Contaminated by Em Garner

Author:Em Garner [Garner, Em]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-60684-355-0
Publisher: EgmontUSA
Published: 2013-07-23T04:00:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

FIRST, I SHOVE EVERYTHING I CAN POSSIBLY fit into two big backpacks I found stuffed way back in the closet and never thought I’d use again. I pull out all Opal’s stuff, lay it on the bed. I know she won’t be happy that I’m leaving some of it behind but I hope, with fingers crossed and toes, too, that her old things will still be at home.

Of course, they probably won’t fit her anymore. They might be ruined. Everything might be. It’s a chance we’ll take.

I cram clothes and books and things into each backpack and lift one. It’s heavy, but not too bad. I have muscles built up from lifting heavy laundry baskets and also shifting patients around, though we’re never supposed to do that by ourselves. Now I can put one of these packs on my back and not stagger beneath its weight, and still lift the other. I heft it, testing how long I’ll be able to carry them, because I’ll have to do it myself. It’s my mom I’m worried about. She’s not strong.

“Mom, can you carry this?”

She looks at me blankly. I had the bright idea of layering us both with as many layers as possible. Triple socks, shirts, sweatpants over a pair of jeans. I have to open all the windows in here to keep from passing out from being overheated, but Mom’s barely breaking a sweat.

I take out some things from one of the packs and stuff it into the other. I turn her, slip the emptier pack onto her shoulders. She staggers a little bit, but doesn’t drop it or fall over. I grab the heavier one. I expect to wilt under the weight, but I just shift it until it’s more manageable instead.

“Okay. Hold out your arms.” She does, but it’s not until I’m securing the wrist restraints that I realize I was expecting her to respond, and she did. I look at her. I’ve pulled the turtleneck up over her collar and the hood over her hair. I yank down the sleeves of her coat, which isn’t warm enough for this cold, over her wrists. “Listen, Mom. If we’re careful, nobody will know. Okay? We can catch the bus just outside here. It will only take us as far as the Foodland parking lot, but that’s better than having to walk the whole way. Okay? Can you … hear me? Can you understand me?”

She doesn’t nod, she doesn’t shake her head. She doesn’t even blink. I guess she can hear me, though, because she doesn’t protest anything. Then again, maybe whatever’s cycling around in her head just shut off for now. I have no way of knowing.

I can’t take her hand because of the restraints, so I hook an arm through hers and lead her out the door. I don’t bother locking it. I don’t care if anyone gets in and steals anything, or wrecks it. There’s nothing left here that I consider mine.

Mrs. Wentling opens the door as we leave.

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