Chapter Twenty-two
Suffering
Months roll by, and Richard adjusts to his new life quite easily. The routine is easy and simple, no one stares at him, and there's space. There's room to breathe here. He likes it. He's actually happy for once. Yes. Leaving the boarding home was the right decision. He's glad that he made it.
One day his happiness is shattered. He receives a particularly disturbing letter from Peter. After months of silence, Peter has finally replied to Richard's last letter.
Richard,
Get me out of here.
Peter
He stares at the few words for a second, trying to understand the meaning perfectly clear before he decides to act. He's barely heard anything from Peter in the past few months and now this. His friend needs help and quickly. He'll have to travel to the mainland to get to Peter. That'll take a couple hours in itself. Then there's the whole matter of tracking down where Peter lives. Tomorrow is Saturday. That'll give him two days to find Peter. He has enough money to make sure he gets around with comfort and ease. He'll leave early in the morning and catch one of the supply ships. It's the only thing he can do. Plus it will be good to see his friend again. It's been a year since they escaped Seablite. In Richard's opinion, Peter has probably had the toughest time adjusting. He was already fragile when they first met. To make matters worse he was experimented on, leaving behind a long scar. That didn't help build character at all.
After brushing his teeth and settling down for the night, he gathers the things he will need for the morning and sets his clock to wake up at around seven. That way he'll have enough time to eat real quickly and still make it one of the supply ships. He slips under his blankets, knowing that it won't be an easy day tomorrow.
Richard arrives on the mainland at noon. Luckily, the clouds have rolled in and are shielding him from the intense rays of the sun. He stops at one of the convenient stores to rent one of the GPS units to find out where he has to go. He attaches the device to his wrist and with a push of a button activates the screen. He states his desired destination and the GPS quickly calculates and sets up a route for him. Soon he is on his way.
The route is very long and Richard is finding it very difficult to be back in a stack city. People brush past him without a care in the world. He tries to skirt around them, but then he bumps shoulders with a person he didn't see before. When he can, he presses his back against a building and waits for a space to open within the crowd of moving people. He doesn't want to take one of the taxi services within the city for he doesn't have much on him and needs to save that money for only the necessities. It also isn't a good idea to carry much money around on him when in a stack city. There are a lot of desperate people out there.
After walking around for a few hours, only to stop once for a quick lunch of fried fish fillet, Richard stumbles upon Peter's home. And not a minute too soon. The clouds open up and start to soak the city in a downpour. The dark sky rumbles above. Richard ducks into one of the less cared after apartment complexes. With space being very limited, the apartments are small. Really they are barely even fit to house one person let alone two. Usually they come equipped with a small bathroom, a bedroom with a small single bed, and a very small living space with enough room for a chair. No apartment has a kitchenette for they take up too much room. That means the residents have to go out to eat their meals or they have small appliances hooked up to the elements.
Now he has the trouble of finding Peter's room. He does the natural thing and asks the first person he sees.
"Excuse me, ma'am?" he asks.
The lady turns around and spots Richard. Clutching her hand bag close to her chest, she warily looks up at him. "Yes?"
"I was wondering if you could help me find someone," he says. "He's a teenage boy just two years younger than me. Blond hair, blue eyes, answers to the name of Peter."
The lady thinks about this for a moment. "Oh yes, I know him," she says. "He's Robert Kellsworth's nephew. Their on the second floor, room 23."
"Thank you, ma'am." He walks off briskly to the stairs and begins to the climb them.
He reaches the door marked 23 and knocks on the door. He waits. A lock switch is turned. The door is opened, but not all the way. It's held back by a small length of chain.
"What do you want?" The voice that speaks is quiet and meek. Richard looks down at the person who answered the door. The door hides most of the boy, but the only thing he sees are those lifeless, blue eyes.
"Peter? Is that you?" he asks.
Peter doesn't betray a hint of emotion that he even heard Richard. He catches a glimpse of the stark bruise on Peter's cheek.
Before Peter can respond, a harsh voice cuts in. "Who's there, boy?" Richard's only guess is that the voice belongs to Peter's Uncle Robert.
Richard wants Peter to say something, to recognize him and respond. But he keeps quiet.
"I asked you a question," Robert says.
"No one, sir," Peter says, almost robotically. There is also a slight tremor in his voice.
"Then close the blasted door."
"Peter, don't," Richard whispers.
The boy just looks impassively up at him. The door is closed. Not willing to accept this, he knocks on the door again and waits. His knocking goes unanswered. After several minutes of pacing back and forth, Richard retreats back down to the main floor to come up with another idea.
When he reaches the main floor, he slides down against the wall and puts his head in his hands. That boy wasn't Peter. Peter wouldn't just give up like that. What has happened to him in the past year? Richard's mind can only imagine the things the boy went through when he's alone with that monster to take care of him.
"Did you find your friend, deary?"
Richard looks up. The older woman who directed him to Peter's apartment is back. "I did," he says. "Thanks for the help."
"Oh, now you don't sound all that happy," she says and takes a step closer. "Is there something wrong?"
"Sort of. My friend didn't respond to me. I wanted to come here and help him."
The woman clucks her tongue. "I know what you mean, deary. Peter has never been a talkative boy ever since he came here to live with his uncle."
"You know him?" he asks and stands up.
The woman nods. "Not a lot, but we do stumble into each other's paths every once in a while. So sad too. His parents died when he was so young. I've never seen that boy smile in all the years I've known him."
"Do you ever see him with bruises?"
She thinks about it and nods sadly. "I've seen that boy come out with a twisted ankle before."
"Don't you try to help him?"
The woman is shocked. "I try to help him when I can, but he always refuses. Always responds that he tripped while climbing down the stairs or he bumped into a wall. I've always been worried about him."
Richard soaks up all this new information. He has to get Peter out of this building. How can anyone live here? Not the building, but with that man. The sooner they return to the ocean, the better.
"Do you have any place to stay for the night?" the woman asks.
Richard shakes his head. "I was planning on leaving tonight with Peter." He shrugs. "I guess that's not going to happen."
"Why don't you stay with me for the night? I've bought enough food to last me a fortnight and I could certainly use some help in eating it all."
Richard doesn't know what to say. But when there's freed food involved, he just can't say no.
The older woman, named Betsy Burrows, invites Richard to stay in her small apartment. In the living room of the apartment sits a small, round table with two chairs on either side. One is wooden and the other is cushioned. A window is set into the wall next to the table with a plant sitting on the windowsill.
"Make yourself at home," she says and locks the door firmly behind her. "Dinner is already on the table."
Richard sits down on the wooden chair. Two, Styrofoam containers sit on the table.
"I was expecting company," she says and joins Richard at the table, sitting down slowly in the cushioned chair. "But they cancelled suddenly."
Inside the container is a piece of grilled fish with a fresh, seaweed salad. Politely he eats it, minding his manners.
"So you are a friend of Peter's," Betsy asks in the middle of their meal.
"I know him," he answers, not sure where this conversation will lead. "School and such."
She nods and wipes her mouth on a napkin. "He's had a rough life, just so you know. Parents are dead. He has no other family than Robert, and he went to prison for a few years. Such a pity."
Richard nods. Of course, he knows all of this, but he doesn't want to give anything away.
"Would you like some tea?" she asks. Before he can answer, she's already out of her chair and walking over to the electric kettle that sits on a low cabinet near the entrance along with a toaster. The water boils and Betsy pours to cups of tea. She sets one down in front of him and takes the other back to her seat. "There you go, deary."
He wipes his mouth on the napkin. "Thank you."
"Where do you live?"
"Boarding home not too far from here," he lies.
"That's nice." She sips her tea. "What do you plan on doing for a career?"
Oh, tough one. "I plan on going subsea," he says and sips his tea, burning the tip of his tongue.
"Really? The ocean? My, my, you are an adventurous one."
"There's more space down there," he says.
"I don't disagree with you, deary," she says. "I would go down myself, but I'm a little too old to be looking after a farm. But I'm sure you could do just a fantastic job."
The rest of the evening is spent like this over cups of tea with quiet conversations. Richard actually likes Betsy. She's a very nice old lady, acting like how a grandmother might. There is not much room in the apartment, but she still sets up a pile of blankets for Richard to sleep on for the night.
"There you go," she says. "If you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask. I'll be right in my room."
"Thank you so much, for everything," he says.
"It's my pleasure." Betsy goes into her own room and shuts the door. Richard lies down on the piles of blankets she gave him along with a small square pillow.
In the dark, he contemplates about how he is to get Peter out of the building. Peter won't come out willingly. The only way is to wait for him to come out. But when will that be? Richard has to be back at the Trade Station by tomorrow night.
Stomping from above ruins his concentration. Loud music plays above as if someone is having a party. How anyone could have a party in these small of rooms is beyond Richard.
Betsy opens her door and steps into the living room. "Not again," she says and reaches for a broom that is sitting behind a coat stand. "Every Sunday night." The end of the room she taps the ceiling several times. The music softens considerably.
"What was that about?" he asks and props himself up on his elbows.
"Neighbours," she says bitterly and replaces the broom. "Robert has a poker game every Saturday night. I'm surprised he hasn't been kicked out of the building yet."
Richard stands up and grabs his things. "Excuse me, Ms. Burrows, but I have to go up there."
"And why is that?" she asks.
He shrugs. "I have something to discuss with Robert."
He leaves Betsy's apartment and heads straight for the stairs with renewed confidence in his steps. He strides right up to door 23 and knocks on it. Loud voices speak to each other on the other side.
"That's probably Ed," one says.
Richard waits. The locks on the door are removed. It's opened up fully. He instantly spots Peter sitting in the far corner of the room, shuddering. His clothes are rumpled and his eyes are bloodshot.
"You're not Ed," the man says dumbly. The stench of alcohol is heavy on his breath.
Richard steps into the room.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?"
He ignores the three men in the room and hauls Peter up onto his feet by the arm.
"Where do you think you're taking him?" A man steps up from the table and stares Richard down. Richard can tell that the man is Robert.
"Far away from here," he answers and pulls Peter towards the door.
"Oh, no you're not," Robert says. "The boy is mine. I'm his guardian."
"Some guardian," Richard retorts. "You dare touch him one more time and it will be the last thing you ever do." He leaves his threat to hang in the air before leaving with Peter walking in front of him. "Sorry I'm late," he whispers to his friend.