Peace In The Sky by Caye Marsh

Author:Caye Marsh [Marsh, Caye]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: adventure, journey, science fiction, Dystopian, Apocalyptic & Post-Apocalyptic, autistic, Amnesia
Publisher: Space Wizard Science Fantasy
Published: 2023-08-21T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

I start back alone, fighting the aching in my head as I try to remember. I make it to the base of the stairs before Nandi catches up to me.

“Need anything? Let me walk you back,” he says.

“You said you’ve never seen Peace-in-the-Sky,” I say, “but I’ve been here before.”

“One time, but that was before I left Tribes-under-the-Dome. Before I was born, even. Not many people see Peace-in-the-Sky twice in their lives. Most people don’t even see you once!”

He follows me up the stairs, and at the top I see Anissa peeking around our door. She smiles when she sees me, and I feel some relief from the confusion of before. Her happiness clarifies my purpose for me, time and time again. I examine her features closely as I grow near, comparing them to what I saw in the mirror. But it’s hard to compare a youthful, smiling face to a grown face that is forever calm and still.

Since Anissa is already awake, Nandi takes us to the hall where everyone eats. It’s crowded and loud and hot, but the food smells good and we pass many smiling, curious faces. Anissa basks in the attention, pulling herself up tall with a raised chin. She is young and strong and beautiful, and she knows it, and I am happy in her wake, admiring her as much as those in the hall. I remember what Orco said about it being dangerous to have me in a large crowd, so I steer Anissa to a spot at the end of one of the long tables, close to a wall. Nandi sits down between us and the rest of those at the table. He seems proud of his role as escort and protector.

Plates are brought soon, the same food for everyone in the hall.

Anissa looks at hers with a little sigh of disappointment.

“No avocados? Mangos?” she asks Nandi.

He laughs. “We don’t eat like that out here, sissy. Food from there almost never escapes. There’s barely enough in there for Tribes-under-the-Dome. Why do you think me and all my brothers are out here in the first place?”

As we eat the cactus spears, wilted, bitter greens, and strips of cured meat, Anissa asks Nandi, “What tribe are you from?”

“Sante,” he says. “Most at Dipol are. Some from Pepper. Almost no one from Riches or other Tribes-under-the-Dome. They go to Sas Tabo or Chimiminga trade spots.”

I listen to the names gratefully. Hearing them stirs the muddy swirl of my memory.

We finish and send our plates back to the kitchen. Anissa wants to walk around and see things, so Nandi takes us on a tour. The crew’s job is to defend the dome’s borders and the trade spot, so there’s rooms with maps, rooms with stored weapons, rooms with goods confiscated from the Intha, now being re-purposed. There are sleeping rooms and washing rooms and two kitchens and a laundry. Everything you would expect in a building meant to house many people.

Nandi shows us a large room with benches lined up in front of a raised table.

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