Glitch

Far From Home

LESLI

A resounding crash through the truck made Lesli bounce and startle awake, jerking her head off Cass's shoulder.

"Wh'z happened?" she muttered. She rubbed her eyes and looked around, but the vehicle was already back to its usual rattling and bumping gait.

"We must have run over a rock," Megga said drowsily. She was curled up to Lesli's other side- having been lucky enough to get the corner spot inside the box truck- and was wrapped within the large arms of their father's wool coat. Lesli still felt the lump in her throat rising, against her will, at the sight of it. "Go back to sleep."

Lesli didn't. The noise had successfully woken many of the truck's inhabitants, who were lifting their heads and looking sleepily around. She wondered how many of them, like her, had imagined that the day's commotion had been nothing more than a nightmare. She wondered how many had briefly expected to wake up in their own homes, before realizing that none of it had been a dream at all.

Cass was already nodding off again, and next to her, Nate snored peacefully. Her little brother had a knack for being able to fall asleep in the strangest and most uncomfortable positions (Lesli had once discovered him napping on the stairs to their apartment) but wedged with dozens of strangers in a stuffy, cold, and dark truck like sardines in a can....this event definitely took the cake. His head was nodding to the left, occasionally resting on Jacobe's arm, but the older boy didn't seem to mind. He stared vaguely into space, one hand playing with the buttons on his coat.

They'd only met Jacobe five hours ago, but Megga, Cass, and Nate seemed to trust him already. There was no reason not to, after all. Jacobe had a pleasant smile, was tall and slender, handsome with dark blonde hair and a light splash of freckles across a long, pointed nose. He was about Megga's age at nineteen or maybe twenty, and he'd been friendly and generous from the start. After their father walked off, Jacobe and Megga had struck up casual conversation. Even Lesli could notice the way his gaze lingered, his earnest help to make sure they got the best spot on the train. Lesli supposed she should trust him too. Then again, she'd never been as quick to trust as her sisters. There was a reason why her father used to call her "Hedgehog": she bristled when people approached her.

There was another rattling thump. In the other corner of the vehicle, Lesli heard a baby's whimpering cry, quickly shushed by her mother. Megga stirred and muttered about an unsettled stomach. Her auburn curls were plastered to her forehead with sweat, though the inside of the truck was cold. Lesli could hardly feel her fingers, despite being swaddled up in her parka, hat, and the woolly scarf that Jacobe had generously lent to her near the beginning of the ride.

Lesli could hardly blame him for being so earnest to help Megga. Even she was intuitive enough to know that the rest of them were only included in the treatment as her siblings. Out of all of them, Meg was most praised for her beauty, with a slender, hourglass figure and a gently curved face, hazel eyes and a small nose. Other than her hair, which was a tad more auburn than true red, she was the spitting image of their mother. In the last few weeks, she'd even taken to wearing her hair the way Mother did- coiled into a loose bun.

Her siblings seemed to think that Lesli hated their mother for leaving. When they'd talk about her, Lesli would stay quiet- on those rare occasions that she came home, Lesli would be distant, maybe even ignore her. In a way, they were right. But they were also wrong. Lesli missed her desperately. She missed the stories she'd tell and the songs she'd sing and the perfume she'd wear, the smell of which Lesli could still remember, faintly, in the ghost of a memory. But that mother had left eight years ago, when Lesli was only seven and Nate, only four. For my job, she had said, but over the years Lesli had guessed at the real reason for her leaving. Megga and Father used to talk about it in hushed voices when they thought the others were asleep. Amelie Hest had been exhausted and restless after taking care of Nate, and tired of her uneventful, claustrophobic life in the city.

Lesli knew, because she understood the feeling. She'd felt that cramped unease, the longing for something more. But that didn't make her hate this new version of her mother any less- the unfamiliar woman who came home for a week out of every year. When Lesli began to grow out her hair and was told that she'd never looked more like her mother, she'd wordlessly hacked it all off the very next day, leaving only a short red crop with ringlets that didn't quite reach her chin. No one, not even her father, had dared to comment. Lesli still wore it that way.

Her knees were scrunched so tightly against her chest that they ached. She straightened her legs just an inch, but the old man curled in front of her grunted and slapped her ankle. Lesli quickly drew them back. He didn't look too good, and his face seemed very clearly green, even in the dimness. The last thing Lesli or any of the truck's inhabitants needed at the moment was the stench of vomit- especially not in the tight space.

Instead, she leaned to the side, resting her head on Megga's lap and pulling Father's coat around her shoulders. Lesli couldn't help but take a whiff to inhale the familiar scent: cigarettes and newspapers, gasoline and car grease from the repair shop where her father had worked. It wasn't the most pleasant smell, but it was home.

She turned slightly, only to hear the crinkle of paper beneath her hair. A quick inspection into the coat pocket revealed the crumpled evacuation notice. Lesli smoothened it out on one leg and held it up, squinting to make out the letters in the dark. They were barely legible, but that was fine; Lesli almost knew the words by heart. She had read it over and over on end from when it first arrived in the mail to when they were ordered out of the house two days later.

BY ORDER OF THE PRENTIS REPRESENTATIVEIMMEDIATE EVACUATION NOTICEImpending nuclear air raids on Southstake (LP)Citizen evacuation REQUIRED by March 2, 2099Citizens will be relocated to the following Upper Prentis cities by first initial of last name.New Maine (A-E), Ironski (F-J), Russell (K-P), Warrington (Q-T), and New Vermont (U-Z). Your cooperation is appreciated. Signed,Head of State Micael Vale

Lesli traced over the looping signature that followed. The tiny slip of paper had caused an uproar on the streets outside her house when it was delivered to every household in the city and displayed on every screen. It was the seeming lack of explanation or common sense in the letter that had driven the citizens to a rage; after all, Southstake was one of the country's largest and most populated cities. The PR couldn't possibly expect to load 4 million people onto trucks and trains and deliver them halfway across the country, could they?

But that was exactly what they had done. Even now, Lesli was less disturbed by the abruptness of the letter and more so by one word, one adjective, that stuck out loudly and angrily over everything else. She put a finger on it, biting her lip.

Nuclear.

The word was confusing, and had strange implications. Lesli had seen no nuclear warfare in her lifetime, had never even heard of it other than from the history books. The first nuclear bombs had been exchanged during World War III. Her father used to jokingly refer to it as the Not-So-Cold War. He was the only one she knew who would ever make light of the matter, since it had completely obliterated the ex-"United States" and left more than a third of the land unusable. It had destroyed Russia as well, but hardly anyone knew a lot about that. None of it was in the school textbooks.

After that war, however, all nuclear warfare had ceased, though the news informed them that chemical bombs were still "being passed back and forth". Lesli rather enjoyed that vague but amusing description: she imagined the opposing countries as two cats, batting between them a ball of yarn.

So why would there be "nuclear air raids" now? What were "nuclear air raids" in the first place? It would only take one nuclear bomb to wipe out the entirety of Southstake, but "air raids" implied that there would be multiple. Lesli frowned again, but carefully folded up the paper. Instead of returning it to where she found it, Lesli unzipped her parka and tucked it into the flap at the chest. She fell asleep in that position, to the rattling and groaning music of the truck, nose buried into the comforting folds of her Father's coat. 

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