Survival

Chapter 48 Choices

Mischa returned from her first day of gardening shaken and worked up. Quinton took notice and gently rubbed her back as she struggled to stomach the canned soup and stale crackers.

He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Want to come over tonight?"

Mischa nodded and leaned into his chest for a moment. The contact alone helped slow her racing heart and mind. He was the only thing lately that could bring her back to reality. Her regular breathing pattern resumed.

Her friends at the table looked on with pitying eyes. Word had gotten out in their small group that she was one of the breeders or birth mothers as they more politely termed it. Mother was not the right word. A mother read their child stories and tucked them in at night. Mischa would go for an hour or two a week like some kind of distant relative visiting an inmate in prison. 

"How was your first day?" Navjot asked.

Mischa mildly welcomed the change in subject. "It was alright. Nice to see the world is still out there and functioning without us."

"You met Mrs. Fairbrook as well, she's.... different," April said with a tentative smile.

"What is she all about?" Mischa had to ask.

That woman's brazen statement had troubled her mind all day and she couldn't respond without implicating herself in actions that could get her in even more trouble. It was one thing to theorize with Quinton, but a stranger posed so many risks. She knew and trusted him. With that thought, she gave his hand a squeeze under the table. A smile grew on his face as he gently stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

"She showed up around a month ago out of the blue. She has had an opinion about everything since she got here: the guards, the conditions, the restrictions. I consider myself an advocate for people and animals, but she takes it a step further. It's uncomfortable," April said and turned back to her steaming soup.

"Where was she before that?" Mischa asked. The tornados and super storm hit two months ago. What had she been up to in limbo?

April shrugged. "No one had seen her around before that."

"Do you think she survived on her own until then?" Maria asked.

"That's unthinkable. With all the dangers, illnesses and looting that surely went on, I find it highly improbable," Navjot protested as his hands waved wildly with each statement.

"Mischa was out there when it happened," Maria chipped in. "Was it that bad?"

Mischa's hands felt like ice when all eyes turned to her. It was bad enough she was on the baby making list, now she had drawn more attention to herself.

"Hardly, the storm went on for only a few hours and I was taken away in a helicopter. I don't know what happened after that."

"It's over now, no need to worry about it," Quinton said.

Except it wasn't, not for her friends still trapped out there.

Back in Quinton's apartment, Mischa knew she had to share what Amelia had told her earlier that day. She and Quinton were partners in this and couldn't hide any information from each other. She studied his face, his jaw locked and covered in faint brown hairs. His eyes opened wide into a world far beyond the two of them stuck in the room.

"What's on your mind?" she asked.

Quinton blinked twice and looked at her until she repeated the question. "Is it the whole escape?"

"It's this whole insane lying and manipulative place," he said. He bunched up the comforter covers in his fist. Mischa placed her hand over his and his muscles relaxed. "How could they do this? Mislead people into thinking they're valued and part of something larger when all they want to do is use them. They're just as bad as people were before."