The Cure

Chapter 3 : II

  I wake up to the sound of the television blaring another news program. Every person in all of Haim has a television. It's a given. It's not required but they all have one. We're told often that it's important to watch the TV to make sure we don't miss anything 'important'. You can bet I ignore it. It's loud and makes my head buzz and eyes bug out. Ofelia says this is because I don't watch enough. I wonder if it's true. She's the most educated of all in Ash. I suppose that's because she's the oldest. Still, I admit my comfort is more important at the moment than making sure I don't miss something 'good'.

Sliding out of bed I go to the window and look out. My room is at the back of our house, right on the edge of the city limits. The tall white fence that encloses our factor is only four feet away, right in our backyard, if you can call it that. What yard we have is composed of rocky dirt and tufts of crab weed here and there. Not beautiful indeed, but it is my yard, and that makes it something special. Most people in Ash don't have what we call a yard and that's because Ofelia and I live on the outskirts of town. If our plot of land weren't contaminated by the government's fence I might actually smile when I get up in the morning.

Not that I hate the fence, by any means. Truth is, I'm afraid of it. It's been explained to me the use of the fence, but I'm still wondering about it.

"That fence is for protection, nothing more. We've witnessed those hurt by what's outside, so we built it to save you. The people of our country, years ago, used the land for evil means; practicing unlawful actions and destroying what help and hope we, as your government, gave them. When our great and mighty dictator, Haim, rose from the evil, he vowed to save all from the evil of the outside..."

Yes, he vowed to protect and as such we have an ugly white fence surrounding our entire region, and all the other regions, as far as I know.

It's not just a fence, either. On the opposite side are trees, tall as the heavens, reaching towards the sky with arm-like branches. I don't think we'd be so intimidated if the mighty beasts weren't as toweringly fierce as they are. No one dares try and breach the boundary. Besides, we've all come to believe we are being protected. I just want to know one thing:

From what?

Well, it's not as if I'm ever going to go on the other side. Talk of monsters and aliens isn't exactly non-existent.

I pull myself away from the window and make my way to the hole in the wall I call my closet. I pull on some grey jeans and soft blue shirt. It looks cold out, even for March, so I slip on Ofelia's white knitted legwarmers and my brown boots. They only come up to my mid-calf but they're warm as a summer eve. There's some sort of material inside, soft as silky hair that takes the chill away from any shivering soul. After brushing my hair and sticking it into a bun I step outside my room and walk down the hall, the TV's speech becoming audible as I near.

"After four factory workers died in the Western region Haim has signed a new order for the white-washing of the fence on the city borders..." the news lady's voice drones on and on about the order before flashing to an image of Haim signing the document.

"Another White-Washing?" I ask. It's the second one in two months.

"Yep," Ofelia declares, banging down her glass of what looks like iced syrup. No idea where she got her hands on that. I know I didn't get it at the store for her.

"How did the workers die?" I never watch the TV because I don't have to. I just ask Ofelia. I walk into the kitchen and open the fridge, looking for something that doesn't appear too indigestible.

"Oh, probably the sickness."

"Did they say that's what it was?"

Ofelia clears her throat and spits. "Nah."

I turn around and watch as the screen replays images of previous White-Washings. An image of what looks like the North region appears and I see everyone, from children of three years to those who look ready for their deathbeds, white-washing the fence until it gleams in the sunlight from wet paint. I never understood why Haim makes us do this every so often. It isn't just to keep the fence looking nice.

"Why do we do it?" I don't have to say what, Ofelia can usually tell what I mean to say.

"To remind us that the fence is our protection and by making us work on it we won't want to destroy what we ourselves have created. And Haim wants free workers to keep that fence nice-lookin', too."

I turn back to the fridge and find a red package of some sort of sauce and see the expiration date.

"Euwh, how old is this?" I cringe, holding up the pack.

"Honey, if it has a date, throw it away."

"It's from two years ago! Do you ever clean this thing out?"

"You buy the groceries, not me."

I throw the packet in the trash and start going through the cupboards instead. I can't remember the last time I saw an expiration date on something. They stopped printing them on our packages now because there was no longer a need. Things started lasting longer. Now everything lasts longer. In fact, so long that even two years later, if that packet had been made now, it would still be good enough to eat.

After two cupboards I find a brown and white plastic bag, about the size of a CD, and realize it's the last thing of noodles. It's practically the only thing I eat. More like the only thing I can stomach. The ash has been making me sick more and it's hard to keep anything down. However, I can manage to keep this down. It's probably because it really does taste fine. I'd almost say yummy.

I put a pot of water on the stove and let it boil. I ask Ofelia if she wants anything, but she shakes her head as she swallows another swig of her liquid. I can't stand to see her drinking something that I have no idea what it is so I walk over and grab it out of her hand.

"What is this?" I gape. There's stuff swimming around inside that looks like tiny gnats drowning.

"Nothin' much you need worry about. Give it here." She takes a swipe at it but I hold it out of her reach, as she refuses to move off her rocking chair.

"What's all that stuff floating around in it?" I ask, taking a small sniff. It hardly has any smell.

"Residue, whatdya think, girly?"

I can't tell if she's joking so I just continue to stand there with the cup in my hands. "Is it sweet?"

Ofelia gets a confused look on her face. "Why do you ask such a thing?"

"Cause it sorta smells like sugar."

"You can smell that? Dang, girl you got a killer of a sniffer."

"It isn't poison, right? Or alcohol? You know Dr. Fleissner said you needed to stop drinking and take your pills instead."

Ofelia laughs. "Honey, you ain't got no idea what that Doctor means to do with me."

"He wants to keep you well. You've lived this long now, longer than anyone in all of Ash, probably in all of Haim, and you want to just throw away your life? I want to live, thank you, and so should you." I furiously splash the hard square of noodles into the boiling water and poke it angrily with a spoon. Ofelia stares at me but I refuse to return her gaze.

"It ain't poison, Adler."

"Good, so what is it?"

"Taste it."

I look up then and frown. "Umm...no thanks."

"Suit yourself."

I return to poking my noodles and Ofelia takes another gulp. "Poison," I hear her mutter with a laugh. "Like she'd know."

I don't ask her what she means. Don't want too. I'm tired of her and her hidden meanings and rituals for long life. That used to be her profession, if you can call it that. Before she took me in Ofelia was the town's...well, nutcase, really. We called her "the crazy" but she was described as everything from witch to gypsy woman to psyche. She's stopped all that fortune telling and wizardry now, but she's still as crazy as she once was, especially with her special potions and brews. I've stopped taking anything she has to offer. It does weird things to people.

After I finish cooking my noodles I open the tiny silver pack and pour the contents into the pot. It makes the water and white noodles soon turn a murky orange that doesn't look all too appetizing, but it actually is. I don't bother to grab a bowl but reach for the pan and a towel. I walk into the living room where the TV's still going and sit on the floor next to Ofelia's rocking chair.

"Looks like it's gonna be a cold one today," Ofelia says, trying to sound like she's just making small talk but that's not something she does. I slurp my noodles loudly, getting broth all over my face in little dots and, with my mouth full, mutter, "Yeah, your point?"

"Oh, just you might want to bundle up a little more."

"Why, I'm not going outside..."

Ofelia raises her eyebrows.

"...or am I?"

"I've got clients today."

"Clients? What are you talking about? You don't have a job."

"Says who?"

I stop slurping for a moment, noodles hanging out my lips. "Touché."

Ofelia smirks, "That's what I thought, honey."

I can't help but smile. Ofelia's always like this. Nothing turns into an issue with her. She twists her words and makes you believe anything. I never get mad at her...well, only on occasion. And I have to admit that it's usually me making the big deal rather than her. Age-old wisdom, I guess?

"So what's the big deal?" I ask. "I'm not going to leave or anything."

"Oh yes you are darlin', and your leaving soon. You've got fifteen minutes to put on whatever warmth you need and get your tush out of my house for the next several hours."

"How many is 'the next several hours'?"

"I'll send you a message."

We stare at each other seriously for about a second before bursting out in laughter. It's a joke really. I came home one afternoon, I was probably ten or so, and Ofelia looks at me and says, "good, you got my message". I stared at her incredulously and she explained it by saying she sent a psychic telegram to my brain telling me to come home. It's funny now, but then, it totally freaked me out because I had thought I'd be late for lunch if I didn't get home soon. We've sent 'messages' to each other since then, even after Ofelia's left her 'practices'.

"You're a scam." I had said, pretty pathetically, too, coming from a mostly silent ten year old.

"Well, don't kill them," I warn her, jumping to reality. "At least, don't give them any of that stuff you've been drinking. I'd really not like to spend the rest of my day burying a dead body, or two, in the back yard."

"Right, right, just get outta here, before they show up." Ofelia shoos me towards the front door, her long grey hair hanging in the open doorway, strands here and there getting caught up in my arms as I hug her good-bye.

Once I'm just inches out the doorway, I'm left standing on the front porch, door slammed shut behind me. Ofelia's always short and usually has to 'prepare' herself in 'solitude', to use her words. Although, I admit it strange that she's taken up her practices again after so many years. I'll talk to her about it later, I think.

As I trod down the front steps I hesitate slightly, wondering if I should've checked to see what groceries we need before heading out to spend a whole day in aimless wander. I'd rather face not getting everything we need than face Ofelia's wrath at my reappearance so I move on my way. I step out onto the weather worn sidewalk and look back at our house. It's one level with wood paneling and rusting hinges; an irritatingly leaking roof in April and squeaky floors in October. It's known for being haunted (that's Ofelia's doing, not mine) and also for being a murderer's lair (that might be me). All in all, most people never bother to sell stuff at our doorstep and the bank never calls.

I love it.

But do I ever think new paint would be nice? Yeah, sometimes. Do I wish we could have guests for dinner? Like we know anyone, but hey, it's my home, and I leave for town with a steady pace to my step.

I pull my coat around me tighter, the thin brown tweed still just barely warm enough, and finger my elbows. I rub the smooth velvet patches, one red, one purple, and smile slightly. It was my Mother's jacket, and it was her father's. I know it must look rather silly on me, being a man's jacket, but it fits perfectly and Ofelia even took in the back and added three pleats, making it just feminine enough for my taste. I try not to think of my mother but sometimes I can't stop. She's everywhere, in everything I see. And wearing the jacket doesn't help.

I'm not crying, by the way.

After a good three miles of solid countryside, brown dirt under my feet and tall dead-looking trees above me, I finally reach the south entrance to Ash, and can already smell the factory smoke and breathe in the smog that is constantly filling the air.

The people I encounter on my trip into the city grows as I reach the bustle of the town. Right in the center, factory square is where the population can be counted. To someone from the Western region, where numbers of 5 million are far from uncommon, our town would really be a village, but to me it's a city.

To get our numbers straight, my region, that is, the Eastern Region has a population of about 3 million. Southern Region's close to 4 million, Northern, the same. All that's not even including Haim's City, close to the Western region, I'm told. The population there though is sparse. So altogether Haim has a population of about 16 million people. These are mind blowing numbers to me, although many have said that this is nothing compared to what they used to be. What the old numbers were, I haven't any idea.

As for Ash, one of the few cities in our factor (that's the areas closed off by the fence) the population is about two-thousand. Everyone knows everyone else. Sometimes it's comforting, and most of the time it's not.

I reach factory square and a young girl rushes up to me and tugs at my arm.

"I knew you'd come today," she says. The girl is short and has bright red hair, pin straight. I recognize her but can't remember who she is.

"Why? Did Ofelia send you a message," I snort. Everyone knows I live with Ofelia.

"No, everyone has gathered to watch the speech."

"Who's speech? It's not Manager's Day, is it?" The Manager is the man who runs our city. His name is Jenerick and he's tall, skinny and ugly. All factors have a manager and nobody ever likes theirs.

"No, it's Maycroft."

I wince. Maycroft is the head of the police and usually spends most of his time indoors drinking, swearing and looking through old, unsolved case files. I can't complain, because I know nothing about the police force. Nobody does. We do know however that the rate of crime has gone down and that's because, even though things are still illegal, no one ever gets punished for them. I can't say their exactly doing their job, but I can't say they aren't.

"So," I flash back to the present and the girl beside me. Even though I don't really know her, we talk as if we're close. Most people in Ash interact with each other on an equal basis because we are on an equal basis. "Why is Maycroft making a speech, then?"

"We don't know. It's just been announced to everyone that all were required at the square in the morning for the speech. Don't you watch the TV programs?" She eyes me suspiciously and I feel myself grow hot.

"Yeah, but I must have fallen asleep."

"It was this morning."

"After the news about the Western Region's White-Washing?"

"Before."

"Yep, I was asleep."

The girl giggles and I smile slightly when suddenly a microphone goes off with a loud squelch. We both wince and cover our ears as everyone starts to run off to the corner in front of the factory gates. The runs to catch up but I follow behind slowly, not one to draw any sort of attention to myself. As a result I end up in the back of the crowd and can only see the tops of others' heads.

Finally everyone quiets to a hush and a man, tall and intimidating walks to the center of the platform. I can see the top of his head and by the dark greasy hair assume it's Maycroft.

"Thank you all for being here," he says in a slurred voice. Everyone acts as if he's simply tired, it being eight in the morning, but we all know it's something quite different. Still I'm surprised he's standing up on his won and can actually talk.

"Alright, so to make this short, please listen so I don't have to talk to each and everyone of you throughout the week when I find out you weren't listening. I have been contacted by the Northern region that two of it's members, a man and woman, have left their factor unauthorized and have most likely fled Eastern to us. They could be anywhere in our Region but all factors and cities have been notified to make a public announcement of their flight."

A few people gasp, but really this isn't new. Many have fled their factors and regions to find better conditions but rarely do they find it. Most are later found and identified after they've died. And I'm surprised they are thought to have moved East. Most seeking better conditions move West or South. That's where things are good. The Eastern region really is the worst. I should know, living in a shack.

Ofelia would kill me if she knew I said that.

"I have photographs of the runaways and I would appreciate if all would look at the posters and contact the police force if either are found or have been spotted. Thank you, that's all." Maycroft wobbles his way down off the stage and then makes a face and comes back up.

"Oh, the pictures are posted on every street corner in town. That's all." Then he trips down the steps and walks away followed by to fellow sergeants. After their gone everyone starts to talk again and move on their way over to see the pictures of the runaways. Having nothing better to do I decided to follow.

Although every street corner is crowded. I manage to squeeze my way into a group that is smaller than the others. Once I've weaseled my way to the front I can clearly see the picture of a man and woman. The first thing that strikes me is how young the are.

This sounds ironic considering everyone in all of Haim is 'young' but I'm struck by how truly young they are. The man, who I now choose to call a boy is probably younger than me, maybe fourteen and the girl a year younger than him. The boy has dark curly hair failing in short waves over his forehead and the girl has bright blonde hair cut to her shoulders. They both look straight ahead, not frowning but not smiling either. I wonder what they could possibly be thinking, running away from their region, probably leaving family behind worried sick, hoping to accomplish what?

They don't look like brother and sister...married, perhaps? Not impossible, but unlikely.

I hear a few whispers around me and listen carefully to make sure I don't miss anything important.

"I have a cousin who went missing only last month. She could've died her hair," a woman says.

A man spits on the ground, "I think their down right stupid fools."

Amen, brother.

"What poor things. I'd take them in, if I found them." Another lady speaks to my left. The man on my right replying again with, "Yeah, and then all three of yuh thrown in jail. Sound fun?"

I like this guy, I think.

Nobody has much else to say so I make my way out and watch as the people dwindle and move on their way, many going into the factory for the day's work. I stand at the gate and watch it close, grabbing hold of the iron bars as I stare at the men walking in. I've never seen a woman go in although I've seen a few come out. I laugh to myself suddenly at the idea that they make robot clones of women or something. I start to crack up and people stare at me awkwardly. I know they think I'm nuts but I laugh when I'm tired and this is just starting to seem so uncontrollably hilarious.

"You're so weird." I don't turn around. I already know who the voice is.

"Yeah, and..." I giggle, "I think I know what they make in there."

"What?" The voice comes to my side and I grin bigger than necessary.

"Women!" And I burst out laughing and can't stop.

The voice goes silent. I turn and there he is by my side, holding the bars like I am and stares at me. "Yeah," he confirms. "Okay, you're nuts."

I finally stop and frown. I suddenly remember that I don't like Griffin. He annoys me, but somehow I'd say we're still friends. It doesn't matter if I don't like him. He doesn't like me, either.

"Why aren't you working?" I ask, suddenly suspicious.

"Got the day off."

"How'd you manage that?"

"Eh, you know. I have ways."

"Legal ways?"

"Who cares?"

I frown, he sniffs at me and rolls his eyes.

"Whatya going to do with a whole day off? Vandalize the Court building?" I tease.

"No, I-I got stuff at home I need to take care off."

"Oh..." I snort, "You're not still on that kick about leaving and going to the Southern Region?"

Griffin turns to me and says, "Not that becoming a head developer at the factory in Duer to find a cure isn't great and all but..."

I stare ahead and think of my Father's words. "And you think it's possible? A cure, I mean?"

"Of course. There's a cure for everything."

"You really believe that?!" I sputter, stunned.

"Ever heard of hope?"

"Nope." I giggle again as I realized we rhymed; I know this isn't funny but something's tickling the back of my memory that I'm tired so I choose to ignore it.

"Well, are you gonna just stand there and laugh or do you want to come?" I look at him and stop laughing. He's frowning again, deep lines creasing all around his face and I feel ashamed that I've behaved this way when I remember his words earlier and what happened. "I got stuff at home I need to take care off."

"I-that is...is your mother doing okay?" I kick myself for sounding stupid but I know I should say something.

"Yeah, she's fine. I mean, she'll get over it."

I try not to get mad at his insensitivity but I know now's not the time to fight.

"How are you doing?" I question. I know he won't answer but I say it anyway.

I'm wrong about Griffin, though, so many times, as I am now. I stare at his eyes - small, deep set and brown - and see them well up with tears, though they don't overflow. His silence is what's unbearable.

"I-I'll come home with you, if - that is - if that's what you want." I feel even more stupid, trying to fill the silence with words - pointless, meaningless – words. Why can't I just let the quiet sit between us for once. Then I realize, I haven't any idea what he'd do if I did.

After another minute or so of silence, I shift my weight and turn to go but Griffin catches my arm and I turn back, surprised, as no one, and I mean no one, has ever touched me before.

He doesn't wrench me back either, but turns me slowly so I'm facing him and he still doesn't let go off my arm when he says, "I think my mother would like to see you, if you want to come over, that is." I don't reply right away until he lets go of my arm and I say, "Sure. I'd do that.

Well guys that it's for this chapter of fiction stories every Sat!!! And I hope you liked it and if you did, don't forget to hit that Vote Button at the top right corner... leave some comments down below and let me see of what you think about the story. But without further a do thank you all guys for reading and enjoying it... that's all for this chapter only and as always what I said, oh bye there...

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