Evelyn

My decision had been made within the hour. I had left in time because no sooner had I began my mission, but the government vans pulled up and parked outside of our building. My legs felt shaky as I pried the chain link fence aside and pushed through the small steep hill of very dead and overgrown grasses and weeds between our neighbor’s house. When I glanced back, I could no longer see our building. I wasn’t as guilty or afraid as I was impatient. Waiting any longer for my brother, Navi, was just as good as waiting to be killed. Besides, he had been taken away by officials a month ago, for questioning, they said. Waiting to be picked up was ridiculous. I knew it, and only wondered why they hadn’t come for me sooner. I lay on my stomach and peered over the crest of grass with a clearer view of our building. The large white vans parked up in front sat still for a moment longer. Then, the men in their white armored suits piled out and knocked on the door. I winced as they punched the door in and entered. I pinched the pocket of my coat and felt for the small raise indicating that the envelope was still there. I crawled down the embankment and hurried through the next few blocks, trying to get as far from the house as I could.

I wondered what Navi would say when he found out that I had kicked in the front of his TV set and burned our mail. No going back now. Evelyn had sent her warning, just before they took Navi. I had to find her black book. She said that money was enclosed in it, and coordinates. Coordinates to get out of this place, outside of the city limits. And the money, which she said she had hidden in the book- would be for trouble. But my brother was in trouble. I could use that money to get him out, not that he ever longed to leave this place. Even if I did, then what? Maybe there was some other way...

It was about noon when I stopped to rest. The winter sky gave off a dispersed glow and trash and dead leaves rattled in the corners of the gutters and alleyways. In the distant streets around me, the sharp snaps of gunfire, small explosions, and scattered voices became a frequent ambiance to the otherwise dead-silent ruins. Some buildings still stood, though barely. Snow floated in the air as if it didn’t want to touch the desecrated city below. It blew in waves over the broken-up streets as I approached the Tunnel Spire, a mostly in-tact skyscraper with golden panes of glass that reflected everything in sepia and towered above the rest. I peered up at the very top. It seemed to be perpetually falling towards me in its looming enormity. Evelyn lived here. Or at least she had. I hoped that her message to retrieve the book wasn't a precursor to one of her wild plans. A gust of wind pushed me to hurry up and find a small opening in the boarded-up double-doors. I pulled a board off and set it down. I glanced down each end of the near-silent street and continued to pry at the next board.

“Hey!” a government sentinel appeared at the end of the street. Startled, I launched at the boards and slid in through the crack I had made. Leftover glass shattered all around me, but I made it through without getting too cut up.

“Hey, no one’s allowed in there without clearance!” The voice grew louder and I heard sharp trudging steps running towards the opening. Broken glass crackled around me on the shining marble floor. Inside the cavernous lobby, all was dim and a pocket of stale, cold air hung in the places where slats of light reached back to the hall openings, and further down where the elevators were. Broken, warped lobby music droned somewhere. This place was once beautiful. The boards above my head creaked and I could see the shadow of the man who was following me, “Come out of there, now! I’m armed!” he said, “I know you’re still in there- the elevators don’t work!”

I slid across the floor on my stomach and elbows, making my way deeper into the shadows.

“Why are you here? You hungry? Hey, you hungry?! Kid!” He paced the other side of the wall alongside me, "There's nothing left in there."

Wanna bet?

I studied the back of the lobby, behind the welcome desk. There was a single door at the end of the room that had an orange light flickering and buzzing softly above it, like a small beacon. The stairs. If he got in, would I be able to run up twenty-six flights of steps? Evelyn’s apartment was on that floor. There, I could get the black book she asked for, the one full of names, those who could help us get out of this horrible city. But it would do nothing good in the wrong hands.

“I’m going to count down from three, so you better come out!”

I realized that if he was armed, I would have little chance. I stood up slowly.

“Three…”

I sprinted to the back wall and eased the door open.

“Two….”

I slid through and let the door slam. I heard bullets hit the door, echoing outside. I turned and began to run up the stairs, three flights up, seven flights up. I stopped at level twelve, my heart punching around in my chest and my head a blurry, heavy mess. My legs screamed at me but I dragged myself up, breathing heavily, waiting to hear the click of the door below. At level twenty-six, I eased the door open and looked both ways. The hall was extremely dark, and the windows on either end let in very little light. Dust coated the floors. Water trickled down the center of the hallway, running rusty patterns towards the elevators where it could be heard splashing through the cracks. I hurried to the end of the hallway and pressed against a small alcove that hid me from immediate sight. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to catch my breath.

In her voicemail, she had given me the room number. And said a bunch more of that empty, sentimental stuff.

"17. My room number. Take care of yourself."

I peered down the hallway. Room 17 was there, directly to my left. An end room.

“What luck,” I murmured aloud.

The door was half broken open. I climbed up over the diagonal breakage and fell into the room on the other side. The window was open and a frigid wind pushed the curtains around at the far end. I half expected to find Evelyn there and walked around with my fists clenched. No one was there. I thumbed through the books piled on the floor, through recipes mixed with vendettas and ransoms that she had crammed into the minuscule kitchen counter. I checked under the pillows and the bed, and even in the bureau drawers. Just warped wood and musty clothes. It was amazing that these hadn't yet been burned. Maybe her strange, sacred presence that lingered here had warded off anyone who tried.

I sank to the floor and closed my eyes, exhausted and confused.

“When you get the money and things, it will mean that they found me," she had said in her voicemail, "When you leave… I hope you leave a happier person. I do this stuff alone because I want to give you guys a chance, you know? I hope that the terrible things that happen now don’t follow you to the wonderful future you'll have. I just hope that someday you’ll forgive me for leaving.”

"What even does that mean?" I asked aloud, "You always leave."

When I opened my eyes, they landed on the microwave. I stood up and walked towards it doubtfully. Slowly, I opened it. There was yet another stack of books. She was like that. I shoveled them out, one by one, onto the floor. At the bottom, the thin black book lay, a bit greasy and mottled, but intact.

I had read the letter of coordinates until the folds wore thin, in case I ever lost it, but I had not opened the book before now. When I opened the cover, there lay $20,000 dollars, as promised, and pages filled with coordinates and contacts. Safe zones. I stepped back and exhaled as reality hit me.

Evelyn was truly dead. If I had doubted it before, I didn't now. I wasn’t safe anymore. I removed the money and folded it up tightly. I would become a target with this. I tucked it in my pocket, my mind working to think of how she ever came across it. I pressed my finger over the name written on the first page of the book, as if in reverence, above the coordinates. Evelyn Machroney. I looked back at the envelope. Evelyn Machroney. Matching names.

I stood still for a moment and remembered sitting on a front stoop. She and I were in a trailer park, staying at some relative's place before everything had shut down. She was vividly describing her latest obsession with the Pacific Northwest, and all the good people she had met there during her stay. She described farmland, and hidden communities, way up on the beautiful mountains. I felt so small and annoyed in her shadow, yet so filled with wonder at her words.

“And of course you’ll have to come with, too. Next time.” She added.

I had nodded, clenching my fists and turning away to hide a very badly done smile.

But her empty promises were so well received by the lonely kid I was. So I kept listening, and in the years that followed, I kept waiting.

And when she sent me a voicemail about the envelope and the book, all I felt was spite. I couldn’t wait to leave, to do all the things she had done without us. And now, her gift would save me, and she would never get to see it. I stood up, determined to begin my escape, to get ahead of anyone who might follow me. Then, a picture fell out of the book. It was of Navi and me. A very small, fuzzy faded picture, with the three of us at the kitchen counter, drinking something at night. I picked it up and turned it around. On the back, it was written,

“No matter what, I will always love you guys. Your dad would be proud of you. I hope someday you’ll forgive me for leaving.”

Now her voicemail made a little more sense. She had planned for this. One of her crazy plans. Probably the craziest one yet. And I was finally a part of it.

I rubbed my thumb over the picture, feeling the angry weight in me release a little. I shoved the book into my coat pocket, alongside the envelope, and headed for the door. I was going to find Navi.