We drive to what they call the headquarters. I’m excited to see the place. Arien seems to be the only one who has a car, or a license, so we all have to press ourselves into his van, sitting on top of each other. I feel grateful that I am very small, even for a girl. I do not mind sitting at the edge of my seat. The closeness to the others, though, is a little trickier. It is so strange. I can smell them. Perfume, sweat, deodorant. I can hear them breathing. I can feel their skin vibrate as their hearts beat, their rhythm almost synchronized. But not mine. My heart is still beating a little too fast, like a canary bird’s.
The van stops outside another, dusty old street. All the streets here look the same. If Arien did not give me a ride, I would get lost so quickly. This town is like a maze.
I follow the others in through a door. The headquarters house does not look any different from the other houses I have seen. Not the kind of fancy, cool building I had expected it to be, hearing the word ‘headquarters’.
Inside the door we go up a long staircase, straight to the second floor and into a living room, with a glass door that leads out into a small balcony. I notice there are flowers near the window.
We sit around a big, round table. It reminds of the history class back home, about King Arthur and his knights, in medieval England. They had a round table, did they not? I think so.
Someone makes tea, and I hold tightly around my cup when it arrives, my hands are so cold. It’s the best tea I have ever tasted. Sweet and fruity, like warm wine. I drink it greedily.
“So, tomorrow we will have to distribute blankets. Most of them don’t have any, and there’s a storm coming.”
Everyone nods. I follow their example. Blend in with the others, make no ripples.
“They need shoes as well,” says the woman with the stray.
“I know, but we don’t have any more shoes.”
“Can’t we get some?” she asks.
“No, not right away. We’ll have to wait for the next shipment from the mainland.”
“And how long is that?”
“Depends on how quickly the western people throw their shoes.”
We are silent. The woman blinks away angry tears. Many of the others look upset too, and I wiggle uncomfortably in my chair, feeling left out, like I am missing some important point. I suddenly remember that the woman is called Mary.
“So, I suggest we meet in the warehouse in the morning, pack all the blankets we got, and go to The Camps. Does everyone agree?”
Arien speaks to us like we are equal, like he is not the boss.
We nod.
Chatter fills the room, and Arien catches my eye and nods toward a door. When he leaves the room, I follow him.
We stand in a small kitchen that smells strongly of tea. There are no chairs here, so we are left standing in the middle of the room, in semi-darkness.
“How has your first day been?” he asks.
“Good,” I say, with honesty. It has been much less eventful than I thought.
“That’s good. But today has been an easy day. The other days will be much harder. I want you to be prepared for that.”
“I am,” I say, unsure if it’s true. I feel stronger, safer now. The worst part was the travel, the not knowing what to expect, going into the unknown. But still, as Arien says, this has been an easy day.
“Good. So, some rules. You are not allowed to go to The Camps alone. You understand?”
I look at him, confused.
“Of course I won’t. Why would I?”
He does not answer.
“Second, can you drive a car?”
“Yes.”
“An old car too?”
“In theory, yes.”
“Good. We need more drivers to take things up to The Camps when it’s necessary. I’ll get you a car afterward. I’ll also add you to our group chat. It is for emergencies only. That’s the second rule; always have your phone with you, and keep it on. OK?”
“OK. What kind of emergencies are there?” I ask.
“Hopefully, you’ll not see.”
I follow him back to the others.
We eat dinner together in the headquarters; Pasta with chili sauce, made by some of the workers who have a skill in the kitchen. This time we eat from our own plates. From the corner of my eye, I can see Hasin watching me, from time to time. It is strangely flattering, and I can feel myself blush whenever our eyes meet. I have so many questions I wish to ask him, questions that are almost forbidden in The West. What is it like in The East? Did he come here alone? How was the escape? Why did he come? Did he know about The Camps? How did he learn the Common Tongue?
I do not say anything. I eat my dinner in silence. No ripples.
It’s dark outside when we leave. I look up at the sky, gasping when I see all the stars, so many more than there are at home. I have to force myself to look away.
Arien takes me to a friend of his who has a car I can borrow. It is small and blue, with only two seats and a big trunk. It reminds me of a bubble, in the bathtub when I was little. I would take them in my little hand, and I would blow air on it, and it would fly away, drift away, across the bathroom, and then it would burst.
Inside it reeks of cigarettes, and it even has a manual gear. The radio is also ancient. Yet, I find myself liking it. It feels like a time machine in a kids show. And it is mine, at least while I am here. A safe place.
I drive home in a nearly constant condition of death anxiety. People around me drive like maniacs. It gets better only when I pretend I am playing a video game. I follow Arien’s car through the dark and narrow streets, outside of town, back into the valley, where everything is so quiet, except for the birdsong that never ends. He turns around, and I continue, following the road until I reach the little farmhouse. It is already a welcome sight.
I park outside the gate, walking quietly up to my room. I am too tired to wash myself, and put it off to the morning. Instead I strip out of my layers and layers of clothes, curl up underneath the blanket in my bed, and fall asleep before I have time to think.