Galilea

“Shhhh…” my mother warns me, pressing one long finger against her lips. I curl myself into a tighter ball inside of my hiding place, not daring to breathe until the whirring sirens of the sentinels are long gone. Once the coast is clear, I emerge from the damp closet beneath the stairs, and allow myself a little exhale of relief. But even though I’m safe for now, I can never truly enjoy a worry-free breath. There is always the fear of being captured lurking in the back of my mind.

I exchange a shaky smile with my mother who smooths my hair and gives my arm a squeeze. I’m happy to be out of the closet, which I’ve been having to spend more time cramped inside lately. The sentinel patrols have been getting more frequent every day. It’s almost as if they know that I’m hiding.

“Larkan, help your brother set the table.” My mother instructs, as if we weren’t all just pressed into the shadows of our dilapidated home. It used to drive me crazy how effortlessly she would switch from panic to an attempt at normalcy, but the older I’ve grown the more I realize she is just doing the best that she can to hold this family together. I reach for this evening’s kelp plates and lay six of them out around the table, the familiar sour aroma making my stomach churn, though I never complain. It’s because of me that there is never enough to go around.

After we are all seated, mom scoops a meager serving of rice onto our plates that we eat too quickly, saving our dishes for dessert. I catch my brother Ephraim’s eye as he bites into the stiff green circle, and he makes a face. He’s not a big fan of the kelp-ware either, but we all force it down and thank mom for a wonderful meal, though none of our bellies are full. We are a family of six who only receives portions for a family of five, because I am an illegal child. I was born outside of the borders of New Americana, and that makes my very presence here illegal.

I make quick work of clearing the table even though it is technically my sister Elara’s turn. I can’t help myself, because I know no matter how much I try to repay the debt to the rest of my family for keeping me hidden, it will never be enough. Before I can finish, my father stands abruptly from the table, wiping his face with his delegated green square before folding it into tiny pieces and popping it into his mouth.

“Larkan, let’s take a walk.” He announces and I shoot my mother a puzzled glance. It’s rare that I’m allowed outside, especially now that the sentinel patrols have increased, but my mother just gives me a gentle smile. So, pushing down the buzzing feelings of excitement that always come with any precious chance I get to step out of our childhood home, I follow my father through the doorway, into the darkened street beyond. The cool evening air carries many sweet aromas and I breathe it in greedily. It’s such a nice change to the stale air inside of our home, made up of everyone’s sweat and dust and old skin. I shake my head, letting the gentle breeze flow through my hair and relish the tiny taste of freedom as my gaze travels down our street, with its row of creaky old houses and its pathways speckled with holes. Overhead, power lines crackle and clothes flutter, strung out on lines like a sea of white flags. This one spot of the world has been my home for as long as I can remember, and even though it’s been months since I was allowed outside last, it brings me comfort to see that not much has changed. “This way, daughter.” My father says with a sad smile, wrapping one warm arm around my shoulder and guiding me down the street, away from our home. We both keep our ears on alert for the sound of sentinels, and although the coast seems clear, stick to the shadows as we walk.

“I have some good news.” My father begins softly, and my heart leaps at the words. I tear my hungry gaze away from every bit of newness around me and focus on my father’s familiar face, worn down with lines from years of worry and secrecy.

“What is it Papa?”

“Your time of hiding is coming to an end.” He whispers, and I don’t dare breathe as I blink up at him in disbelief, the words almost sounding foreign to me. My entire life has been spent in hiding. Coming to an end? How could that be? He flinches as a stray cat jumps down from a pile of boxes and causes a loud clattering sound and yanks me into the shadows, speaking quickly.

“Larkan, we don’t have much time. This life in secret, it’s never what we intended for you. Your mother was so sick while she carried you, and the only doctor who could help, well he was far away. We never planned for you to be born outside of New Americana’s walls,” his words are full of remorse, and I realize perhaps for the first time how much of a weight of guilt that he carries for my birth place. After all, I didn’t choose to be born in Galilea. I never chose any of this. “But we found a way to fix it. We made contact with someone who can return you to Galilea, and a nice family to keep you there. You will be able to live in freedom, go outside, collect rations, perhaps even have a family some day.” He emphasizes, but his words cause me to stumble back, my heart in my throat.

“What do you mean, Papa?” My voice comes out like a croak, my panic causing his face to become a blur. “I already have a family.” I protest, my voice growing louder as the realization of what he is saying begins to set in. If I’m gone, my family will not have to live in fear of being arrested by sentinels for harboring an illegal child. They will finally have enough rations to go around. They will be free.

“This is no life for you.” He begs me to understand, gathering my trembling shoulders in his giant hands, and holding me tight. “You know what will happen if the sentinels find you here. The penalty for living outside of your birth place is death.” His eyes are full of fear, and I can see that he is struggling to get out the next words. “And it’s not just that. If we are caught hiding you, they’ll imprison us, all of us. Your mother, Ephraim, Elara, and grandma.” He shakes his head. His words bring the immense burden of guilt that I’ve been carrying up to the surface, flooding me with shame. He’s right. Of course he is. I don’t want to put anyone at risk because of me. I never did. “I know that none of this is your fault, and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t curse the United Commonwealth for enforcing that fracking census law…” I raise a hand to silence him. I know what I have to do.

“It’s alright, Papa. I want to go.” I lie, offering him my bravest smile, and he dips his head sadly, his shoulders sagging with relief. I know that he is just as torn as I am. Nothing about this will be easy.

“Alright then, my daughter. Let’s go say goodbye.” With a gentle hand on my back, he steers me homeward, and with each step I try to gather my resolve. Even though leaving my family will break me, I cannot allow a hint of doubt to show. The house is silent when we return, though everyone is gathered around the kitchen table, and I can tell from the heaviness in the air that mom has already broken the news to the rest of the family. I hold my head high, and cross the room first to my mother, who does her best to conceal the tears in her eyes as she pulls me in for a final hug.

“Your new family will be wonderful,” she promises, trying to convince herself as much as convince me. “And you’ll be well taken care of.” She assures me, smoothing my hair lovingly like she always does and pulling away, hiding her face. I know she is trying to be strong but I catch a glimpse of the pain in her eyes and it sends a deep ache through my chest that I fear will never go away. Next, I say a silent goodby to Elara, who hiccups with a sob and Ephraim, who clings to me so tightly I’m afraid he won’t let go. Last, is grandma, who smells like home and wraps me in a loving embrace before pressing something into my palm. I blink through tears and peer down at the heart shaped object lingering there.

“A family token,” she whispers, “to remember us by.” I swallow a sob and tuck the heart-shaped locket into my pant pocket before giving her a grateful kiss on the cheek. Although I appreciate the gesture, I don’t need a gift to remember my family by, I decide, as I take one last look at the five of them, together around the table like always. I’ll never forget. I’m not allowed to bring anything else with me, so without another word, my father gives my mother a parting kiss and we disappear through the doorway once more into the night. I can feel the weight of the locket bouncing in my pocket with every step that carries me away from home, and I will myself not to look back. Instead, I force myself to think about what lies ahead. My new life in Galilea, where I will be able to proudly show my credentials to passing sentinels without so much as a worry. There are many good days ahead, I assure myself, as we pick over potholes and listen for danger around every corner. Ones that I will be able to spend outside, in the sunshine, in a place where I belong.

And so, hours later, when we meet with a shifty man in the cover of shadows, and my father hands him a crumpled wad of rations and I’m hit with a wave of panic, I reach my fingers deep into my pocket and find comfort in the locket, a reminder of all that I’m protecting by leaving. And even when it’s time to say goodbye to Papa, who has always been my rock, and the tears threaten to spill down my face, I force myself to smile.

“Thank you.” I gulp, “for my new life, Papa.” I watch as he looks between the stranger and I, his face full of hesitation. Is he making the right choice? I decide for him. “Goodbye.” I say, and disappear through a hole in the fence that the slippery man has cut, forever leaving New Americanas behind.