“Is it safe?” Lucy asked in a small voice. She backed away from the doors, but felt her mother’s hand press against her back.
“Is it safe,” her dad repeated and he scoffed. “That’s the whole point. That was the whole point. You’re safe now. As safe as you will ever be.”
Scott placed his hands on her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. His eyes were bright and eager—like a child on Christmas morning.
The elevator doors opened, beckoning them into a sterile metal box.
And together, as a family, they walked inside. The silent doors sliding shut behind them.
Floor B. Pod 6. Room 8. A silver plaque screwed into place right above the peephole read: The King Family – Scott, Maxine, Ethan, Lucy, Galen, Malcolm, Monroe, Harper. CL 1. Lucy reached out her hand to touch her name and Ethan’s name. How strange to see it there, so plain and organized. Carved into the metal before the Release; an optimistic statement of faith that the Kings would arrive to this place together.
She looked to her mother, whose eyes looked away from the plaque and the reminder that they were still an incomplete family.
Scott King opened the door. As he swung the door wide, Lucy peered into the first room. It was dark, windowless, brown walls with low ceilings, and a spattering of light in the form of low-wattage bulbs burning in sconces along the walls, casting pools of white upward and creating shadows in the corners.
“Go on,” Maxine whispered.
“Our little apartment,” Scott added.
Lucy looked between her parents and then peered inside the room again. All Lucy could think was that they had to leave their beautiful house, with a backyard, sun, and windows and move themselves into a cramped and dark space no bigger than a hotel suite. She had not known what to expect when they reached Nebraska, but this was not it.
Tentatively, Lucy stepped inside. But it took no longer than a second for her to want to back right out again; the room smelled stale—fresh air pumped in through vents in the ceiling, but it was artificial, dry. The furniture was stiff and old; perhaps Huck’s interior designers had fashioned the apartments with the leftovers of some consignment shop.
She stood in a small foyer. Inside a wicker box was a collection of shoes. Tennis shoes of varying sizes and one small pair of glittered slip-ons.
Harper.
The moment she thought the name, the dark apartment was flooded with light. Bright track lighting along the ceiling flickered on and out from behind couches and chairs, her siblings poured, yelling and screaming, “Surprise! Welcome home, Lucy!” Even Galen, his adolescent demeanor grounded in perpetual disdain of his entire family, couldn’t help but rush forward and greet his sister with a warm embrace.
Absorbing the affection from her siblings overwhelmed Lucy. She closed her eyes and let them attack her with pats and kisses; she collapsed to the floor and Harper climbed into her lap.
“Daddy said you were coming soon,” Harper said. “Daddy said you and Ethan were coming.”
“Is Ethan here too?” Malcolm cried out with excitement.
Maxine swooped in and began peeling off her children, chastising them for intruding upon Lucy’s space, but Lucy didn’t mind it at all. She sat on the floor motionless, still holding Harper, finding comfort in the child’s small frame and the way she fit like a puzzle piece into the crook of Lucy’s arm.
“We talked about that,” Maxine said with authority. “Ethan’s not here.” Then after a beat, she added, “Yet.”
“Wanna see our room?” Monroe asked.
“Wanna see the Center? Wanna go swimming?” Malcolm cried.
“It’s actually pretty cool here,” Galen told her with a shrug.
“Why did you stay behind?” Harper whispered.
Lucy looked at the faces of her brothers and sister, her eyes wide, a pain in her chest growing and throbbing. And then she began to cry. She put Harper on the floor and scrambled to her feet. She spun this way and that—looking at the foreign furniture, her family in clothes she didn’t recognize. Her breath began to grow noisy and ragged. From somewhere next to her, she heard her mother say her name in a warning tone. She caught a glimpse of her father, leaning against the wall. Lucy couldn’t tell if he was worried for her or for himself, and she wanted to scream; her desire to run, flee, escape was powerful. She burst away from her congregating family and toward the door. Bypassing outstretched hands and calls of worry.
All she had wanted for weeks was to see her mother and father and brothers and sister again. All she had dreamed about and pined for was to find them alive and wanting to see her too—the entirety of her family waiting with baited breath for her triumphant return. Of course, she had been worried to find them dead, worried to find them gone.
But this was something else entirely.
She had found them changed, altered, different. They felt foreign to her, as if these people were merely impersonators of her family and not the real thing.
She reached the door before her mother could grab her and she flew out into the hallway. Right and left were identicaclass="underline" huge metal doors flanked either end. And the hallway was dotted with doors, like theirs, with silver plaques broadcasting the names of tenants.
“Lucy King,” Maxine called down the hallway—saying her name with the clipped cadence someone reserved for disobedient preschoolers. “You will return to this room immediately.”
Slowing down, Lucy put her hand against the metal walls and felt the coolness against her skin.
“This must be very difficult,” her father called down to her from their doorway. He had his hand on his wife’s arm, presumably to prevent her from flying down toward Lucy and dragging her back by force.
Always the voice of reason—always the ying to her mother’s yang. Always entering conversations with calmness and clarity, with doses of humor.
A door five feet away from Lucy opened a crack. Peeking out from behind the frame was a girl her own age with long black hair combed around her shoulders. She stared at Lucy a long time, unblinking. She was dark and beautiful and for a brief second Lucy thought of asking to come inside; then she shook the notion free and realized that no one in the System could be trusted. Lucy stared back, until the girl offered her a sad smile and shut the door; the click echoing down the hall.
“Grant,” Lucy said. Then she turned back toward her parents and raised her voice. “I want Grant.” She felt the futility of her desire as she said his name; and she was filled with such longing and sadness. Lucy hit her fist against the metal and then drew her hand to her side, cradling it against her stomach.
It felt so wrong to explore this place without him. She wanted her parents. Now she wanted Grant. Nothing would feel whole again.
Maxine shook off her husband’s grip and walked into view. She put her hands on her hips, her legs wide. Then Harper sneaked around their father and clambered up to Maxine, hanging on her pants leg, and staring down at her sister.
“There are some things beyond our control,” Maxine said. “But we will discuss it when you come back.”
“Come inside,” Scott added.
“No,” Lucy said and she felt like she was going to throw-up. “I want to see him. He deserves to be with us. It’s not fair.” She wiped her eyes.
“I have waited for you! Cried for you every night.” Maxine called as she took two giant steps forward, lumbering under the added weight of Harper’s body. “I will not lose you. Do you understand me?” Her voice trembled with rage.
The metal doors at the end of the hall closest to Lucy slid open. And Lucy saw one of the armed guards from before enter and stand at attention across her escape path. With her mother and father at one end and the guard at the other, Lucy knew she was trapped.