Page 12 of A Light in the Dark
As soon as I got home, I would be sending a concerned text to the Hunters about Madeline, who couldn’t have been more anxious about the situation had she tried.
What had triggered the woman’s fear? Dealing with her asshole of a boss could do it, but was that all? As I’d already been delayed, I asked Madeline’s boss if the refugee might walk back with me to my office, as the hill was steep and two people would make the jaunt safely—and Madeline could return the dolly at the same time. While the manager hesitated, he agreed. I assumed his status as young played a role, especially as he’d chosen to dress down rather than up.
If the jerk believed his eyes, my company had sent someone higher up the chain to fetch papers.
I admired my boss’s cunning.
Once on the street, I took care to stay relaxed and smiled at Madeline. “Welcome to Stonecreek. May I ask where you’re from?”
After much flailing over the situation, everyone, the refugees included, had settled on that question as a way to express curiosity in an acceptable fashion. Some refugees loved having a chance to remember Earth. Those who didn’t gave the canned reply of their entry gate, usually Moonriver. We had a few imports from other gates, who’d traveled by ship to reach our world following the destruction of theirs.
The woman’s smile carried with it grief, but something about her relaxed. “I was from Bolivia, and I had traveled to India for a holiday. I was staying in a town with a portal when the volcanoes awakened. I escaped through that portal, and then they sent me here through another portal. I got lucky. I was scheduled to go to a different area of India, where they had a major volcano erupt two days later.”
There was luck, and then there was dodging certain death by two days. I considered her words, particularly about her entry portal. Stonecreek did have a portal in the outskirts, which connected to one of the inner universe planets, a conservation planet with more advanced tech than ours. Unlike the Moonriver portals, Stonecreek rarely activated theirs.
I wondered if her entry point played a role in her survival.
The bonus for the refugees only applied to the refugees who’d entered through Moonriver’s portal during the exodus, that much I’d learned from the radio and television broadcasts.
“Tell me about Bolivia,” I requested. “It’s mountainous, isn’t it?”
Madeline’s expression brightened. “You have heard of my home?”
Then, much like the floodgates releasing their waters, words poured out of the woman, a rush so strong I suspected her emotions boiled out of her. I learned she’d been born in the high peaks where the land kissed the sky, and she had grown up fixing old truck engines so they could barter with those in the valleys below. They’d cared for herds of animals with soft, thick coats, and she’d learned toweave long before she’d ever written her first letter on a page.
She still weaved, pulling apart old scraps of cloth for the fibers and creating something new.
Technology had mostly passed them by in her slice of the world, making our world comforting in many of its similarities.
By the time we reached my workplace, taken at a stately pace so we wouldn’t slip and send papers flying into the street and to their ruin, I marveled at the woman’s strength and love for the home she’d lost. I gave her my landline number and told her to give me a call if she wanted a friend in the city. To give her something to look forward to, I told her I knew of a store that sold fibers that could be spun, and I’d love to take her to it.
To my delight, it took her less than five minutes to memorize my number, and she promised she would call and leave a message.
I advised her against telling any of her co-workers about our interest in visiting the fiber store.
They wouldn’t understand.
Her knowing nod offered some hope we’d be able to meet without anyone being the wiser about our newfound friendship.
Twenty minutes later, we delivered the box to my desk, and I escorted her out of the building, observing until she made it up the hill before heading back inside to have my lunch.
As I’d made enough chili for two people during the flood, I’d made a point of freezing it in containers to take to work, and I settled in the office kitchen, staring at the microwavewhile it heated my meal. Staring did not make the seconds tick down faster, a disappointment all things considered.
I’d put in my best effort on the chili, expecting someone other than just me to eat it.
“Some of our clients are fools,” my boss announced from behind me.
“How so?” I asked, aware that if Mr. Accor wanted to chat in the kitchen that it was something either of major importance or of upmost curiosity. “I mean, some of them definitely do not learn from their mistakes.”
“That firm has not reported that they have refugee employees to the government.”
That caught my attention. While it wasn’t legally required to, the firms that hired refugees got tax benefits for doing it, no matter how the refugee ended up in Stonecreek. “Would you like me to send the general reminders pack to them with the refugee information in the top section?”
“That would be ideal, yes. Thank you. Did you get the woman’s name?”
“Madeline.”
“What do you think of her?”
