Gray Skies (3 page)

“When they realized that the atmosphere couldn’t absorb the changes, the scientists had to try to fix the machines. The ozone layer was still a few years from being whole again, and the machines needed to remain running. So that is what they tried to do. Protection from the sun was better than before. For that, the machines worked. But at the same time, the machines were suffocating the planet.”

“Why didn’t they just turn the machines off?” asked Stewart, a boy in the third row.

At some point, while Declan presented the history of what had happened, Ms. Gilly had taken his seat in front of Sammi. Slouched forward with her chin resting on her hands, she lifted her head to listen.

“That is a very excellent question, Stewart. Very good,” she complimented. Stewart smiled, his eyes beaming with pride, as he enjoyed the attention.

“Tell us why they didn’t turn off the machines,” Ms. Gilly directed to Declan.

Declan thought about this. He felt distracted, and wanted to present the details as he remembered; it was required learning for all the students from the fifth year, forward. His eyes darted around the class, hoping to land on something that would help him focus. He clenched his mouth as a wave of nerves haunted him like a bad memory. When enough time had passed to become uncomfortable, Ms. Gilly stood up from the chair, blocking Sammi from his view. A moment later, the round top of red hair appeared from behind Ms. Gilly’s bottom.

Sammi mouthed the words, “They could not…”

He lifted his brow and said, “Because the machines couldn’t be turned off. Well… they could, but since each of them needed months to turn back on, the scientists didn’t want to take the risk, in case they didn’t come back on, at all.” Ms. Gilly turned just enough to see Sammi’s head quickly slip back behind her.

“That’s right. Thank you,” she said, and then added with a sarcastic lift in her tone, “Thank you too, Sammi.” The class let out a laugh, but then quieted again when Ms. Gilly raised her hand. She was laughing a little too. Declan was about to continue, when a skinny, pale arm sprouted from the fourth row. Before Ms. Gilly could call on the owner of the arm, Tabby Wetton began to speak.

“Hi, Declan,” Tabby started to say, and then showed off her dimples through a bashful grin. At once, Declan felt flattered. Tabby had admired him for most of the school year. Sammi thought it was cute, especially the way Tabby followed Declan around, and fawned over him. He thought she was sweet, but he was careful to not hurt her feelings. Gently biting her lower lip, she straightened.

“What happened next? Why didn’t anyone know there was something wrong?” This part Declan remembered from the history class. He remembered, because he’d had to write a short paper on the subject.

“The people did know something was wrong. The scientists on the project told them there was a problem; a side effect, they called it. But it wasn’t something anyone could see, not without special tools. And then it began to happen: the clouds were lower in the sky, fog formed where it never had before. Then the day came when the clouds fell. The air was too dense. By then, it was too late. Turning the machines off wouldn’t make a difference.”

“But how bad did it get?” Tabby continued. “I mean, how much changed?”

Declan considered this last part. He only knew what he’d been taught during history lessons. “It changed everything. The fog that we’re used to was new to the old world. It was new to everyone. They’d seen and experienced fog as much as sunshine or rain, but this was different. This fog was rich with a type of salt. People weren’t prepared. They didn’t know that their machines would choke on it, and die in the streets. Silent corpses of cars and buses and trucks filled the roads and interstate highways. All traveling stopped. Even travel by foot became impossible, especially on days when the fog only gave a few hands of visibility. Families were separated by both land and oceans. Back then, in the old world, food was brought to you. It wasn’t like it is now, where each Commune grows its own. In the bad days, food was scarce. Medicines were gone. Machines struggled, sputtered, and died, and eventually, all the metals pitted, then peeled apart, and fell to the ground, turning to dust. It was chaos and pandemonium. And it wasn’t just the people. The animals, suffered too. Birds stopped migrating; they even stopped flying, and began to die off. Thousands of species vanished. People thought that it was the end of the world. Murder, and torture, and…”

Declan was gone. The details he struggled to remember were at the ready; his mind was racing like it sometimes did when he was writing. He recalled all the details of his research about what had happened after the clouds fell, and told the class all of it. He left none of the details hidden. As he spoke, he stared past the class. He didn’t see anyone; he only saw the words from his mouth forming in front of him. His mind was pulling and pushing them as the story told itself in a stream of thought. Pride warmed him as he uncovered the juicy details, and tied them together.

“Declan!” Ms. Gilly yelled, interrupting him. “Declan, thank you, I think that is enough,” she spoke in a low tone, and motioned with her hand to the front row. The third and fourth year students sat with wide eyes, and mouths agape. Some had furrowed brows, and their lips were drawn down and trembling. Tabby stared, too. Her hand was to her mouth. Her eyes were filled with confusion and fright. Declan realized then what he’d done. It hadn’t been his intention to scare them. He found Sammi, then. Though her eyes were wide like those of the younger children, she had heard the stories before. Sammi raised her brow, and motioned for him to talk to them.

Declan stepped forward, closer to the children, and then he knelt down onto one knee. He found a hard crease in the floorboards, and briefly twisted his expression. He pushed a smile past the discomfort in his knee, and looked into the eyes of each of the children.

“It was an ugly time, and it is part of our history. But you know what? We survived. Sad stories don’t always have to have a sad ending to be good. Sometimes a sad story can have a happy ending. We are here. Your parents are here. Your family is here. We have food and school, and we still have some of the things from the old world. Not a lot, but some. We survived.”

“Then why do we need an End of Gray Skies?” Young Rick Toomey interrupted. “Why do we have to change anything? Isn’t everything fine the way it is?”

Declan turned to face Rick. His face was cramped with confusion. Between the story of what had happened, and what was planned for later that day, Declan wondered how many in the class felt the same way. The world today, as they knew it, was their home. Should they try to change it? Of course, he knew the answer. He’d seen the electronic photographs, and he would do anything to see them come to life. Declan stood, and a hollow pop sounded from his knee, making the kids nearest to him lose their frowns, and laugh as children do.

“Why don’t we let Andie show us?” At once, the class straightened in their chairs, and chanted, “Andie! Andie!
Andie! Andie!” Ms. Gilly smirked, and with the wave of her hands, conceded the suggestion. Unlike the rest of the class, Ms. Gilly was not a fan of Andie, the robot. However, the kids loved, and adored him.

“Someone is going to have to get on the cycle.” Ms. Gilly demanded as she stood to join Declan at the front of the room. When she reached Declan, she pulled on his arm until he leaned in to hear her over the continued chanting.

“You know I can’t stand Andie, but if not for the good job you’ve done, we’d be moving on to our math lessons. Next time, leave some of your writer’s imagination up here,” she told him, tapping her hand to his head. He fixed a smile, and then left her side to fetch Andie.

“Do we have someone to cycle up? We need twenty minutes, at least. Those energy-cells aren’t going to charge themselves!” Ms. Gilly shouted over the chanting.

Declan raised his chin enough to see the cycle. He hated that thing. He hated it when it was his turn in class, and he hated it at home. In every classroom, and in every dwelling, there was a cycle. They came from the old world, a design handed down over many generations. At one time, they were used for recreation, but today, the design was used to put energy back into the energy-cells. “A big battery charger,” Ms. Gilly had once called it. Declan didn’t much care for the history; he just hated sitting on the thing for twenty or thirty minutes, pumping his legs up and down until his thighs burned, his stomach turned, and he sweated up a stink that carried on for the remainder of the day. Nobody was exempt, either: once you were old enough, you were required to put in your time on the cycle.

The chanting faded to a low rumble, as the older students sought out a volunteer to hop on the cycle. When nobody in the class stood up, Ms. Gilly addressed them.

“No cycle, no Andie. Declan, stay here; leave Andie alone.”

Charlie Tabbot stood up from the last row, and raised a reluctant hand. The classroom broke out in a cheer, and applauded.

Taller than anyone in the class, Charlie was at the cycle within a few steps. It looked awkward beneath him, and Declan wondered how much of a struggle it was for him to push the pedals. Charlie began the twenty minutes. His knees pumped up and down, nearly hitting the handlebars. When the motor behind the cycle started to hum, a thin yellow light began to burn, like an incandescent flame. The more Charlie pumped his legs, the hotter and brighter the light became, and with each faster turn of the cycle, the bulb grew brighter. Twenty more minutes, and the energy-cells would hold enough of a charge to last a week.

“There, you see. That wasn’t so bad,” Ms. Gilly began. “I know I wasn’t getting on that thing,” she joked, and placed a gentle hand on Declan’s back, nudging him toward Andie. “Go on, now, get Andie.” Most of the excitement was in waiting to see the android, and to see what would happen. Andie was a bit of a little miracle, as most androids had only lasted a few years before being scrounged for parts. Declan’s own excitement grew, and he joined the children in the chant.

2

The saying must be true
, Sammi thought to herself, as Declan played with the children.
Sometimes we do find our soul mate.
Her face warmed with the thought, and she felt an excited flutter inside. Her momma had once told her that the feeling meant she had butterflies in her belly. Sammi had never seen a butterfly; not a real one, anyway. She’d seen them in the classroom’s electronic photographs though, and sort of understood what her momma had been saying. She watched Declan kneel down, and rile up the kids into a grander chant for Andie.

“He’s so handsome,” she mumbled.
I’m feeling the butterflies
. She laughed at the silliness of it.

Innocent round faces followed Declan’s steps across the room. Sammi could see some of their eager faces; their lips were pursed, and their eyebrows lifted in anticipation. She tried not to laugh; after all, she had been like that once—they all had. Images as clear as the butterfly in the electronic photograph came to her: she remembered sitting in the first row with Declan, squeezing his hand, as they waited to see Andie. It had been terrifically exciting.

Declan tousled another boy’s hair. Sammi enjoyed watching him with the kids. He was good with the children, and that meant more to her now than it ever had before. She’d seen him with the children a hundred times, but now she was seeing
him
. It would soon be time for her to choose. She wanted to choose right; she had to. Sammi paused, holding the thought, and then shrugged away any question. She already knew, and she always had: it would be Declan.

Her seventeenth birthday was less than a month away. It was a big day for a girl—even bigger than the End of Gray Skies announcement, from her perspective, anyway. A girl’s seventeenth birthday was the day that she could begin a family. With only a few years given to have children, she didn’t want to waste any time.

She’d seen some girls grow up, and miss their time. No longer allowed to try, some, like Ms. Gilly, had stayed alone, and worked with the children of others. There had been a time though, when Ms. Gilly had someone to call her own. One morning, Sammi had found Ms. Gilly alone, staring at a drawn image of the man she’d chosen. When Sammi had asked about the picture, Ms. Gilly was more than happy to tell her about James Sundref, and the years they’d had together. But their time to have a family expired, and James Sundref had moved on. While Ms. Gilly had chosen to stay, other girls sometimes left the protection of their home, and the safety of the Commune, never to be heard from again. Six years was all that Sammi would be allowed, and there was no way that she would waste a minute of it.

Does he know I’m going to choose him?
She wondered, and then a hard, cold possibility shuttered the butterfly wings.
What if he doesn’t want me? What if he wants someone else… someone like Sheila Myers?
Sammi pulled in a heavy breath as dread filled her. Sitting a few rows away, Sammi stole a glimpse of Sheila: she was beautiful. Worry gnawed at her, as she held her breath and stared; she couldn’t help herself. Jealousy tapped her heart with an ugly finger, reminding Sammi that Sheila was the most beautiful girl in their class, and perhaps in the entire Commune. As she talked to one of the boys, Sheila played with her hair, pushing a lustrous lock of it behind her ear. However, Sammi noticed that Sheila was oblivious to Declan, and the activities taking place at the front of the classroom.

Sammi parted her pressed lips, and let out the breath she held.
Stupid insecurity
, she thought. Before she could turn away, Sheila discovered Sammi’s eyes on her, and a question formed in her expression. When Sammi shrugged an empty response, Sheila scrunched her face, annoyed, and turned her attention back to the boy. Relief came, while her concerns shrank away. After a few more chants of Andie’s name, her worries were gone. This was Declan,
her
Declan. They’d been a part of each other for as long as she could remember. He’d never so much as looked at Sheila, let alone any other girl. But Sammi wasn’t the only girl turning seventeen soon, and she wouldn’t be the only one with a choice to make. This last thought remained with her, like the images of the butterfly.