Population Control

Camille XI

Sisu – Showing courage and resoluteness in the face of adversity, sticking to your guns even when things get tough, relying on grit and determination to get through a period of time.

0o0

"So we're trapped." Sami concluded. He helped Matthew take another drink of water Jason and I got from the boot. "And coming to Folkstone, leaving my house. It was all pointless."

I wanted to say something encouraging, but I didn't have it in me. We did waste months. If there's no escape, then what is the point?

"Come on, I'm sure we can get a boat." Matthew groaned. We needed to get him fixed and soon. Dylan would-

I don't know what to do to help him. We tied fabric around him, tight, but it's still bleeding even though there's a massive bandage over it, too.

"Right," Jason swallowed, "there's a sewing needle and thread in the biscuit tin. And there's alcohol."

"I could do with a shot."

"It's for Matthew." Jason rolled his eyes at me.

"Who's doing it then?"

"Well, I can't." Jason used his right hand to hold up his fake left arm.

Tentatively, Sami raised his hand, "I-I can."

"We can do it together." I love Sami, but in pressuring situations he is shaky, quite literally. He wouldn't want to cause Matthew any harm.

"Hey," gently, Matthew got Sami's attention and Sami looked at Matthew like the words from his mouth were precious. "If you two are working on me, I'll be even better than before, yeah?"

I've never looked at Jason like that. Previously, there was a time where maybe I would have. But what Sami must be feeling when looking at Matthew, I've never felt that. Not with Jason, not with anyone. I wonder what it would be like (and how to tell Jason). I used to think mom and dad were in love, they were together since they were young, around my age mom always told me. They used to hang on to the tip of every word. They would laugh, and dance in the kitchen, and cuddle on the settee like it was second nature. I wanted that, to some extent I think I still do, but seeing it break. Seeing dad leave the house more and mom take up extra shifts on the week day dad had free.

"Here." Jason burst through my thoughts with a needle in my face, holding it to my eyes. Sami held the blue biscuit tin, all types of thread inside. I took a deep breath, "Ok. Right." Turning to Sami, he looked more frightened than I did. "We can do this." I said to both of us but mainly myself. "Like sewing that puppet thing in year eight."

"Sami's fell apart." Matthew laughed, like his health was a joke.

Everyone was positioned in the room, me with pink and white flowery washing up gloves and Sami with the normal yellow ones because Jason had no medical gloves, Matthew laying face-down on the bed, and Jason in the corner. Positioned on a dining chair and the radio on the dark oak chest of draws. He was fiddling with the radio, changing the frequency. Why, I didn't know, maybe he was searching for people. I don't think we should trust anymore people.

"Let's get started." We couldn't boil water, but we had baby wipes. They were in Sami's hand, ready for action after I peel away the clothes (if Jason's mom ever sees these I'll apologise) and detach the bandage that practically looked like a second skin. It made a squishy sound as I did, and Sami acted quickly, cleaning the wound. Already, I had the needle and thread (both wiped down with more baby wipes and sprayed with anti-bacterial that we were told killed the germs of BBZ) in hand. But fuck was the wound big. Looking in, I saw his flesh, and I knew I'd have to use what were previously nail clippers to drag the skin closer. Mom did this, though, so as her daughter I should too. Mom had years of training, and now I'm thrown into the deep end.

One poke through, then I had to move the skin until the needle would pop out the other end. Pinching the skin (and ignoring Matthew's crying), I thread the needle through, managing to poke it out with a little wriggling. Screams, ugly and loud and painful, I screwed my eyes shut and I pulled. I sighed in relief, "I can't do it again." I whispered. Seeing Matthew in so much pain, being the cause of that pain-

"Just like year eight, remember?" Matthew mumbled. "This is your thing ain't it? Being a woman and all."

Meekly, I laughed. "The sexism." I threaded it through again and pulled, faster this time.

"That's me. Sexist." Matthew groaned through gritted teeth, eyes scrunching up so tight maybe they wouldn't be able to open again.

From the corner of the room, a voice spoke through the static. "Presque là-"

Sami turned, Matthew tried to, and I kept threading. Almost done. Five more minutes. "What was that?" I asked.

"I- I- I don't know-"

"Talk to them!" Sami urged.

I heard a button press as I pulled the needle through the other side. "Hello?"

We were all on edge waiting for a reply, I could hear the needle popping through Matthew's skin it was so quiet.

"This is Agent Gauthier from the Aid To England French base do you copy?" He had the French accent, too, pronouncing 'agent' like 'age-aunt'.

"We copy, sir." We waited even longer for an answer.

"How many are you?"

"Four."

"Is anyone hurt?"

"One- but he was stabbed!" Jason quickly blurted. They wouldn't help if one of us was infected. Although Matthew wouldn't be bleeding so much for long because I was on the final few stitches.

"How old is everyone?"

"Fifteen and sixteen." They asked for our address, and we had five minutes to get ready. Everything we took was still in the car stuffed in our backpacks so while Sami tied the end to Matthew's stitches, Jason and I ran to get our bags sorted.