Habitat, page 11
part #1 of The End Series
“Please follow me so we can help the lady,” said the woman official.
I wanted to say I thought she was beyond help, but I had no words. I recovered my hearing only, to have now lost my ability to speak. The official nearest Mrs. Young stood over her body staring, with an angry expression.
The female, whose nametag said Nicole, ushered us into the kitchen. My legs carried me, but I felt unsteady and numb. She asked us to wait while she looked for chairs. I looked at Ana. Thank goodness Mrs. McCoy’s screams subsided into a much quieter sob.
Ana leaned over and whispered into my ear. “Why did she do it? What did she mean when she told you to stop them?” I shrugged my shoulders, the only response I could manage.
“This is what we’ve been trying to find, Ellis. Why did she say Habitat?”
Nicole returned with two chairs. Ana straightened up and spoke no more. Mrs. McCoy sat, now silent, but tears and eyeliner still flowed. Nicole left again. Almost unintelligible, Mrs. McCoy asked, “Why’d she do that, Phil?”
Phil began to speak but stopped when Nicole brought other chairs.
“Please sit. You have had a great shock,” Nicole said. We obeyed.
A new official, another woman, appeared and walked toward us. She had not come in at first. She carried a small case with her. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Taylor. You have suffered a stressful event. I will check your physical condition.”
No one spoke at first. Phil sat up in his chair and leaned forward. “What was that out there?” He gestured to the dining room where Mrs. Young, no doubt, still lay.
“I don’t have those answers,” replied Taylor. Phil looked to Nicole for an explanation, but she was silent.
After we had our pulse, blood pressure, and eyes checked, Taylor stood and walked to the other room without a word. She returned with the male official. He was the one who stood over Mrs. Young. His name badge read, Thomas Ryder.
“Hello, my name is Inspector Thomas Ryder,” he said while pointing to his badge. “I am here to help.” His voice was so calm it frightened me; it seemed unnatural to show such little emotion. “According to your physical exams, you all are experiencing shock. We have medicine which will relieve you of stress and make you feel better.” He turned to Taylor. She opened her case and searched for something.
“You each will receive a medipen injection,” began the inspector. “This medicine will help you to relax, so you don’t put excess strain on your body. Excess anxiety can make you ill. You should not suffer because of this unfortunate situation.”
“No man, I’m not having a shot, dude,” announced Phil. “I don’t like those things.”
“I see,” said Inspector Ryder. “Follow me, and we will find a solution. Taylor, please proceed.”
“Roll up your sleeves, please. You won’t experience any discomfort except a slight warm feeling which will disappear within seconds.” Taylor leaned forward to us and whispered, “Men can be such babies about these things.”
Each of us complied before Phil and the inspector returned. I wanted to ask what happened but knew to keep quiet. Phil did not receive a shot in front of us. I wondered if he convinced the inspector or the inspector convinced him.
The official named Nicole typed our names, addresses, and H numbers into her dataport. Our H number was our Horizon number. It identified us along with our name. “Ana?” said the inspector, “Please go with Nicole and change clothes.”
Ana, without a word, stood up and looked at me. Don’t go, don’t go. Fear seized me, wondering if she might not come back. She turned to Nicole, and they walked away. I realized I was silly; I didn’t want her to stay in those clothes. Mrs. Young’s blood had covered her entirely from when she had propped Mrs. Young against herself. When Ana looked at me, I noticed she even had blood on her silver hoop earring plus all over her hands. I would have welcomed scrubbing in a hot shower.
Taylor, apparently a nurse, walked to the sink and filled four glasses of water from the tap. She placed them on the counter near her case. Inspector Ryder walked to the front of the restaurant again without a word. I heard a commotion and then the sound of the broken cup being swept. I could imagine a mounded sludge of jagged shards and blood. The sound of the ceramic pieces scraping against the tile reminded me of fingernails clawing a rough surface, and a painful shiver bored through my spine.
Ana returned wearing a hospital gown. She didn’t look embarrassed, but I wanted to show support, so when she sat beside me, I took her hand in mine. She had washed because I saw no sign of blood on her. I didn’t notice her sneakers when she came back, but I was glad the visible signs of Mrs. Young’s suicide no longer covered her. When I took her hand, she looked at me and smiled. She was tough, and for that, I was thankful.
The inspector returned, but this time, he had a chair. He placed the chair, so it faced us. As he sat, he smiled for the first time and began in a different tone, almost cheery, “I hope you are feeling calmer.” He was a different person. His manner was friendly and gentle; he wasn’t acting in the stiff official way. “I now want you to take this tablet,” he motioned to Taylor, who produced four tiny yellow pills. “This medicine works with the medipen injection to help reverse aftereffects of shock.”
While he talked, Taylor gave each of us a glass of water. Phil made no objection this time, so I assumed he understood these were not requests, but instead, direct orders. After we had our water, Taylor handed each of us a tablet. Everyone, including Ana, had taken theirs by the time I received mine. I hesitated.
“Ellis?” Inspector Ryder began, “Take yours now, please.” I did. “Thank you,” he said. “Let us begin. I want to ask you a few questions.” He paused as if we needed time to process what he said.
“You are Juan Felipe Lopez, thirty-nine, cook at the Fountain?” Phil nodded without speaking. “You are Josephine Katherine Andrews McCoy, forty-nine, a waitress at the Fountain?” Mrs. McCoy nodded, her tears no longer flowing. Inspector Ryder looked at Ana. “You are Ana Gracia Hamilton, twenty, a student at Horizon Academy, volunteer at the Archives?” Ana agreed without saying a word. I was next in line. “You are Ellis Elizabeth Bauer, twenty, a student at Horizon Academy, volunteer at the Hobby Center?” I began to say the information was correct but remembered everyone else had been quiet, so I did the same and nodded. “Perfect. The information is correct.”
Didn’t you already have these facts? This information must be on his dataport.
Inspector Ryder took a deep breath. “Today, you have witnessed something distressing.”
No kidding, you are one sharp tack, Mister.
“Mrs. Young has had a massive heart attack.”
What?
“She was a customer here at the Fountain today. She had been ill because she did not take her medicines correctly. Unfortunately, this did not have to happen. Her heart could not function properly without her medication.”
Wait a minute. Are we talking about the same Mrs. Young who is probably still lying in a puddle of blood?
“When she rose to leave the restaurant, she fell into the table. She died instantly without a word. She was fortunate not to have suffered.”
I opened my mouth to ask what in the world Inspector Ryder was talking about when he looked at Phil.
“Juan?” he asked.
He doesn’t go by the name, Juan. But he can at least tell you the real story.
“Yes?” Phil responded.
“Did you see what happened to Mrs. Young?”
“I…was in the kitchen,” he said, “but when I came out, she was sitting on the floor.”
“No,” corrected the inspector. “Mrs. Young fell to the floor after her heart attack. She was dead instantly. That was sad, wasn’t it?”
He paused, staring at nothing. “I do feel sad. Mrs. Young was nice. She liked my pies. I didn’t know she had heart problems.”
Wait, a minute…
“Josephine,” he began, “Do you recall what happened to Mrs. Young?”
Before she spoke, the seconds ticked by like hours. Tell him…go ahead…
“She…poor Mrs. Young had an attack…I can’t believe she died. I think it was her heart.” Mrs. McCoy put her own hand over her heart and shook her head. “I sure will miss her.”
“You are correct, Josephine, she had a heart attack,” he said.
What? Why are they agreeing with this? They saw her. Am I going insane?
“So, Ana,” continued the inspector, “You were kind to try helping Mrs. Young.”
At last, the truth.
“I tried to help, but I…” began Ana.
Tell them, Ana.
“I got dirty.”
What?
“You got your clothes soiled, Ana,” said the official. “When Mrs. Young fell into the table, she knocked a cup onto the floor spilling her coffee.”
This is insane. My heart raced. What was wrong with the others? They acted like…robots. I looked at Ana and then looked away. I had to act normal. I had to control my breathing.
“Coffee?” asked Ana, furrowing her brow.
“You had to change out of your clothes. You are now wearing a hospital gown because your clothes are covered in coffee.”
“Oh,” she said. “Yes, a hospital gown. I put it on because my clothes were covered in…”
Blood. In Blood! Your clothes were covered in Mrs. Young’s bl…
“…coffee,” Ana finished.
“Excellent.”
What is happening? This is crazy.
He slid his chair closer. My heart was pounding so fast I couldn’t be sure I might not have a real heart attack. Think Ellis, think. What happens when I tell him the truth? Wait, this man doesn’t want the truth; he wants the same lie he has planted in their minds. The pill and the shot—that was it. They must be drugged. It was affecting their memory recall. Mrs. Young’s words struck me, “Memories are all I have…I won’t let you take them.” Someone tried to take Mrs. Young’s memories of her husband and Mr. Hap’s memories of his wife. They have taken the memories of Phil, Mrs. McCoy, and Ana. They want my memory of this, too.
“Ellis…Ellis, can you hear me?” A switch flipped, and I felt pulled back into reality with the others. He was calling my name, but I had been in such deep thought, I zoned out. “Is she having problems?” he asked the nurse. She stepped forward and again shined a light in my eyes. I blinked several times.
“What? What did you say?” Careful. I must be careful…and convincing.
“I said, can you tell us what happened today?” He inched closer and put his hand on my hand. My skin changed into bumpy flesh.
“The drugs may be too strong for her,” said the nurse. “You should hurry in case the sedative is also too strong. She may be getting sleepy.”
I must hurry. What do I say? “It was awful. Mrs. Young…had a heart attack and died. I think she made a mistake with her medicine.” I couldn’t stop tears streaming down my face. I was positive they knew I was lying.
“Yes,” he exhaled and released my hand. I inhaled the stench of his breath as it blew against my face, and nausea wrenched my stomach. He sat back in his chair and said, “You are absolutely right.” I dropped my head, thinking I was going to be sick. Hot saliva filled my mouth. My head spun with the images of Mrs. Young and Ana, covered in her blood. Mrs. Young said ‘Habitat.’ What was Habitat? Blackness was closing in around me.
“Ellis, Ellis.” The woman was holding me by the shoulders.
“Is this a problem?” I heard a man’s voice.
I opened my eyes. Taylor was looking at me. “Shock.”
My heart was racing. My throat was tight, and breathing now came in exaggerated gasps. The woman now had a wet cloth to my face. Maybe I am in shock.
“She will recover. She was last to receive the injection; perhaps shock had already begun its course.” She bent down to me with a smile. “Relax Ellis,” she whispered, “don’t speak. Just breathe.”
Inspector Ryder stood. “Does anyone have questions?”
Something told me asking questions would get a private audience with the inspector like Phil when he refused the medipen injection. I sat staring, only at him, and tried to concentrate on slowing my breathing. My nausea seemed to pass.
“Someone will take you home now. You have experienced a stressful day. The medicine you have taken will allow you to go home and sleep well through the night. When you wake, you won’t stress over Mrs. Young’s heart attack. Mrs. Young forgot to take her heart medicine. While sitting in the restaurant, she became unwell. She stood and suffered a heart attack. She fell to the floor knocking, her coffee cup off the table. It broke after hitting the floor. Ana Hamilton tried to help her. Her clothes became covered in coffee. Ana could do nothing to save Mrs. Young. She is no longer sick and no longer in pain. You will remember exactly how this story happened.”
Yes, I will remember exactly how this story happened.
CHAPTER 12
Horizon Citizen Council
The Horizon Citizen Council (HCC) will comprise nine elected officials whose duty will be the administration and management of a specific department within the city organization. Each member, known as a Councilor, will present a departmental management report during council meetings. Members will vote on issues with the majority having the power to declare final decisions.
The nine departments are:
Education
Finance (Give and Take system)
Horizon Factory
Horizon Farm
Maintenance and Energy*
Security*
Technology*
Therapy and Health*
Work Placement and Volunteer Program*
* Atum transplants will fill these positions.
—Habitat Planning Commission
August 2031
DECEIT
FOUR OFFICIAL CARS were waiting for us outside the restaurant. People gathered on the sidewalk. Inspector Ryder led us from the kitchen through the seating area of the diner. The restaurant looked spotless and ready for customers. Mrs. Young wasn’t there, nor was any of the blood and mess. Someone had cleaned our tables. No sign of the event existed. Officials led us to separate cars, each with an escort and driver. I watched the others walk out of the restaurant as if they were catatonic. I had done the same. There were no words exchanged between us, nor did anyone in the gathered crowd speak to us. Before my car pulled away, Inspector Ryder stood at the restaurant entrance and addressed the onlookers. I imagined he was telling everyone how poor Mrs. Young died of a heart attack. No doubt, they would believe him.
As we drove through town, I tried not to show much emotion and act as the others had. I saw this town, my town, with different eyes. Instead of a picturesque hamlet, I now saw something artificial and misleading. Something dark and ugly. My stomach rolled and not because of the gruesome scene I witnessed earlier. I leaned my face closer to the window, looking at this illusion of utopia until I was touching the glass. The coolness of it brought little relief from the inevitable sickness rising within me. What they did to us wasn’t a community service to help four bystanders of a tragedy avoid post-traumatic stress. What they did to us felt sinister.
As we pulled into my driveway, I panicked. The medicine wasn’t only to help me forget the incident but make me calm. The moment I saw my Dad, I feared bursting into tears, and that wasn’t the expected way to act. I tried to think of any happy memory so I wouldn’t become hysterical with my father. I thought about my Cinderella birthday party when Dad dressed as the Prince. I thought about the first time Ana and I jumped from the high dive at the Hobby Center pool. I thought about being with Bram at the lake. Nothing worked. I was literally devoid of any happiness. As the car came to a stop, my mother, followed by my father, came from the front door. Officials, no doubt, had informed them I was coming home.
I reached for the handle and stopped. I am helpless. Remember. My mother reached the door first and opened it as she talked with the escort. I stepped one foot out of the car and threw up right at her feet.
“Oh, Ellis,” said my mother.
“I have her Greta, you speak to the official, and I’ll take her inside,” my father said. He wrapped me in his arms and led me to the house. “Shh, you’re safe, Junior, I have you,” he said. Hot tears flowed. My back was now to the escort and my mother.
My father took me to the bathroom and sat me on the edge of the tub. “Sit here and don’t speak. You have received a shock to your body, and I understand they have given medicines to calm you.”
He sounded exactly like the nurse.
“These medicines will prevent you from being able to talk much or show great emotion.” He had a warm cloth and wiped my face gently. I took massive gasps of air, but I couldn’t get enough. I struggled to control the rush of emotion. The bathroom spun out of control. My father shushed me as he pulled me close to him in an embrace.
“You must be calm. Look at me. You…must…be…calm. It is expected. Nod, if you understand,” he said. I nodded. “It can be explained why you’re crying. Tears are a reflex of severe nausea. If we are visited by officials, I’ll tell them this.” He gave me a glass of water. “Rinse.” I did. He spoke rapidly. “After we are finished, your mother will need to come in and help you change into your nightclothes. You will be sleepy, and she won’t be expecting you to talk nor manage to undress by yourself. Open your mouth. I want you to swallow this medicine. Hurry. This will calm you, and it will help you to act as they will be expecting.”
From his pocket, he produced an incredibly small tablet and held it to my lips. I panicked thinking back to the nurse in the Fountain. My father sensed my thoughts immediately.
