The Other Side of the Island (26 page)

Read The Other Side of the Island Online

Authors: Allegra Goodman

Tags: #Nature & the Natural World, #Social Issues, #Families, #Family, #Juvenile Fiction, #Individuality, #Fantasy & Magic, #Fiction, #Science Fiction, #Family Life, #Weather, #Peer Pressure, #Islands, #General, #Domestic fiction

BOOK: The Other Side of the Island
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But there was no answer.
“Wake up,” she pleaded, but her mother did not wake up.
She shook her mother by the shoulders and tried to raise her head. Pamela’s head was heavy and hard to lift. But as soon as Honor raised her head off the pillow, Pamela’s eyes opened. They opened wide, the way a doll’s shut eyes flick open when it is raised upright. Now Pamela’s blue eyes gazed at Honor. Her eyes were big and blank.
“Come with me,” Honor said. “We have to run. We don’t have time.”
Her mother did not move. Her heavy head rested in Honor’s hands.
“Come out,” Honor said. “Now!” she told the orderly that was Pamela.
But it was no use. Honor was going to have to drag her. She took her mother’s arms and, half lifting her, half falling under her, she pulled her down from the bunk. Sinking under her mother’s weight, she struggled to carry her down the aisle between the rows of bunks. The door was far, and Honor strained under the body draped across her shoulders. Come on, come on, Honor thought. Her eyes devoured the distance to the door as she pushed forward, straining.
The building’s security alarm sounded, piercing, screaming directly into Honor’s ears. A red light above the door was pulsing. The orderlies lying on their bunks sat bolt upright. Their eyes opened and they jumped down from their beds. One hundred orderlies jumped down and filed to the door, blocking Honor and Pamela. They surrounded Honor and her mother and gazed at the two of them with glassy eyes. Pamela started up as well. She jumped off Honor’s back and joined the others.
“Don’t go!” Honor pleaded, and stretched her arms out to her mother. But the alarm was too loud and drowned out Honor’s voice. Her mother was disappearing into the crowd. The alarm was blaring and the red light pulsing, tinting every surface red, and Honor’s mother stood with the other orderlies, blocking the exit. “Stay with me,” Honor pleaded as she looked into her mother’s eyes. She was afraid to look away. If she did, she’d lose her forever.
Remember me, she told her mother wordlessly. Look at me. Remember me. Then she unslung her bow and took the last remaining arrow from her quiver. The orderlies stared at Honor’s weapon. They did not run away or even flinch, but stood inert before her. There was a kind of patience about them, as if they were waiting for her to decide which one of them to shoot. She measured her distance, knocked back her arrow, pulled the bowstring, and let fly.
Crashing glass. She’d shot out the alarm above the door. Glass tinkled from the red light and the building was dim again. The pulsing siren sighed into nothing. All the orderlies turned and marched back to their bunks. Like sleepwalkers in their white nightshirts, they glided serenely back to bed, and Honor, who had been the intruder, was invisible to them. Even when they bumped her as they passed, the orderlies took no notice.
But Honor was watching them, looking into their faces. As her mother passed, she lunged and seized Pamela by the shoulders, spun her around, and dragged her out the door—into the arms of the Pratts, who were waiting there.
“Are you sure she’s the one?” asked Mr. Pratt.
“Where is my father?” Honor asked.
But they had no time. The valley had filled with smoke. More orderlies were massing to fight the fire that had spread from the watchtower. Fresh Safety Officers had arrived in trucks. Their dogs were already barking and straining at their leashes as Honor and the Pratts raced away with Pamela.
SIX
THEY RAN INTO THE FOREST, AND THEY DID NOT NEED TO
carry Pamela. Once they set her in the right direction, she ran fearlessly, without even noticing the rocks or branches in her path. She seemed to feel no pain but kept rushing forward, even when branches snapped in her face or cut her arms. When they began to climb the mountain, she climbed capably, looking straight ahead. Honor was amazed at how agile her mother was and how strong.
Honor could hear dogs barking and Safety Officers crashing through the trees. She tried to climb faster, but she could hear the dogs panting louder. She could hear them panting, practically at her heels. She remembered the dog’s teeth cutting her leg. She remembered the yellow eyes of the dogs that had come to search her house. It was too dark to see, and they were climbing blind, with only the dim glow of Mr. Pratt’s flashlight to guide them. Honor was sweating and filthy, and her hands were numb from fighting vines and thorns. Her leg oozed and stung. Her body ached from pressing forward over the steep and slippery ground; she gasped for air, and when she slipped, she scrambled up again and climbed on, but the dogs were coming closer.
She stumbled. She reached for something, anything, to hold. Her mother and the Pratts were climbing ahead of her and didn’t see. She wanted to call to them to wait, but she had no breath left. She was afraid the dogs would catch her and tear her apart. Her body screamed with exhaustion. She wanted to climb; she wanted to escape, but she couldn’t run farther. She fell to the ground.
Even as she fell, she heard the dogs sink back. There was a confusion of barking, and then, like a tide drawn back, the animals yelped in pain and ran the other way.
The Pratts heard the change and turned back as well. Mrs. Pratt held Pamela by the hand to make her wait, and Mr. Pratt came to help Honor up again. The barking of the dogs was fading; the animals were racing down the mountain now. Honor was confused and dizzy.
“Don’t stop,” Mr. Pratt told her. “We’re almost there. Take my hand.” He pulled her into the pillbox, where they were safe.
“Pamela,” Mr. Pratt said to Honor’s mother, “can you hear me?”
Pamela was too confused to listen. She did not turn in the direction of his voice. Her face and bald head were covered with sweat, her nightshirt soaked through.
“Drink this,” said Mrs. Pratt, and offered Pamela freshwater.
The Pratts were taking care of her mother, but Honor couldn’t help. She curled up on the floor of the pillbox and tucked her knees to her chest. She was shaking, freezing. She couldn’t stop thinking of the Watcher screaming in the flaming tower. She kept thinking of the flames and the ground crawling with orderlies. As soon as she closed her eyes, she saw them writhing and creeping in the dust. She felt she would never be warm again.
 
In the morning, Honor found herself curled up at Pamela’s side. She touched her mother and she was real. “It’s me,” she whispered. Pamela did not stir. Honor drew closer and whispered again in her mother’s ear, “It’s me.”
“She’s still sleeping. We have to be patient.” Honor sat up now, wide awake. It was her father. He was standing with the Pratts, smiling down at her. His sleeve was torn and his arm bandaged, but there he was.
She sprang to her feet and rushed over to him. “How did you escape? How did you get here?” Her voice was muffled against his chest.
“I ran until I reached the north watchtower,” he told her. “Then I climbed the ladder and knocked out the Watcher inside. I saw all of you running away and the Safety Officers and their dogs chasing you. I was afraid to shoot from up there and hit one of you, so I climbed down and followed at a distance.”
“How many were they?”
“Two Safety Officers and two dogs. When they began closing in on you, I closed in on them. I ambushed them from behind and shot the dogs.”
“How come the Safety Officers didn’t capture you then?” Honor asked.
“They would have, but I had the taser and I had the Thompsons with me.”
“They’re alive!”
“They’d been waiting in the forest near the Barracks in case of emergency.”
“But where have they been?”
“They ran away beford I did.”
“So they weren’t taken to be orderlies.”
“No, they’d escaped into the forest. After I ran away, I found them. At first we all camped together, but then we decided to split up. I stayed with the Pratts and they hid closer to the shore. We were hoping that if Retrievers found some of us they wouldn’t find all. Mr. Pratt was the messenger between us because he knows the forest best.”
“Now they’ve gone ahead,” said Mr. Pratt. “We’ll meet them tomorrow morning.”
Will bent over Pamela and stroked her cheek.
“If you want her to open her eyes, lift her head, like a doll,” Honor said.
Her father smiled. “That will wear off,” he said. “You’ll see.”
All day they rested there while Pamela slept. Sometimes they talked, and sometimes they ate the fruit Mrs. Pratt had picked, and sometimes they just watched the white clouds in the bright sky.
When the sun began to set, Will told Honor, “Look at the colors. Tell me how many you can see.”
“Gold,” she said, “and yellow. Now the blue is changing to lavender.”
“How many colors?”
“I can’t count them all,” she told him.
“But look again.”
She’d only glanced away for a moment, but the whole sky had changed. The lavender was on fire, flaming red. Then the red was gone, and the clouds burned fiery orange. “Everything’s changing,” Honor said. “It’s too fast.”
“That’s how natural sunsets are,” her father reminded her. “And every night is different.”
 
“We need to wake her and start hiking down,” said Mr. Pratt.
They half lifted Pamela from the floor, but her eyes did not open. Honor spoke to her. Will spoke to her. Pamela did not respond. Her breathing was regular. Her arms hung loose and relaxed, not limp over the top of the blanket as they had in the Barracks. She was in a deep sleep.
“Pamela. It’s time for us to go,” Will said firmly. “Wake up now.”
But she did not wake up.
Honor bent over her mother and sang softly, “Over the river and through the wood to Grandmother’s house we go . . .”
Pamela rolled over on her side.
“. . . the horse knows the way to carry the sleigh, o’er the white and drifting snow . . .”
“Over the river and through the wood,” sang Will. “Oh, how the wind does blow. It stings the toes and bites the nose as over the ground we go.”
Pamela’s eyes opened. She looked up at Will and blinked.
“Pamela,” said Will.
She didn’t answer. She just looked up at him.
Will cupped her face in his hands and kissed her lips. He whispered, “I’m here.”
For a moment Honor saw a hint of recognition in her mother’s eyes.
All night they hiked down the mountain. Mr. Pratt led the way with his flashlight. Will followed him, and then Honor and Pamela. Mrs. Pratt brought up the rear. Together they slipped and slid and clambered down through muddy gullies and overgrown gulches. Even Will had not traveled on this slope, but Mr. Pratt knew the ground, and he was confident they would not lose their way.
It was still dark when they came to the ragged seaside edge of the forest. The ground was sandy and covered with sea grapes—scraggly, succulent plants. The ocean was calm all around them, scarcely visible in the darkness except for silvery ripples on the shore. The sand was powder soft and, where it was wet, covered with tiny holes, the breathing holes of little white crabs so delicate Honor could almost see through them. Honor had never seen creatures so quick and fine as those white crabs skittering across the water-smoothed sand.
There was no one else at the shore. There were no drowned buildings or Danger signs or fences of barbed wire. The only noise was that of the water breathing softly in and out.
“We’re here,” said Will.
“We’re here.” That was Pamela’s voice, echoing his. And those were the first words she spoke.
“Come into the water,” Will told Pamela.
Honor was confused. She didn’t understand, but Will led Pamela into the dark water, all the way up to her waist, and then he cupped his hands full of salt water and washed Pamela’s eyes. Pamela cried out in pain when the salty water stung her. Water streamed down her face as she winced and blinked. Her eyes were no longer fixed and motionless. She looked everywhere. She recognized everyone.
Honor ran to the edge of the ocean. She only hesitated a moment. Then she waded into the warm water. The cut on her leg stung from the salt, but Honor ignored the pain and leaned against her mother. “Do you recognize me now? Did you know I’d find you?”
Pamela didn’t answer at first. Then she wrapped her arms around Honor. She whispered, “I didn’t know, but I was waiting. I waited so long I didn’t even know I was waiting.”
 
All the rest of that night they talked.
“Can you believe it?” Mrs. Pratt asked softly. “Did you ever think about escaping?”
“No,” said Pamela. “I never thought of escaping on my own.”
“I wished that they had taken me,” Will murmured. “I wanted to trade places with you.”
“But that’s the strange part,” Pamela told him. “I didn’t want to trade with anyone. As soon as they put me in the sack I felt that I belonged there.”
“Weren’t you scared?” Honor asked.
“No,” said Pamela. “The sack was coated inside with enough Planet Safe to tranquilize me. I curled up in the darkness and I felt calm, and as the drug began to work I felt relieved and even happy. I felt as though I were floating. One memory after another returned to me. . . .”
“But how? Weren’t you memory-sick?” asked Will. “With that much Planet Safe you’d forget everything.”
“I was forgetting the recent past,” said Pamela, “but all the old times were coming back to me. I saw all the pieces of my life; it was like watching my life underwater. I saw you, Honor. And you,” she said to Will. “Quintilian. I saw our kites up in the sky. I saw that little cat,” she told Honor, “the one that jumped when we found the drawing book. I saw the Northern Islands and the light there in winter, the way the sun melted in the sky. I saw our wooden boat and felt the slosh of water in the bottom. I could see the chipped paint on our boat. Do you remember the color?”

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