Radiation Point

Thirty Two

I stood for a long time with my hand hovering over the nurses station door. How could I announce to everyone that I had been wrong? Especially after I'd been so harsh about not joining?
The door swinging open to reveal Bubba's scowling face cut my nervous thoughts short. My mouth fell open in surprise. I stared at him dumbly.
"You gonna move or just stare at me?"
I moved to the side, as Bubba barreled through with Jackson trailing behind him. Neither one of them looked very happy.
Peering into the office, Ellen leaned against the wall and Tyler sat at the desk. Miracle was still strapped down; dead. I shuttered at the sight of her. Pulling my attention off her, I focused on Tyler, who was looking at me questioningly.
"Do you have a minute?" I asked shakily.
"Sure," Tyler said then glanced at Ellen, "Do you mind stepping outside?"
Ellen nodded, but I put up my hand to stop her.
"No, it's fine if she stays."
I cleared my throat. I never thought it would be so hard to talk to Tyler. It had never been like that before the bomb; before everything changed.
"Okay, close the door then," Tyler said with a nod.
Closing the door, I turned back to them with nervous eyes.
"I just wanted to say that I'll join," I said, the words coming out in a slur, the way they did when I was nervous. "If you still want me to, that is."
Tyler didn't answer. He stared at me with an unreadable expression on his face, his mouth set into a thin line.
It was Ellen who spoke up.
"Of course, we still want you," Ellen said, grinning widely.
Her words sent a shock through me. Wasn't she still angry at me? Hadn't I hurt her?
As if reading my mind, she shrugged.
"You're a good kid. I can't stay mad at you," she said. She pulled me into a hug, smoothing my hair back the way I did Mia's. Then she noticed Tyler's face and stopped. "Tyler? We do still want her, don't we?" she prompted.
Tyler frowned, never taking his eyes off me. He seemed to be searching for something. Maybe trying to see the girl I used to be, just like I tried to see him as he used to be. Finally, he sighed and spoke up.
"Well, we're not really in the position to be turning people away who want to join."
Feeling relieved, I smiled, but his hard look cut me short.
"But that doesn't mean that you just get free reign. Like everyone else here, you need to be able to take orders. No more arguing every little thing I tell you to do."
My face flushed at his words.
"And that also means that we're going to have to be completely honest with each other."
That surprised me. It wasn't that I was planning on lying to him, but I didn't expect honesty to be the go to trait to initiate people into the renegades. But Tyler stared at me expectantly, as if my answer would make or break my joining.
"Yeah, of course. What would I have to lie about?"
"Just needed to be clear. We take care of our own once you join and if you don't-if we find that you've been lying in a way that's harmful to us-we'll put you down. Simple as that." His eyes were grim as he said this, his face somber.
"Tyler, you'll scare her off!" Ellen said, jumping in. She looked from me to Tyler with wide, concerned eyes. "I don't think we have to worry about that with her."
"I'd like to think we don't either, but I do need information from her," he said to Ellen with a shrug. Then he shot his deadly serious glance back to me. "Now, Nessa, I need you to go over exactly what happened at your last camp. And don't leave anything out."
I swallowed, my mouth like cotton. Tyler watched me with expectant eyes. And their in the office, I unburdened myself. I told them of the scream that started it all, the massacre, our escape, and finally my mom's death.
The room was silent when I finished. Ellen held her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. Tyler looked at me critically as if assessing the truth of what I was saying. He looked older, more grim. As if the horrors I described were things people weren't supposed to hear about-or experience-until they were very old, if at all.
I started to tell them about my arm. How I had jumped in front of my mom and been bit, leaving an angry, red wound on my arm. I could feel myself shaking as I formed the words; shaking like a leaf. Could I really tell them? Would they kill me like Miracle?
My eyes shifted to her tiny body, still strapped in next to the wall. She looked so innocent, as if she were only sleeping. Dark hair, long lashes, beautiful olive skin, and doll like face-marred only by the place the bullet tore through her; killing her. She was the only child contaminated I'd ever had to kill and the sight of her haunted me.
Warm arms pulled me close, wrapping me in a tight hug. Ellen smelled of my mom's perfume. I began to understand why Mia had instantly latched on to the woman. In her arms, I began to feel safe; my shaking finally slowing.
"That's enough. She can't take anymore," Ellen said, looking at Tyler with pleading eyes. But even as Ellen tried to protect me, thoughts of Tyler's warning about leaving anything out flooded my mind. Either he would kill me for being bit or for not telling him about it.
"There's more," I said, my voice breaking. Warm tears fell down my cheeks at the memories that were brought to the surface, but I had to get it all out. I had to tell them about my wound.
Ellen's head snapped in Tyler's direct, begging with her eyes.
"Is it involving the camp?" Tyler asked, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.
"No, after," I said, in a small voice, part of me despising myself for being so weak, the other part glad not to be the only one holding these memories now. They were now images that Ellen and Tyler could deal with; help me sift through them and make sense of it all.
"Then it can wait. There are some things we need to go over with you," Tyler said, pulling out a map from one of the drawers. "When you've had a chance to calm down."
I wiped my tears with the back of my hands and squared my shoulders. The time for crying was over. I willed myself to be strong. Maybe one day, when we were out of the contaminated zone, I could truly mourn, but as I looked into Tyler's grim face, I knew that time wasn't now. Not yet.
"I'm calm," I said, my voice still hoarse. Ellen didn't remove her arm from my shoulders, her warmth a relief. My shaking slowly ceased and I tried to give Tyler my best all business look.
"All right," he said with a nod. Unfolding the map in front of him, he motioned me closer to the desk.
"Come here and take a look at this."
It was a map of the United States, sharpie circling and marking it up. The biggest red circle went through part of Ohio, splicing Michigan in half and reaching across to Iowa. Smaller circles riddled the map, mostly concentrated in larger cities.
"This is the contaminated zone," Tyler said, tracing the larger circle with his finger. "These other cities are in ruins, riddled with bombs."
My mouth fell open as the horror of his words set in. The contaminated zone stretched across the country? It wasn't just Chicago that was bombed? I felt numb at the vastness of the situation.
"How did you get this?" I asked gesturing to the map. "How do you know all of this?"
"My dad."
He was suddenly somber as he examined the map.
Feeling guilty, I realized I never once asked about his family and how they survived the bombing. Tyler's dad had been the chief of police in our town. His mom was a nurse at a local hospital. His younger sisters, who were eight and twelve, came into mind with their smiling faces and big, brown eyes. Had they survived? Had anyone in Tyler's family survived?
Tyler cleared his throat.
"We got as much information as we could about what was happening with police scanners and cell phones before the grids went down. My dad and the other policemen rounded up as much information as they could before realizing something was very wrong."
"Wait, are you saying the police started the renegades?"
The thought had never occurred to me. I'd always thought of them as the criminals, the bandits, the extremists. The notion only furthered by my own experience in the previous camp.
Tyler raised an eyebrow, looking at me as if the answer were obvious.
"What do you think happened to all the police after the bombings?"
"I hadn't really thought about it," I admitted, my face flushing. "I guess I just thought they were guards. Or they were killed off."
Tyler leaned across the desk, his face lit with the knowledge of his cause. By the look on Tyler's face, I could tell what he was going to tell me was big. It was what had changed him.
"That's the strange thing, Nessa. The guards aren't police officers or volunteers. They're soldiers. Soldiers who were here before the first bomb dropped."
I blinked in confusion.
"But I thought the bomb was dropped by--"
"Terrorists," Tyler finished for me. "But if that were the case, why were the soldiers already here? Why were the refugee camps already set up for cities that hadn't been bombed yet?"