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Abigail split off after a few minutes to find them new clothes. Doug led them to another brick building, with more tour-guide explanations. “This is a first-year dorm. We had to recreate the kitchen in the basement because they took that all out some years ago in favor of central eateries. None of those survived, though, so we reverted to this. There’s always at least one stove going in the daytime, and it stays pretty warm. The suites in this building are big, like four to eight bedrooms, and every one is full because the kitchen heat drifts up.”
The windows on the upper levels were covered by metal shutters. It probably helped to keep the heat. It’d be nearly as dark as a cave in those suites.
Not so normal a town after all.
Doug introduced them to a few people standing outside the door, whose names Coral promptly forgot. He led them inside and down stairs to a hallway lit with a lamp.
Doug pushed a door open and there was the kitchen. She passed a row of wood stoves of every design, their top surfaces loaded with pots, and with each one she passed, a new smell hit her: the bitter smell of spinach, probably canned, a meaty stew, and then a smell of baked goods that might be cornbread. Pots and pans of every size and design added to the visual overload, and the sound of cooks talking to each other seemed louder than it was.
Coral wanted to run from all the people and activity.
“It’s closer to supper than I thought,” said Doug, brushing past a cook who stared after them. Coral could feel the eyes on her neck as she passed. At the far end of the kitchen, there were metal tables, where three people were still preparing food. Empty cans were stacked to one side, and a big man with a turquoise bandana and silver earring was clearly directing the activity.
“Chef,” Doug said to him. “We have new people.”
All the kitchen workers who hadn’t been staring now turned to look at them. Coral’s animal sense was telling her to flee, but she stood her ground.
The chef said, “Back already? Tell me you found greenhouse supplies.”
Doug shook his head. “Sorry. It’s at the top of our list, though.”
He made a face, and then turned to his workers. “Back at it, please,” he said. “We’re serving in twenty.”
Doug said, “Could I bother you for some warm water, and two of the tubs?”
“Water’s boiling over there,” he said, pointing. “Leave us enough to wash dishes.”
“Can we use a pantry?”
“Sure”
“Thanks,” said Doug. He led them to a stove where kettles and pans of water were on the simmer. Each of them took one, and Doug led them through an open door to a dim room, lined with hundreds upon hundreds of cans of food, some of them huge institutional sized, some small and without labels.
It looked like a lot of food, but then Coral remembered the numbers they were trying to feed, and then it seemed to shrink before her eyes. Maybe they had other storerooms filled with food, but what was in here wouldn’t last a week.
If all these people disappeared, it would last her and Benjamin more than a year.
“They’re burning lamps in the kitchen,” said Benjamin, after Doug had stepped back out, leaving the two of them alone in the dim room.
“Yeah,” she said.
“I wonder how much of the lamp oil they have left.”
Doug returned lugging two oval galvanized tubs, a couple feet long and not a foot tall. “Let’s get the hot water split between these, and I’ll bring you back some cold water and soap and towels.”
They poured steaming water into the tubs, and the water didn’t even go an inch up their sides. Doug said, “Go on and get undressed. No one will bother you.”
Coral hesitated for only a moment before stripping down to a T-shirt. The steam rising from the water, and the very idea of being entirely clean for the first time in weeks overwhelmed any sense of self-consciousness she had. Her fear of the strangers was still there, but none of them seemed to want to hurt her—not yet, at any rate.
Benjamin had turned his back to take his clothes off. He grunted as he pulled off his boots. She heard him stumble, and turned to watch him balance one hand on a stack of extra-large cans.
“Tired?” she asked.
“Weirded out,” he said. “Too many people.”
She was comforted to hear it. “Me too. I can’t tell if I’m being paranoid to be afraid, or if we’re really in danger.”
“I think I’m safe so long as I’m the doctor’s husband.”
“And I’m safe here so long as I’m the doctor—so we’re both depending on a lie to keep us alive. Either we have to do a good job of lying, or we have to get out of here before the truth is exposed.”
Doug was soon back with two kettles of cold water and poured them in. “One more trip,” he said. Coral left her shirt on while she waited for him. It was warmer than freezing in here, but it wasn’t that warm.
Doug returned with a pair of thin towels slung over his shoulder and carrying a lamp. He dug in his pocket and came up with two cubes of soap. “It’s one of the few products we manufacture,” he said. “The soap-makers use metal ice cube trays as forms, and so it comes out shaped like this. Everyone gets one every month, so make it last.”
“Thanks,” said Coral. She accepted the soap. When Doug left the room, she stripped off her shirt.
In the dim light, she could see her own body was wasted away from the starvation. Her breasts were nearly flat. Her hipbones stuck out like dangerous weapons. This body was as unfamiliar as a stranger’s.
She stepped into the water, sluiced it over her legs and began scrubbing.
The water turned dark with dirt within a minute, but she kept on washing, moving up her body. Dead skin sloughed off under her rough fingertips. Had he given them a washcloth, it’d be peeling off her in strips. By the time she was at her face, the water was filthy, and she wished she had started there. No matter. Better partly clean than not at all. She stepped out, dried herself, then got down on her knees and dipped her head in, scrubbing with the soap at her hair, which was already an inch long.
There was a knock at the door. “I have your new clothes,” said Abigail’s voice.
Coral glanced at Benjamin. In the dim light, she could see how much of his muscle had wasted away too. He had been a strong-looking guy. Now he looked much more vulnerable, as he turned his back to the door again. “Come in,” she said to Abigail.
Abigail politely averted her eyes. “Here you are. I found some shoes for you, Coral, but they’re a half size too big. I have socks for you both, underwear, two layers of clothes. I figure your jackets were still okay?”
“They’re fine,” said Coral, “Thank you.” As Abigail turned to leave, she said, “You can’t cut hair, can you?”
“I cut Doug’s, but I can’t do anything fancy.”
“Would you trim mine later on? Try and even it up?”
“Sure. We can do it tomorrow first thing, if you want.”
“Thank you.”
“They’re already serving dinner. I’ll wait right here outside the door for you, and take you to our dining room.”
When she left, Benjamin said, “Sounds like they have assigned rooms for eating.”
“I guess.” Coral finished drying herself and dressed in the new clothes. They were loose, but that was fine. They’d layer more easily. Maybe, if she was lucky, she’d eat enough here to make them tighter. “Shit,” she murmured.
“What?” Benjamin was tying his boots.
She spoke quietly, hoping Abigail wasn’t listening. “I had a thought that made me realize I’m considering staying for a few days. I don’t know if that’s the way to be thinking.”
“We’ll take it a day at a time,” he said. “Right now, I’m hungry. And they have food.”
“I’m hungry too,” said Coral. “What do we do with our old clothes?”
“I guess leave them here for now. We can get them after we eat.”
“As far as I’m concerned, we can burn mine.”
“My old jeans are okay.” His new pants were khaki colored but looked as sturdy as jeans. She had been given blue jeans, a sweatshirt with the university logo on it, and a long-sleeved men’s shirt.
Coral tied her new shoes tight and opened the door. “Is there some sort of laundry set up?” she asked Abigail. “Do you all wash your own clothes? Is there water in the building where you live?”
Abigail smiled. “There’s a central laundry. I’ll give you a tour tomorrow before I go to work and answer all your questions.”
“That’ll be okay?” said Benjamin. “They’ll let you?”
“Sure,” said Abigail, looking confused. “Why wouldn’t they?” She led them through the kitchen and into the hallway. On either side of it, there were open doors, and the sound of silverware banging on plates. At the third door on the right, Abigail entered the room. There were six tables, each seating six to eight. One table had an extra chair squeezed in, and that’s where they sat.
Doug was there and introduced them to the others at the table. “We’re all living at Aspen, so you’ll be seeing them around.”
“Doug and I would love for you two to share our suite,” said Abigail. The two of them must have discussed it while Coral and Benjamin had been bathing.
“Thank you,” said Benjamin. “It’s up to Coral.”
“It’s very nice of you,” said Coral. And they did seem like nice people. Neither gave off an aggressive vibe, and they were probably as safe with these two as with any other strangers. “We accept, and with gratitude.”
“Good,” said Abigail, with a bright smile.
“A toast,” said Doug, to the table. “To our new doctor.”
News of her imaginary skill seemed to have already spread throughout this group, and this time, Coral managed not to deny she was a real doctor. She spent the meal answering questions. Benjamin mumbled short answers to anything directed at him, so by the end of the meal, the focus was entirely on her.
It was overwhelming, exhausting, and by the time she followed Doug out with her empty plate to put it on a wheeled table outside the kitchen doors, piled with a hundred other plates to be washed, she was ready to crawl into a snow cave to get away from everything and everybody.
“We’re headed home?” she asked Abigail.
“Yeah, light’s fading.” The woman studied her. “You look done in.” She sounded disappointed.
“I’m sorry, yeah. Been a long and stressful day, and a week ago, I was literally starving to death.”
“I hadn’t thought. You’ll have to tell me more about how it has been for you,” Abigail said.
Coral wasn’t sure how much she wanted anyone to know about her. “Tomorrow, maybe.”
“Or the day after. I’m sure you’ll be busy at the clinic tomorrow.”
“We need to pick up our dirty clothes,” Benjamin reminded them.
Doug volunteered to get them, and to take care of the bath water. They waited in the warm hallway, watching the last of the diners add their dirty dishes to the table, and soon Doug came back with their stuff bundled in the damp towels.
Coral was wiped out by the time they returned to Doug and Abigail’s apartment. The apartment was freezing, but when she and Benjamin were shown a futon in a private bedroom, there were plenty of blankets and comforters piled on it. As she fell down the long tunnel to sleep, she reminded herself to thank Abigail for arranging for that too.
