Notes from the Future: Veronica's New Journal

Day 1

Maybe 8 am

I'm sitting in a very nice room that overlooks the garden, writing in this new journal. Smoke is so thick outside that I can smell it in here, and Mother Henrietta has sent several Bearded E's down the hill to see what the fire is doing. It's been moving up through the houses since ... yesterday?  The day before? Feels like I've been here a month but it's only been a couple of days.

I was in this room when I woke up late yesterday, with the feeling I was forgetting something important. Mother Henrietta was tending to me personally, bandaging cuts and putting poultices and plasters on my bruises. She has no idea where Tad and Max are. Tad and Max, Tad and Max. Tad is the one with the lox that's lax. That's a song he liked to sing while walking Max. They both shake their butts when they walk. I think Tad has an invisible tail that is always wagging. Had. Has? 

Where are you, Edward Hightower?

Mother Henrietta said I can go visit the Rachels who were injured by Torvald as soon as I've had time to rest. 

"And I mean rest, Veronica. Actual rest. Not just sleep. You've been through, and accomplished, more in the last 24 hours that many people accomplish in their lifetimes. You can wander this entire compound as you like, you may go everywhere you want -- except the recovery ward. You need to be feeling better before you go in there," and she smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. She reminds me of Tad's mom.  She gave me this journal because my other journal has disappeared. I don't really understand why I can't go see Young Nurse Rachel and the others, but I'm sure Mother H has a good reason.

So I got up and walked around, it was later -- near sunset. So quiet, so peaceful. The feeling of forgetting stuck with me as I explored. The whole place has changed. Except, where are all the children? I started looking for them, really looking, and I ended up in the barn where I was kept prisoner. I saw that all of the cells are open and clean and empty. I asked a passing Bearded E about them and he said they were intended as contemplation chambers, that the locks had been added later. Then he asked if I wanted to see something, and took me into the main section of the barn.

Sitting there in the dusty sunset light coming through gaps in the wall was our car. I almost cried when I saw it. Our beat-up little blue Honda. So trustworthy. Dented hood, with broken windows and a passenger door that looks like we were attacked by a rhino. Nearby, on a workbench, was Chauncey! He was in a big wire rabbit hutch thing and he saw me and came right up to the wire; I put my hand in and gave him some rubs. He was so happy! He made his rabbit purring noise, kind of a grunting little grunt noise.

"Chauncey, you're the only man who hasn't left me here; is that because you were in a cage? Is that what it takes?" I noticed something glinting near Chauncey's left front paw. Reaching down, I found a section of dirty metallic chain. It looked like gold, but how to be sure? I took it with me and it's in my pocket as I'm reading this. I will look more closely later. I still feel like there's something important I'm supposed to remember, though. Weird.

When I got back to my room, they brought me food: delicious lentil soup and fresh bread, with water and a bowl of fruit afterward. I was so hungry! I didn't realize until then that I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast the day before. Before bed, Mother H came in and changed my bandages, putting some ointments on my bruises. She even tucked me in bed. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and looked me in the eyes.

"Veronica, you're going to need to talk about what happened. About everything, but also about what you did. It was heroic. It was also unexpectedly violent. We had several competent mental health practitioners in our midst until Mayberry arrived. Only recently have I realized how many of the early deaths and disappearances were the people most likely to spot psychosis and whatever red flags Mayberry was sending up. I don't know how I missed that, it's like there was a cloud over my mind until you dealt with him yesterday. Anyway, with all of them gone, I may be the only person qualified to listen. But that's not why I want you to talk to me. I want you to talk to me because I recognize in you the traits common to people who have survived -- and buried -- deep childhood trauma. I will never force you to talk about it. But if you need to talk, or even if you are certain that you never will, please come see me. Even if it's just for tea."  She smiled, patted my leg, and left. I fell asleep almost immediately. When I woke up this morning, my light was still on.

And here's the only thing I can really think about, under everything else, woven into every second, these three words:

Tad is gone. 

Poof. Only thing missing was a cloud of purple smoke. He's always telling directors that he wants to appear and disappear in a cloud of purple smoke. Nobody ever gets him the smoke. Got him the smoke. Probably because he was kidding. But was he? Is that what I was forgetting? Was this something he could do all along? What did I do wrong, what could I have done differently -- better -- to have been closer to him, closer to the bed? Just to have touched him, to kiss his cheek one last time. I don't think I'll ever see him again.

Tad is gone, Max is lost. I am so afraid for them both, I don't even know what to do. I realize now that I was wandering around in a haze yesterday. I've had to stop and cry several times as I've been writing today. I hate crying. I'm all puffy now and my nose is stuffed up. But they're gone. They're gone. My boys are gone. Chauncey isn't gone. Chauncey is in the barn. I wonder if I'm allowed to have a rabbit in my room with me?

I have got to remember whatever it is that's bugging me. I'll write it down big:

I remember everything. I remember everything. I remember everything.

Tad would be proud, he's big on repetition. I am sleeeeepy.

Okay, so, questions for Mother H tomorrow:

1. Where are the kids?

2. Where are Iron Rachel and the two Creepy Zekes? (Ha, Iron Rachel and the Creepy Zekes, good band name.)

3. What should I do now?

Is that even a question I should bother her with? Bedtime. I'll think about it later.

Stars, Hearts and Unicorns,

V

***

Later, late: just woke up. There was a noise, a sound outside my window. It sounds like someone is just below the window, where I can't see, laughing. 

Like the Prophet.

I'm wide awake, and I'm so scared it's even hard to write. I'm scared to move. Scared to get off the bed. What if he's under the floor? What if the sound I hear is him in a basement, and he's reaching up through a trapdoor under the bed? I can't even turn on the light, I don't want anyone watching outside to see me. 

I need to get out of this place. ASAP. If I can, I'll go at first light. Get to Hayward, find his parents, that was the plan all along.

Damn it, Tad. You're supposed to protect me from monsters.

Oh my God. Something just thumped on the outside wall.

I'm not closing my eyes until I see sunlight.