Internment(53)

I put my hand on Jake’s arm. His muscles go taut. “Be careful, Jake.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m the one with the gun, remember?”

“And what am I supposed to do?”

“Look, there’s the Red Cross visit tomorrow. The Director is tense. He wants to put on a good show. He can’t afford to look like he’s not in control. Command will be breathing down his neck with the information breach in here. So you’ll be okay for now. And after that, well… I’ll figure something out.” Jake grins, but it’s a wan smile; there’s no heart behind it.

I don’t believe his words, and I’m guessing he doesn’t believe them, either.





I stand in front of the door to my trailer and press the ice pack against my cheek.

I squeeze my eyes shut. My mind, turning and turning. My center cannot hold anymore. Any minute, gravity will triple and crush me like an empty soda can. When I open my eyes, I want to be on the beach. I want to walk into the ocean until I’m neck-deep in the Pacific, its waves lapping at my shoulders. I want to breathe in the salt air and let the water wash the dust off my body and rinse the fear from my soul. I want to feel the sting of the sea in my eyes and be buoyed by the waves and carried across time to another life. Can that be possible? Can I slash the fabric of space-time and disappear from Mobius? I open my eyes. Apparently, wishing things into existence only works in fantasy. And reality is everywhere around me.

My cheek stings. There is no way I can hide this from my parents. They might not hear about my Instagram fame, not immediately, because even when information does get in from the outside, it takes time; but they’ll find out. How do I tell them I risked their lives to kiss my boyfriend? How do I tell them I wrote the post that is probably going viral? This place is already a prison, but when my parents learn what I’ve done, they won’t let me leave the claustrophobic confines of this trailer.

I walk in resolved not to tell them the truth, knowing that for right now, for today, my lying might be best for all of us. As the door clicks shut behind me, an alarm blares across the camp and makes me jump back. Then an announcement echoes through the valley: “Return to your Mercury Homes immediately. Await instructions via your media units.” I look out the window and see people rushing back to their trailers. My parents enter ours, out of breath. I look at my mom’s disheveled hair and the rattled look in my dad’s eyes. Things are going to get worse for my parents because of me.

“We rushed back from the Hub,” my dad says, walking to the kitchen sink, where he fills a glass of water for my mom and then one for himself. They both lean against the tiny kitchen counter and take deep gulps. Then they look at my red, swollen cheek.

“My God,” my mother says as she crosses to me and gently pulls the ice pack from my cheek to take a look. “What happened, beta? Did someone hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine. I tripped on the stairs coming back to get my book and smashed my face against the door. I’m such a—”

The media unit flicks on, and the Director’s angry face fills the screen. “Our community has been betrayed. Someone has leaked lies about life here at Mobius, and these deceptions are agitating people on the outside. We will find the culprit; make no mistake. Until then, the entire community will be held accountable.”

My jaw clenches. Rage burns inside me. The Director means to scare people into submission. And it will work because, more and more, he wears his hatred on his face, losing the pretense of civility. Good. I’m glad. The mask is gone, and the gloves are off, and I’m going to use my anger to steel my resolve.

The Director continues: “It is up to you, fellow citizens of Mobius, to out this hateful fearmonger who has so willfully disrupted the order in our peaceful community. Keep your eyes open for anything suspicious. If you see something, say something. Your minders are available day and night. Those who cooperate will find the rewards worth their while. As I announced last week, we will be hosting our friends from the Red Cross tomorrow. We will show them the pride we take in the community we’ve built here at Mobius. We will show them our gardens and recreation areas and clinic and early-childhood classes. We will show them the many benefits of our idyllic camp. They will dine with us in the Mess. And we will all abide the regulations.” The Director pauses to smile into the camera. It’s not a smile, really. It’s more of a snarl. A dare. “Never forget. Unity. Security. Prosperity.” I swear, I can see flames in his eyes.

The media unit goes black.

My parents’ faces are ashen.

“Who would do something like that?” my mom wonders out loud. “And how? It’s completely foolish. They’re putting everyone in danger.” She rests her head on my dad’s shoulder.

“Maybe we don’t know the whole story,” I say.

My mom raises her head and stares at me, like she’s studying my face for the first time. I’m waiting for her to tell me there’s no excuse for putting the whole camp at risk. That we should all try to get along in here as well as we can, follow the rules. Since our first moment here, my parents have been painfully cognizant of the camera in the common room of our Mercury Home that captures every second of our lives. There is never a moment of ease, no relaxing. And that gnaws at you.

“You’re right, beta.”