Unsheltered by Clare Moleta (spiritual books to read TXT) 📕

happened to the people who tried to gather up what they owned, or stay, or fight. What happened to the sick ones. How fires had started and were left to burn. Too much useless information. Two days. Two nights. Where is she where is she where is she —

Don’t do that.

It was a man’s voice. She realised she was trying to pull the bandages off her eyes but the bandages on her hands were getting in the way. She sensed him move to touch her and reared back.

This is Rich, Safia said. He’s okay.

I was a medic. In the army.

Nobody said am anymore. Almost nobody.

Safia said, He’s the one that got you out. The relief medic gave you oxygen, she got us water to cool the burns, but Rich did the rest. Kept it all clean, measured out the doses. He’s the reason she left us medical supplies instead of handing you over to XB Force.

The man, Rich, let Safia vouch for him. Li could feel him breaking up the air close to her but he didn’t try to touch her again.

Where are we now?

Port Howell, Safia said. The industrial zone. They won’t find us here if we’re careful.

Port Howell was where the boats came in from West. Where Li and Matti had landed three months ago. Half a day’s walk from makecamp.

Rich said, They set up a holding centre.

She faced him blindly. Where?

Bout twenty clicks north of the port. Anyone who didn’t get away got taken there for processing.

The black noise receded a little. Li grabbed onto this place where Matti could be. Afraid, waiting for her to come, but fed and hydrated. Sleeping inside, with a blanket, with other children, while someone in a uniform guarded the door.

She kept her face turned towards Rich’s slow, easy voice. I need to get there before Agency does. If she gets processed without me, she’ll be an unaccompanied minor. I don’t know where they’ll send her.

Safia said, They might have already processed by now. And if you turn yourself in and she’s not there, they won’t let you out again.

Then I won’t go in the front gate.

Rich said, You never seen a holding, have you? It’s not makecamp.

She hadn’t but she knew the difference. There was no fence around makecamp, you could come and go as long as you didn’t make trouble. A holding was built to contain. She’d need to get close without being seen, need something to cut through the fence. It was so hard to think through the drugs.

We have a phone, Safia said. We could arrange for you to call someone inside, find out if she’s there before you turn up at the gate.

Why was Safia helping her? The question slipped away. She nodded. That’d be good.

So you gunna let me do this now? Rich asked. Find out if you can see before you start making plans?

Okay.

Okay. He did her eyes first. His hands smelled of alcohol. He was careful, deft, but she could feel a tension in him, something coiled. This was just a precaution, he said. You burned your eyelids and maybe your corneas, too, but we couldn’t have a proper look because of the bucket of shit we were in at the time.

He loosened the last bandage and lifted off the padding. One eye, then the other. Some kind of gel pasted into the hollows so the fabric wouldn’t stick but it still felt like removing a skin. Nothing to stop her from opening her eyes now, except the fear that nothing would change when she did. And fear was a waste of time.

When she opened them the action felt complicated, mechanical. The light broke in and then in a little while she could see. His eyelashes first, each one. Then his face near hers. Bearded. Intent on the job. Behind him, layer after layer of light, back and back, as though that skin coming off had brought everything into relief.

You right?

She squinted, nodded slowly. She didn’t remember him from makecamp but people came and went.

The swelling’ll start going down soon, he said. You’ve lost your eyebrows and your eyelashes and you’re gunna have some scarring. He held her chin lightly and turned her face to the side. You got a couple of nice blisters there too; they could still get infected. I’ll put a new dressing on. He lifted her chin to inspect her neck. This looks okay. Lucky you were wearing so many clothes.

She wasn’t wearing them now, just her singlet. The way Matti had slept in the tent on the road to Valiant, when they could keep clothes on her at all.

Safia said, We had to cut most of them off you. I’ll go and get your pants.

It crashed back in, the terror of Matti in the world without her. Without Frank. Li pulled free of Rich, sucking air. For a few seconds she couldn’t even think. Just blind, useless panic. Then she forced it back down and made herself look at where she was. An old factory. They were in an alcove at the back; she could see metal roller doors across a space broken up by floor-to-ceiling pillars and old packing boxes and what was left of conveyor belts after everything useable and portable had been salvaged. There were three other people in the alcove, apart from Rich and Safia, but she was pretty sure she’d heard more voices than that.

What is this?

This? Rich glanced around and back at her. This is our reward for waiting nicely.

Frank used to do that, she thought, offer a joke like a small present. Rich was unravelling her hands, now, inspecting. They felt tender in the air.

Wiggle your fingers, he told her. Make a fist?

It was sharply painful when the skin stretched across the back of her hands. Her fingers looked okay though. He rubbed antibiotic cream lightly onto the burns.

These’re healing up pretty good, he said. I got some gloves for you.

How do they feel? Safia was back with her pants and