Affliction

By Tim Kenyon

Recommended Reading Ersatz Nation by Tim Kenyon

The sign was telling her to leave the shroud behind. Her escape from the Watchers hadn't been easy, and after coming this far Tanis wanted nothing more than to go home. So she followed along. She started to undress knowing they weren't far behind, but hesitated, half naked, when she noticed her feet. They were cut and bleeding from her escape through the jungle. The footprints across the floor of the transport station were a path back to the group, to a cure. Except this time she wouldn't be returning.

The station with its high ceiling and bright lights was otherwise unoccupied. Surrounding it was the jungle, lifeless and foreboding. Naked now and shivering, Tanis used the yellow shroud to wipe up most of the blood she'd left on the floor, then placed it onto the conveyor belt where, according to the sign, it would be carried away for proper disposal. She felt her dependence on the clothing climb to near panic as it slid away and disappeared. But by then was too late. The shroud was gone. Living without it would start with that moment.

She started at the mural which had appeared on the far wall. The images were moments projected from her mind, straight out of her past. Birth. Her childhood home. Parents. The onset of her affliction. Her attempted suicide. All ending with her inevitable journey to the group.

But her mind had conjured up more than just the mural. The entire station was her creation, born of her desire leave this place. She'd been running from the Watchers for the better part of the day, never knowing exactly where to go or how to find a way home. Just moments before the station appeared, she felt the panic give way to clarity. She'd decided it was time to face the past and start over. Then, out of nowhere, there it was.

Tanis heard the station alert announce the nearing of her departure. Regardless of her solitude, she tried to hide her nakedness. Her breasts began to ache as did the tender spots on her throat and under her arms. She rubbed the sore areas trying to ease the pain while she glanced down the length of the empty conveyor belt. Her withdrawal had begun and without her shroud there'd be no relief.

She followed the arrows leading to the doorway at the rear of the station. The metal door looked plain enough, but there was no handle. She expected leaving this place behind would simple, immediate, but she was being made to wait. Over the door an illuminated sign flashed bright red letters at her: Be patient. Trust the process.

Her mind had created this place, yes, but its workings were obviously out of her control, as much as her coming under the Watchers' care was out of her control. From the first moment she was discovered in the jungle and brought to their compound, she'd been searching for a memory of how she got here, but all that would come was the painful recollection of a tepid bath and a line of empty prescription bottles.

Despair started to overshadow the withdrawal. They were on their way. They were going to find this place, make her return, force their medicine on her.

She sat in the only chair she could find, cold and unforgiving, and started to shiver. Her mind wandered to her room in the group's dwelling, a comfortable place beyond the jungle. There was a sense of safety there, and if that ever waned the Watchers had an injection to cure the dread. Maybe Jesof was right when he'd insist there was nothing they couldn't fix.

Tanis felt her balance give way as the chair under her softened and started to lose its shape. The station walls began to discolor and fade. The jungle floor grew up between her feet. She stood, dragging her mind out of its daydream, back to the station, back to the harshness of the moment. The pain in her body spread until her gut burned, doubling her over. She stayed there, on the floor hugging her knees until the pain subsided and the green of the jungle retreated under the cold tile. The walls returned, the chair hardened. The red lights continued to flash their message.

She moved toward the chair, then stopped. The front wall-something had changed. The entire wall was gone, vanished. She could see the lobby too. The conveyor belt had been dismantled, lying in pieces. And the mural. Her mother's image was now faceless. Above her, the ceiling had been replaced by the looming jungle roof.

She sifted through her mind, trying to reconstruct the missing pieces of the station, but they were gone. The station remained frozen in this partial existence.

Now in the distance, through the thick brush of the jungle beyond what was left of the station, she saw movement. Unnatural movement. The Watchers, three of them still dressed in their white smocks now stained brown and green. None of them wore protective gear. They hadn't wasted a second coming after her.

She willed a change in the message above the transport door. It's time, she wanted it to say. Come inside.

Pressing her eyes shut, she focused on the changing mural, faceless mother, colorless child, the violent lightning storm looming over the shape of her father. It was a better life. Facing the pain was her only choice. She couldn't let them take her.

The transport alert startled her and she fell forward on her arms. Glancing over the partition, she saw the sign welcoming her. An elongated metal handle appeared at the center of the door.

Time to go. Safe to move. The Watchers were no where to be seen.

She rose into a crouch ready to run for the doorway, but it was too late. From behind, their hands fell on her. She let loose a scream, the first sound she'd made since running away. They pushed her to the floor and the impact forced the remaining breath from her. Her legs twisted in their hands, but their overpowering grip kept her pinned. As two of them held her, one by her legs, the other kneeling over her arms and grabbing her wrists, the third slid on a pair of protective gloves. The withdrawal pain in her joints turned sharp as needles as the Watchers reinforced their holds.

They turned her over and hovered in silence, faces lacking any of the usual sympathy. She recognized the one standing over her-the lead Watcher, holding a plastic-wrapped package in one gloved hand. Pink. She was graduating to a pink shroud. The lead Watcher carefully opened the bundle and unfolded the shroud.

Tensing all the muscles in her body, she writhed until the pressure of their weight became intolerable. The two struggled to keep her from moving as the lead Watcher hastily draped the pink shroud over her. They scrambled away for fear of coming into contact with it. Before she could take advantage of her brief freedom, they donned gloves and secured the fabric around her limbs, hips and torso.

Its effects were immediate. At the onset, the pain was most intense. After came the fear, the intolerable fear of her life before the group. The images on the mural became twisted, distorted, replaced with disturbing memories of why her old life was so terrifying. She shut her eyes and tried to resist the new shroud, but it was no use. Going home now seemed inconceivable.

Then, as calm as breath escaping her mouth, the station vanished.

Her body relaxed. The feeling of their hands on her washed away. Even the needle entering her arm was a gentle touch of warm sun. Her dependence on the pink shroud had been secured.

"Was that the place?" one asked.

"It was her," the other guessed. "She's got the affliction, the one we've been preparing for."

The lead Watcher motioned for the other two to lighten their holds. "Seems we finally have our patient zero."

Tanis could find no strength to move; in fact, the only motion she sensed was in her jaw, but the words she made were not accompanied by sound. All she could do was listen to the whispering in her ear.

Don't worry, Tanis. We'll cure you.

###

If it weren't for the circular spotlight shining on her, she'd be able to make out the features of her onlooker. But the silhouette was all she had to go on. The silence persisted, as did the feeling of being examined like a specimen of infection, even after the faceless observer retreated into the darkness.

Tanis breathed quietly into the room. Seeing the jungle again had filled her with the same easing calm that was now melting every muscle into conformity with the reclined chair. Glancing down, she saw the pink shroud still secured around her. All felt right in her world, here with the group, and with the Watchers. The thought of conjuring the station again made her stomach churn until bile came to the back of her throat. No, she was comfortable here. She began to wonder why she'd thought of leaving in the first place. Perhaps she'd grown a resistance to the yellow shroud. This pink one was exactly what she needed to set herself right.

With an electric crack, the spotlight above her went out. The room fell into a dim twilight cast by the small reading lamp on the desk by the far wall. The entire wall was made of mirrored glass. She could feel the stare of eyes from the other side.

"How long have I been back?" she asked.

No answer. The silence was disturbing and began to unfold a blanket of dread which the IV in her arm was supposed to counter. Then there were sounds of movement, pen to paper, drumming of fingers. After a short time, a voice finally came.

"Soon enough to prevent an outbreak," the Watcher said. "Are you still in pain?"

She pondered the areas of her body. "I'm fine."

"Pain is clever. You can pretend it's illusionary." The Watcher paused as if concentrating on some precise measurement, then more pen against paper. "You can try to ignore it, try to conquer it, but it's real nonetheless. It always wins."

"What're you doing to me?"

"We haven't diagnosed how this new affliction will affect you long term. But we have managed to pinpoint the infected portion of your brain."

"There's something wrong with me," she said in a softer voice.

"Rest assured we're taking the best preventative measures, but for now you need to remain quarantined from the group."

"Whatever I felt before, you know, when I was in the jungle..."

"Your ability to enter the jungle isn't our concern. We're in control of that." There was a pause. "It's the other place that concerns us."

"That's all passed now," she assured the Watcher. "I really want to rejoin the group. They need me."

"All in good time, Tanis."

"I need them."

The Watcher stepped from behind the mirror and brightened the desk lamp until the room glowed like the interior of the walls were burning. Tanis squinted wanting to shield her eyes, but couldn't move her arms. They were bound at the wrists. But there was no reason. She wasn't a danger to anyone. The Watcher had assured her they isolated her affliction and were working on a cure.

Her body relaxed and she closed her eyes. She hadn't considered mistrusting what she saw in the jungle. If that place she created was malady-induced, there was no way to know where she would've gone if she had stepped through that doorway. It could've sent her into the middle of nothingness, releasing her from her pain simply by voiding her existence. A very good reason to watch what you wish for. No, the security of the group was the only guarantee in life. Trust the Watchers, she told herself. Trust them.

She opened her eyes to see the Watcher standing over her, hands deep inside the white coat pockets.

"I'm sorry for removing the yellow shroud," she said, looking to the bindings around her ankles. The blue medicated bandages were still wrapped around her feet even though the pain had long subsided. She shifted in the seat to get more comfortable. The Watcher took an quick, defensive step backward.

"Dangerous move," the Watcher said.

"It wasn't my intention to stop wearing it," she continued.

"Luckily you were found in time."

"This pink one is very itchy." She looked back at the Watcher. "Is there a chance I'll get my yellow one back?" She smiled. The gesture was returned, but without the goodwill. It was laced with selfishness which bothered Tanis for a moment. But only for a moment. She reminded herself that the Watchers' only objective was to aid in her recovery. The group was surviving thanks to them.

"The pink one is necessary now," the Watcher said. "It's stronger. More effective." The instrument panel attached by a metal rod to the side of the chair buzzed softly and the Watcher turned to make a correction.

"That machine worries me," Tanis said.

"It monitors the portion of your brain that's been...damaged." The Watcher adjusted her intravenous line.

"Have you ever seen the station in the jungle?" she asked. "It was frightening."

"There is no jungle, Tanis. It's something your mind made up because of your affliction." The Watcher returned to the observation room without another word.

That was impossible. She'd been there, smelled it, walked right through it. And she had the proof. Turning her bandaged feet in toward each other she worked her toes over the cloth until it loosened and fell off. She moved her feet back and forth to the limits of the ankle bindings looking for a sign, any sign. But the blood and bruises were gone. There wasn't a scratch on them.

Tanis moved to get a better look which stretched and tightened her skin under the shroud. What came first was simple irritation, but soon the itching was almost unbearable. She squirmed giving some relief to her back and legs, but she needed her hands. She wanted to dig into her skin to get right at the source.

"Can you undo my hands," she asked. "Just for a minute?"

"That's not possible." The Watcher's voice wavered and grew impatient for the first time. "You need to lie still if you want me to help you."

But the shroud kept at it, working her skin and turning the itch into a burn. She continued to move around letting the fabric rub against her. Above her, the spotlight cracked and illuminated.

"You really need to stop," the Watcher said, voice marred with anger. "You're going to ruin everything."

But she didn't care. The pain was becoming intolerable. "Please help me," she begged.

"It's just a side effect of the new shroud," the Watcher said coming to her side. "Stay calm and it'll pass. Please, please don't do this." The Watcher was scrambling to secure a pair of safety gloves, but before they were in place Tanis grabbed wildly and caught the edge of a sleeve. She pulled the Watcher off balance and managed to get her hand around a bare wrist. The fire in her arms forced her fingers to bear down. The Watcher pulled in desperation, but she wouldn't let up. The pain raged until her fingernails dug in and her jaw snapped shut on the corner of her tongue. She could taste blood.

Then like an expired match the fire vanished. She let her shoulders fall as the walls of the observation room melted away. Sunlight poured in through the gaps in the jungle roof. The sky above the lush green canopy was cloudless, a blank canvas.

She smiled at the Watcher who stood dumbfounded, teeth born in an all-out struggle with Tanis's grip. The Watcher made one final effort to break her grasp with a stiff yank. Tanis felt her wrist give way like a snapping tree branch. The flash of fire returned, settling in her hand and forearm. The Watcher stumbled back and fell to the floor. Around her, the shape of the jungle was swallowed by the reforming walls and ceiling of the observation room. The sunlight was reduced to the circle of artificial light looming over her.

She softened her back, resting against the chair, and clenched her teeth in an effort to calm the pain in her broken wrist. As the light flickered out and darkness overtook her, the dread returned untouched by the medication in her IV. Her only shred of security came from the haunting sounds of the Watcher's labored breathing and the distant wail of the contamination alarm.

###

"Red shroud? Never seen one of those before."

"I'm not supposed to talk about it." Tanis glanced across the meal table at Jesof. She couldn't recall her sponsor ever looking so suspicious. Her disappearance from the group had left Jesof feeling defeated, as if he'd failed her in some way. Tanis wanted to include him in her plan, but when the time came she couldn't. He had long justified his reasons for being there, which were very different from hers. He had no one left alive to go back to, no one to take care of him, no one to take care of. She's felt he needed to stay behind, and she was right. Without the Watchers, without the shrouds, his life, all their lives, were meaningless.

She adjusted the green swatch of cloth wrapped loosely around her broken wrist. Sixteen hours and she'd be as good as new. The Watchers were very careful, and accurate. There was comfort in their diagnosis-she wouldn't need the swatch one hour longer than prescribed.

Jesof glanced around then leaned in. "Rumors are flying you saw something wild. Unnatural is how I'd describe it. That's all I'll say."

"Rumors are dangerous." She bit into a crusty portion of the remaining bread that was sitting on the corner of her plate. "We're told what to trust. We're given what we need. We live. They watch. That's all there is to it." She glanced around the room at the occupied tables. Yellow, everyone was in yellow. And always had been. No pink. No red. She lowered her gaze as she noticed the others beginning to stare.

"You're not sharing with your sponsor. That's a no-no."

"Don't push me, Jesof."

"I do what I'm told," he said putting up both hands.

They both chewed in silence for several minutes, then Jesof cleared his throat uncomfortably loud. "So you're wearing red because you touched one of them?"

The three sitting at the next table stopped mid-conversation and turned. Jesof smiled at them, then motioned to keep eating. Tanis grabbed Jesof with her bad hand and pulled him to his feet.

He swatted at her. "Don't let that poisoned green thing touch me," he said in a harsh whisper. "It's not prescribed for me. You trying to do me in?" She motioned for him to follow, but he kept pointing back to their table. "I plan to finish before evening session."

"Then I'll make it quick," Tanis snapped, as they both stopped a safe distance from the rest of the group. "I haven't been feeling myself. In fact, they say something's very wrong with me. That's the reason for the red. However awkward it may be for you to remain my sponsor, I need you to trust the Watchers as much as I do."

"It's not them." Jesof hesitated. "No one trusts you anymore."

Tanis quit breathing for a count of five. It seemed inconceivable that the group would turn against her, even after she admitted how wrong it was to leave. Her actions weren't personal, not intended to offend them. She assumed the rest of the group would let it go as easily as Jesof did.

The evening session would prove she's no threat. The red shroud wasn't a punishment; it was treatment for an affliction the group couldn't know about. Not until the Watchers were prepared to tell them. And they would. They gave her their word.

"After session," she said, "all that's going to change."

###

The usual scene. Two half moons of metal folding chairs separated by a raised platform runway. Every seat was filled twenty minutes before the start of evening session. But that didn't surprise Tanis. Not tonight. No one wanted to miss what they assumed would be her persecution. Little did they know....

Jesof sat silently beside her. She still had complete respect for the man who had supported and guided her since she arrived, but her patience had limits. Whenever he tried to open his mouth, Tanis would glare at him, enough to strike the conversation down.

To her left was one of the newer appearances to the group. She couldn't remember her name, but the expression she passed to Tanis was the same as all the others. Tanis began to worry that the group had lost all capacity for individual thought. Even Jesof seemed to have joined in the collective edge of suspicion.

The door at the far end of the runway rattled. The room fell silent and all heads turned.

Moments later the door swung open and out stepped the Watchers. One by one, they moved slowly across the platform making eye contact with no one in particular. It was as it always was-they looked upon the group as a whole. Yellow shrouds for all. Total equality. No individuals. That was until she'd decided to run.

No one in the group said a word as the Watchers made their way out. Once they were all accounted for the door swung shut.

There he was, at the very end of the line, looking directly at her. Seeing him brought back a flood of memories-being in the jungle together, his touch, his promise to help her regardless of what they'd do to him, her insistence on running alone.

It was all she could do to turn away. She had to stay focused on the moment, her mind set on fighting to win back the acceptance of the group. There would be no jeopardizing that since now her life depended on it. But being with him again if only for one more time-she had to look, just once.

Her eyes followed the line of Watchers to the end. He was still staring. A dangerous gesture, for him more than her. Regardless, the message in his eyes was clear: he didn't want her to leave again.

The parade stopped and the lead Watcher stood in the middle of them all, arms raised to the crowd. "Thank you all for coming to evening session. It's comforting to see the group in such good health and spirits. Unity is the road to a cure."

Most of the group clapped, but not as fervently as usual. Tanis attributed it to impatience, but part of her felt it was plain distrust in her, their silent way of demanding answers.

"These meetings have always been a place to join in search of even the smallest bit of relief from your affliction," the lead Watcher continued. "But tonight our agenda is very different. Change is upon us, as is a cure for one of you. And she'll be leaving the group, the very first to depart from our loving family. We're all here tonight to say goodbye to Tanis."

A din of chatter and whispering filled the auditorium. Tanis noticed several of the others turn to her. Jesof tried to shoo them away with a flick of his hand.

"Ignore them," Jesof said. "They don't know what's going on."

"They're getting rid of me," Tanis whispered just loud enough for Jesof to hear. "I'm a risk. They think I'm going to infect everyone." She fought the urge to look at him again up there on the stage. All she could focus on was leaving again, getting out no matter what it took. But to do that she'd need him.

"That's ridiculous. We're all sick. Besides, when's the last time you wondered where someone got off to?"

After some time the room fell silent and the lead Watcher went on. "As for the rest of you...well, we continue to implore you not to take treatment into your own hands. This is a dangerous gesture. For everyone."

Tanis looked down at her wrist again and turned the swatch over purposely making the joint ache. She didn't need to look around to know most of them were staring. "They don't want to save me," she whispered. "They want to kill me."

Jesof was busy waving his hand to ward off the growing attention.

"You've all come so far over the months and years you've been here," the lead Watcher said. "Although this recent incident has led to a cure for one, regrettably, it has spoiled our research and has likely infected the rest of you with a new affliction. Therefore we'll need to start over with a more aggressive treatment. In the morning, the rest of you will be prescribed a pink shroud."

The room erupted. People stood and chairs scraped against the floor and fell over. Tanis felt Jesof's hand in hers, then she was being dragged to the rear of the auditorium faster than her feet could move. Several from the group were following, encouraging others to join. The walk migrated to a run. Everyone was after her now. Keeping their distance, the Watchers yelled and waved their arms trying their best to restore order. Several of them ran off-stage.

Tanis made eye contact with him again, begging him to intervene. But he was ill-equipped-he couldn't touch any of them without protection. He could only look on helplessly willing her to run.

Jesof pushed on the rear door and led Tanis through the dining hall. The rest of the group was right behind them. Jesof was moving a half step quicker than Tanis and she felt her good wrist start to give. Jesof told her to speed it up, but it was too late. One, then two, then countless of them grabbed hold of Tanis by her shroud and dragged her to the ground. She felt a fresh snap of bone and cartilage in her already broken wrist. The pain was shortened by a fist landing on the side of her head, then a knee came down on her back.

They wanted blood, and they were getting it.

Before the rest of the group converged, a swarm of fully-clad Watchers arrived, body suits surrounding them like rubber hides. Tanis was quickly dragged to her feet and carried off by two of them. Her toes brushed the floor as they ran toward the nearest exit leading to the common area and beyond that the Watcher safe zone. With a labored turn of her head, she saw Jesof lying face down in a pool of red while the group backed away at the prompting of the Watchers' stun guns.

###

The quarantine cells. By far the safest place she could be, but not permanently. Sooner or later the Watchers would have to let her out, and the group would be waiting. And they'd kill her.

She coddled her wrist and winced at the pain shooting through it. The green swatch was doing little to help now, and refusing treatment for her bruised cheek only compounded the pain. She could feel the distinctiveness of her heart beat in her temples.

After some time a knock came.

She paused, preparing for the inevitable. But then she recalled the two armed Watchers outside. There was no danger. Not yet.

The door opened and a bodysuit-clad Watcher stepped in. With the headpiece and breathing apparatus in place they all looked the same. Even their heights were nearly identical. She stood, facing the Watcher, ready to be brought back to the group. They might want her dead, but she wasn't planning on giving up that easily.

As the mask and headpiece came off, she left out a heavy sigh. It was him.

"I'm relieved you're back," he said stepping toward her. "I was worried they wouldn't find you."

She didn't respond, keeping her distance.

"In the jungle, why did you run from me?"

"You were staring at me in front of everyone in there," Tanis said ignoring the question. "What if the others saw you?"

"I had to let you know I'm still with you."

He moved in to inspect her cheek, but she turned her face from his touch. "So this is the big plan," she said. "Let the group take care of me to save you the trouble of killing one of your own patients."

"I never agreed to that. I told you I'm not on their side this time."

"Then everyone else wants me dead."

"Hold still and let me look." He edged closer.

Even with the protective gloves on his touch made her muscles soften. "What's the prognosis, doctor?" she whispered after a moment.

He rewrapped her wrist and smiled at her. "You'll be fine in a few hours."

From the pouch on his sleeve he removed a tube of cream, squeezed out a dab, and worked it into her cheek. Tanis felt uncomfortable pressure for only a second before the pain disappeared. When he was finished, she touched the spot where his fingers had been.

"You still haven't answered my question," he said, returning the tube to his pocket. "About leaving me. You could have died."

"Something inside me really wanted to try again. To fix what was broken before I came here."

"So you used me."

"You're not the one who's sick. How can you begin to know what it's like to live in constant wait? With so much unfinished?"

"If you only knew, Tanis...." He trailed off trying to hold her hands, but she refused. "There's no way back, not for any of us," he continued, frustration setting in. "We've explored the jungle endlessly. What did you expect to find that we couldn't?"

"Exactly what I found. A way back."

"But you're still here. You didn't go anywhere."

Tanis rested her back against the wall. "That's because they stopped me."

"No, you kept yourself from going."

"I was more than ready. I still am."

"No one can leave here. No one ever has."

"What do you mean no one? Right now I don't have a choice. At least at home I have a chance of living a somewhat normal life no matter how screwed up it was when I left."

"Tanis, regardless of what they say I can't do it. I can't let you go."

She closed the distance between them stopping just short of being uncomfortably close. "At this point I can't stay even if I wanted to," she said. "Please take me to the jungle again."

He hesitated, working his gloved hand over the side of his neck. "I can't do it."

"You have to."

"There's nothing out there for you."

She tried to embrace him, but he stepped away. His eyes gave away the need for her touch, skin against skin, but that lethal contact would send her running again. Without another word he started for the door, resecuring the mask and breathing apparatus. She took quick steps to push the door closed before he could leave.

"I'm not finished with you," she snapped. Surprise and nervousness overtook him, like cornered prey. "You lied to me. I touched one of the others. I know you're not the only one who can do it."

"Tanis, you have to understand-"

"You're all so careful not to touch us. We've been living in fear of infecting you. But it's never been about our affliction. It's about the jungle, and what's out there for all of us. What you're keeping from us."

He stared at the ceiling and swallowed hard. Tanis could tell he was at the edge but still wasn't ready to jump. "What is it?" she asked. "What's out there?"

He could say nothing.

"If you can't help me," she said, "I can persuade another one." He looked like he'd been stung inside his suit. "I persuaded you," she added.

After several frozen moments, he finally pulled the headpiece off and dropped it on the floor by his feet. His eyes followed it to the ground. After his third heavy exhale and still nothing she assumed she'd lost. Once he was gone it'd only be a matter of time before the group got their hands on her.

She was ready to open the door when he reached for her hand on the knob. He led her to the middle of the room, took two steps back and began to peel the suit from his body starting at the torso. She admired the natural gray peppering of his chest hair, felt a warmth inside her-a gentle warmth-at the memory of placing the side of her face against it. As he pulled the suit from his feet she moved in, anxious to stand against his naked body again. His hands went out to her. She wanted to recreate the vulnerability of their first encounter, but this time she was preoccupied with the anticipation of where he was about to take her.

They cupped hands and she moved in. She felt her shroud disappear as if her skin absorbed it in an effort to be against him. She sensed the warmest part of him enter the warmest part of her. Slowing her breath, she eased into the moment of their shared transformation.

The hard floor began to soften under her feet swallowed by grass and dirt. The harsh humming of the building's air circulator faded. Soon she felt the sun come out shining down on them through the trees. Deep inside, she was filled with a heat which crept outward to the sun-touched layers of her skin.

He kissed her on the forehead and moved away by degrees. When the best they could do was touch fingertips, he smiled at her. A sympathetic smile. Almost an apology, she noticed.

He dropped his hands, and for a moment they reveled in the silence of the jungle. "Be well," he said, then closed his eyes and allowed the ground to absorb him until she was standing there alone.

###

Her absence would be quickly noticed, so she wasted little time. Home consumed her thoughts, and after a half mile or so from where the Watchers would appear she saw an unnatural shape rise up from the ground beyond the overgrown fern and vines. She carefully passed through the tangled mess to discover the frame of a door standing on the green jungle floor. A comforting sight. Something told her this time she wouldn't be made to wait long.

The inner walls appeared next, along with the glass and mortar that would eventually make up the foyer and waiting area. The thundering sound of the structure forming, assembling itself out of the apparent nothingness made Tanis shiver, her father's voice personified.

She undressed. Once the storm of the construction ceased she breathed a little more easily. With the red shroud removed, her decision to return became the clear choice regardless of what was waiting on the other side.

The shroud slipped away on the conveyor belt and she watched it go without trepidation. The withdrawal would come, but she'd fight it. Her body would learn to live on its own.

She stopped at the mural to admire the changes. Her mind had already reinterpreted much of her history. There was nothing to be ashamed of-she could see that in the joyous expression on her mother's face. Even in the less intimidating gaze of her father.

She listened for the transport alert knowing she'd be leaving very soon. The door to the waiting room swung open as she approached.

She entered and froze. Illusions of movement. Grunts and heavy breath from each side. Hands were on her, bare hands. She was engulfed by paranoia of her nakedness. Fighting the grips and embraces did little good. She was a prisoner. At last she was forced into a chair against the back wall.

All of them-every single Watcher had come. Even him, standing in the back, still naked, still apologizing with his eyes. She looked at the others one at a time. They too were completely naked.

The lead Watcher approached from the back of the crowd. She fought the grip of the two holding her down, but the pain of withdrawal had already begun.

"Let's not waste precious moments," the lead Watcher said, rubbing the side of her face. "We don't have a long."

"You're not taking me back," Tanis said.

"You're not going anywhere."

In the distance, Tanis heard the transport signal. All was ready. It was time. She writhed in the chair feeling the fire growing inside her.

"Save your strength," the lead Watcher said. "That's not for you anyway." The lead Watcher nodded to the two holding her. They dragged her to the floor and secured her wrists to the row of chairs. They twisted the straps tighter until her hands felt like they'd split open. She kicked wildly at her retreating captors.

The lead Watcher motioned to the rest of them and one by one they headed to the door. Tanis watched them go, kicking and glaring at each, forcing them to make eye contact with her. There was no way they'd deny her at least one glance of recognition, that she was a person, an individual, with a life outside the group.

He was last in line, eyes brimming with pity for turning against her, for using her. Once he was gone, the lead Watcher closed to a safe distance and crouched.

"How long have you been with us, Tanis? Eight months? Maybe nine? Must seem like an eternity. Well let me tell you about us. We've been stuck in this place for seven years, made prisoners by our own choice of profession. We were all sent here as part of our rotation, or whatever they were calling it at the time. Left here to take in you and your friends, to care for you. This affliction with no cure. But we're all bound by an oath, so we have to treat you as if there's some hope you'll get better when all we really want is to put in our time and move on."

Tanis shifted as her arms start to burn. The meager breath she fought for wouldn't allow her to speak.

"I was beginning to think you're affliction didn't exist," the lead Watcher continued. "Part of me was preparing to be stuck here forever. Caregivers of the perpetually sick. Didn't take me long to grow bitter, frustrated. This wasn't what I signed on for. But along comes Tanis, and suddenly there's hope for us. A way out. So, let's exploit her illness. Use her to our advantage. A shame, I know, but...that's our way."

"You said I was cured," she finally said through her teeth. "That I'd be going home."

"Treating you was never about finding a cure. It's so clear now that this was all a game, a test of our character." The lead Watcher stood and moved to the threshold. "Our only job here was to give you a way to cope, not heal. To just pass time until we arrived at this very moment."

"Don't get comfortable," she said. "We'll find you."

"Even if the rest of the group cared to look for you, without us, they won't know where to start." And with that the door closed on the sound of her wailing.

When her throat began to burn she fell silent, staring at the ceiling. She concentrated on peeling away the layers of anger and resentment. With the station in her mind, she deconstructed every corner, every wall, willing it to go. In the distance she could hear the transport alert still giving the okay.

The ceiling began to ripple. The chairs around her softened and folded over. The walls began to fade and the light of the jungle poured in. The place was coming apart, but it was too late. Beyond one vanished wall she could see the open transport door, and the lead Watcher, the last of them, stepping through.

The remains of the station disappeared as she fought to shield her eyes from the blinding sun. Her wrists were still bound, now to the tangled undergrowth. The fire welling inside her was a new form of agony, stronger with every passing moment. The group, the shroud, the life she desperately needed to survive, she tried to will them back into existence, but it was no use. The best she could do was surrender to the overwhelming pain and the loneliness of the infinite jungle.

 

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Tim Kenyon was born and raised on the seacoast of New Hampshire. After several years in law enforcement, publishing, and bookselling, he turned to writing full-time. He wrote his first novel, Ersatz Nation, while earning his Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing degree at Goddard College in Plainfield, VT. His second book, American Melancholy, a mix of crime and speculative fiction set in a near-future San Francisco, is being represented for publication by the Castiglia Literary Agency. His third novel, In the House of the Blind, is underway. He also has several short pieces appearing in various journals. This is his second story to appear in Ultraverse. Tim is currently residing in Bay City, MI with his son and partner/poet, JodiAnn Stevenson. He teaches English composition at Delta College.

© Tim Kenyon

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