Chapter Twenty-Two Ren
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ren
The hospital.
Gotta get there.
Dusk falls fast around me, Akira’s shadow making everything darker.
Cosette is bundled against my shoulder in a blanket, and I’ve wrapped my jacket around her, too, so she’s as warm as possible.
Nurse Rose has told us she’s more likely to get sick because she’s so frail and unable to gain weight.
These past few days, she’s gotten weaker and weaker, the lack of nutrients catching up.
Her sleep periods have gotten longer, her eyelids and fingertips are blue, and it’s hard to rouse her.
Every time I see the glimmer of her eyes, I want to weep with relief.
Every time they close again, I want to say her name, make a racket, anything to make them open again because I’m terrified that one of these times they won’t.
At first, I don’t notice the odd number of people out—or how they all head in one direction.
By the time I’m halfway to the hospital, I realize Mr. Nomura never showed up at the barracks today.
I look up at the sky again. The shadow is just…
there. It spreads over the sky like a blanket, dark, silent, watching.
I pick up my pace, keeping my head down.
The hospital has improved since the last time I was here, with Emi. At least, there aren’t any cots outside. I reach for the door. It’s latched. I knock.
“Who’s there?” I recognize the voice. Nurse Rose is on duty. She’ll help us.
“It’s me, Ren. Cosette is sick.”
The latch flips back and the door creaks open. Nurse Rose quickly motions me in. I enter and she closes it, latching it once again.
“What’s going on?” I ask. Nurse Rose is always calm, but her hands twist around her white apron, and worry, bordering on fear, fills her face.
“The guards came by and told us there might be a riot,” she says. “They wanted us to go home until tomorrow, but there are patients who need us.”
A riot. I think about Kai and James and all the rest like them and Akira’s shadow hanging quietly in the sky.
I glance around the hospital. Military cots mix with iron and pop-up camper beds.
They ring the perimeter of the room, sitting atop a checkered linoleum floor.
Farther down the barrack, there are sections curtained off for operations.
Dr. Suzuki talks to a mother whose sick kid is in one of the beds.
His face is as controlled as always. He glances at me, and the flint in his gaze shifts, just a bit.
Coming over, he asks, “What brings you here?”
“It’s Cosette,” I say. “She’s really weak.”
Dr. Suzuki takes her. Gently, he examines her.
Déjà vu comes over me, along with a wave of dizziness.
Last time I saw him here, he was trying to save Emi.
The chair where I sat giving blood is against the wall.
My arm tenses. I feel it, right now. The way the needle punctured my skin, the sight of my blood shooting through the plastic tubing as it was sucked out of me. It wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.
Carefully, Dr. Suzuki does his examination.
He says, “Nurse Rose, we need an infusion.” Addressing me, he says, “It’s good you brought her.
She’s dehydrated and malnourished. She’s unable to take the powdered milk, correct?
” I nod. Dr. Suzuki and Nurse Rose get to work.
Their hands are quick and deft and Cosette doesn’t even make a sound as they slip a needle into her vein.
I wince. I can take pain, but knowing she’s in any makes me want to strangle someone.
“She’ll need to stay here,” Dr. Suzuki says.
Unexpectedly, he asks me, “Have you seen Kai lately?”
“No, sir,” I respond. “I haven’t been at work. I’ve been taking care of Cosette.”
“Understandable.” Briskly, Dr. Suzuki reaches for a chart.
“Do you want me to go look for him?” I ask. Dr. Suzuki pauses. Then he turns to fully face me and regards me silently for a long moment.
“No,” he says. “It isn’t safe.”
“I’ll be fine,” I reply with a shrug. I’ll make sure Violet and Mrs. Aratani are safe, too. “Need to check on some people anyway.”
A soft, subtle knock comes from the door. Nurse Rose speaks to whoever is on the other side and then opens it. A man stumbles in. His hand is pressed to his head. Blood leaks between his fingers, down his wrists, and into the cuffs of his sleeves.
“Mr. Nomura?” I say. Dr. Suzuki and I hurry to him. A red gash cuts across his forehead, surrounded by swelling skin. Blood trickles down his uniform, blending in to the navy blue wool. “What happened?”
“I was hiding in the library.” I’ve never heard his voice so ragged before. He shakes his head slightly, like he still can’t believe what happened. “Masked intruders came looking for me. They beat me, and I barely escaped.”
“Here, here.” Dr. Suzuki guides him to one of the beds. Weakly, he sinks onto it.
“I don’t want to bring trouble here,” Mr. Nomura says to Dr. Suzuki. “Give me a Band-Aid and I’ll leave. They’re still looking for me.”
“A Band-Aid? Nonsense.” Dr. Suzuki doesn’t hesitate. “If they come, we’ll turn them away. You’re in no condition to be moving around. You need stitches, and I need to see if you have a concussion.”
“They’re coming!” Nurse Rose exclaims, peering out the window. The mother on the cot pauses and then keeps smoothing the hair back off her kid’s forehead. “People are coming this way!”
Dr. Suzuki and I rush to look out. Forms appear out of the night, clutching weapons. Axes, hatchets, wrenches, shovels, sticks, and hammers. Faces, lit from below by flashlights and lanterns, are all twisted and strange. I try to count how many people approach. I lose track at thirty.
“Quick!” Dr. Suzuki snatches blankets off the unoccupied cots. “Hide him.”
Nurse Rose hurries to help. They guide him to one of the beds with curtains.
Dr. Suzuki motions for him to lie flat. Without a word, he goes down.
Together, they drape the blankets over him.
He disappears fast under the layers. Glass shatters, skittering across the hospital floor.
Someone’s thrown a rock through the window.
I pick up that chair, the one I sat in to give blood. If they breach the hospital, I’ll fight to the death to protect Cosette. It’s a clear thought in my mind, one distinct from the rest of me. Aside from it, I’m nothing but blinking nerves, coiled muscles, and gritted teeth.
The door rattles in the frame. Faces appear in the broken window. No one shouts. In fact, no one says anything. Everything progresses in silence, bizarre in its order.
“Go away!” Nurse Rose says through the door to the attackers. There’s a pause. Finally, a voice comes.
“Nomura. We’ve come for Nomura.”
“He’s not here! Leave us alone. There’s only sick people, and you’re disturbing them,” Nurse Rose says. Another pause. The rattling begins again, this time much more forceful. There’s too many of them. They’re going to break the door down.
“Let them in,” Dr. Suzuki says, voice as placid as if he’s giving directions to mop the floor. We stare at him. “Show them he’s not here.”
We turn to look at Mr. Nomura’s bed, our attention strung between it and the mob.
Something splinters in the door. It won’t hold much longer.
They’re going to bust in. We won’t be able to stop them.
I hold the chair, ready. Nurse Rose unlatches the door.
Several men stampede across the threshold, reminding me of silvery fish dumped on the pier, flopping and wriggling about, unsure where to go.
Some of them have bandannas tied over their noses and mouths, revealing only slivers of their faces.
Others are dressed in work coveralls, like they don’t want to get their clothes dirty.
“He’s not here,” Nurse Rose repeats. The men stop and peer around, lowering their weapons.
“It’s true,” Dr. Suzuki says. “They took Joe Nomura to the hospital in Independence. Look.”
Methodically, he pulls back the few curtain partitions.
He gets to Mr. Nomura’s curtain. I swear he wavers, but he yanks it back.
We stare at the cot. Only a few layers of wool separate Mr. Nomura from his attackers.
I think about how he must be holding his breath, trying desperately to be still.
To me, his form is undeniable. My eyes seek out the unnatural humps and depressions of the blankets and trace them like hills on a map.
Dr. Suzuki drops the curtain and keeps going.
Movement to my left makes me swivel. Someone is flanking me.
One of the rebels meets my gaze. I only see his eyes above the taut bandanna, but he’s young, about my age.
He glances at the chair I hold and tenses in response, as though I’m the aggressor, not him.
A man calls, “They got him out. Took him to Independence. Who’s next on the list? ”
They traipse out the door. When the last one is gone, I drop the chair with a thud. My shoulder and hand, which don’t hurt much anymore, throb. I’ve been taken back in time, my old aches returning.
“They’re going,” Nurse Rose breathes as she watches from the broken window. Icy air streams in. She fetches a broom and dustpan to sweep up the shattered glass. The shards shine against the uneven floorboards. Cold air swishes across us.
“I gotta go,” I say to Dr. Suzuki. “I’ll find Kai.”
As far as I’m concerned, Dr. Suzuki is only capable of one facial expression.
The guy always looks stern—so much so that you’d think his face was stuck that way.
But when I speak, the sternness cracks and reveals a depth of fear I’m not prepared to see.
I glance away. All Dr. Suzuki says, though, is “Arigato, Ren.”
Warily, I leave the hospital. One or two men mill around, but most of them have moved on, searching for their next victim. I walk as fast as I can.
Violet. Cosette. Mama. Kai. Their names repeat in my head.
Somehow, even Emi’s name flashes through my mind, as though she’s alive and I need to keep her safe with everyone else.
Everyone I love is in danger. You’d think the realization would fill me with rage, but it does the opposite.
Drains me of everything. My mind clears.
My hands don’t shake. My senses calm. I’m empty.
But it’s an eerie emptiness, a precursor, a quiet so gentle it feels deadly.
Mess hall bells ring. More glass shatters. Guards run by. The searchlight doesn’t skim the camp. It jolts and jerks. I cross a few firebreaks.
I go to Violet’s barrack first. The barracks in this area are silent, families hiding inside.
No lights shine. Everyone inside wants the danger to pass them over.
I can almost hear the desperate prayers, the panicked breaths, the shushing as parents try to get their kids to be quiet.
I briskly walk up and down the firebreak, making sure no one is around.
Violet and Mrs. Aratani will be safe. Now I need to go check on Mama and then find Kai.
I make it to my barrack. Mama jumps up from her cot as I enter.
“Mr. Wozumi says a riot’s broken out. I didn’t know where you were,” she says, sitting down on the bed she’s just risen from. “I thought maybe you’d run off and joined the fight like the other bakatare.”
“No. I was trying to get back here.”
“I can take care of myself.” Her back is ramrod straight and her foot taps impatiently against the bed frame, making it vibrate. Doesn’t matter if there’s an uprising raging outside. Here she sits, a mix of will and annoyance. I smile, just a little.
“I know you can,” I say. “In fact, if we let you out into the rebellion, you’d make quick work of it.”
“Bah, stupid boy,” Mama says, but her tone isn’t angry. It’s worried. I make my way over to the partition and knock quietly on it.
“Mr. Wozumi?”
“Hai?” He steps into our portion of the barrack. I almost don’t recognize him. His face is hard and firm, like a man set unrelentingly to a task, one he won’t allow himself to fail at.
“I have to go find my friend. You’ll guard the barrack?”
“Of course.” He lifts a baseball bat. I hear the Wozumi children whispering together and Mrs. Wozumi shushing them. He has a lot to protect. “I’ll make sure your mother is safe, too.”
“Thank you.”
Outside our barrack, I hear shouting, followed by scuffling. The violence is like the winter desert wind. It howls. Makes our walls shake and our windows rattle. Mr. Wozumi returns to his family. I head for the door.
“No.” Mama jumps up, steps in front of me. She pushes me hard in the chest. “You’re not going out there.”
I move around her.
She catches my wrist and clings to it with both hands.
I twist it free, making my skin burn in the process.
I keep moving. She grabs my shirt. The fabric stretches.
Tears. Mama is silent now. She doesn’t say no anymore but, before I can touch the handle, she gets between me and the door.
Her hand flashes at me and I think she’s going to slap my face, but she stops at the last moment.
Vaguely, I know we’re doing it again. The awful struggle we’ve always done, the same one we did in the living room of our old apartment when she wanted to destroy my fox.
Everything has changed. Nothing has changed.
“Don’t run away,” she says. I stop and look her in the eye.
“Kai is out there.”
She tries to protest. I don’t wait. I head out again.