Page 36 of Calico Descending

I let them drag me off.

Chapter 19

Four years ago

Fluorescent lights pass over me, punctuated by brief moments of blackness. Nausea gurgles in my stomach, the need to throw up tugging at my throat. A moan slips past my lips, warning of the impending eruption, but it’s too late. I turn my head to the side, and my stomach involuntarily flexes, pumping the fluids past my lips.

“Ah, Christ!” A voice somewhere beyond me is nothing but background noise to the spatter of vomit hitting the floor.

I heave again, the acids shooting up my nose, as a stream of liquid pours over the edge of the white sheets. I stare down at bits of beans and meat swimming in milky pools across the floor. The movement comes to a stop, and I breathe hard through my nose, trying to avoid another round of it.

“Hang on a sec. I need a towel.” The voice belongs to a female, and I roll my head back and see a bronze-skinned girl staring down at me, younger than a nurse. Must be new. Only the girls who’ve come from the Deadlands carry the glow of sunlight in their skin like that.

My eyes follow the path of her arm, where she wipes off chunks of vomit, to the top of the mattress where TNP has been stamped onto her hand. Newly assigned. The cart jerks into motion, and I slide backward, into a silver box. The elevator.

Soft cotton drags over my face, and she dabs it against my hair. “Sorry ‘bout that. It’s my first time in transport. I’m Roz.”

My chest is cold, and a tickle tells me the nausea hasn’t subsided.

“We don’t use real names,” another voice I don’t recognize chides.

Roz steps aside, and I crane my neck to see another girl standing beside her, hands set against another bed.

I trail my gaze down to the profile of my sister lying beside me, eyes closed, her face covered in a mask. “Bryani …” My voice is so weak and hoarse, I can’t tell if I’ve spoken aloud, or in my head.

She doesn’t move, and the pallor of her skin looks unnatural. Almost blue. I reach out for her hand, which feels too cold.

“Bryani.” The tears in my voice choke my words, as I stroke my thumb over her icy fingers.

The elevator dings, and the doors open. Bryani’s fingers slip through mine, as her bed is wheeled out into the corridor.

Mustering what little energy is left in me, I lift my head from the bed. “Bryani!”

The transporter reaches over my sister, as she wheels her down the hallway, and before the doors close, I see her pull the sheet up over my sister’s head.

“Cali, come wook!”

I jog across the dirt, the hot sun beating down on my shoulders, to where my sister squats to the ground, pointing at something. By the time I reach her, she’s already down on all fours, studying the object in front of her.

I catch sight of something small and feathery, a baby bird, I guess, based on the small tufts of fuzz that stick out from its body, where it lies on the ground.

Not moving.

“Is a baby bewd.” A smile stretches her lips, as she points to it with a sense of wonder and pride. At just five years old, she still doesn’t understand death. “Is sweeping.”

My father taught me how to spot an infected bird around her age, but I can’t bring myself to ruin the smile on her face by telling her the truth. No bugs crawling over it. No blood from attack. It really does look like it’s sleeping.

“Better leave it alone, Bree. It’s momma will come to wake it up soon.”

“But da momma will take it away, and I wanna play wif it.”

Shaking my head, I give a small tap to her shoulder. “She needs to be with her momma, Bree. You wouldn’t want someone taking you away from our momma, would you?”

She lowers her head, lips pouting to sadness. “No. I would miss momma.”

“Leave her be, then. Let her momma come get her, so they can be together, okay?”

With a nod, she pushes up onto her pudgy little legs. “Cali? When I’m died, will momma come get me, too?”

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