The Wall (The Woodlands) Read Free

survivors, quite literally, like they had come out of the forest swinging axes, with dead rabbits hanging over their shoulders. It clashed so humorously with the way they were sitting, hands clasped with serious expressions in a carved-out, metal-clad room, small, shiny readers in their hands, the screens illuminating their faces. Like technological cavemen. It was a world away from Pau, the Classes, everything.
    “ We need to talk about the move,” he said, his voice deep and scratchy, full of authority. “We’ve already stayed longer than we should have. The diversions we have set up are running out. They will turn around soon. The boy has not woken. One has already left with the first group.” So that’s where Careen was—nice of her to say goodbye. “I think we have to make a decision sooner rather than later, before we get trapped here, under meters of snow.”
    I leaned into the table, squishing my poor child against the metal rim. He squeaked, and I eased off. Anger was bubbling up. The boy? He had a name. Matthew put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me back, gently. Across the table, Deshi had the same offended look in his eyes.
    “ I hear you, Gus. But we can’t move him like this. The life support is not portable. Can you give me a few more days? There is one thing I haven’t tried,” Matthew said evenly.
    Everyone shifted in their chairs. The metal legs screeching on the stone floor made my teeth ache. They were waiting for the bearded man to speak. One woman looked bored, rolling her eyes and looking longingly at the door. Get out , I thought. If this doesn’t interest you—why are you here? Gus stared at his nails; they were caked with forest floor. I inhaled deeply, trying to calm myself. I could almost smell the layered leaves, the decomposing matter that held such richness and life. Gus picked at his nails and flicked a bit of scum onto the stone. Mulling.
    “ Matt, we need to be practical. You can’t bring these wounded birds into our house and expect us to change our plans so you can save them. Some of them can’t be saved.” Several of the survivors shot him an appalled look I didn’t quite understand.
    My fingernails from one hand were digging into the underside of the table. What could I do? I had no influence over these people. I knew what I wanted to do. Launch at him. Scream Joseph’s name. He was a human being. He was a good person. He deserved a chance.
    Someone else spoke up. A young man. Not much older than myself. He had dark brown, curly hair, curly like Joseph’s, but longer. He had it tucked behind his ears, which stuck out like sawed-in-half saucers. They were dressed so differently from anything I had seen before. No uniforms. Everyone seemed to have their own style. There were different colors, materials, and cuts. My mother would have been fascinated. As soon as I thought it, I pushed the idea out my head. Mother was gone.
    This boy was wearing a t shirt, something they called ‘jeans’, and a soft sweatshirt that had a hood sewn into it. He pulled a strange face as he spoke, like it was hard to get the words out, as he toyed with the toggle attached to his hood.
    “ Dad, imagine it was me, or Saz. You would want Matt to do everything he could to save us. Wouldn’t you?” the boy stuttered, each word louder than the one before as he gained confidence.
    The man, Gus, wiped his forehead, leaving a dirty streak across his weathered skin. He rubbed his temples like he had a headache. He looked to the boy and smiled, a warm, familiar smile, full of affection. “All right, I’ll give you a few days, Matt. The rest of you need to start packing up your groups and preparing.” He took a sip from his coffee, swallowing it with a sour expression. Adults—always drinking stuff that tasted bad for the after-effects.
    The rest of them shuffled out of the room, talking to each other and ignoring us. This left our original group sitting around the table, along with Matthew.