Chapter Nine

Billie ate the oatmeal and fruit, something she was told she had to do for the health of her baby. How the Keeper knew she was pregnant remained a puzzle to Billie. The food he gave her was always tasty and healthy. “As close to the way God created it as possible” was how the Keeper described it, but today the oatmeal had a funny taste to it.

As soon as she put the Styrofoam tray in the depository where she always had to put the disposable dishes, the shower came on. Quickly, she headed to the corner, undressed, and got under the warm water. She had learned to lather fast with the rationed soap so she would have time to rinse thoroughly. The first time she had not been quick enough and had to wear soap until the next shower. When the shower turned off, she dried with paper towels and put her dirty dress back on. She placed the wet paper products on the depository.

“I’m ready for my clean dress,” she called. The door opened a few minutes later, and she retrieved her clean paper dress. She walked to the back corner again, under the camera where she had been told she could dress without being seen. The Keeper assured her he “respected the modesty of women.” What he really meant was he insisted upon it.

As always, the small door automatically shut, and she heard someone remove the items off the revolving shelf. A second later, the door opened, and she took out her rationed toilet paper and drinking water that had to last all day.

Billie dressed quickly, still embarrassed by the thought someone might be watching even though she was beneath the camera. The real reprieve from being watched came at night when it was so dark she could not see her own hand in front of her face. She’d been afraid of the dark before. Now, it was her only friend.

Billie went to her mattress and lay down. Feeling exceptionally sleepy made her wonder if she had exercised too much the night before.

Soon, she was sound asleep, dreaming she was floating along, almost flying, her feet not touching the ground. When she stopped, she tried to open her eyes, but could only manage a peek. Two people dressed in white stood over her. Their faces were covered with masks, and their mumbling was incomprehensible. She felt something cold on her belly. Round and round the cold thing moved. When she shivered, the shorter person, a female, patted her arm without saying a word.

Am I in heaven? Will I get to see my Grammar? Is my baby here with me?

Billie tried to open her eyes, but they would not open.

Where’s the light? Everyone says there’s a light. I want to go to the light.

But no light came. She felt something else cold. This time it was between her legs, pushing up inside her. She tried to press her legs together, but could not move. Again she shivered, but this time a woman patted her arm and whispered in her ear.

“It will be all right, Billie.”

“No! Do not speak to her!” The voice did not come from the man who stood over her but from across the room. The voice, loud and sharp, was not spoken through a synthesizer.

Billie could hear her Grammar’s voice.

Whistling!

Singing!

Remember, Billie! Remember!

Run!

Get up!

Run!

Then her own voice took control.

Falling! Falling!

Clouds!

Mom! Dad! Grammar!

Blackness.

Billie awoke on her mattress. It had been a strange nightmare, so real. It was as if she had been transported somewhere, somewhere away from the cell. She felt wet between her legs and tried to get up to go to the toilet, but she was too groggy. She fell back onto the mattress. Her dress was stuck to her belly and the upper part of her legs. She tried to get up again, and this time stumbled to the toilet.

She peed, but it hurt a little this time. When she wiped, she saw tiny specks of blood and something else thick and sticky. She pulled her dress away from where it was stuck to her belly. Reaching under, she felt small drops of something dried to her skin.

She recognized the little bit of gel that had been left on her stomach. It was from a sonogram like the doctor had given her at sixteen, when they’d thought she had appendicitis. She remembered the cold from her dream on her stomach and between her legs.

It was not a nightmare. The Keeper drugged me. The oatmeal!

He drugged me and took me somewhere.

I’ve been examined!

Billie closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around her knees in a fetal position, and rocked herself to sleep.