The Junk Garden, as a sign outside claimed it was called, was a gray and dirty place filled with ancient automobiles, all lined up straight, like they were trees in an orchard. In the very center, a giant oak stood, holding up a car engine by a heavy chain from a thick branch. The engine looked ruined, rusty, as if someone had left it hanging there a long time. In fact, most of the vehicles looked like they had been here for a while, and many appeared to be pre-calamity. There couldn’t be much business this far out of the city, not for these old hunks of scrap metal. Close to nine o’ clock at night, Nancy and Alex walked in the front gate.
When the wind blew in the junkyard, the place whistled from all the metal and glass. A noticeable odor stirred in the air too. One that felt stinging to Nancy’s nose, as if it was from vegetation of some kind. An odd smell for sure, here in the junkyard, thought Nancy. Yet, maybe that’s the whole reason the place was named the Junk Garden, because there was an actual garden here somewhere.
He was holding her hand again. That was becoming a habit, she had noticed. Nancy gracefully slipped her hand out, and pulled her rain jacket tighter around herself. Such signs of affection should be done in private, if at all. Besides, she was a social agent not a schoolgirl, Nancy reminded herself, again.
He lurked about the place, eyeing the old motorcycles, or what was left of them. He must think he was shopping, the way he gleaned over the junk. She supposed that might be the real reason he wanted to come here, at least partly. It was a sad thing to witness, a man fascinated by engines and vehicles, who would never be able to drive one. She had hoped that he would have grown out of that childlessness by now. He once admitted to her that he wanted to race when she was alone with him one night. She had laughed at that, but immediately regretted doing so; his face looked hurt. Alex just couldn’t understand, it was far too dangerous for him, for every boy even. She had tolerated his fantasies enough tonight though.
“So, did we come here to look at junk?” Nancy asked him.
“No,” he backed away from an old motorcycle, one that was clearly pre-calamity. “Do you know what this is?”
“An old junked motorcycle.”
“It’s a police motorcycle.” He was correct; the star on the gas tank was still barely visible. “Men used to ride these.” He turned and kept moving after saying that.
Nancy was relieved. She had thought she might have to pull him away. The Department of Safety was careful with education policy, especially with boys. History before the Great Calamity was a touchy subject. Discussion of wars was minimized or completely ignored if possible. In fact, the church schools forbade any talk of wars at all. Men’s role in history, such as that of a soldier, or of an athlete, or of stupid reckless racers, was only mentioned when necessary. The policy kept boys safe, and that’s what was important. Nancy had indulged him before, though, more than she should have. Once, she brought him a video from the federal archives, Great Races from the Past, a collection of the most famous races, supposedly. All it was, was men in vehicles speeding and smashing into each other. He loved it. She hated it. After that, she never brought another video for him.
Suddenly, screaming came from within the junkyard. The voice sounded like a girl’s, an older one too. Nancy ran towards it with him tailing right behind her. They soon found an old plump girl in a faded sundress, flopping around in her flip-flops, with a broom raised up in the air. “GIT! GIT!” The old girl yelled. “You darned things.” Her heavy legs looked unshaven, but were barely noticeable in the shadow under her dress. She obviously didn’t seem to care much about appearance, but her hair, curiously, seemed to be nicely done. The old girl had a big mop of permed brown curls plopped underneath a wide-brimmed hat. She stood on the edge of a small porched house, shaking a broom at the night sky. “GIT! You sky rats. GIT!”
Alex approached the old girl. “Sister Bertie,” he said softly, putting his hands in his pockets. The old girl stopped and dropped the broom. She then balanced the glasses on her nose, before giving her aged eyes a moment to look him over.
“Little Blue-Eyes?” The old girl asked.
He nodded back.
In church school, he had told me, the little girls all called the old girl, “Sister Birdy.” He was late in figuring out that wasn’t her real name. Her pet parakeet in the classroom didn’t help with that. But the sister didn’t mind, she had nicknames for all the girls, and him too. And he got the job of cleaning the bird cage, usually. The only boy in class tended to get all the attention.
“God and Holy Mary, you got big,” the old girl said. “Come here.” Dropping the broom and stretching out her arms wide, and giving a smile just as big, she pulled him in for a hug. The old sister only came up to his chin.
“You smell like roses,” the sister commented with a sniff.
“I’m not wearing any cologne, sister.”
“Just a figure of speech, my little Blue-Eyes.”
“What were you doing?” he asked, after finally getting her to release him.
“Oh, just chasing away those sky rats. They make a ruckus on my house all night long if I let them.”
“Sky rats?”
“Bats. I just like to call them that when I’m mad.”
There weren’t any bats that Nancy saw. The old sister must have chased them away, figured Nancy, or maybe the old girl was just yelling at nothing.
“Now,” the old sister said, massaging her veiny hands, “Who’s the girl? She looks like she fell out of the back of a truck and kept rolling down the street.”
“Um, this is Nancy. She got into a fight.”
“Oh, a tough girl living on the streets, I bet.”
“No,” Nancy spoke up finally. “I’m a social agent. Getting beat up is a part of my job.”
“A safety maid?”
“Yes, a safety maid.” She cringed as she said it herself.
“Sister Bertie, we came to…” Alex lost his words for a second before Nancy overtook him and said, “We need a favor. We want you to marry us, sister.” So we can be done with this nonsense quickly and for good. Nancy had work to do.
The old sister stood in silence for a second, looked at him, and then at Nancy, before speaking again, “Is this a trick?” A hint of worry appeared in the old girl’s eyes. “This can’t be legal, can it safety maid?”
“No,” she answered flatly, “not really. But it’s fine.”
“Oh, well, then let me make double sure about something.” The old girl wrung her hands nervously. “So, both of you came here, at night, to see me, so that I would marry you? Is that right?”
“Yes,” answered Alex.
“Yes, sister,” answered Nancy.
“Sorry, I had to make sure. When you get my age, you sometimes wonder if your mind is playing tricks on you. Well, I suppose I can. A safety maid can’t arrest herself, can she?”
“No, and no one will arrest you,” Nancy said, “We just want you to conduct the ceremony.”
The old sister picked up the broom again. “You know, I had a dream once…” The old girl walked onto her porch and began sweeping. “about a girl and a boy getting married. Except I remember, I was the girl getting married, and I was a lot younger too, and thin. My mother was there, God bless her, and all my sisters too. The boy, he loved me. I knew he did, though I can’t remember his face. I guess that’s because I never had a boy to remember. And there was an old sister performing the ceremony too, very old, and very fat.” The sister tapped on her belly. “Somehow I knew it was a secret marriage too, like from Romeo and Juliet, but I never knew why. It didn’t make sense.” She paused for a moment and rubbed the thin bristles above her top lip. “But now I know,” she said, with an odd certainty in her voice. “I wasn’t the girl, I was really the old sister. Sometimes dreams don’t make sense the way you want them to.” The old girl laughed, almost too much, and had to wipe a tear from her eye. “God and Holy Mary, it’s dusty out here,” said the old sister. “Well let’s go in.” The old sister turned and opened the door, before flopping on her feet inside. She made sure to sweep her path as she went.
“Okay.” He replied as he held out his hand to Nancy. She thought about grabbing it, but instead she just pointed forward and then walked. He followed behind.
The inside of the sister’s home had a comfortable feeling to it. Even the thick aroma of flowers and vegetation in the air only tickled Nancy’s nose gently. Nancy felt relaxed, for the first time today. She exhaled as she sank into the button-cushioned couch, and toyed with the idea of letting herself fall asleep. Her body was tired, she knew that, and her advantage levels were getting weaker and weaker. She really wanted to rest, but she didn’t have much time.
He moved about with more energy though, as he looked over the framed pictures on the wall. The old sister had placed school pictures from every year she had taught in church school. The pictures filled up the entire wall.
On the coffee table, a propped up image sat of Sister Bertie, much younger than the old girl was now, holdings hands with a Mother Superior. Behind them was a gigantic wall painting of the fiery heart of God with a crown of thorns placed around it. The Mother Superior looked particularly familiar to Nancy, and it only took her a few seconds to recognize the girl. “That’s the Mother Most Superior,” Nancy said aloud. “You know the Mother Most Superior?”
“Well,” said the old sister, “I met her once. She was just Mother Molly back then before she started to demand all the sisters call her Mother Carnation, after her last name. She wanted her name to sound more serious. But all the sisters started calling her Mother Damnation instead.”
“Mother Damnation?”
“Oh, they never said it where the mother could hear it, of course not. No, a girl didn’t want to get on her bad side, ever. Mother Molly always liked to remind the sisters, whenever she found the opportunity, that they were all standing on the edge of hell, and were likely to fall into it unless the sisters obeyed her instructions. She was strict, but Mother Superiors should be, I suppose. She never laughed. But she never cried either. Carnation had no use for emotions. Her heart was as solid as a rock.”
“There I am,” said Alex, pointing at a picture.
Sister Bertie moved next to him, placing her hand on his back. “The only boy in class, my little Blue-Eyes. You were the fastest runner in the class, do you remember that?”
“Yeah, sure. The girls used to think I was a freak or something, and refused to race me.”
“Of course, they weren’t used to playing with boys. They didn‘t know what it meant.”
The old sister pointed at the next picture in the row. “The next year there were three boys,” then she continued in order, “then seven, then more and more each year. My last year,” she said with a finger towards the last picture, “almost half my class were boys. But you’re my first.” The old sister reached up and messed his hair. “My little blue-eyes.”
Sister Bertie then twirled around in her dress and left the room. A moment later, her muted voice came from the kitchen. “One-minute dears, I’ll be back with some treats.”
Nancy sat up on the couch. “We should talk about where you should go now.”
“It doesn’t matter,” He turned and looked at Nancy. “As long as we stick together.”
“I have work to do, and you know that. I don’t have time to go off with you.”
“Nancy, listen to me, we should stay together. You’re in bad shape. I can tell that something is very wrong. I heard you on the phone.”
“I’m not going to argue with you, Alex. You’re in the protection program and I’m giving the orders. Take the long-term transit out of the city. Go south until you are out of the state, then head east until you reach the coastline. Stay at a hotel there. There shouldn’t be many people this time of year. It will be nice.”
“I’m not going alone. You said you hated the beach anyway.”
“Go wherever you want. It doesn’t matter. Just get out of the state at least. I’m not going with you, so get used to it. Also, when you need to get cash from your debt-card, do it only once. Get as much as you can out, and make it last.”
“Won't they be able to track that?”
“Yes, but only once at that station. After that, you'll be using cash.”
“There's probably--”
“Take the maximum. Make it last.”
“What about you?”
“I have a friend who will help me.”
“Talky?”
“It doesn't matter who, and you don’t need to know.”
The door to living room pushed open, and Sister Bertie came in with a plate in her hands. There were two glass drinks, two halved pears, and some cucumber slices. “It's all I have. Sorry. I haven’t had guests in a while.”
Nancy took a glass, when the plate was offered to her and sniffed it. “This is wine.”
“Oh, it won't hurt you. I promise, my dear. I drink one glass every day, or two, or three sometimes… who counts? It's good for you.”
Nancy sipped the wine and said nothing back. She wanted to be polite.
Sister Bertie asked, “Have you two thought about where you want to perform the ceremony?”
“Anywhere is fine,” answered Nancy.
“I think at a park somewhere would be good,” he said.
“No. Inside. We don't want people to see us.”
“How about in my garden?” Mentioned the old sister. “It's fenced in. It would be just my vegetables and you two, surrounded by God and Holy Mary’s junk.”
“Fine,” she answered.
“And we will need a dress I think, my dear.”
“I don't need a dress.”
“I have one I think you will like. A green satin one covered in red roses. It was my sister's, and she only wore it once, a long time ago.”
“This is ridiculous. We aren't taking pictures.”
“Now, now, I'm not going to marry you unless you take it seriously. A girl who doesn't want to dress up isn't serious.”
“Nancy, wear the dress,” he said.
Nancy groaned, “Show it to me.”
In the sister’s bathroom, Nancy looked at herself in the mirror. The old sister was shuffling through her hair, trying to fix what she could. Nancy was much too tall for the old girl, so the sister had to stand on a stool. The dress, itself, was fine, better than fine actually, but the bride to be had a swollen nose that was starting to a turn a deep blue. Not only that, she saw scratches on her face, she had never noticed before. Her face reminded her of her mother. Mother, I’m really you. She definitely looked a mess, but at least the dress fit well on her, and it was a nice distraction from her face, her wretched face. This whole thing was pointless anyway, she reminded herself, but the sister and he had insisted.
Sister Bertie said, “We’ll need too much time with your hair, I'm afraid. But I've got a way to fix it quickly.”
“What?”
“A wig.” The old sister pulled up her permed curls to show her scalp. “I have a lot to choose from. Brunette, blonde, short, long, and oh, I even have a red-headed one. It depends on my mood,” she winked at Nancy, “I’m a new person every day.” And Nancy had thought the old girl just took care of her hair and forgot the rest.
The old sister soon returned after picking a dark brunette wig with long smooth locks.
“I think this one was meant for you,” she said as she fit it on Nancy’s head.
The long hair came down to her shoulders. She hadn’t seen herself with hair this long since she was a young girl.
“You look…,” the old sister paused for a moment.
“I look what?”
“Dangerous. It’s what I would wear if I felt dangerous.”
No, she thought, I look like some girl’s ragdoll. And right then, Nancy knew what she would be wearing into the city. No one would see Social Agent Rose in this outfit.
“Aren’t I supposed to look beautiful on my wedding day?” Nancy asked.
“Well, that too, but we have to work with what we got, dear,” said the old Sister, combing Nancy’s new hair with her fingers. “Your little bump on your nose is no big deal. It will be shaded well in the garden, just so you know.”
“I’ll need to borrow this outfit a little longer, the dress and the wig, sister.”
“May I ask why?”
“For work, sister.”
“Well, I can’t say that the dress does not suit you. And that wig fits you fine. Much better than me. God and Holy Mary, if you need to borrow them--”
“Thank you.”
They all gathered in Sister Bertie’s garden later. The moon was nowhere to be seen, and it was very dark outside in the junkyard. The only light came from strings of Christmas lights that had been strewn around the garden area. Alex stood under the lattice roof, picking at the pink flowers that hung from vines above him. He was dressed the same, except for an ugly tie the old sister had managed to find for him. Of course, he hadn’t tied it right, and a wad of a knot held it around his neck. When he turned and saw Nancy finally, he said to her, “You look like a different girl.” That brought a slight smile to Nancy’s face, but she wasn’t sure why.
Sister Bertie had the Holy Bible cradled in her arms, but she never opened it. The old Sister simply had Nancy and Alex repeat vows to each other. The old girl knew them by heart like she had been practicing them. Nancy stumbled through her vows. She had never heard them before. So what, she told herself, this was just make-believe.
“So, done?” Nancy asked, after the old sister stopped.
“Well, now, you may kiss the groom.”
Nancy started to move in, but he was faster, grabbed her up in his arms and placed his lips on hers. She nearly lost her breath. The old sister giggled as she walked back inside. Nancy felt weaker suddenly, and she might have collapsed there, if he wasn’t holding her up. No rest can do that to a girl. Nancy finally pushed him off.
“Are you okay?” He asked.
“Sure.” She was really feeling the drop in advantage formula now. Her levels were dropping faster than she had expected. “I’m just really tired.”
“Then why don’t we go to sleep?” He brushed the wig’s hair out of her eyes.
“Oh.” Nancy almost forgot. “Hold this for me.” She took off her diamond ring necklace and handed it to him. “Don’t lose it. I’ll be back for it after work is done.” No, I won’t. I’ll probably be dead. So it’s yours now. He tightened his fist around it and put it in his pocket.
“I want you to stay with me.” He stared deeply into her eyes, holding her there gently.
She was getting tired of hearing that. “I need to make a call.” She left him there in the sister’s fenced garden, hearing only a grumble of an “okay” coming from him.
All the sounds of traffic had died off by now, and a decent chill was in the air, which she felt in every nook and cranny on her body due to the thin satin dress. When the wind blew, it felt like she wasn’t wearing anything at all. She took cover near the big oak.
She pulled the old phone and battery out, and just stared at it, wondering if she should try calling Lily again. Lily could track her and come get her for sure, but, also, so could the general or Foxglove, or anybody else that might be looking for her. The red-headed silly girl was the only Social Agent in the city she could really trust since Lilac was gone. But Lily was a terrible field agent to count on, well, according to Lilac. Nancy also knew she could be putting Lily in danger. No, she thought, that’s a bad idea.
Foxglove was the girl in charge now, her and her black gloves and boots, and that big mocking grin, sitting behind Marigold‘s desk. The image of that in Nancy’s mind made her fume. But that’s the way it was, she told herself. Foxglove murdered the director, wrote a dumb note, and then took Lilac’s job. And for sure, the black-haired girl was going to be named the new director too, just like the girl had said she would one day. Nancy still had a hard time believing it. Foxglove had been working with the Sicarii. Had she always been? That was tough to accept, even for a girl like Foxglove. The girl that hated everyone that she saw as a rival, must see all men that way too. But Nancy had to admit, that she hadn’t ever heard the girl say anything negative about men ever. Foxglove kept her feelings secret, she supposed.
Lilac had warned Nancy before, “there’s a reason we never find them.” The US Social Agents must have Sicarii sympathizers working on the inside. No wonder Nancy found so few friends at work. She was “boycrazy” and they all must have known about her secret with Alex, her stupid affair, that she should had known better than to have.
Right before putting the phone and battery away, the image of Alex’s yellow flower that hung on his wall popped into Nancy’s head. Dandelion. The sub-director of the west coast was probably Nancy’s best bet for help. I should call her. No doubt, Dandelion must be wondering what was going on too. She was a good social agent, maybe even the best. And if any girl should be behind Marigold’s desk, it should be her, not Foxglove. Nancy slid the battery into the phone and powered it up.
After connecting to the operator, Nancy requested a line to US Social Agent Phyllis Dandelion. Nancy gave her emergency code again, just like before, and waited. A few brief seconds passed before a stiff voice came from the phone. “Social Agent Rose, where are you?” A sharp gust of wind blew, forcing Nancy to hold down her dress and crouch down before she was able to answer. “Dandelion, I can’t talk long. I want you to track this phone and come get me.”
“Well, of course, my dear. I can send girls immediately.”
“No. Wait. Track it when I activate it again. Then come find me.”
“Now this is silly. Everyone is already looking for you--”
“I know, I know, that’s why I want you to wait. When you see this signal pop up again, come get me. Then we can talk.”
“Rose, I think we should talk now. It will take just a minute to locate the signal--”
“Sorry. Trust me on this.”
Nancy shut off the phone and removed the battery. She felt another level of advantage formula drop again, right when the wind died down. The pain caused by her busted nose intensified more. She was feeling exhausted, but she had one more thing to do before she could rest. Nancy grabbed her handgun and disassembled it, making sure to take out the firing pin. She buried the pieces under a junked red and white pick-up truck and threw the pin. She made sure he wasn’t looking too. After making sure the gun was safely covered, she said goodbye to her old nine-point-nine, and walked away.
The moon eventually returned to the night sky, shining down over the junkyard, reflecting itself off all the line-up windshields. Nancy found Alex sitting in the driver’s seat of an old luxury sedan that was sitting on blocks. He held onto the steering wheel, as he watched the moon slowly move above the top of the nearby treeline. The moon was almost full tonight. Two more days left, guessed Nancy.
“Going somewhere?” She asked him, as she slid into the passenger seat.
“Sure, where to my wife?”
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, being called “wife,” so she told him, “Call me Nancy. Remember it’s a secret.”
“Right.”
She buckled herself in, out of habit. He wasn’t wearing his though, so she reminded him, “Safety belt, please.”
He smiled back at her, and said, “We’re pretending.”
“I know that you don’t even know how to drive. Safety belt, please.”
“Okay, safety maid.” He put his seatbelt on.
“Thank you,” said Nancy, as she wiped the windshield on her side. “So, where are you taking me, sir.”
“Don’t know yet. I was thinking about just driving all night. Until we are far away from the city as we can get, and it’s just us alone together.”
“Sounds good to me, as long as I can sleep the whole way.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her.
“Today was good. Tomorrow will be better,” she whispered, as her eyes began to weaken.
“You’re not going to sleep, are you? Nancy?”
Nancy didn’t answer him, and she let her eyes close. She heard him groan to himself before she was gone…
Nancy awoke to the glare of the morning sun in her eyes. The sun had just started making its way over the northeastern treetops, turning the roofs of the abandoned suburban homes a bright orange in the distance. Far off, the sounds of traffic had begun again too. The noise reminded Nancy that she was not that far from the city.
“Good morning, Nancy.” Alex’s eyes were a clear blue sky in the morning. They were also asking for a kiss. So she pecked him on his forehead. She felt better now after resting; she was still weak, but better. There were no bad dreams either last night, or, at least, she couldn’t remember if she dreamt one. There had never been a time, now that she thought about it, where she had a bad dream waking up beside him. He was good luck guessed Nancy.
After a shower in Sister Bertie’s house, she checked herself over in the mirror, and straightened her satin dress and corrected her wig. The old sister had also given Nancy some matching heels to go with the outfit too. She wanted to look tight, as best she could, before going back into the city. Her nose still looked horrible, but that was out of her control. Sister Bertie had tried some make-up, but it hadn’t helped much.
Alex was waiting on the porch when she came out. She knew what was coming next, and she hated it, but it had to be done. He struggled with the tie, which was still around his neck from last night. The knot he had created was proving to be too difficult to simply be tugged apart by him. Nancy gently pushed his fingers away and began working carefully to undo it.
She told him, as she worked, “I have to go, Alex.”
“Nancy,” he said, “Listen to me, you’re in trouble--”
“No, I have to work.” There was a chill in her words.
He stumbled over his only word in response, “But-t.”
Nancy placed a hand against his cheek, softly. “Pretend time is over.” Her eyes were dry and serious. “I agreed to the fake wedding like you wanted me to, only to get you out of the city. It was my duty and only my duty.”
“Yes I know, but Nancy--”
“Alex, I was wrong for what I did with you. Everything was wrong about it. I was a social agent. And, I’m still a social agent, so I’m ordering you to never call me, never look for me, ever again.” She hated saying those words, but she had to. It was the only way to make sure he was safe. He wouldn’t understand that, for sure, but it was all for his own good. Nancy pulled the knot apart, and let the tie hang loose around his neck. “There you go, sweetie. We’re done.”
Not waiting for another word from him, she turned and marched away. She didn’t care really. Maybe his feelings were hurt a little, but at least he’d be safe. Boys tended to overreact emotionally, anyway. Besides he was getting in the way of her work. She was going back to the city, where it was dangerous, and she was going to stop the Queen of Spades by herself if she had to-even if it meant dying in the attempt. I might be the only social agent that can stop her. Yet, when she heard a hushed, “be careful Nancy,” coming from behind her, a sudden cramp grew in her stomach. It’s the advantage levels dropping, she told herself, it must be. I don’t have much time. She walked on.