G581 Plague Tales by Christine D. Shuck

Author:Christine D. Shuck
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Christine D. Shuck
Published: 2023-05-31T06:00:00+00:00

Ayomide and Ireti

05.29.2101

Earth - New Athens

The Whole Truth

The process had been long. Multiple interviews, a thorough background check, and intrusive questions. Ayomide had endured them all without complaint. After all, sitting in the refugee camps gave her too much time on her hands. Too much time to think of her family, lost to her, thanks to the ESH virus.

The questioning, however, had taken a turn for the worse. The girl, and she was but a slip of a girl, frowned at the tablet in her hand. Ayomide wondered what tiny detail of her life was a problem now. A less than stellar grade in primary school, perhaps? An argument with a neighbor? Had she annoyed someone at the refugee camp or said something wrong?

Her English was flawless, or so she had been told, but occasionally she floundered over the multiple meanings of words. Learning English in a classroom is not the same as speaking it, listening to it, and living it every day. It was a challenge her in this alien place. She missed Nigeria. The smells and sounds were different here, the pace and culture altered, even among other Nigerians. Few were Yoruban and she longed to hear her native language spoken by another voice.

Ayomide sighed, and smoothed her dress, flicking away an errant remnant of leaf. It was fall, and outside the trees were shedding their leaves in a bright and grandiose display of oranges, reds and yellows. It contrasted with the white spires of the new buildings that rose organically from the ashes of the world that was.

“Ms. Batan, I see you were married with two children?”

A flash of memory, the knife in her hand, arcing into Bankole. Too late, too late.

“Yes.”

Another frown and the girl glanced up then, meeting Ayomide’s gaze. “It says here the children were both AB negative, though.”

Ayomide tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. “Yes, they were. My husband was not.” She felt her stomach flip, knowing what the girl would ask next, and she dreaded it. Could she refuse to answer? To do so, though, would likely mean returning to the refugee center without a job, without something, anything, to occupy her days. She would have to tell the whole truth, and hope that they wouldn’t boot her out of this shiny new office. Worse, out of the refugee center as well. Beneath her brightly colored dress, she felt the sweat build under her armpits. Why had she said “yes” when they asked for Yoruban refugees who had experience with small children? Better to work in a kitchen, far away from children, far away from the reminders of what she had lost. The knife in her hand, the memory so sharp, so painful. And the blood, the loss.

She realized the girl was looking at her. Waiting for her to speak. To explain. Ayomide’s chest was tight, her breathing constricted. They would throw her out, maybe even send her back to Nigeria, back to her memories and loss and empty, empty life.

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