Skylight (Arcadium, #2) (20 page)

But when I lift
the map to reveal the last page, I see something completely
different. It’s a drawing of a duck, filling half an A4 sheet. He’s
used a pencil to graduate between whites and blacks and greys, and
it’s almost photo realistic. The kind of amazing that you can’t
possibly move your eyes from. The kind of amazing that deserves
attention. Demands it. Pulls all the feelings from your fibres and
twists them into something else. Something altogether peaceful.

“Morning,
beautiful.” Kean kisses the back of my head.

I hold up the
duck drawing.

“Oh, snap,”
Kean says, taking it from my fingers. He slides into the seat next
to me. “This is amazing.”

“I know,
right?”

“Okay, I swear
he was drawing a map last night. I would not make fun of this.”

I push the map
across the desk. Kean takes one look.

“Wow,” he says.
“Guy’s into details. I mean, who are these people? Trouble is like
a resourceful ninja. Jacob’s some kind of artistic warrior. I feel
so inferior.”

I nod as we go
silent. We stare down at the papers for a while.

“How do you
think Henry is?” I ask.

Kean’s smile is
full of bittersweet pain. “Henry’s strong. I bet he’s sun tanning
on the porch in his underwear, eating a year’s supply of rations in
a few days. Generally having a ball.” Kean grins wide, trying to
push the sadness away. “I’ll wake Sleeping Beauty so we can get
breakfast.”

Kean sneaks up
to Trouble, who is peacefully deep in sleep. Kean tries really hard
not to smile as he tiptoes around Trouble’s camp bed, working out
the best way to scare him awake. But Trouble bolts up right
suddenly and yells, “Hah, hah!” in Kean’s face. Kean yelps, jumping
and falling on his backside.

Trouble claps
his hands, his face covered in a great big smile.

Kean clutches
his chest, trying to catch his breath. “Trouble!” he yells, but he
can’t help but laugh. “I was supposed to surprise you!”

Trouble
chuckles all the way to the food court.

“Any idea where
Jacob is?” Kean asks.

“Not a clue,” I
say.

We join a short
line at the breakfast buffet. We all get different cereals and add
that pretend milk that lasts forever, and we sit at our own table,
munching away. Loads of people smile at us, but they keep a
measured distance, either because they’re scared of us or they’re
trying to give us a polite amount of space. I can’t tell.

Jessie takes a
seat at our table. “Hey, guys.” She slaps down a manila folder, and
is more careful with her coffee. “As turns out I’m on admissions
duty again.” She glances between the three of us. “Alright, where
is he?”

Kean shrugs and
crunches his cereal loudly.

“Showers?” I
guess.

Jessie groans
and sits back in her chair. She folds her arms. “You all settling
in fine?”

I nod.

“Good. Given
any thought to what kind of work you want to do?”

“I left the
list back in the room,” I say.

“It’s okay.”
Jessie opens the folder. “Anyone like gardening?” She glances
up.

We shake our
heads. Trouble looks at me and Kean and then shakes his head too.
That makes me smile.

“Agriculture is
out. Anyone for security, then? You get weapons and a cool
uniform.”

“No,” I say
instantly.

“That’s fine.
Anyone like driving? Train driving?”

Kean’s head
snaps up. “You can do that?”

“Yeah,” Jessie
says, as if it’s the most normal apocalypse job to have.

“I want that,”
Kean says, sitting up straight. “Definitely. I mean, I’ve never
done it before…”

“Don’t worry,
they’ll train you.” Jessie winks then turns her attention to
Trouble. “What about you, hey?”

Trouble raises
one eyebrow. He smiles and nods.

Jessie watches
him. “No English at all?”

“Not really.
He’s got some basic words but…”

“He’s more of
the strong silent type,” Kean finishes for me.

“Can he work
with one of us? It’s just easier that way,” Kean says.

“Sure, we’ll
make you guys a train driving team if you want.” Jessie jots down
some notes. “And Florence?”

“Uh…” But I
don’t get a chance to answer. Someone slaps me on the shoulder.

“She should be
a nurse, our Florence. She’s a helper.” Jacob noisily drags another
chair over and straddles it backwards like he’s in a boy band photo
shoot.

“Oh, nice of
you to join us,” I say.

Jacob grins at
me.

“We do have a
distinct need for more nurses.” Jessie takes a long slow sip of
coffee and forces herself to look over Jacob. “You look pale,” she
says to him. “You should eat something.”

That wipes the
smile right off of Jacob’s face.

“Jacob would be
perfect for security work,” I say to Jessie.

Jessie looks
unconvinced.

Jacob scoffs.
“Who, me? Hardly. I’m just not a gun person. I’d be terrible. I’m
more of a jack-of-all-trades kind of man. Got anything for an
all-rounder? Varied work all over the two centres? I’m not
fussy.”

Jessie stares
at him. It’s a hard and sharp look, bristling with tension. He
stares back, absorbing all her malice. Jessie clears her throat and
looks down at her folder. “I’m sure I can find you something
fitting. Are you fine with nursing, Florence?”

I shrug.
“Sure.” After all, it doesn’t really matter what job I do, it’ll
never be a career.

“Then it’s
settled.” Jessie closes her manila folder and pulls a walkie-talkie
off her belt. “Jessie to Smith, I’m sending down two guys for
driver training today. That cool?”

There’s a long
pause before a voice crackles through, super loud, and Jessie
jumps. She wrangles the volume down quickly.

“Ten four,
Jessie,” Smith says. “Send ‘em to the platform at eight
thirty.”

“Gotcha. Over
and out.” Jessie waits a few seconds before speaking into the radio
again. “Jessie to Bruce, over.”

The radio stays
silent. She makes a noise of annoyance and repeats the phrase five
times before she finally gets a response.

“Did I wake
you, Bruce?” she says.

“That’s a
negative, ah, I’ve been going since six am, fixing a jammed roller
door while you were getting your beauty sleep.”

Jessie laughs.
“You could do with some of that, mate.”

Bruce chuckles
his response. “What can I do you for, Jess?”

“Got a new guy,
thinks he might be good in the handy trade. Any chance you can show
him the ropes?”

“Affirmative,
Jess. Send him to base now if you’ve got him.”

“Will do,
Bruce. Stay pretty. Over and out.”

Jessie gives
Jacob a brief set of directions of how to reach “the base” and
waits for him to leave.

He doesn’t, not
straight away. His eyes wander over Jessie’s left arm. With her
black sleeves rolled up you can see half of a tree tattoo.

“I see you’ve
finally finished your tattoo,” he says smoothly.

Jessie rolls
down her sleeves slowly, precisely, ordering words in her mind.
“Observant as ever, I see.”

Jessie sculls
the last of her coffee and wipes her mouth. “I’ll take you to the
nurses station, sort you out. You boys don’t mind doing the dishes,
do you? Be on the lower platform at eight thirty sharp. The guards
will be there if you forget the gate code.” She hugs her folder to
her chest and stands up. “Alright, disband.”

I follow Jessie
back up the escalators. She strides coolly, crossing the wide-open
space below the glass cone. The sky is a clear intense blue.

“I’m a senior
graded nurse,” she says. “We rotate admissions duty through our
small team… and from time to time I do a tattoo.”

“Do many people
actually get tattoos?” I ask.

“Oh, sure. Why,
you want one?”

“Uh… no. It’s
not really my thing.”

Jessie shrugs.
“Some people keep their secrets inside, some like to carry their
stories on the outside.”

We’re standing
in front of the factory building when the craziest noise erupts
from some kind of loudspeaker. My heart just about stops as I whirl
around. Jessie watches me with the tiniest of smiles.

A huge golden
clock, the height of a whole floor level, mechanically expands,
singing out a strings version of Waltzing Matilda. When the bottom
half has lowered as much as possible, the statues of birds and
koalas start dancing from side to side with the music.

I stand there
watching, my hand over my heart to stop it from trying to leap out
of my body. I have seen this show a hundred times before. In normal
times the clock would go off every hour and draw in a big crowd of
tourists.

“Thanks for the
warning,” I say.

Jessie laughs.
“Sorry, I’m just so used to it.”

“Tell me it
doesn’t do that every hour still.”

“Nah, just once
in the morning. It’s good for morale, and makes sure no one round
here misses breakfast.”

“Kind of like
the world’s most elaborate dinner bell?” I say.

“Oh, yeah. We
pull out all the stops at Skylight. Come one, lets go inside.”

We walk around
the side of the redbrick factory. The doors are wide open. Inside,
the decor is dark, burgundy carpets and bare brick walls.

A young woman
sitting at a desk looks up. Glee spreads across her patient
features. “Jessie! I thought you were on admissions?”

Jessie winks.
“Multi tasking. I just nabbed a new recruit. Lisa, this is Florence
West.”

“Yay, at last.”
Lisa does a quick little clap. She’s closer to Jessie’s age — mid
twenties — but she has the sparkling enthusiasm of a
seven-year-old. Lisa stares at me like I’m made of pure gold. It
gets kind of awkward.

“Why don’t I
give you the tour?” Jessie says.

“Oooh, I’ll
come too.” Lisa propels herself from her seat and does a little jig
around the desk. Her sun coloured curls bounce happily.

Jessie leans
over and quietly says, “I think you’ve made her day.”

If Jessie is
like a deep-rooted hundred-year-old oak tree then Lisa is like a
lit sparkler in the hands of a kid.

“This is the
reception area.” Jessie splays out her hands and Lisa copies her
movements. “As you can see, it’s not that busy.”

I glance
around. There’s no one but us.

Jessie starts
walking. “We deal with emotional support and health check ups
mostly. Some minor injuries every now and then. Our fully equipped
hospital unit is over at the science centre. I can’t remember the
last time we used it but you bet we all feel safer with it.” She
pauses, so I stop too.

“Through here
we’ve got a few check up rooms. Therapy is up on the next floor,
and these are our journals.”

We stop in
front of a red couch, surrounded by walls of bookshelves, filled
with hundreds of different coloured exercise books.

Lisa gasps with
intrigue… even though she knows what’s coming.

“These are
stories of the people that come here. What their lives were like
before, where they were during the outbreak, their experiences up
until they found Skylight. It’s a good way to deal with some
things, by writing it all down. Anyone can read them, and they’re
meant to be read. But of course, they’re anonymous. You want a
go?”

Lisa bounces on
her heels, waiting for my answer.

“Not really,” I
say. “I’m not much of a writer.”

Lisa smiles
encouragingly.

Jessie shrugs
with one shoulder. “No pressure. You should read some, though.
These are the people you’ll be patching up. It might help to
understand them better.”

“Okay. You want
me to start now?”

“Yep. We’ll
leave you to it. When you’re done, pick up a credit from Lisa and
I’ll see you here same time tomorrow. Training starts then.”

I nod. “Ok,
cool.”

I sit on the
couch and take a book from above my head, watching Jessie and Lisa
walk away.

“I like her,
she’s fun,” Lisa says, a little too loud.

“You think
everyone’s fun,” Jessie says.

“Everyone is
fun!”

“Even
Franklin’s brother?”

“Er… Almost
everyone’s fun.”

When they’re
out of range, but still probably talking about me, I open the
journal in my hands and see what’s inside.

Before the outbreak, I
was alone. So it’s not really that different for me now. In fact,
I’d say that I probably have more friends now. People actually need
me. Because the skills that I have, like gardening and sewing,
weren’t cool for a guy my age, but now they’re invaluable. No one I
knew before could grow vegetables that you could actually eat, or
create a warm jacket from a simple roll of fabric. And I don’t know
where any of those guys are. But I’m here. Surviving. And that’s
all I have to say.

It’s kind of a
short sad story and I know they’ll all be echoes of one another.
It’s weird trying to picture a person from their story too. My mind
keeps trying to put eyes and a nose and a hair colour to each
voice, but the possibilities are infinite. I grab another
Journal.

Who I was: Grade six
primary school teacher

Where I was: At home,
watching the news. That’s how I knew to come here.

How I got here: By
car. By running. I almost didn’t.

Who I lost: Brother,
Mother, Father, Kat, Josie, Amanda, Tim, Ben, Sammy, Dale, all of
my class, and a part of me.

That’s all they
wrote. Five scrawled lines. I can’t even tell if they’re female or
male. I grab another book, slightly intrigued now. I’m searching
for something with more than a few sentences. I’m looking for
something similar to my story. Something that’s more than a study
of sadness. But even the good ones make me sad in a way. Especially
when I think all of these people are in here. I could walk right by
them and not even know it.