Eternal Youth (17 page)

Callie’s thoughts drifted over the events of the day as they lay there in companionable silence. She remembered the people from the meeting; their placid smiles, their stoic faces as the ship burned… “I have a feeling we should keep this to ourselves. That we’re going to find a way out.”

“Why?”

“This place is beautiful and all, but it still gives me the creeps. We don’t know who we can trust. Those six people in charge feel
weird
. A little
too
pleasant. And I don’t know about you, but I think they should have tried harder to stop those people from leaving.”

Nailah shrugged, the motion almost unnoticeable under her blanket. “They wouldn’t have listened. When people get something stuck in their minds, it often can’t be changed.”

“Not always,” Callie mused. “That baby could be dead right now if I hadn’t convinced that woman to get off the boat.”

“You did good.” Nailah smiled.

Callie met Nailah’s eyes. “Those people survived a plane crash only to be killed anyway. It seems senseless.”

“It was senseless,” Nailah said. “Many things in this world are senseless.”

They became silent after that, both lost in their own thoughts. Callie was eternally thankful for Nailah’s presence as they drifted off to sleep, the oil lamp still alight.

I
t was disorienting to Callie to wake up in a room that looked exactly as it did when she fell asleep.
There is something to be said for windows. And sunshine.

Nailah was already awake. She sat up in her bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, as Callie stretched. Every bone in her body seemed to pop; she ached all over.

“Do you ache as much as I do?” Callie mumbled, carefully rotating her ankle beneath the blanket. When the movement didn’t hurt
at all
, it startled her. Other than the bone-deep, dull ache of being a crash victim, nothing else on her hurt—including her injured ankle.

“Just a little, yes,” Nailah answered. She pulled her hands away from her face and stared down at her palms, her brow furrowed. “Wow. That was quick.”

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Nailah held her palms out in the space between their beds so that Callie could see. The soft brown inside of her hands was completely healed. Callie’s eyes widened. “Where are all the scratches?”

“I don’t know.” Nailah shook her head. She drew her hands back to her body and stared at them. “They were on fire last night before I fell asleep.”

“Maybe there was some kind of antibiotic in that water Stacey had you clean in,” Callie suggested. She pushed back the covers and shivered. “Jeez, it’s freezing in here.”

There was a knock at the door and both girls turned their heads, calling for whoever it was to enter.

Lisbeth’s head poked in. Her red hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she had a small pair of silver-framed glasses on. “Good morning! I trust you slept well?”

Callie and Nailah exchanged a glance.
She sure does talk funny
, Callie thought.
And she’s entirely too perky in the morning.
Callie nodded. “Yes, thank you. Great.”

“Wonderful. We’ll be ready to serve you breakfast in an hour or so. However, if you’ll first follow me, I will take you to the clothier to pick out some outfits to get you started. You’ll have a busy couple of days as we get you settled here in Aionia.”

“Can we pit stop at the bathroom?” Callie asked as she stood and stretched her hands to the ceiling. Her back popped loudly.

Lisbeth opened the door wider and wrinkled her nose. “Pit stop?”

Callie looked at her askance. “Yeah. You know, stop by the bathroom real fast.”

“Ah,” Lisbeth murmured, though her face showed no hint of recognition. “Of course. I’ll be waiting in the hall with your mother and grandmother. Do join us when you are ready.”

“How did she not understand ‘pit stop’?” Callie asked after Lisbeth had shut the door behind her. She shoved her feet into her flip-flops and wished she had a sweater to pull on over her dirty tank top.

“Colloquialisms sometimes don’t transfer to other countries,” Nailah offered as she kicked off her covers. “Maybe she’s not from the States?”

“She does talk weird. Maybe she’s Swedish.”

Nailah laughed as she pulled on her flat, Grecian-styled sandals. “Why in the world would you think Swedish? She has bright red hair!”

“When we were in Sweden a couple months back, I was blown away because they all spoke English and kinda sounded American.”

“I’ve only ever been to the States,” Nailah said softly. The dancing flame of the oil lamp made her face look regal—almost royal. Callie was struck by her friend’s beauty. “I guess now I may never have a chance to see the world.”

Callie didn’t know what to say; she felt like anything she said would fall short.

After Callie and Nailah joined the others, Lisbeth led them down the long central hallway and out the front door. Callie winced as the sun hit her dark green eyes. She threw a hand up to shade them from the burn. The pale yellow of the sun seemed clearer than it ever had in California.

“It seems even brighter than normal after being locked in that tomb,” Callie said.

Nailah’s pupils were pinpoints in her dark brown eyes. She squinted into the sunshine, perusing the cloudless blue sky, and nodded. “Agreed.”

“Did you girls sleep alright?” Gran asked, leaning on Emma’s arm as they trailed behind Lisbeth’s fast pace.

“Yes, we did,” Callie answered. She realized with relief that she could walk just fine on her ankle. There was no pain.

The courtyard, which had been empty the day before when the survivors had arrived, was filled with people. Booths lined all four sides, and the Cruisers were no longer parked along the tall wall. Each booth had a bright red or yellow awning and displayed everything from handcrafted blankets to baskets of spices and herbs. As their group passed, the people running the booths greeted them with smiles or murmured
Hellos
. Callie touched the hand-sculpted pottery and eyed some of the strangest fruits she’d ever seen.

Lisbeth led them away from the courtyard and deeper into the city. The narrow road they walked was awake for the day. Shop owners had opened their doors to the breezy morning and swept their thresholds in preparation for customers. Lisbeth kept up a running commentary on the businesses they passed.

The small redhead stopped in front of a nondescript storefront. The name
Samantha’s
was etched above the open doorway. Lisbeth walked inside, holding back the dangling bead curtain as Callie and her family passed into the cool interior.

It was a neat little store—just four basic stone walls covered with racks of clothes. A few extra racks speckled the center of the room and woven area rugs decorated the dusty floors. There were tall globe lights with flickering flames that made the room much brighter than Callie and Nailah’s dorm. A tall, waif-like woman stood behind a crude wooden counter. She waved as they walked in, framed by the purple of a tapestry that covered an archway in the back wall.

“Samantha is a gem,” Lisbeth said with a bright smile. She stretched her arms out to encompass the store. “Everything in here she has created herself. Her stitching is just beautiful. The parliament pays her to outfit any new survivors, so don’t worry about the price on anything you pick. She’ll get you all set up.”

Callie and Nailah exchanged glances.
Homemade clothes?

“I guess we’re not in Kansas anymore.” Callie laughed at an attempt to lighten the situation. If she didn’t, she’d go crazy.

“Excuse me?” Lisbeth cocked her head and eyed Callie, clearly puzzled.

“Never mind,” Callie mumbled and rolled her eyes.
Another language barrier issue. This place keeps getting better and better.

Lisbeth smiled—another placid, vacant smile that gave Callie the creeps. “I’ll wait outside while you ladies find something proper to wear.” With that, she turned on her heel and swished through the beaded curtain.

“Yes, let’s find something proper,” Nailah mocked, dramatically flicking her braids over her shoulder in a fair imitation of the girl.

Callie snorted. “What is it with this place?”

“Girls, be nice,” Emma warned. “It’s a different culture. You should know better, Callie.”

“Sorry, Mom.” She laced her arm through Nailah’s, and they began to browse.

After a few moments, Callie broke away from Nailah and fingered the array of silks, satins, and cottons in amazement. The clothing was gorgeous. She couldn’t believe one woman made them by hand. Callie ran a hand over a printed chiffon dress with a long, flowing skirt; it looked like something from Macy’s, only better quality.

Nailah pulled a long red dress from a rack and held it up to her body. The tube top was perfectly formed of shaped cotton instead of spandex; a small length of gold rope was entwined about the waist. She held the dress tight to her front and twirled around. “Beautiful. It’s like something from one of my runway shows. Marc Jacobs, Vera Wang…”

“Welcome, girls,” a strong voice with an indeterminable accent startled Callie and Nailah from their browsing. The woman from behind the counter had wandered over to them. She was tall with long, curly black hair, porcelain skin, and deep blue eyes. “Great choices. You girls obviously have an eye for fashion.”

“Are you Samantha?” Callie asked.

“Yes, I am.” The woman offered a hand, and Callie and Nailah both shook it. Her handshake was firm, her palm soft and dry.

“You really made all this stuff by hand?” Callie gestured around the room at the store full of clothes.

Samantha beamed. “I did. I’ve always loved to sew; ever since I learned as a little girl. In my old life, I was a seamstress.”

“Your ‘old life’?” Nailah raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve been here so long that I’ve come to think of the time before I arrived here as my old life.” There was just a hint of sadness in the woman’s eyes, but it disappeared as fast as it had come. “Aionia is my new life.”

“You’ve just given up that you’ll ever get home? Do you even
like
it here?” Callie asked, curious as to how someone had transitioned into Aionia. She wondered if it could happen to her…
If
they never found a way home.

“I’ve accepted this life, and of course I love it here!” Samantha patted Callie’s shoulder. “You will come to love Aionia as well. Just give it time. Now, you girls better get back to shopping. Be sure to pick some things that are a little more casual. You’ll find the pants and shirts on the wall. Grab a sweater, too. It gets chilly at night.”

Callie waited until Samantha had wandered off, her sandaled feet light on the floor, and then turned back to the clothes. She chose carefully: several loose, cotton pants with drawstring ties, vividly colored blouses and cotton shirts. All items she would be comfortable in; there was no telling how long they would be stuck in Aionia before they managed to find a way home.

One of the bell-sleeved shirts Callie picked up was the same pale blue as the blond boy’s eyes. She added the shirt to her pile and wondered if she would see him at breakfast. She was dying to know his name. A cable-knit sweater caught her eye, and it reminded her of her time in Ireland. Pressing the sweater to her cheek, Callie thought,
That feels like a lifetime ago.

Callie’s mom and Gran were already at the counter, chatting with Samantha as the woman bagged their clothes for them in canvas bags. Callie grabbed a couple of nightgowns, as well as several pairs of the soft, bland underwear sitting on a table in the back.

She drew up to Nailah as they joined the other ladies. “I’ll be glad to have clean clothes,” Nailah said with a sigh. “I probably smell
horrible
.”

Callie leaned over and sniffed dramatically, then made a face. “
Oh, God
, it’s terrible!”

“Ha, ha.” Nailah shoved Callie gently on the shoulder, and then gasped. “Oh, Callie, I’m so sorry! I
completely
forgot. Is your ankle okay?”

“Actually, it doesn’t hurt. Like,
at all
,” Callie told her with a shrug. “I guess I didn’t hurt it as bad as I thought.”

Callie’s mom overheard the exchange. She stepped backwards—as Gran continued talking to Samantha—and tugged at her daughter’s sleeve. “What do you mean ‘it doesn’t hurt at all’? Baby, you couldn’t even walk on it yesterday.”

Callie shrugged. She lifted her foot and rotated her ankle. “It’s fine.”

“It’s probably just the sea air, Emma. Don’t worry your pretty head about it, just be thankful!” Gran said.

“What’s wrong, Mom?” Callie asked, recognizing the confusion in her mother’s blue eyes.

Emma stared at Callie a moment before she lifted a hand and brushed her ash blonde hair away from her face.

The gash on her forehead was nothing but a soft, pink scar.

“How…?” Callie murmured. She touched the scar, watching for her mom’s reaction, but she didn’t even flinch. Glancing at Nailah, Callie said, “Your hands…”

Nailah showed her palms to Gran and Emma, who exchanged startled glances.

Samantha was strangely silent.