Ch. 13 - Potted Plants

x

Danny leaned against the doorjamb to the small office space. Not that there was any reason why this chamber was an office versus a bedroom or a classroom or a storage room. All of the underground spaces looked the same - no windows, shiny metal walls, plenty of dust. No, the way Danny knew that this was an office was the large folding table serving as a desk on one side of the room and the futon serving as a couch on the other. Well, and there was the huge potted plant that took up about a quarter of the room.

At the sight of the fake palm, Danny paused. How in the world did Kelly Tophet find a fake plant and why in God's name would she trek it across the forest?

"Commander Green. What can I do for you?"

Focused on the bizarreness of the fake shrubbery, Danny hadn't noticed the woman straightening from the box that she was unpacking. Paper, it looked like, and colored pencils. For the children presumably. Frankie was too young to join the group therapy sessions held at the school but many of the older children attended regularly, a fact that Danny found baffling. Who would voluntarily spend time talking about the shitstorm they were living through? Kara was a proponent of the program, espousing the benefits of play therapy, which allowed the kids freedom to express themselves in a non-judgmental manner to anyone who would listen. When Kara got going on her pet project, Danny generally tuned her out. He figured that Doctor Tophet knew what she was doing. Besides, given how many of the kids had watched everyone around them get sick and die, it was good for the teenagers to have an outlet.

The last thing that they needed was another suicide.

Danny hesitated, half wanting to give some lame excuse and disappear, but so far Captain Slattery seemed to be sticking with his decision to take Danny off active duty. At zero eight hundred that morning, once the last of the civilians arrived at the bunker and Captain Chandler confirmed that he and his team were high-tailing it north, Slattery officially put Danny on leave.

Danny stepped further into the chamber. "Captain Slattery asked that I come by and see you, Doctor Tophet."

What might have been surprise fluttered in the woman's eyes. "Of course, please come in and shut the door."

"Now?" Danny had assumed that she would give him an appointment, tell him to come back then.

Doctor Tophet smiled. "I have time. Unless you have somewhere else to be."

An out. Danny knew what it was. But what else could he do? He was barred from command. Kara was busy with the logistical nightmare of assigning hundreds of families to chambers, a task complicated by the fact that not all of the rooms were empty, instead filled with cans of fifty-year old peas and other items deemed essential by 1950s bomb scare standards (such as a perfectly preserved 1958 telephone book). Frankie was busy at preschool and even if he pulled her out of class, there was little to do except return to their assigned space and stare at the walls. Decision made, Danny stepped into the chamber, closing the door behind him. Walking past, Kelly opened the door and hung a red scarf on the handle, just like the guys used to do back in college, warning their roommates to stay away. Danny snorted.

Doctor Tophet's lips twitched. "I know. It certainly makes one think that there is something rather naughty going on here, doesn't it? But sometimes the simplest system works the best."

Now that he was fully inside the chamber, Danny didn't know what to do with himself. Already feeling claustrophobic, the idea of sitting on the futon was unbearable. Instead he looked to the boxes. "Can I help you with those?"

Half expecting the therapist to protest and insist that he tell her how he was feeling, Danny was relieved when she nodded. "Sure. Just open the boxes and pile everything on the table. I have to figure out what stays here and what goes to the school."

Ah, a safe topic. "Kara mentioned that you do weekly sessions with the elementary school kids, Doctor Tophet."

"Kelly, please, Commander, two Doctor Tophets is far too confusing."

In almost four years, the other Doctor Tophet never once suggested that Danny call him Quincy. "Only if you return the favor, ma'am."

"Touché." Kelly nodded, returning to her task of sorting books. "Anyway, as to your question, Danny, art is a very useful medium to allow children to express themselves. They may not have the words to explain what they are thinking or feeling, but you can tell a lot from what they draw."

"Like what?"

"Well, for example, if a child draws her family and then scribbles on top of the picture with a black crayon, what do you think that means?"

"They're dead." Danny tried to imagine Frankie's pictures, the colorful yellow and green and blue blobs suddenly dulled out by black. The thought was sobering.

"Or missing or depressed," Kelly expanded. "Sometimes a child will color a surviving parent black, expressing anger or fear. After a significant loss, kids tend to distance themselves from those who remain, afraid of more suffering."

"It must be hard." At Kelly's quizzical look, Danny elaborated. "Seeing kids in such pain."

"Actually, I often find working with children to be easier. They are more vulnerable, certainly," Kelly explained, "but also more resilient in many ways."

She must have sensed Danny skepticism because a fleeting smile crossed her face. "I heard that you had a friend from before in the most recent group to arrive?"

A friend from before. Even their language was different, the unspoken rules about not referring to the event that destroyed so many lives. Danny picked up another box, this time filled with random pieces of cloth. It took a minute for him to realize their purpose. Tissues.

"Yes, guy named Eddie. Good friend from high school. He came with his wife and child." Danny wondered where Kelly got her information. Probably from Slattery.

Or maybe Eddie was one of the people talking to Kelly.

"How is Eddie doing?" Kelly asked, not looking up from her position on the floor, as though this was merely small talk.

Guilt tugged at Danny. He knew that Eddie made it to the bunker, but only because the guy's name was transferred from one list to another and not because Danny actually checked. Danny reminded himself that the last week had been chaotic. Each night there were new groups to lead through the woods and once at the bunker there were dozens of practical issues to address. While Kara was in charge of arranging housing, they were also scrambling to figure out how to feed everyone and get the facilities up and running, never mind bringing security designed during WWII up to snuff. Thank goodness for O'Connor. Without the man and his engineering genius, Danny was certain that they would have turned right around and moved back to the camp. After upgrading the electrical enough to get Dr. Scott's lab running, turning out doses of the newly discovered cure as quickly as they could given their limited supply of ethanol, O'Connor managed to figure out the old plumbing system, meaning that they now had unlimited water and sewer. Of course, that immediately led to a new problem, what to do with the shower lines that regularly snaked out the bathroom door and down the corridor.

Not that Danny blamed any of them. That first thirty minute shower was better than a shot of the top-shelf scotch that Tex found hidden in the back of one of the storage rooms and promptly opened.

"How old is his child?" Kelly asked, her gaze on him, drawing Danny back to the present.

"Almost five. A little older than Frankie." Danny remembered receiving the birth announcement just before he left for the Arctic. He vaguely recalled sending Eddie a cigar, amused by the fact that one of his friends was taking the plunge into fatherhood.

Kelly stood, walking to the other side of the desk, her gaze unwavering. "Who do you think would have a harder time, Danny, if Eddie hadn't survived. His wife or his son? How about in five years? In ten? Who do you think would be in a better place?"

Danny scowled, hands clenching, but Kelly didn't look away. This wasn't a trick question. They both knew the answer. The children who arrived at their camp were damaged, months and even years of running and hiding and watching those around them die taking their toll, turning the kids into shadows of their former selves. But time was kind to kids, their memories short and their ability to adapt vast. Within six months of their arrival, most were unrecognizable, transformed into vibrant, laughing children. Sure they still had moments, the nightmares, the terror over an unexpected noise, the random bedwetting and separation anxiety, but the children adjusted.

Adults, on the other hand, sometimes couldn't. Those with surviving family did better, but even that wasn't a sure thing. The change from the world they grew up in, the loss not only of loved ones but of homes and jobs and a life of leisure, was too much for some. And although it was rarely discussed, it wasn't entirely unheard of for someone to retreat to their chamber one night and never reappear, the pain and guilt too much to live with.

Making the same choice as Frankie.

The answer to Kelly's question was obvious. Tyler would adapt. In five years he would have only the faintest memories of Eddie, made up more of stories told to him than any true recollections. It was Amber who would suffer the most, mourning her husband every time she looked at her son's face, a son who barely knew his father. Danny knew the answer, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words.

"What is it that you fear, Danny?" Kelly asked, still standing across the desk watching him. "The idea of leaving your daughter alone? Or the realization that she could live without you?"

Danny opened and closed his mouth, but no words emerged.

A soft chime blew, breaking the silence. Kelly moved around her desk to turn off the alarm that Danny never saw her set. "I do have a meeting to head to, unfortunately," she explained, gathering up some of the items that he had just unpacked - pencils, glue, glitter - and placed them in her bag. "But I have some time tomorrow morning around nine, Danny, if you would like to help me finish unpacking."

Murmuring his asset, Danny followed her out the door, watching her walk down the corridor. Wondering if she realized what a bombshell she had dropped.

Because the truth was, he didn't know.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Danny!"

Despite the cheerful greeting, Eddie looked terrible. The man lay on the hospital bed, head propped up by two pillows rather than his own strength, looking more like a skeleton then the Marine he once was. Still, he wasn't spitting blood anymore and his location in Doc Rios's make-shift sick bay, rather than in a hazmat tent in Doctor Scott's lab, suggested that the good doctor was no longer worried that he would succumb to the Red Flu.

Amber, seated to Eddie's side, nodded in Danny's direction as he awkwardly hovered at the end of the bed. "Hey. Thought I would come say hello. Where's Tyler?"

"School." Amber was the one who answered. "Same class as your daughter, actually. Tyler's a little behind so the teacher wants to keep him in preschool even though he's old enough for kindergarten. Most of the other kids his age already know their ABC and she thought it might be too much for him to try to catch up in addition to...everything."

As Amber trailed off, Eddie reached over to squeeze his wife's hand. "Hey, you did the best you could. There were other priorities."

Danny dragged a chair from the main area to the other side of the bed, giving the two a moment of semi-privacy. Sure he knew how hard it was being on the move with a child, but Frankie was barely two when they arrived at the camp. By the time she was old enough for preschool, the decision focused on safety, rather than how to incorporate school into a life spent on the move. Uncertain what to say in the face of Amber's teary eyes, Danny fell back on meaningless platitudes. "Mrs. Dowler is fantastic. Tyler will love her."

Amber straightened. "That's what Kara said. She told me that Frankie is already writing her name and begs to go to class every day."

Granted Danny hadn't spent more than fifteen minutes outside of work with his wife over the past week, but how had he missed Kara and Amber becoming best friends? Realizing that an answer was expected, Danny nodded. "Frankie loves her. Expect Tyler to come home knowing the silliest songs you have ever heard. Frankie loves this one about a duck that eats grapes."

"Oh, I know that one!" Amber replied, brightening, and only then did Danny remember that she used to teach preschool herself.

"Have you thought about putting some time in at the school?" Danny asked.

Amber wasn't quick enough to hide the panic that crossed her face. "Is that expected? Nobody said anything but of course I'm happy to help anyway..."

"No, no, nothing like that," Danny quickly interrupted. "I just thought Tyler might like having you there. At least for a while. Sometimes the kids do..."

Realizing that he was heading into dangerous territory, Danny trailed off. He turned to Eddie. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I stepped on an IED," Eddie replied bluntly. Amber glared at her husband, not finding the joke funny.

Danny wondered if the tension in the room was because of him or if he had interrupted a disagreement. "Sorry I couldn't around earlier. It's been a busy week."

Eddie shrugged. "The guys keep us updated. Getting this place running was a pretty big undertaking. I heard there were nests in some of the rooms."

"A few." Danny shrugged. Fortunately all of the resident wildlife was small and easily removed. "How did they get you through the woods in the dark?"

"I actually got here under my own steam," Eddie joked. "Took all night but your man Tex stayed with me. Helped me through the rough spots."

Danny hadn't known that Tex was the one to move Eddie. "He's a talker."

"Yeah, makes me think a little of Waldron, actually," Eddie replied. "Sounds like a womanizer too."

The comment drew a grin, one that almost instantly faded as Danny recalled the likelihood that Waldron was long dead. "For sure. You know what happened to Waldron? He was still in Boston, right? When everything went south?"

"Yeah, tried to get him to join us in the cabin. Him, my parents, Amber's parents, pretty much everyone. They all thought I was crazy." Eddie's eyes went to Amber, and Danny wondered just how many people their group lost along the way. "Wish now I pushed harder."

Danny shifted in his chair, hearing the unspoken question. Did Danny know what happened to his parents? His sister? His brother?

"I tried calling, once we cleared the Arctic, but I never got through. I wonder, sometimes, whether I should have tried to find them. Tried to bring them here." He paused. "But I couldn't leave."

Couldn't or wouldn't? Wasn't that the question that haunted him? The fact that he might have found them, might have saved them?

But Eddie didn't seem to notice his inner turmoil, accepting Danny's statement as fact. "We get through this, and if you want, we can go back together. It will be like old times."

"Just like old times." Danny smiled, but even as he said the words, he knew that they were hollow.

Because nothing would ever be like it was again.