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

back against the wood, ran his hands over her, knelt in front of her. She pulled him up by his hair, pulled him inside her.

Stay, he said. You can be here. You can live here.

The stillness felt like falling. Nothing had prepared her for it.

In the dark, Camila said, You never wanted a kid?

The others listening or asleep. Rain on the roof, coming in through the vents. Li ached. Her head, stomach, muscles, each ligament. Worse at night.

She said, We fought about it. Why you’d do it. Especially after the ballot started.

Everyone wonders why they’d do it, Camila said. They still do it. Otherwise, why do anything?

That’s what he said. Li felt Cami’s hand against her hand under the blanket and her fingers closed briefly around it. Camila, who had the baby anyway.

Li said, He was so goddamn hopeful about everything.

Salia lay on her back and rocked her head from side to side. She said, Refuse shift starts at 7. Area A van departs 6.45, B van 6.30. Scheduled rest breaks, 11 to 11.15 and 3 to 3.15. Sunset 5.45. Shift finishes at 6, all vans depart by 6.15. Dinner shift 6.30 don’t be late or miss out.

Tammy said, Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up.

It was quiet in the container for a moment. Just breathing, coughing, cots squeaking.

Salia said, Don’t be late or miss out. Day seven is rest day. Day twenty-eight is Medical.

Li queued for two hours on her crutches and then went into the container and the door was shut behind her from the outside and the medic looked up from a screen and it was him.

Wild woman, he said. I been waiting for you to show up.

Li said, Where’s the other medic?

Tropical island. Don’t worry, I’m fully qualified.

Li stayed where she was with her back to the door. She didn’t want to see him or talk to him, but medical wasn’t a choice.

You remember me, right? Rich, from Port Howell?

She nodded. You looked after me. She heard how flat it sounded but she couldn’t make it mean more than it did. And she hoped he would leave it there, not bring up other things.

I done a bloody good job, too, and then you tried to break my ribs. He looked tired, and hemmed in by his surgical mask, by the clutter of equipment, the strip lighting. The other medic had always looked tired and sick. Too many patients, too much exposure. Right, he said. You better give me your number.

She went over and held out her wrist, leaning onto the other crutch. Her attention was briefly caught by the bright screen – the novelty of a working computer. He typed her status number in and sat waiting on the timer.

She said, They give you Source access? She didn’t care, it was just strange.

Nah, this is all internal. Look. He opened a new window and typed in explosives/prison break. Got a pop-up requiring an administrator password. He closed the window, kept waiting. They give me access to three pre-approved medical sites. Otherwise this is basically a filing cabinet. Her record opened and he saw the date at the top. Whistled. Thought I was hard done by. You been in here two months already?

It felt longer but she couldn’t think of a reason why they’d lie.

Rich was scanning her record. So, we need to see if your BLL’s come down. And I’ll have a look at that ankle. What happened there?

Steel-cap boot.

His eyebrows went up. Still pissing people off, yeah?

She sat on the examination table while he took blood. He told her he had a backlog of tests but he should have the results in a week or so.

Press down on that, he said. You get headaches? Or cramps, muscle ache, anything like that?

Li said, So this is your job now.

Yeah. Living the dream. How you going with the crutches? Any shoulder pain, wrist pain?

It’s okay.

He lifted her leg onto the table. What about this, how’s the pain now?

It’s okay.

Okay, he said. Well, I’m taking this off, it fucking stinks.

He was quiet while he sawed off the cast. She was used to the smell, but the rotting ditch stench when it cracked open seemed like a separate thing, coming down on both of them from somewhere else. Rich coughed forcefully, then looked up and grinned, sharing his disgust. And Li surprised herself with a half-laugh of apology. The skin on her foot and ankle was deteriorating, like something that had been forced to live underwater. He cleaned it with alcohol wipes, examined it, and then rubbed in a cream and dusted it with antifungal powder. Then he got her to stand on the other foot and place the damaged one lightly on the ground. Her foot angled inwards beyond her control.

It’d heal better if you kept it elevated more.

It doesn’t matter, Li said. It’s good enough.

He went over and unlocked the supply cupboard, pulled stuff out. Came back with a rigid walking boot and a long sock. He knelt down in front of her. You can take this off to wash and dry your skin. Wash the sock too, I’ll get you a spare. Keep it on the rest of the time, you can loosen the straps when you’re lying down, but. And don’t put weight on it yet.

The other medic hadn’t offered this. Li wondered how many points it would set her back but it didn’t seem worth arguing about.

Kneeling there, fitting the straps, he said, You didn’t find your kid?

She didn’t answer.

He said, I am sorry about that. True.

Li had a flash of his eyelashes up close, back in the factory, when he took off the bandages. Then Safia’s voice in the dark and that seething mess of panic busting open in her chest. That was far enough.

Hey Li, he said when she was at the door.

She paused, reluctant.

I’m glad you didn’t get yourself killed yet.

Outside it was starting to rain, heavy and straight. She