The Butterfly Box_A SASS Anthology Page 8

  I found Mom at the piercing table, bandage to her ear. “I hope your father knew all of this.” She motioned around the room. “It seems extreme.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Lane Bennett. I used my mom’s maiden name.”

  “It’s good.”

  She spun my bracelet around. “Mark Antony? Seriously.”

  I nodded. “Jema is Cleo.”

  “Like Cleopatra?”

  “Yeah, the lady was pretty miffed too. She said we were the only teens in the community. This is going to suck.”

  “Troy, language.”

  “Mark, remember?”

  “Whatever. I still expect you to act civilized.”

  THEY HAD A new vehicle running on the tarmac. Most of the staff from the intake unit joined us, and the container began to fill up. Even so, I hung back, waiting for Jema.

  Jema and Lieutenant Adams approached our group. When they reached me, he cocked his head away from the truck. We followed him a few feet across the ramp. “We’re not going to have any trouble from you guys, are we? Because if so, you should go home now. I’m sure you can find your tags wherever you left them.”

  My military training kicked in. Straightening my back, I stood with my arms straight down my sides. “Sir, no sir.”

  Jema followed suit. “No, sir.”

  “Good. We can use strong bodies.”

  Thinking we were in for a lot of hard labor, I jumped into the trailer and pulled Jema up after me.

  “You good?” I asked Jema as we sat with our backs against the closed door.

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “They said I could come back and visit every other day or so.”

  “Good.” I bumped my fist to her knee.

  The night air felt nice, but being in the compartment had me disoriented. I did like sitting shoulder to shoulder with Jema. If there were only one other person my age around, I was glad she was it. Odd, how just nine days prior I hadn’t even known she existed.

  The drive to Lovelock would take just over an hour, or so we were told. We hadn’t been given watches, and I guessed we were placed in the container so we couldn’t see where we were going. The truck made a few turns at the beginning of the trip but had been on a straight course since. I noticed a downshift, and the vehicle slowed and made a turn. The truck jostled as the wheels struck what seemed to be a gravel surface. We made a wide turn, slowed, and stopped. I moved to stand, but the guy beside me put his hand to my arm.

  “Not yet.”

  The truck proceeded forward, and light pierced seams of the walls.

  “Are we in a building or underground?” I asked the guy beside me.

  “Underground. Lovelock Cave.”

  Swaying as the truck stopped and the engine died, Jema and I stood and spun to face the doors. Within a few seconds, they opened to reveal a huge cavern at least twenty feet high and wide and twice as long. Electric lights hung at regular intervals on the cave ceiling, illuminating a room holding vehicles of many types from Jeeps to tractors. Craning my neck, I could see a single engine plane at the far end.

  Jumping to the dirt below us, Jema and I helped the others out of the container. As we turned around, a new set of people greeted us.

  “Welcome.”

  He possessed the voice of our navigator, and the urge to charge him had me balling my hands into fists. I looked to Jema, but with mouth agape, she seemed frozen, eyes fixed on the man.

  “Uncle Owen?” she asked.

  “UNCLE OWEN.” I ran to him and wrapped my arms around his middle.

  He didn’t move, and I loosened my grip and stepped back, eyes to the ground.

  “Cleo, I’m Commander Butler.”

  Lifting my chin, I looked at his face. “Nice to meet you, sir.” His gaze left my face, and I stepped back. Swallowing hard, I ground my teeth together. The logical side of me knew he had to act the part. We weren’t supposed to know one another. He wasn’t Uncle Owen here, he held the title of Commander. Still, a tear escaped my eye.

  I had to cover the error. “I apologize sir. You resemble an old family friend.”

  “I get that a lot for some reason. I must look like everyone.” He chuckled and rubbed his rough chin. Stepping in front of Troy, Uncle Owen held out his hand. “Mark?”

  Troy shook it. “Yes, sir.”

  “You and Cleo have done a great service to the families you rescued from Port Orford. You are to be commended.”

  Troy stood straight as an arrow, chin up. “Thank you, sir.”

  Facing my uncle again, I lifted my eyes to meet his. “Thank you.”

  “Everyone, grab your things and follow me.” He spun and motioned to an opening leading us to what appeared to be another room of the cave. I found my duffle and fitted it over one shoulder. Helping a mom with her bags, I followed the commander and the others through the passage. I looked to the top in awe as the next room opened up before us.

  Bore marks littered the tan cave walls where the rock had been drilled away. The ceiling must’ve reached twenty feet above our heads. The space seemed to be divided into four separate areas with aisles between them. One corner held long tables and benches, another held exercise equipment and weights, another held shelves stacked with books, and the last corner was walled off with metal dividers and ceiling panels. Pipes and vents were plumbed into the room at various locations and they exited out and along the wall of the passage to the transportation area.

  Uncle Owen pointed to the different corners, naming them the dining area, conditioning station, library, and central command. Each wall of the cavern held openings leading into corridors, and he walked to the one on the left. “This is the barracks wing. You can leave your things here until we assign rooms. Families are housed together if desired.”

  “Great, just what I wanted to be… a cave person,” Troy murmured as we set our duffle bags with the others. We toured the sanitation area, which was just a fancy name for the bathrooms and laundry rooms. Moving back through the main room, we took the next passageway to our left.

  “This is the food wing.” Owen pointed into the tunnel.

  The passage opened into a cavern at least three hundred feet long and fifty feet high. Through an opening in the ceiling, perhaps half the area of the floor, I could see the brightening sky. On the floor, plants grew in rows of soil beds. Others grew from trellises formed of wood slats. Hoses looped down each row and through the supports. In the far corner, a fenced off section contained chickens and goats. The last corner was partitioned off for meal preparation.

  “Hey, look at this?” Troy grabbed my hand and pulled me to a set of wire cages. The ceiling of the compartments was mesh, and what looked like thick leaves hung from the metal. “Butterflies?”

  “Yes.” Owen pointed to the insects. “We’ve been acclimating them to warmer temperatures. Helps with pollination. We have beehives on the far wall.

  I grimaced, thinking of the bee sting I’d gotten as a kid. Scanning the area, I counted five workers. I noted a clock nailed to a log post read just after five. At least dancing had gotten me used to early mornings.

  Exiting the food wing, we continued left to the medical wing. Owen pointed out areas for various medical needs. Supplies were stored past the exam rooms and laboratories. Re-entering the main hall, I saw people gathering at the tables, loaded plates in hand.

  My uncle clapped his hands together. “Okay, let’s get you guys fed and to your quarters. After breakfast, you’ll be assigned bunks and jobs. A status update will follow dinner tonight.” He turned on his heel and walked to the central command room.

  I watched his back as he walked away. That was all I got? I hadn’t seen my uncle in two years, thought he might be dead, and he acted as if he didn’t know me. Did Dad know his brother was there? I knew the answer as the question formed. Dad knew. He’d hidden his knowledge of Owen’s whereabouts on purpose. How hadn’t I recognized Owen’s voice on the radio?

  I’d avoided Troy on the tour, trying t
o keep my emotions in check. Each time he came close, I found a way to move away from him. But as I spun towards the kitchen, he blocked my path.

  “Is that your uncle?”

  “No, that’s Commander Butler.” I swiped a tear from my cheek and brushed past him to the line for food.

  “Hey.” He grabbed my arm.

  “I don’t have any answers Tr—Mark.” I held his gaze for a second and then refocused on the people ahead of us.

  “This totally sucks. I hope we get a nap. Two hours of sleep is not enough,” Troy said as we joined the line.

  Troy’s mom’s voice came from behind. “Language, young man. If you weren’t out late with your girlfriend, you would’ve gotten more sleep.”

  Despite being upset about Owen, I snickered at Troy being reprimanded. I guessed refugee in an underground cave community still didn’t give us a pass to use bad language.

  I picked up a tray and nodded as the servers asked which foods I wanted. Settling next to Troy, I picked up my fork, wishing I were sitting in my own kitchen. What I wouldn’t give for a bowl of mom’s hot noodles. Focus, Jema, I told myself. Remember your goals: find a way to get Nave better and figure out what’s going on back home.

  “Hey, you gonna eat that?” Troy’s voice brought me out of my swirling thoughts.

  “You can have it.”

  “Sweet. I don’t think they take into account growing teens at this place.”

  Scanning the faces, I realized the people from our group looked content, their brows relaxed for the first time in nine days. Maybe the community wasn’t ideal, but it was the destination. Unless Lovelock held the key to Nave’s cure, it wasn’t my target.

  “I’m going to medical.” I stood up and swung one leg over the bench.

  Troy turned to face me. “They said they were assigning bunks.”

  “Put me by you.”

  “That’s not happening.” His mom pointed her fork at him.

  “Can I bunk beside you?” If I couldn’t be with Troy, his mom was the closest thing to family I had there.

  “That works for me.” She stuffed a bite of egg in her mouth.

  I lifted the other leg over the bench and headed towards the hospital wing. Stopping in the first staffed room, I approached the worker.

  “Hi, I’m—” I held my wrist band out “—Cleo, 116N.”

  “We know who you are.” The woman walked away, and I followed.

  “Can I talk to someone about my sister?”

  With a hand on her hip, she spun back to me. “We’re doing everything we can.”

  “What is that exactly?”

  “We’re looking for donor matches in our community. But it’s not likely.”

  “Have you tested everyone?”

  “We have a database of everyone here. It takes a while to cross-check for a match.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Go for it.” She led me to the computer and pulled up the match program. “I don’t think staring at it is going to make it go faster.” She crossed back to the lab bench.

  Scanning the screen, I clicked on various programs, trying to see if they had an integrated computer system to get some information on why we were there and what was going on back home. Every window I opened brought up an “access denied” screen. There wasn’t even a space for a user identification or password. The bone marrow match program blinked, and I navigated back to it.

  “There’s a four out of six match.” I called to the woman seeing ID number 003N’s profile come up on the screen.

  She stripped her gloves off and crossed to me. “Interesting, but it’s not enough.”

  I guessed 003N to be Uncle Owen. “I know. I was four of six too.”

  “Let the program finish.”

  I stared at the screen. “If you want to be assigned to my work detail, I could show you the ropes. Not many people want to work in here. Seems like you have an aptitude.”

  “I make high marks in science.”

  “Good enough for me. Grab a lab coat, gloves, and goggles.”

  Finding the safety equipment on the wall, I observed as she ran the various tests and recorded the findings.

  The computer dinged, and I shed the lab attire and sat in front of the screen. The highest match was the 003N.

  “I have to get in contact with my dad. He’s our best hope.”

  “Even if he is a match, how are you going to get the marrow here? Any longer than twelve hours, and it won’t be viable. Plus, bone marrow transplants are not easy. They have to destroy the patient’s own cells and immune system before transplanting the new marrow. She may not make it through that.”

  “We have to try. It’s the only option left until they find an anti-viral that works. I need to contact my dad.”

  “They’re not going to let you do that.”

  I abandoned the seat and strode to the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To find the Commander.”

  She said something else as I exited the room, but I couldn’t hear her as the door swung shut. I took quick strides down the hall and into the central room. As I neared the command center, someone caught my arm.

  “Where have you been? We got our bunk assignments.” Troy told me.

  “I was in the lab, looking at the bone marrow match data.”

  His eyebrows cocked up. “Any luck?”

  “No.”

  “What now?”

  “I’m going to see if I can contact my dad. He may be a match.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. My bunk is across the aisle from you. It’s men on one side, women on the other in the singles dorm. You’re beside my mom.”

  “Good, thanks.”

  We reached the command center door, and I tried the handle. It was locked tight, and I peeked through the small pane of glass. Seeing rows of computers manned by workers, I tapped on the window. The guy closest to me got up and came to the door and opened it a crack. “You can’t come in here.”

  “I have to see the Commander. It’s urgent.”

  “He’s busy.”

  “I said it was important.”

  “I’ll tell him you stopped by. What’s your number?”

  Troy spoke up. “Her sister is dying. Go get the Commander.”

  The man’s eyes got big as saucers. “Okay, just a minute.” He closed the door and walked away.

  “I tried to sign up for a security job—you know, to get more info—but that didn’t fly,” Troy said as we waited.

  “So, what are you doing?”

  “Farming. I can’t believe I’m going to be picking beans. How boring.”

  “Yeah, but you’re right in the center of everything. It’s a good position.”

  “I guess you’re right. They probably won’t notice if I sneak out either. What are you doing? I thought we should get different jobs so it won’t be so obvious if we bail and meet up.”

  “I’m going to help in the medical lab.”

  “Like with blood cultures?”

  “Yeah, it’s—”

  Just then, the door opened and Owen stepped out, closing the door behind him. “What can I help you with, Cleo?” He rocked on his heels and looked above my head.

  “Owen.” I grabbed his arm.

  He pulled it from my grasp. “Not here. We can talk later.”

  “Okay, but I need to talk to my dad. We need to find out if he’s a bone marrow donor match.”

  “There weren’t any matches here?”

  “No, the highest was four of six.”

  “We can’t contact him today. We’re on high alert.”

  Troy stepped towards him. “Why, what’s going on?”

  “You’ll be briefed with everyone else tonight, son.”

  Troy crossed his arms over his chest, veins bulging. I looked up into Owen’s eyes and tried the high-pitched voice I used on Dad when I wanted something. “Nave is getting weaker every day. This can’t
wait.”

  He cleared his throat. “I am aware of Nave’s condition, but we can’t have communication coming out of here today. I’m sorry. We’ll reassess tomorrow.” He spun, swiped a key card over the infrared scanner in the door, and disappeared behind it.

  “I don’t like your uncle.” Troy spun away and then back to me.

  “Me either right now.” I slouched against the wall.

  “Hey, come on, let’s get our stuff unpacked.” He pulled my hand, and I let him lead me to our dorm. “Hey, come see my sweet organization system first.” He dragged me over to his bunk.

  “Okay?” I rolled my eyes, thinking it was the same gear I’d been looking at for days.

  He scanned the room and squatted on the floor beside his bed. Reaching underneath, he pulled out a pouch and unzipped it. Our phones as well as the radio we’d used to contact my dad were inside.

  “How did you?”

  He held his finger to his lips. “I think they forgot in the confusion. I swiped them from the boxes. Let’s find somewhere private.” He slipped the transmitter into his pocket.

  Looking both ways in the hall, he pointed to the far end. “Let’s try this way.” He grabbed my hand and squeezed it, and I assumed he figured now would be a good time to use our star-crossed-lovers cover. Even though I probably shouldn’t have, I liked how his hand fit around mine and the feel of his calluses against my skin.

  Reaching the end of the hall, we found a dark room. With a lower dirt ceiling than the others, it held shelves stacked with linens.

  “Perfect,” Troy said as he flipped a light switch. We walked through the aisles. In the far corner, he knelt, examining an air intake vent. He produced a screwdriver from one pocket.

  “If we get caught, turn off the radio and ditch in in here,” Troy said once he’d loosened the bottom two screws.

  “Do you think they’re monitoring radio waves?”

  “Maybe. Keep it short.” He held the device out to me.

  “Okay.” Taking a deep breath, I turned the radio on. In case it had been compromised, I said, “Come in”.