Bliss

7 - Sky

I settle Ingrid on her bunk. Her old bunk, that is. It has already been occupied by Roger. But I'm sure he wouldn't mind.

I dab her forehead with a damp cloth and set a glass of lemon water on the bedstand. Her face has gone from red to green. Her lips are dry, cracked. Maya and the girls just returned home.

"Try not to wake her," Maya says. "The poor girl looks exhausted."

"From what? All she did was deliver mail," I say.

"She must have caught a bug," Maya says. She sits at the foot of the bed and works on knitting a scarf. It's summer; I don't understand why we would need it now or ever. I guess she's just trying to keep herself busy. I look down at Ingrid and see that her hands are very pale and clammy, like the ones of someone who has gone into shock. But she can't be into shock. Can she?

"Is this my fault?" I ask Maya, glancing at her in between dabbing Ingrid's forehead. Maya shakes her head and clucks her tongue as if she's disapproving.

"No, child. She must've eaten something unpleasant."

Ingrid shuffles and then groans as her eyes flutter open. She looks perplexed at first, maybe to see my face. Then, it seems like her vision is focusing. Maya places her hand on Ingrid's forehead. "Doesn't seem to be a temperature."

"I feel like I'm going to puke," Ingrid announces.

"Aww," I say, teasing her, but she looks unamused at my joke. I sigh helplessly. I'm hopeless when it comes to taking care of sick people. "I can bring over a bucket or something."

"No--" Ingrid shakes her head, but the movement causes her to cover her mouth with her hands. Her eyes water as she struggles to hold back whatever is trying to come out.

"You can puke on the floor--"

"Sky," Maya warns.

"Ingrid, don't puke on the floor."

She does anyway. Her body completely twists to the side of the bed, and I look away trying to drown out the gagging noises. Her entire back arches and then immediately she slumps on the bed, her body going completely slack. Just inches from my bare feet is a tiny puddle of green, seeping into the carpet. I help Ingrid lay back down comfortably on the bed, and by Maya's command--which she gives only by a look, that's all she needs--I run downstairs to grab a rag. As I walk into the kitchen and open the cabinet below the sink to get the rag, I hear laughter from the couches in the living room. Will and Roger are in tears over one of the cartoons. Always being on duty, I don't think they get to watch much TV.

Careful not to disturb them, I tiptoe out of the room and pad quietly up the stairs. When I'm back on the second floor, I clean the stain near the bunk, throw the rag in the laundry pile at the corner of the room--which is now, disgustingly, covered with male boxers--and then sit next to Ingrid for the moral support.

It isn't after a while that I lay next to her and fall asleep.

When I wake up, it's night outside. There are grasshoppers chirping--I don't think I've heard grasshoppers in years. I raise my head off the pillow and glance over at Ingrid groggily. Except, it isn't Ingrid. It's Will.

I shriek and then cover my mouth. As carefully as I can, I try to get up from the bed in the complete darkness. It is when I'm at the edge when I realize that Will's arm is wrapped around me. My heart is pounding as I grab it with my index finger and thumb and carefully set it at his side. Bile rises at the back of my throat, but I ignore it, stifling the anger that threatens to bubble inside me.

As I tiptoe down the stairs, I feel repulsed.

Ingrid has been moved to the couch, and Maya, Siena, and Lily are all curled on the floor, covered with thin blankets, using their arms for pillows. Sadness wells inside me, mainly for them, but also for Ingrid. She's shivering on the couch while the soldiers are up on the second floor in our bunks. The second floor is the only part of the house that gets heated.

I go to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water; I drink it all in two gulps. I feel like throwing up as well, but not for the same reasons as Ingrid. I could still feel Will's hand, which was dangerously close below the waist. I grip the metal edges of our sink and stare into the drain where bits of food has stuck and crusted. My breath comes out tremulously. I feel as if I'm going to be sick.

Or maybe it is because of Ingrid. Maybe it's a bug and not the food poisoning that I thought she had earlier. Or was it yesterday? I can't even keep track of time. But where could she catch a virus from? Maybe the soldiers. All qualified soldiers of Oceania get their vaccines before being stationed, so I don't see how it's possible.

Unless there's an outsider from another country.

The next morning, everyone has woken up before me. I get dressed in our bathroom, in my running suit, and bid a goodbye to Ingrid, Siena, and Lily. Maya doesn't have a reason to chastise me this time.

I run again this morning. The weather is chillier, but not by a whole lot. The streets are still hot enough to be able to fry an egg, and as soon as the sun hits the midway point in the sky, we'll all be baking. That's just how summers are.

But as I try to run faster and faster, I start to notice the cramping at my side. This has happened before, many times, but now it's accompanied by something sharper: actual pain, stabbing. I reach a stop sign, an old one that still hasn't been removed. There are no cars for it to warn, to control. I lean against the metal bar and pull up my top a little, just so that I can catch a glimpse of my scar.

My scar runs from my hip bone all the way to my diaphragm, leaning more towards the back than the front. It gets deeper and uglier as it goes up. This is usually where I feel the cramps, but the pain doesn't come as often. Maybe it would come at least once or twice in a month. I run my finger over the scar, remembering the day I had the operation, the kidney transplant.

Remembering how I almost died the day before.

I hastily pull my top down and speed-walk the rest of the way to the factory.

When I check in and change into the white coat, Elper is nowhere to be seen. I am guessing she has taken a day off. She isn't here to chastise me either.

I sit across Miles again, but he seems a little out of it today. He lets me put in the cans first. His eyes drift over across the ceiling, the walls.

And a thought dawns on me: nobody wants the soldiers here.