Broken City

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

I wake up early, just after dawn to purple and grey clouds hanging oppressive and low in the sky. I turn over and look to where Jan is asleep in the far corner, her arms tucked under her pillow and her sheet and covers lying crumpled at her waist.

She looks relaxed and younger than her years, like a contented child, her hair is a shining tangle across the pillow and her dark lashes are a like fans over the smooth cheeks that are a little flushed with warm colour, she looks as though she could stay quite comfortably asleep forever—a true sleeping beauty.

How differently this has affected her to me, I have no doubt of her grief, she feels all of this just as I do but I envy her the way she handles it.

Somehow no matter how brave I try to be suddenly in a moment it is all there, the tears and the sadness, the sense of loss that never goes away and the all consuming realization that fills every second of every day with the reality of just how much I miss Dec.

Dec was always mine you see, somehow I’ve always felt as though the children belong to me a little as well as Uncle Jep and Tom even though I suppose that is a bit presumptuous of me. Talking about him hurts and yet still I have a burning desire to speak of him how ever difficult it is.

I move restlessly, jarring my bad arm a little.

I can’t bear the thought that we know where Dec is and we are doing nothing about it. I know finding Dec rests on Tom and his ability to work this all out, but I also know he will need help and help is not something that will be forthcoming now, in fact his and Uncle Jep and the children’s whole future with the tribe is uncertain, and even if they are allowed to stay it will be with something of a cloud hanging over them—the Andak taint.

I think that it is then that I realize, when I really know that the Jepsjons will leave—Tom won’t stay and put the children and Uncle Jep through that just for his pride.

Tears begin to prick my eyes and I climb stealthily from my bed, deciding that fresh air is just what I need. I make my way to the roof thinking that at least there I might be able to clear the stuffy feeling from my head, maybe then I’ll be able to think of something more useful than how trashy I’m feeling.

The whole building is silent as everyone sleeps, there will be a guard on the roof however just as there always is, I don’t know who it will be because I haven’t stirred from the Jepsjon’s apartments since the day the Andak came.

As I open the door on to the roof I feel an icy cold shiver make its way down my spine, usually there is a brisk and cold wind up here but today it is still and silent, so eerily unfamiliar that I pause for a moment one foot through the door and the rest of me still inside the stairwell.

I push off the uncomfortably nervous sensation in the pit of my stomach and step out into the freezing damp air, in the distance I see the guard on petrol. I wave to him, only a friendly gesture that comes without thought so I’m surprised when the patroller stops in his tracks and starts to make hurried progress toward me, as he moves closer I smile warmly at him and hold out my right arm, hand outstretched.

“How’s the arm Deet?” asks Ralph taking hold of my hand and bringing it in a familiar gesture through his crooked arm.

“How very tactful of you not to mention my face,” I respond in a feeble attempt at humour.

“You won’t get away with that as an answer.”

“It’s alright so long as I don’t move it, then it throbs a bit.”

“And by that you mean that it feels like it’s being torn from its socket.”

“No need to be dramatic, Ralphie,” We turn to lean against some convenient railing. “So, now what happens?”