I slid murkily into consciousness, as if from one dream to another, and tried peacefully to make sense of the swimming gray above me, streaked with gold and green fish that lapped effortlessly through the haze.  I was wrapped in sheets and blankets, feeling like some forgotten Lazarus waiting to be unbound.  I was a little too warm, and very thirsty.  I closed my eyes.

When I opened them again, minutes, hours later, the room was brighter, and I could see the green trim that framed the faded wallpaper, and dust motes swirling in the bright sunlight that now filled the room.  I heard soft footsteps coming toward the room, the quiet creak of the old door opening to her (our) room, and my Ella entered, carrying a battered stainless steel tray with sandwiches and a pot of some pungent smelling tea.

She wore a clean white summer dress spotted with faded red flowers, no doubt trying to enjoy one of the last warm days before the harsh winter set, the fabric clinging to her slender frame, swishing almost noiselessly around her hips and thighs as she padded silently across the floor.

Ella set the tray on the end table and climbed into the bed and lay next to me, propping herself on a slender arm, looking at my face with a deep compassion that for some reason unsettled me even as I felt a spreading warmth in my chest.  She smiled, and brushed the hair back from my temples and forehead, her spidery fingers running gently over my face.  I closed my eyes again, enjoying the sensation of her touch on my forehead and eyebrows, down my cheek, across my lips.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Better,” I replied mechanically, keeping my eyes closed, focusing on the warmth of her fingertips, now tracing the veins of my throat.  ”Where’s Margaret?”

“She’s in school,” she answered, and we let the silence return for a moment.  One of the recent reforms in Roadhouse territory created the option of a public schooling system, based out of the old high school.  Originally, the benefits of a pre-Crossing education were relegated to those of us who were old enough to have actually had one and to those we independently decided to teach, creating an almost mystical reverence of the wisdom and knowledge of the “elders.”  However, Nick had proposed to create a schooling system available to all of the children in our territory, citing that it would create a stronger future than would a community of peasants ruled by some intellectual elite.  I was inclined to agree with him, despite Kevin’s misgivings about planting the seeds of liberal and enlightened malcontent.

There were maybe a hundred children in the school program all told, since it was voluntary and most families preferred to keep their children home for safety and labor reasons, even though the vegetable oil bus that transported the children was barred and armored, and contained no less than two armed guards in addition to the armed driver at any given time.

“How long have I been out?”

“Almost three days.  Your fever finally broke last night.”  Her lips touched my forehead, what I had always considered a mysteriously developed maternal instinct for checking temperatures.  Satisfied that the fever had not reemerged, she gently kissed my cheek and then sat up in the bed, expectantly.

I opened my eyes again, finally, and with a small grunt lifted my heavy head from the pillow and pulled myself into a sitting position, hooking my arms around my knees so that I wouldn’t fall back again.  The room spun and pulsed terribly, and blood pounded vengefully through my temples and neck, but I forced myself to keep my eyes open, knowing that if I shut them against the maelstrom it would be a short trip down again to the threadbare pillow.

Ella’s hand pressed reassuringly to the center of my back, and I gratefully leaned toward her, resting my head in the nook of her shoulder, letting her fragrant hair cover my face.

“Come on,” she whispered.  ”Let’s see if we can’t get something down you and get you out of this bed.”

I felt her smile.

“Ella,” I said, almost tenderly, and felt her other hand gently squeeze my arm.  ”What are we?”

She leaned back suddenly, her lips curled into an almost pitying smile, her bright eyes the only steady points in the still swirling room.

“We’re Adam and Ella,” she said warmly.

+

A little less than an hour later, Ella and I walked hand in hand toward the central mall of the Roadhouse.

The Roadhouse had changed significantly since pre-Crossing times, when it was simply the Skvarla house, fortunately situated between all of our own homes, and thus was our unofficial “base” of operations.

Now most of the woods behind the house had been cleared, surrounded by high stone walls, and the Roadhouse resembled not a spacious Pennsylvania backyard but a spoked, teeming futuristic medieval micropolis.  In the center, as mentioned, was the mall: a trim, spacious, and reasonably circular clearing which provided a sort of community center, complete with cart-pushing vendors and merchants from the surrounding towns peddling their wares during the semi-open daylight hours of the Roadhouse before the evening lockdown.  Just off of the center of the mall stood our laughably named Forum, a closed pavilion made of cinder blocks and two by fours filled with folding chairs, where we occasionally had something like “town hall” meetings, but more often it was used as nothing more than a run-down dance hall for the Townies, with grainy speakers trickling pre-Crossing music.

To the west of the mall, along the old Paintertown Road, was the limited residential sector, which those of us lucky or powerful enough to have been allowed to actually live within the walls called home.  Running along the whole northern wall was the foreboding military complex, with its low concrete buildings and flat dusty earth, encompassing the training grounds, barracks, the armory where Ella worked, and the notorious “Brig,” located in some cold sub-basement where our AN friend was no doubt being held.  Toward the south were the administrative offices, and along the eastern wall, furthest from the interterritorial travel roads, were our utility centers: power, water, the motor pool with its vegetable oil refinery.  It was a self-contained fortress, and while Nick had always encouraged it as a community center for greater Roadhouse territory, we rarely saw new people milling about.

The mall was quieter than usual as the two of us strolled along.

“I guess word must have spread about your unusual return,” Ella said, worry creasing her brow.  ”I’ve never seen it this empty.”

“People are scared, I suppose.  This is an unstable time.”

“But do you think they realize that?  How bad things are getting?”

“Maybe not consciously.  But you can feel it.  In the air.”  At least I could.  ”Ella, do you even know how bad it’s getting?” I asked gently.

She drifted a bit closer to me and I wrapped my arm around her bare shoulders.

“I’ll protect you,” I said after a while.  ”And Maggie.  I promise.”

“Don’t say that, ” she said bitterly, quickly.  ”Don’t promise.  You’re a lot of things, boy.  I don’t want you to end up a liar too.”

I pulled her a little closer, and we walked on in silence.  We had almost made a full lap when Michael appeared.

“Adam, I’m glad I found you.”  He stopped and turned to Ella, bowing slightly.

“If you’ll excuse us–” he began, trying to lead me by the arm back the way he had came.  He seemed agitated and hurried.  I rotated my elbow, popping out of his grip.

“What?” I snapped.  I could hear the coldness returning to my voice.

He sighed, obviously anticipating resistance.  ”Emergency meeting.  Dad’s house.  We need to go, now.”

“Can she come?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Michael said, raising his hands in a placatory gesture.  Shrugging, I began to turn away.  It was Ella who stopped me, her own hands resting on my chest.  She was smiling again.

“I have to be home for Maggie anyway,” she said.  ”The bus will be coming soon.  When you get done, though, we’ll all have a nice dinner together.  Okay?”

I didn’t answer at first.  To be honest, I really didn’t want to go to the fucking meeting.  I wanted to rest.  I wanted to be with Ella.  I wanted–

Her cool hand came to rest on my cheek.

“Okay?” she asked again, her eyes full of compassion and understanding.  She knew how I felt.  I was beginning to think that maybe she always had, even when I didn’t.

I nodded reluctantly.  She stretched up on her toes and kissed me, and then walked away without another word, sunlight in her hair.

“Look,” Mike began, but I had already pushed passed him and begun stalking toward the house.

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