Page 12 of All Your Days
He doesn’t say any of the things imaginary Eli says, like, ‘What’s it like out there?’ or ‘Please, please be safe.’ Or the one I dread the most, ‘Please don’t go’. Because I know that ifrealEli ever asks me the things that imaginary Eli asks me, I’ll do it. In a heartbeat.
But real Eli never asks me anything.
He just keeps processing the samples with the same exact precision, the awkward tension building between us made worse by Moby’s humming while he works.
“Oh, shit. Kelly. Huh.” Eli pauses with the final sample raised high. His voice fractures when he reads the name.
“Did’ya know him?” Seizing the opportunity to talk more, I step closer again, until I’m leaning against the table, too, only opposite him. It’s the closest we’ve been in I don’t even know how long, and I can feel every millimetre of the distance between us.
“A little. We went to school together. But his brother, Felix, got me to draw him. For Kelly’s wife. She’s not doin’ well with him going down there.”
Eli uses writing down the details of the samples as a cover to get himself back together. What I wouldn’t give to be able to comfort him. To be able to even just reach out and pat his hand. But I’m scared that if I start, I’ll never be able to stop. It’s too dangerous to even consider.
“She can probably go visit soon. He’s still… he’s in shock. The transfer isn’t easy.” I offer instead, even though it’s a small comfort.
Visitations can be arranged, but only for so long. It’s a difficult balance to manage. I’ve never been tasked with the removal ofresidents from their families, and I’ve only ever supervised visits on less than a handful of occasions. I’m grateful for it, too. It’s an awful business. I don’t know how the guard’s stomach it.
“He okay, though?”
“As okay as he can be.” Our eyes meet across the table, the samples forgotten.
For a moment it feels like the earth is falling away from beneath my feet and Eli can see the storm inside me. I can almost convince myself that Eli is tumbling with me, and that the sympathetic softness in his eyes will catch us both.
“So what’ll you do with the samples?” I ask, clearing my throat and breaking the moment.
The table is cluttered with all kinds of things. Ledgers and lists are scattered amongst other sample trays from other infected levels and residents, and assorted sciencey tools.
“I won’t be doing anything with ‘em. I’m just here to make the notes and clean the vials when the docs are done with ‘em. As for what Moby and the others are doin’? I got no idea.” He laughs and runs his hand through his hair again, mussing it up.
I laugh with him, a soft chuckle that catches his attention. My stomach flips violently when Eli’s eyes catch mine for one tiny moment before flicking away, a hint of pink colouring his cheeks.
“Ah! You’re here, Jacob. Command called from nine. They said they need to speak to you.” Emily, one of the other scientists, calls out from an office within the Lab, sticking her head out of a door.
I want to glare at her, but that would be a shitty thing to do. Not only because it’s rude, and she ranks higher than me, but also because I was told to go to Command ages ago. Emily disappears when I give her a wave in acknowledgement.
“Looks like guards are just like grunts after all. Work’s never done.” Eli's eyes are on the ledger again, but it kind of looks like he’s just pushing things around, flipping pages needlessly.
It’s not lost on me that we’ve said more words to each other today than we probably have in the last ten years. I don’t want it to end just yet, which has always been the problem.
“Somethin’ like that. I’ll see you.” I wince at the goodbye, and Eli snickers, but I turn, practically running from the Lab before I can really see his reaction.
I’ll see you? I can’t believe I said that to the man I’m practically stalking.
I stew in the elevator in silence, all the way back down to level nine, grateful that no one joins me in the tiny box.
A sharpdingannounces my arrival on nine, and the doors open to the waiting area. Exiting the elevator, I wave at Hank sitting behind his large desk. Hank is an appointed official from the Union, officially here to assist the guard leadership and commander in running things smoothly, and to coordinate assistance from the Union and the armymen if it’s needed. He’s our link to the Union.
Unofficially, the head of the guard leadership, Gregory Watson, is convinced Hank was a spy sent to undermine his authority, so the wily old coot goes out of his way to be as difficult as possible.
The other three members of the guard leadership team work with Hank to juggle pandering to the senior officer and minimising his damage wherever they can.
I’ve heard more than once that it’s time to force Watson to retire, but no one has the heart to take the position from him, so they’re locked in this endless battle.
“Jacob, just the guard I was hoping to see.” Hank says when I pass his desk in front of the office doors.
He’s like the guard leadership's own personal guard, only admitting those he approves past his desk.
“How can I be of service, sir?” I am very good at playing pretend armyman when I need to. It helps that I have a fair amount of respect for Hank; he’s always managed the guards with a good amount of decency.
