The Butterfly Box_A SASS Anthology Read online

  18:36: TROY? NEVER MIND. I MUST NOT MEAN THAT MUCH TO YOU. I’M GOING TO SAY YES TO HIM.

  I slammed the device down on the truck bed, and it ricocheted up and hit the side wall. The noise echoed throughout the container. Pacing back and forth, I put my hands to my head. I’d just seen her a week ago. It only took a week to get over me?

  “Troy.” Jema’s face appeared at the end of the bed. “You okay?”

  “Just dandy.” I swiped my phone off the ground. The stupid thing wasn’t even broken. I cocked my arm back to throw it again.

  “Troy, it’s hot in there. Come out.” She looked away again and back to me. “Why don’t you show the kids the flips you’re doing in there?” Her eyes were as big as saucers. Was she trying to tell me something? “Come on.” She put one hand on her hip and held the other out to me. What was she doing?

  “Troy, we only have like five minutes. Come show the kids your flips,” she said in a sing song high tone. Walking to her, I knelt in front of her. “What’s going on?”

  “It sounds like a bomb went off in here. They’re going to know something is going on. Get out here and show the kids your moves.”

  “How do you know I can do flips?”

  “We don’t have time to talk about this. You’re Troy Masterson. Everyone knows you can do awesome stunts.”

  She held her hand out again. I took it and jumped to the ground. The kids stood a few feet away from her, eyes glued on me. “Okay, guys, so Jema thinks I’m good at these tricks. I was just practicing in there, and I’m a little rusty.” I looked to her, and she nodded at me. “But if you cheer really loud, it will help.”

  The kids started chanting as they had in the woods. I took a few steps back, squatted, took a running jump, and flipped my feet over my head, landing in perfect form. The girls squealed, and I covered my ears.

  An alarm sounded, and the voice warned us we needed to be inside within two minutes. As I approached the kids, corralling them to the door, they flocked around me. More attention was not what I wanted.

  “You owe me,” I whispered to Jema as we walked inside.

  “No, you owe me.” She placed her hand on my bicep and pushed me away.

  We were asked to shower and change again once inside. These guys must have been super paranoid about germs or dirt. Between them ordering me around all the time and Bridget being flakey, I fought slamming my fist into the concrete block wall. Thinking I wouldn’t make it through the day, I stomped to the barracks after the shower.

  Jema jumped down from her bunk, smelling of soap and shampoo, with mist droplets shining off her hair. She put her hand to her hip as she had outside. What was with her new attitude?

  “I was thinking—”

  “Not now, I want to be alone.” I pushed past her and splayed out on my mattress. I expected her to pester me till she got whatever she wanted, but I heard her footsteps retreat.

  She clapped her hands together and called to the kids. “Hey guys, let’s go in the other room and find something fun to do.”

  I lay there praying Mom would leave me alone too. When no one came for a good couple of minutes, I figured I was safe. I rolled over on my stomach and plopped the pillow atop my head.

  THEY ANNOUNCED LUNCH, waking me from my nap. I wasn’t hungry, but I joined all the others at the table. I kept my head down and tried to avoid eye contact, but Mom slid in beside me.

  “That was nice of you to show the kids the flip. They would love to see more. Maybe you could help them learn some rolls on the mattresses.”

  “Yeah, Mom.”

  “Something wrong?”

  I didn’t look at her. “You want me to be happy about being here?”

  “I guess not.”

  She didn’t speak to me the rest of the meal. I pushed a corn muffin around my plate and eventually ate it. The meal seemed similar to breakfast with the cornbread, chicken, and fruit. They’d added a vegetable—carrots. I hated carrots.

  After lunch, the younger kids were led into the barrack room for naps, while the older kids, including Jack, stayed in the great room. I went over to the weight station, checking the equipment, and Jack followed.

  “Someday I’m going to be big and strong like you.”

  I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, but I forced a smile. “Yeah, little man, you will. Come here.” I had him sit on the bench and gave him the smallest weight. The set up must have been designed for anyone because there were weights ranging from one pound to ten stacked against the wall.

  Catching the sight of Jema crossing the room, I looked up at her and our eyes met. I thought she might come over, but she didn’t stray from her path. Knocking on the door, she looked up at the camera mounted near the ceiling. There was a click, and she turned the knob and slipped through the opening. I guessed she was visiting her sister and hated that I wanted her to come talk to me.

  “My arm’s getting tired,” Jack said.

  “Okay bud, switch to the other one. Next, we’ll work legs.”

  “Cool, thanks.”

  While he lifted the barbell, I started with some leg lifts. We did a round robin on the machines and took turns with barbells for a solid hour.

  There wasn’t much else to do but read books and play cards over the next few hours. Finally, at four, they announced a second outdoor opportunity. I thought about six more days of the same routine, slammed my fist into the mattress, and then followed the others outside.

  As if from nowhere, Jema materialized beside me. “So, would you mind showing the kids some more flips? I got the guards to set up some mats.”

  Turning to face her, I noticed she was biting her lip. What was with her today? “You talked to the guards?”

  She picked up a strand of her hair. She was nervous? Of course, I had kissed her. I shook my head and refocused on her answer.

  “Not talked to them exactly. Just to the camera while I was in with Nave and Mom.”

  “Whatever, sure.” I shrugged, figuring some physical activity would keep me from thinking about Bridget moving on. Of course, I’d kissed Jema. But that’d been for show, at least ninety-percent had. When we first met she seemed closed off, shy. But studying her, I’d noticed how her deep brown, near black eyes, bore into mine, almost demanding honesty. Her full pink lips sat on her face as if waiting to be kissed.

  FOR DINNER THEY served boiled potatoes with basil, chicken again, a lettuce salad with carrots and peppers, and strawberries. At the other end of the table, I noted Jema popped the strawberries into her mouth right away. I smiled, thinking I knew something about her. Dancing, yoga, biology, and strawberries. It was a start.

  “Someone seems like they’re in a better mood,” Mom said beside me. “Did the forty-one minutes outside help?”

  Well, I was in a good mood, I thought, until, you mentioned it. Really Troy, you’re going to be mean to your mom when you’re stuck in the desert?

  “Yeah, I guess.” I stuffed a bite of potato in my mouth. I had to admit it wasn’t half-bad.

  After dinner, they instructed us to proceed to the medical wing. As with the previous day, we sat isolated in small rooms until the person in the bio-suit drew our blood and then waited another hour for the results. As we exited the rooms, I scanned the hall for Jema. Finding her at the end, I heaved a sigh of relief.

  “Troy.” My mom’s arms wound around me.

  “Oh, Mom.” I squeezed her, feeling guilty she wasn’t my first thought.

  They played a movie in the great room, and I wondered if life at the camp would be similar. Surely there would be crops to grow, water, and harvest in addition to animals to feed, food to prepare, water and wastewater to handle, some way to create electricity, and a security system. I couldn’t imagine it to be a sedate life.

  Why didn’t I bolt? The prior day had been so weird it hadn’t occurred to me to go back home. But I’d gotten everyone to the destination safely. I could go back to Oregon. Would they allow me to leave? I doubted t
hey’d like me stealing a truck. But I was sure the vehicle could be wired to run without the key.

  What was I going back to? I had no clue whether the government issued martial law or riots broke out. Had they started rounding up IMs? I needed more information. I would wait till we got to the camp and could find out what was going on before I decided.

  I sat on the floor beside Mom, with my knee bouncing waiting till dark. I watched Jema. She held a girl in her lap, but Jema’s eyes weren’t fixed on the screen. They cut around the room often. When the movie ended, I made my way to the barracks, sliding on shoes and then trailing behind Jema as she laid the girl in her bed.

  “You ready?” I whispered as soon as she turned to face me.

  She nodded and pointed to our bunk. Lacing up her shoes, she followed me to the exit. This time the door was open. Outside, she fitted the headlamp on her head. Warming up, she was quiet and I fought filling the silence with some random humorous blurb. Starting to jog, Jema fell in step with me. It was nice she didn’t ask anything about my earlier behavior. After the first mile, my body loosened up, and my legs and psyche longed for an all-out sprint.

  “Go.” She pointed in front of us when I turned towards her.

  How had she known? “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I’ll catch up.”

  “Okay.” I poured all my energy into my legs and raced forward. Passing the next mile marker, I kept going until my shins locked up. Doubling over, I noticed a rise just off the road and jogged to it. At the top, I screamed into the wind.

  I stood, hands to knees, until she found me. “Run much?”

  “Dance much?” I laughed, despite myself.

  “Not lately.”

  “What are we doing here?”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t left yet.”

  “Not sure what there is to go back to. What did you want to do before you left?”

  “I don’t know. Dance and see my friends.”

  “No. I mean, like, in your life.”

  “I like biology. I thought I would be a researcher like my uncle.”

  “That’s cool. Where is he?”

  “Missing.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow.” I stood there for a moment. “I wanted to be a pilot. Not for the military. I want to fly the commercial jets, travel, see the world, and get paid to do it. You know in Europe there are buildings that are thousands of years old? I had a scholarship lined up and everything. I already have my pilot’s license.”

  “Of course you can fly.”

  “Damn right I can fly. Why do you keep saying stuff like that?”

  She put a hand on each of my shoulders and made me face her. “Okay Troy, this is reality. It’s going to be hard to hear but stay with me. You are Troy Masterson. You are a star football player and the most popular guy in school. Everyone knows you, and everyone loves you. And now I see why. Because you are worth it. Thank you for helping us get here.”

  Her dark eyes stared at me. Swallowing hard, I held her stare for a few seconds and then backed away. “Okay, six more days and then we’ll get out of here and figure out what’s going on in the real world.”

  “Yes.”

  God, I wanted to kiss her again. Why did I want that?

  THE NEXT FIVE days they let us go outside for longer periods and increased the temperature inside. On day six, they used fans to blow ambient air. Our animal protein portions were decreased, and we ate more beans, goat milk, and cheese. They started us on exercise regimens, although most of us were pretty fit. We received our belongings, save the weapons and electronics.

  Jema’s sister’s condition worsened. They tried three anti-virals on successive days and then three gene therapies. None worked, her titers rose, and she got sicker. Jema said they were assessing her and her mom for bone marrow donation.

  On the seventh day, alarms woke us from our sleep. I shot out of bed to find a bright room. Disoriented, I looked at the clock on the wall. The small hand pointed to the one.

  “We woke you early to travel to the community location. Please proceed to the medical wing.”

  Pulling a shirt and pants on, I followed the others. “Would it have killed them to let us know they were waking us at one?”

  “Seriously.” Jema rolled her eyes. “I feel like they’re torturing us on purpose. We probably need to travel in the dark, though.”

  “That’s what I’m guessing.”

  ADRENALINE COURSING THROUGH my veins, my legs bounced as I waited to exit the medical room. I hoped everyone stayed virus free. Plus, I didn’t want Jema to be a bone marrow match. She’d said she’d come to the cave camp if she couldn’t help Nave. It felt selfish, but we made a good team and I trusted her.

  When the doors clicked open, I bolted into the hall. Next to me, Mom grabbed my arm and pulled me to her. I tried to be patient, but I twitched and she released me. “Go find your friend.”

  Spinning towards the room Jema had entered, I saw the top of her head above the crowd. Weaving through the jubilant refugees, I grabbed her arm. Meaning to pick her up and swirl her around, I stopped short when I saw her face. Her eyes were wide, and there was no trace of relief in her brow.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay? You didn’t test positive, did you?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “But I’m not a match for the bone marrow donation, and neither is Mom. That was their last idea. Nave’s running out of time. They estimate she only has a few weeks.”

  I gripped her shoulders. “Look. We’ll get to the camp, find out what’s going on, and get a cure for her. Okay?” I wasn’t sure why I felt the desire to help when I just wanted to go home. Sick of people ordering me around, I longed for freedom. But I couldn’t leave her.

  She nodded as tears formed in her eyes.

  “Welcome,” the voice over the intercom started as they opened the door to the dining area. My whole body tensed at the sound of the familiar voice. Through the crowd, I could see a host of people gathered in the next room.

  A hand slid down my arm and fingers intertwined with mine. “I know you want to hit someone,” Jema said. “Now is probably not the time.”

  I squeezed her hand. “Why do you have to ruin all my fun?”

  “Come join us,” the voice called out from the dining area, and I saw the man directing us.

  Silent, our group moved slowly into the room to find a gathering of at least twenty. I guessed they must’ve been caring for us the previous week. The children huddled behind their moms as we approached. Jema tightened her grip on my hand.

  “Welcome to the Lovelock Community. My name is Lieutenant Adams. I oversee this facility. We’ll leave for the location within the hour.”

  “I wonder how you make lieutenant in this place?” I murmured under my breath.

  “Now you want to be military?”

  “Just saying.”

  The voice had a face that could’ve been any face. I’d pictured a sneer on a gnarled twisted form, but his countenance held no tension. Still, I didn’t like being dictated to. I rolled on my heels as he gave us instructions for assimilating to the community. We were to create new names and be issued new ID tags.

  “Since we didn’t find your prior tags, we’re assuming they were thrown out.”

  The adults in our group looked between each other, and Jema squeezed my hand. I was grateful I’d stripped everything from the truck and had them hidden in my bag. If we were to go back, we’d need those identifications.

  “We have to choose a new name? How are we supposed to do that?” Jema whispered to me.

  I turned my head to speak into her ear. “Cleo and Mark.” How those names had popped into my head within seconds I hadn’t a clue. I tried to think of famous power couples to keep up our cover, and those names surfaced without hesitation.

  She smiled at me. “History much?”

  We stood in line with the others to get our new identities. “Name?” the woman asked when I got to the fr
ont of the line.

  “Mark Antony.”

  “Seriously?” She held her hands over the keyboard.

  “Yeah, why not?”

  She stared at me for a second and then typed the data in. Looking at Jema and down to our locked hands, she sighed. “Let me guess, Cleopatra, like Cleopatra and Mark Antony. This should be interesting. You’re the first teens at Lovelock.”

  Playing her part, Jema wriggled up her nose. “Just Cleo,” she said in a high-pitched tone.

  “Last name?”

  Jema tugged at my hand “Last name?”

  “Philopator.”

  “No, Zhou.”

  The woman looked up. “Interesting choice.”

  “It was my mother’s maiden name.”

  “Okay.” She tapped on the keyboard.

  Using the numbers from the paper medical bands on our wrists, they matched the numbers and our names, printing them onto metal plates. The plates were hooked to bracelets.

  I spun the jewelry on my wrist, getting used to the weight. It read: 115B MARK ANTONY. I backtracked to the table. “What do the numbers and the letter mean?” I asked the guy at the end.

  “Lovelock member one-fifteen, B for bred.” He turned back to the next person in line.

  Reaching Jema, I held her wrist up, studying her bracelet. Her inscription read: 116N Cleo Zhou.

  “What’s the N?”

  She shrugged, and I traced back to the guy at the table. “What’s the N?”

  “Native.”

  Placing my hands on the table, I leaned down so we were eye level. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “There’s always a marker when someone is modified.”

  Jema’s hands pulled me back. “Come on, Troy, let it go.”

  I tapped the table as I took a step back, the urge to smack something growing again in my chest.

  The adults were sent to another line to have the ID plate punched into the top of their ear.

  “I’m not eighteen,” I said when the woman instructed us to go to the piercing station. She looked at the screen.

  “I guess not. You’re good.”

  While the others finished processing, we jogged to the barracks and assembled our bags. I packed my gun, tags, and phone into my backpack’s secret compartment so I could have them with me all the time. Back in the main room, Jema requested to see her sister and mother before we left.