Makeshift

Chapter 2

An officer is at the door. Oh no. It can’t be our turn already. Every two months an officer comes instead of a guard to check the entire house. It is usually just the guard at the door, who doesn’t step in, just asks if all members of the family are present, dead, or missing. This officer is sure to flip the house inside out though. It’s a very different and annoying process but according to the government, it must be done in order to ensure the safety of lower class citizens.

“Miss. Vienna.” He addressed me formally unlike most officers would. I was confused until I realized he was probably only a year or two older than me and there was another old officer standing behind him scribbling notes on a paper. This boy was not an officer, he would be soon though, if he passed evaluation. Which is now.

 I say nothing and move out of the doorway so they can enter. The boy steps in and looks around. His eyes look sad. He must think our little house is disgusting and pitiful. I tell myself to hold my tongue from the statement about to leave my lips. I focus on the real problem. My father. He’s still blacked out on the kitchen floor and they will go in to check on to that very room next. I can’t go in and check on him without revealing we are hiding something so I hold my ground silently screaming for help inside. They will kill one of us. My brother or me. They will not take my brother. They will take me. Linden needs to be kept safe.

It suddenly occurs to me how handsome this officer is.  He has dark blue eyes like Linden’s, a set jaw, dark hair, and tan skin and broad shoulders. I brush the thoughts away, angry at myself for thinking of something as childish as the officer’s appearance. This officer may kill me within the next hour and all I can think about is how pretty his eyes are. Stupid. Focus.

The older officer was still scribbling away on his paper observing every move the young officer made. To my relief, the young officer moved to the bedroom next, despite the rules it goes from front room, to kitchen, to bedroom, and to any other rooms if you’re lucky enough to have them. The young officer must be failing. But that doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t care about anyone associated with the government.

 I can do nothing but watch the officer search the room rather poorly and hope my father has aroused himself or died. If he is dead I can make an excuse. If he’s alive it makes it all the more complicated. The young officer moves out of the room and through the front room into the kitchen. My heart thumps fast as I try to decide what my next move should be. I’m going to tell them to take me and to take my father and put Linden in an orphanage or on the street. Anywhere but with my father alone. A terrifying image of Linden shuddering in a corner, unable to do anything as my father goes on a mad rampage. Now I am more nervous. But when I walk in the kitchen, I sigh with relief. The younger officer doesn’t notice, but the old officer turns and glares at me, wanting to know what I am hiding. I keep a straight face and take in the situation.

 My father was “asleep” in an old chair, drool dripping slowly down his mouth. Linden was beside him, singing an old lullaby in a crackly yet precious voice. Oh thank you Linden, you beautiful boy! He has set up the perfect lie to get the officers out of here with any luck. I step in and play the cards Linden had so wisely laid out for me. I put my pointer finger to my lips, indicating to be quiet. Usually, this would be considered an act of defiance to an officer, and the older one realizes that and continues glaring at me. But the younger one replicated my actions, putting his pointer finger to his lip. This is perfect. The older officer is forbidden by law to interfere in an evaluation of a younger officer, and the younger officer seems okay with whatever I do. The officer is going to fail, but in a way, he will fail as my savior.