Page 25 of Rising

Though the path was empty, I tried to envision it lined with people. I hadn’t been around another group in months. My fists clenched together, trying to rein in any signs of anger. Hoping that with a decent enough attitude, I’d be welcomed to stay.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, finally managing to match my steps to hers.

Her frame was frail in a way that suggested she hadn’t eaten in months, clothes just a bit too baggy against the sway of her hips. Her curls sat in a lopsided bun at the top of her head and her eyes were red rimmed, as if she hadn’t slept in days.Some version of a General.I thought, questioning just how my stay here would go. Her eyes narrowed as if she had read the statement on my face.

“I’m taking you somewhere, called some place, that exists in some part of The Compound, that you may or may not be allowed to stay in,” she retorted as she picked up her pace once more, the leash of fire urging me to stay close.

A few minutes later we entered another narrow pathway that had large stone steps with different plants hanging amongst the side of the building walls. Gas lamps littered every few feet to light the small gaps of night sky that peeked through the arched walkways between buildings. It dawned on me that the plants and lamp posts were not just functional, but also decoration, a more personalized area than the one I had just left. Realization set in; I could tell this place was going to be different from what I had imagined when I started my journey here months ago.

The dark archways let up and I marveled at the large Victorian style building at the end of the clearing. The ground beneath me changed to a darker stone and there were patches of meticulously maintained grass with benches along the side.What is this place?

It was sure as hell different from where I’d come from. Different environments brought out different people I supposed.

“Compound Hall.”

I nearly crashed into her back as she suddenly came to a stop and motioned towards the haunting building. I didn’t bother with a response as I sarcastically offered her my arm, indicating for her to lead the way. Her thick brows furrowed, nose scrunching as she looked it up and down. Ultimately deciding against it, and instead releasing her fire magic, offering me a bit of grace with my movements as she led the way once more.

As we entered the building, I noticed the sudden change of architecture, the inside sporting black-and-white tiled floor and tan hallways lined with photos. Some from before the bombs went off, some from around The Compound. I saw the General in a few, or what used to be this ghost of a girl. She smiled in one in the middle of two girls in what appeared to be the green space outside the building.

One dressed questionably considering the times, arms raised and mouth open as if she were having the time of her life. The other with tattoos covering both her arms, smiling meekly, not matching her grungy attire or the intensity behind her dark brown eyes.

The General laughed at someone to the left of the shot, her brown cheeks vibrant with color and thick curls falling down the sides of her pointed face. Her black jeans were filled out and her arms lean with muscle. Resembling nothing of the shell of a girl standing impatiently beside me today.

A door to my left flew open, and she cleared her throat, diverting my attention back towards her. I peered at the inscription at the top of the wooden door frame, INTAKE ROOM, and made my way inside.

Yet again, I found myself taken aback by surprise at the change of decor within. I’d say it was nauseating if I wasn’t seriously impressed by these people’s desire to pretend life was okay. That life was normal.

A floor to ceiling archway window took up most of the space on the adjacent wall with heavy curtains on the sides. Two large chairs sat with their backs to the windows. A circular leather ottoman lay in the middle with a tray that had a teapot and a few teacups on top.

I realized that there was no variation between the materials of the bookcase and walls, as I took in the wooden vaulted ceilings as well. To the immediate left of the door was a solid wooden desk that had paperwork covering each side.

“Have a seat,” she commanded, expecting me to cooperate like one of her soldiers.

“Aren’t you going to offer me something to drink? Some tea?” I retorted, as I took a seat in the surprisingly comfortable chair to the right. I could see why the design choice for this room had been made, to make people comfortable, to envision this place as home. Because that’s what this reminded me of: a father’s home office.

“No,” she said, deadpanning me, “But I am going to ask you some questions, then we’ll decide if you can or cannot have some of said tea.”

“Okay then, as you wish, princess.” If she had every intention of remaining unpleasant, then there was no need to keep up the nice guy charade. It would do me no favors with her.

“General,” she emphasized.

“General … ?” I asked, trying to pry more information out of her, seeing where she would and wouldn’t budge.

“General Bennett. But I’m the one asking the questions here.” She arranged paperwork on the desk before glancing back up at me at her leisure. “And you are?”

“Alexiares,” I offered, “But most call me Alexi.”

“Okay Alexiares, last name?”

“Does that really matter in this world anymore? It’s not like you can run a background check or anything.” I knew I was getting snippy, but shit as dumb as surnames was a stupid thing to ask when they no longer held any weight.

People came and went all the time. People that were smiling in your face one moment, were dead the next. Formalities and that level of personalization and recognition were nonsensical, as far as I was concerned.

“It matters here. While you may see what we have here, and think it’s silly or irrelevant or downright dumb, here at The Compound we believe that civilization will win in the end. And the cost of civilization and order being maintained is that we have toactlike civilized beings. So yes, we keep up with traditions. It’s often the little things that keep people grounded in morality. Now I’ll ask you one more time, Alexiares. What’s your last name?”

I wasn’t going to go back and forth with her on this. She’d made fair points, but I wasn’t sure how long I was staying and I was damn sure not buying everything the morality police of this place had to sell.

How well were thingsreallygoing for them with this mindset, anyway? Their General looked as though she’d been through five world wars, their gate had been breached in the blink of an eye, and I’d slipped through the gaps in their patrol with a welcome mat laid at my feet. Maybe they should focus on the realities of their situation before focusing on what she referred to asthe little things.

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