They seemed to be trying to seperate Bernardo and Riff. Obviously the nurse and crew, despite their best efforts, could tell that the two of them weren't buying the lies.
Now that they knew what to look for, the signs were everywhere. The way that the "Bostonian" (who said his name was Sammy) said he'd never been to Boston. The way that, when the others began emerging from their comas, they seemed groggy for several days, during which the nurses almost continuously talked about how they found them, what condition they were in, and other things that usually elicited confused reactions until the patients seemed to doubt themselves and their own memory. Riff and Bernardo, having each to remind the other that they did in fact remember the past two weeks correctly, were only saved by having someone honest to talk to.
If Bernardo and Riff had lived seventy years later, they would immediately recognize this tactic as "gaslighting", but they weren't, and lacked a name to call it. Riff did label it "weird as f #$," but Bernardo was less concerned about the lies than he was about why they were being told in the first place.
Six days after Bernardo and Riff spoke with Aaron, the captain came into the sick room. After greetings were exchanged, he offered a proposition. He spoke for a while, weaving a confusing narrative that left many of the half-delirious (and Bernardo suspected still slightly drugged) patients completely lost. By the end, the only thing that was clear was that he was "generously" offering to hook them up with a place where they could stay and work for food and board. Multiple half-truths, and situations represented through a twisted view, made it seem as if this was the only viable option. Riff and Bernardo looked at each other, both thinking, who do they think we are, and were surprised when the four other patients immediately agreed. They even seemed grateful for the offer.
The captain then turned to Riff and Bernardo, friendly smile shifting into more dangerous territory. They got the picture, and agreed as well.
So, the next day, the ship changed direction and headed toward a small cove in the shoreline. As they drew nearer, Bernardo could see the dark green mass form into trees and cliffs. It seemed totally isolated. Riff and Bernardo frowned at one another, but didn't say anything to the nurse nearby. She seemed to be keeping a close eye on them, so they were careful not to speak to each other.
Two crew members hurried to let down a rope ladder and dinghy. It took two trips to bring them all to shore, but soon enough all six of them were standing on the rocky shore. Bernardo noted that they seemed much more lucid today. Two crew members "escorted" them onto a small footpath winding into the trees nearby.
"Where are we?" Riff asked, looking around in wonder. He'd probably never seen so many trees in his life.
"Nanavut, Canada," Aaron (one of the crew members leading them) said.
Riff's eyes went wide, and Bernardo guessed that he'd never left the city, much less the country.
"You're right, this ain't France," he said quietly to Bernardo. "I don't even see no croissants." He pronounced it croy-saints.
They moved at a slow pace, as everyone was at different stages of recovery, until the woods began to thin out. Soon after, Bernardo realized that the trees had been planted in straight, long rows. It looked to be a farm of some kind.
The orchard was very large, or the travelers were very tired, because it was fifteen more minutes of walking before they came upon a clearing. Several wooden, cabin-like buildings dotted the campus, the central of which seemed to Bernardo to be a classic two-story cabin house, complete with porch and chair. Around this cabin were three long, single-story structures; and a large, barn-like building. People were coming in and out of this, carrying tools and wearing simple, sensible work clothes. They glanced curiously at the group when they passed, heading out into the trees.
The crew members lead them into the cabin, where a man in his mid-thirties sat behind a desk. He had dark circles under his eyes, and was staring down at the paperwork he was currently reading. When they entered, he jumped to his feet, as if eager to have an excuse to set down his pen and get away from the work. "Who is this?"
Aaron gave some waffle about them being people in need that the crew had "picked up."
The guy's eyebrows drew slightly closer, and his smile seemed to become strained. Bernardo noticed with interest the hesitation before the man spoke again. "Of course." He turned to the six of them. "My name is Nazeh Sutherton." He shook each of their hands, then spread his arms wide. "Welcome to the Old Borde's Maple Sugar Orchard."
Que.
"I believe we have room in the Willow house…" Nazeh was saying to himself, distractedly wandering over to a map on the wall. Bernardo realized that it was a diagram of the orchard. Aside from the cabin ("Office") and Barn ("Warehouse"), the three longhouses were all labeled with tree names: "Willow", "Elm", and "Beech". The clearing with the five buildings was surrounded on all sides by orchards.
Nazeh pulled out a notebook and made several tick marks on a page. He looked up, seemed to remember Bernardo and the others were standing there, and gave another strained smile. Clearing his throat, he began, "If you stay here, you'll be given food and board in exchange for work. The work is light, but daily, and the meals are full and regular. Several people have happily lived and worked here for years. We'll never charge you fees of any kind, and will provide any and all clothes and other personal hygiene items you might need."
Bernardo watched as hope began to spread across the faces of the four strangers. Riff had a blank look, staring at Nazeh with little expression.
"Is this amenable? You can always come to me with any questions."
The other four agreed. Riff and Bernardo only paused for a moment before nodding. They knew their options: as much as the idea to stay and work was presented in a positive light, as though to encourage people to choose it, Bernardo could tell that it wasn't an option. If he was right, there wasn't any civilization for hundreds of miles.
"I'll show you to the Willow house. You can settle in for today, and start tomorrow. The others will show you the ropes."
They followed Nazeh out of the cabin and to the longhouse towards the left. He held the door for them as they filed in, and Bernardo saw a dormitory-style room with rows of bunk beds along both walls. Of the three doors set in the far wall, only the middle was open. Curious, he strolled closer to see a square room with hooks on the walls, a few of which had work clothes hanging off of them, but most of which were empty. Another door across from the one where Bernardo stood likely led outside. A long, rectangular table with benches on both sides and stools on the end appeared to be where the occupants ate meals. He returned to the rest of the group as Nazeh was indicating the two closed doors.
"Down there are the womens' and mens' washrooms." He turned to look at them sternly. "All of our lodgings are mixed. I expect everyone to behave with decorum always. If, at any time, I learn that you harassed anyone, severe action will be taken."
Aaron rolled his eyes. Nazeh glared at him, and directed the six of them to unclaimed beds where they could "put their belongings." As none of them had anything, Bernardo and Riff exchanged amused glances. Nazeh steadily continued. "That's all for now. Come to me if you have any questions." He and the two crew members left.
Riff and Bernardo exchanged a glance that any student would recognize: claiming someone as a lab partner, without any words being exchanged.
"I call top bunk!" Riff suddenly yelled, sprinting for one of the empty beds. Bernardo rolled his eyes and walked more calmly towards the lower bunk, smirking when he heard Riff give a quiet "Ow," when his new stitches pulled from the sudden movement.
He stretched out on the thin mattress, head resting on folded arms, staring across the room at a small carved owl sitting on the windowsill next to the bunk opposite them. It was such a small, meaningless thing; but to Bernardo, it was proof that people had been here. Not just passed through, but lived here. He wondered how long it took to make.
He wondered if he would be here that long.
Eventually, he became aware that the other four were talking amongst themselves. He knew they considered Riff and himself to be outsiders, different. Because they had each other, neither had sought out their company, and so the confused people had turned to one another.
"I say we're lucky to have landed a spot like this. I was in debt before… at least, I think I was," one hard-faced woman said.
Bernardo thought, not for the first time, about how all of these people seemed to have something in common: they were all the "unspeakables" of society. Nobody that anyone important would miss. Not the kind of people the police would worry about finding.
Not, if you looked at it closer, people with a whole lot to lose.
"There's a lot I won't miss about New York, that's for sure," the alleged Bostonian Sammy said, sitting on his own bed. "Even without salary, just eating every day is a pretty good deal."
A man with sandy brown hair didn't seem quite as satisfied with how everything had turned out. Quietly, and glancing at the door as if checking for the crew, he said, "Doesn't it disturb you, how we all got injured separately… well, except for those two-" glancing at Riff and Bernardo, "-but all ended up on the same ship?" He shook his head in disbelief.
Sammy shrugged, not looking too concerned. "Who cares. Seems to me, Lauren's right. We've got a lucky break."
Bernardo tuned the conversation out, sighing quietly. Before his thoughts could turn too melancholy, however, Riff's head appeared hanging upside-down over the edge of the top bunk. He was grinning, but his eyes were serious.
"That sounds like someone who lets things happen to him."
"We're not like that, amigo," Bernardo said. "We're investigating, and we're not stopping now that we're here."
At that moment, the outside door in the dining room opened up and voices drifted over into the dorm. Riff climbed down and the six of them walked over to see what was going on.
About twenty or so people had come in, chattering as they pulled off work coats and hung them on the hooks along the walls.
"Hey, newcomers!" someone called out.
Everyone looked over and immediately welcomed them. Next thing Bernardo knew, he was seated between Riff and a cheerful, sturdy-looking woman of about forty.
"I'm Dana. We're just on our lunch break," she explained. "Just come in?"
Bernardo nodded, and she smiled sympathetically. "Still not recovered, then?"
Riff choked on his water. The man on his other side, a hulking figure with pine needles in his hair, slapped his back until he spit out water at the person across from him. The guy blinked, then wiped off his face. Luckily, he didn't seem offended.
"How did you know we were hurt?" Bernardo asked slowly.
"We all came that way, dearie," she said matter-of-fact. "They sort of collect hurt folks here, I suppose." It was a throwaway comment, but Bernardo could feel the beginnings of a new rage stir deep in his ribcage. He'd had things to be angry about, and people to be angry for, before now. His people, his sister, the racism they faced, their economic troubles. Never before had he felt angry for the injustice faced by people unconnected to him, however. It was a new feeling, and a bit alarming. Why did he feel angry for them, angry towards the people who had put them here?
Oh, yeah, because their lives had been ripped away without them having any say in the matter.
"Except for those three," Dana was saying, "you're the first new people in a while."
"Except for who?" Riff said in a rough voice, still coughing slightly.
She indicated the man Riff spat on and the two men next to him. "All three came together. First ones in a month."
Bernardo wouldn't have looked twice at the group, but something about them caught his attention. He peered closer, trying to recall what they had reminded him of, when he saw the man rub his chest and wince. In his mind's eye, he saw black words, scribbled onto a crisp white hospital sheet, stuck to a clipboard hanging off of his own bed.
Male. 25. Hispanic. Stabbed to right of sternum. Operated on, repaired lung. Admitted 4 days ago.
Bernardo's face blanched.