people take the fire very seriously.”

“The storm was bad. It could have happened to any one of us,” Helen said.

The simple truth was finally stated. There was a freedom to the life they led. They could go shopping at the best stores, eat at the finest restaurants, go into the most elegant establishments in town — all without charge. But it was an illusion. They belonged to the state, and their lives were subject to the whims of chance. A freak storm had occurred. The eternal flame had gone out. Someone had to pay. Someone had to be sacrificed.

It was the middle of the night when the Sisters were finally ushered down the stairs, past the levels where their guards lived, to a floor that Adrianne had only heard about and had never actually seen. It was a humid, shadowy room lit with only candles. The Sisters formed a semicircle around four posts set in the middle of the floor. The wood looked new, as if cut recently.

Adrianne did her best not to seem scared. She had to show that she agreed with the punishment or risk sharing in it herself. In her mind she was flying up the stairs, out the door, and into the woods above. She was running and running and running so fast no one could catch her. She was the wind. She could take flight.

The four were unceremoniously dragged into the room. Thomas was one of the guards who dragged them to the posts. He looked up at Adrianne with fear in his eyes, even as he pulled at the struggling women. The guards tied them to the posts. The sounds of their whimpering tore at Adrian’s insides.
I’ll fly away, O Lord. I’ll fly away
…

“
These
did the most heinous thing any of us could do,” Mother said, letting her voice bounce off the high ceilings. “They let the light go out.”

One of the girls shouted, “It was raining so hard!”

Another, “We tried everything we could. …”

Another, “Please …”

Mother ignored their screams and said, “What is our duty? What is our most sacred duty?”