Chapter 39: 39 Recoil, Part One

Even as the doctor took Darren – shivering and shaking all over – into one of the treatment rooms, Tsuyoshi herded Sophie into the hospital hallway.

"Tsuyoshi, I don't need to be checked over!" Sophie insisted. "I'm fine!"

"Let me do something that makes me feel useful," he said.

"I... Oh." She curled over a little, like that made her feel soft. "We could sit down?"

That sounded like a good idea. He drifted in the direction of the doctor's little alcove, with its shabby table and chairs, and hoped she would follow. He dragged over one chair to park himself on and she collapsed into the other.

"You feel okay?" He poked his shoe at the knee of her jeans so she'd look at him instead of her feet. "Emotionally, I mean."

She straightened up just enough to send an unsteady look his way. "I guess so."

"Probably didn't think that was going to happen today."

"No, I—" And then she curled over again. "I didn't think Darren was like that. I thought he was normal. Or maybe normal's not the word. I thought he was just like everyone else. I didn't know that he held those things inside."

Tsuyoshi looked away at the blank white walls. "In a way he is like everyone else here. We're all totally fucked up over being stuck here."

"Do you think Angharad's okay? She just went off by herself."

"I think she's sick of feeling like people are worrying about her. So maybe you and I can worry about each other instead."

*

Jin was reading Angharad's notebook in bed, propped against the pillows as he looked at her rain-smudged handwriting, when she appeared at his door.

He shoved the notebook in his top drawer as quick as he could. He'd felt less awkward the last time somebody caught him with porn – at least porn he could explain.

"I need your help," she said, leaning against the doorway like her head was tired and she wasn't going to be able to keep it up on her own.

"Okay."

"With this." She lifted her hand into the meagre light provided by his lamp and he realised she held a gun. He'd never gotten to his feet and across a room faster in his life.

"What are you doing? Why are you carrying that?" He found taking it from her hands much easier than it should have been.

"How else was I supposed to get it over here? With my non-existent telekinesis? It's like 4am. Nobody saw me."

"That's not my point."

"It's not loaded, okay? I'm not actually a total idiot." Her mouth was a thin line and the skin under her eyes looked dark and tender.

"Nobody thinks you're an idiot," he murmured, as close as he could get without things getting uncomfortable.

"A lot of people have assumed that I'm stupid my whole life. It's not actually uncommon."

"But I'm smart enough to know better." He put his free hand on her shoulder. "Do you want a hug?"

"No. I want you to teach me how to use that thing."

"Okay. I have a place we can go."

*

She didn't look comfortable in his practise shed. Once he'd carefully closed the door, in the hopes that nobody would hear them, he carefully rearranged her posture. She listened quietly as he explained how the different parts of the handgun went together and the basics of gun safety, but her eyes still looked wild and mildly panicked.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

"Yes," she snapped. "Stop asking."

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He gave her ear muffs, corrected her stance, stood back, and let her try.

She took deep breaths and calmed her body long enough to take the shot, aim better than he expected. Then her arms started to shake and he stepped in to steady her hands before she could drop the gun. As soon as he'd taken it from her grip and put it, carefully unloaded, on a table, she started fumbling at the ear muffs.

"Okay, I cannot do that. It's making me shake all over," she said.

"It's the recoil. You get used to it."

He grabbed the ear muffs from her hands.

"No, I mean I don't want it. I don't want to learn. You can have that gun. I don't want that to be part of my life."

"There's a rule that says everyone here has to have a weapon. What do you think this place is going to do if you don't have one?"

"So find me a big stick!" she yelled, arms waving all over the room. "That's the weapon I choose."

"Is it time for the hug now?" he asked.

"Please."

He gathered her up and she buried her head and the clinging edges of her fingers into his pyjama top. He felt himself clinging, too, to the warmth of her gigantic sweater.

"I miss daddy," she said. "He gives the best hugs in the world. When we get out of here I'll share him with you."

"Okay." He wasn't sure how long they stood there, taking comfort in basic human contact. But eventually he pulled away and said, "We'll find you a stick."

*

It was still quiet when they got outside, and the world still dark around them. The only other person he could see was the doctor, quietly standing a few metres away from the barrier, staring at the other camp.

Angharad's eyes glanced over to the doctor and looked away again, like it was something she was so used to seeing it became barely worthy of notice.

"What is she looking for?" he asked.

"Hmm? Oh, that. Her son's on the other side. She plays it cool but she only looks over when she thinks he's not going to see her, I guess. I think we should just let her."

"If you say so."

There weren't a lot of places he thought a random stick might be lying about but he figured maybe the supply shed on the other side of Zapville. Maybe they'd get lucky and the weird pool of water near it would have dried up and they wouldn't have to worry about whatever lived in it.

"Anything exciting happen while you were recovering from the plague? I've been kind of avoiding people," she said.

"It wasn't the plague."

"Whatever, your epic man-flu. Just give me the gossip."

"Mac was telling everyone that she thinks you're a really good kisser. And I mean everyone."

Angharad scrunched her face up. "Oh, I might have super big regrets."

"You should have seen the look on Josephine's face. It was hilarious. And Eleanor thinks you're a brazen hussy, doomed to break the heart of the man who is patiently waiting for you."

"Oh, please. I went out with James for, like, one month before being stuck here for four. He can live with the rejection when I finally get the chance to tell him it's over with. I don't think he'll be crying into his soup."

The pond was still there, still disgusting. But he opened up the supply shed, dusty as it was, and there just so happened to be a big stick conveniently there on its concrete floor, as if someone up there had listened to what they'd wanted and dutifully provided.

"But will he be impressed with your big stick?" he said.

When she burst into giggles he felt like he'd won something.

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