“Oh?” Dr. Nichols shifted his attention to the older kids sitting side by side on the lower bunk.
“I don’t want to take the implant,” Hannah said coolly. “My mother had the implant, but it was cut out of her. I don’t want to be cut.”
Rickson wrapped an arm around her and held her close. He narrowed his eyes at the tall doctor, and Jimmy felt nervous.
“You don’t have to take the implant,” Dr. Nichols whispered, but Jimmy saw the way he glanced at Courtnee. “Do you mind if I listen to your child’s heartbeat? I just want to make sure it’s nice and strong—”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Rickson asked, thrusting his shoulders back.
Dr. Nichols studied the boy a moment. “You met my daughter, didn’t you? Juliette.”
He nodded. “Briefly,” he said. “She left soon after.”
“Well, she sent me down here because she cares about your health. I’m a doctor. I specialize in children, the youngest of them. I think your child looks very strong and healthy. I just want to be sure.” Dr. Nichols held up the metal disc at the end of his hearing tubes and pressed his palm against it. “There. So it’ll be nice and warm. Your boy won’t even know I’m taking a listen.”
Jimmy rubbed his chest where his breathing had been checked and wondered why the doctor hadn’t warmed it for him.
“For a dime?” Rickson asked.
Dr. Nichols smiled. “How about a few chits, instead?”
“What’s a chit?” Rickson asked, but Hannah was already adjusting herself on the bunk so the doctor could have a look.
Courtnee rested a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder while the check-ups continued. Jimmy turned to see what she needed.
“Juliette wanted me to call her as soon as you all were over here. I’ll be back to check on you in a little while—”
“Wait,” Jimmy said. “I’d like to come. I want to speak with her.”
“Me too,” said Elise, pressing against his leg.
Courtnee frowned. “Okay,” she said. “But let’s be quick, because you all need to eat and get freshened up.”
“Freshened up?” Elise asked.
“If you’re going to go up and see your new home, yeah.”
“New home?” Jimmy asked.
But Courtnee had already turned to go.
????
Jimmy hurried out the door and down the hall after Courtnee. Elise grabbed her shoulder bag, the one that held her heavy book, and scampered along beside him.
“What did she mean about a new home?” Elise asked. “When are we going back to our real home?”
Jimmy scratched his beard and wrestled with truth and lies. We may never go home, he wanted to say. No matter where we end up, it may never feel like home again.
“I think this will be our new home,” he told her, keeping his voice from cracking. He reached down and rested his wrinkled hand on her thin shoulder, felt how fragile she was, this flesh that words could crack. “It’ll be our home for a time, at least. Until they make our old home better.” He glanced ahead at Courtnee, who did not look back.
Elise stopped in the middle of the hallway and peered over her shoulder. When she turned back, the dim lights of Mechanical caught the water in her eyes. Jimmy was about to tell her not to cry when Courtnee knelt down and called Elise over. Elise refused to budge.
“Do you want to come with us to call Juliette and talk with her on the radio?” Courtnee asked.
Elise chewed on her finger and nodded. A tear rolled down her cheek. She clutched the bag with her book in it, and Jimmy remembered kids from another lifetime who used to cling to dolls in the same way.
“After we make this call and you get freshened up, I’ll get you some sweetcorn from the pantry. Would you like that?”
Elise shrugged. Jimmy wanted to say that none of the kids had ever tasted sweetcorn before. He had never heard of the stuff himself. But now he wanted some.
“Let’s go call Juliette together,” Courtnee said.
Elise sniffed and nodded. She took Jimmy’s hand and peered up at him. “What’s sweetcorn?” she asked.
“It’ll be a surprise,” Jimmy said, which was the dead truth.
Courtnee led them down the hall and around a bend. It took a moment for the twists and turns to remind Jimmy of the dark and wet place he’d left behind. Beyond the fresh paint and the humming lights, past the neat wires and the smell of fresh grease, lay a labyrinth identical to the rusted bucket he’d explored the past two weeks. He could almost hear the puddles squish beneath his feet, hear that screaming pump he tended suck at an empty basin – but that was a real noise at his feet. A loud yip.