In Case of Rejection

CHAPTER TEN

The night was slow and uneventful. Jean sat at the kitchen table with her hands in fists, and Olive spent most of her time on the couch. She barely ate any dinner, and continued to stare out the window in despair. Matthew kept up his attempts at talking with her. How quickly things had fallen apart.

"I know you probably don't feel like it, but you can talk to me," he said, doing his best to say something Olive would say. She always knew how to say the right thing. She smiled, barely, turning to him and nodding.

"This isn't the end. We can still get her back," he continued, unsure if this was all true. Jean opened up her laptop, not paying attention to them.

"How do you know? Last I checked, you don't have any family members taken by Bots," Olive said sharply, and Matthew's heart fluttered in his chest.

"I-I don't know what to tell you. But I know she'll be okay. They wouldn't hurt her," Matthew stuttered, fishing in his mind for anything that seemed comforting. Olive looked at him coldly.

"How do you know?" Olive asked, her eyes suddenly red with tears.

"You haven't seen your father in seven years, Matthew. How do you even know he's still alive?" Olive asked, the words like needles that punctured one by one through Matthew's heart. It hurt, hearing it from her. Knowing that deep down, she felt about him the way all the others did. Like he was a traitor.

"I didn't mean that," she said quickly, trying to repair the damage.

"I think the hurt is different," Matthew said, looking up again to face her. He squared his shoulders, ready to explain. She furrowed her brows just barely.

"I mean, maybe they haven't hurt him directly, or physically. But they've kept him away for seven years, you're right. And I think that hurts him more than anything," Matthew finished, wiping his hands against his pants. Olive's body sank further into her seat, and she leaned forward onto her knees.

"I'm sorry, Matthew," she said, quietly, from between her knees. "Looks like they did take someone from you."

More than you know, Matthew wanted to say, but he kept it to himself.

It was very hot in there again, and louder, with the ending of the work day. It was half an hour till curfew, almost a whole day since Fran went missing. Matthew's mind swam at the thought of her out there -- alone, confused. He regathered his thoughts. 

Olive had taken to standing at his window, her back facing away from him. She was craning her neck upward to the right, in the direction of the billboard.

They stayed that way for a while: floating around the room in silence, grateful to have the company of the other.

That night, Olive fell asleep on Matthew's bed, and Matthew went out into the living room, falling onto the sofa in front of the TV.

The apartment was dead quiet, the only sound the delicate snoring floating in from Jean's room behind him. He turned on the TV, turning the volume way down. It flickered in flashes of bright pictures, and Matthew flipped to the news.

The news channels were broadcasting lots of footage from the fires over Sectors 20 and 22.

0% CONTAINMENT, the crawl read.

The footage was eerie -- the enormous, rolling flames consuming miniscule-looking apartments in their entirety. The waves of orange swallowed them whole, ones that looked all too similar to theirs. There was footage of crowded transport stations, like the train station just outside Sector 22, full of people, some wearing masks, some wearing rags over their faces, and some struggling for breath in the smoke and fluster. Bots lined the walls, watching over the people like bad omens, peculiarly inactive among the turmoil.

Matthew switched the channel, and on the next channel, the same broadcast of Brick Sanders they'd seen in school was being dissected. Pictures of billboards flooded the screen, then Matthew's haunting favorite.

GO BLUE.

"I can't speak for anyone else, but I am very excited to see what these new developments have in store-" Matthew shut the TV off before he could hear anymore, and the apartment hummed with faint electricity.

Matthew leaned back into the cushions, letting him head rest against the very back. The world grew fuzzy around him, and he gave into the warm temptation of sleep...

It was three-fifteen when he heard footsteps. The familiar, heavy thuds of Bots patrolling the hallways. Just like Olive had warned, they walked the halls the whole night through. He sat up straighter on the sofa, his left leg asleep underneath him. He wanted to stand, go look through the peephole. He craned up his neck to see if he could make out any Bots on the street. He wanted to see how many of them there were, what they were doing. Where they took Fran.

The power of sleep overtook him again, and the world disappeared.