The Day Earth Died

7. Unrequited Fellowship

"I'm Sergeant Guillebault. I'll be in charge of this convoy until we reach Under, so behave."

All the recruited men from our neighbourhood stood together in their new uniform, lined up neatly. Every neighbourhood had its wagon, each meticulously arranged to be an exact copy of one another. "Every newly enrolled worker is treated equally despite their background," the government bragged. The wagons had two significantly different parts the passenger compartments and the main, Common Room. Walls were plastered with fancy wallpapers. Expensive wooden planks covered the floor, topped off with a shiny fresh layer of wax. Sergeant spoke again after granting us a short pause devoid of his fiery, urgent voice.

"When the train departs, I expect every one of you to be in the cabins, buckled up and tranquil. Don't even think about quarrelling. You are now government officials, not feisty kids. We'll stop at Brooksville for fuel and dinner service. Don't come out of your cabins and go messing around, just stay still. New orders will be given once the train can't go further down."

"Yes, Sir," we said in unison.

Quietly, we scattered into the cabins. I decided to go for the further one in the back where I hoped to manage to avoid sharing the compartment. But of course, the minute I stuffed my backpack into the overhead luggage bin, the door slid open to reveal Amell. I didn't allow my gaze to linger on him, discarding the ephemeral disappointment of not getting the hermitic trip I wished for. I settled down on the leather seat, eyes on the window as Amell put away his bag. The view was mediocre, really. It emphasized the grayish-brown colour of our neighbourhood. A cloud of thick smoke from the train snaked around it. And even though the air was filtered inside the train, I could still taste the foul sulphur on the tip of my tongue. I grimaced.

Amell sat down on the seat parallel to mine, hand on his freshly replaced shoulder with a wince. He fidgeted for a while. I sighed at his constant wiggling and he stopped, glancing at me from beneath his blond bangs. He seemed to finally convince himself to speak up:

"Hey—uh—Mal, right?" Amell asked, sheepish.

"Yeah."

He didn't say anything else. I expected some kind of attempt at a conversation if he was even just half as chatty as his little brother. Maybe not. Amell and Shawnee were so different on the physical side already. I expected them to be alike in another way. Shawnee had fairly dark skin with brown, straight hair cut short while Amell was paler and had long wavy blond hair. The younger brother's eyes were of a deep chocolate brown but Amell's bore a rich blue colour. I didn't know Shawnee all that well but I knew he was a good kid. With what his family has been through, witnessing his pure joy to live let a thin ray of hope shine through. If he was able to be happy, maybe I'd be happy too one day.

"I wanted to thank you for... for Shawnee and everything," Amell spoke again and I noticed I had been staring at him subconsciously.

"What?" I cocked my head.

"I heard you at the Recruitment. You know, when you chose Shawnee." He fled my gaze.

I hummed in acknowledgement.

"Is your dad really dead?"

I frowned. I hadn't pictured him as that bold. Some curiosity arose in me and urged me into answering.

"I don't know and I don't care." Amell started chewing his lower lip nervously.

The train hooted one last time. Under our feet, the motor trembled, and the wheels slowly activated. I watched the dull sight of our neighbourhood slightly blur up. A somewhat comforting silence fell upon us but yet again, Amell forced himself to break it: