S. Bodeen - The Compound

There was a crib and two toddler beds, all oak, with fluffy down bedding in whimsical, primary-colored prints. On the floor beside them lay a mattress, topped with a twisted mess of sheets and blankets. Past the beds, into the second room of the suite, we entered the playroom. Castles of blocks were stacked against one wall, and another held shelves brimming with picture books, puzzles, and games.

My eyes widened at the amount of baby and toddler things my father had stockpiled.

Had Dad planned on Mom having babies here? Before the Compound, I never heard them discuss having more children. Everything in that room suggested otherwise. And when I saw the stacks of diapers, the changing table, and the rocking chair I realized this had all been foreseen by my father somehow.

Maybe foreseen wasn’t the right word. Maybe he’d always planned to create a new generation.

Someone took my hand.

I recoiled, yanking it away. A small, dark-haired boy dressed in navy blue sweats grinned up at me. I recognized the fabric was from the piles of bolts in the sewing room.

His face was also one I knew well. Eddy’s. My legs nearly buckled and I put a hand against the wall to steady myself.

He still looked up at me. “Want to play Chutes and Ladders?”

Terese stood behind him. “Eli, this is Lucas.”

“Do you want to play with me, Eli?” I wanted to shout no and run. But where? Mom said, “I’ll come by in a little while.” She backed out the door.

Part of me was so pissed at her, for going along with all this. But another part of me was too surprised at the new world I’d stepped into. I was jolted by how much the little boy resembled Eddy at that age. And me.

A brother. I had another brother.

The boy must have equated my silence with agreement, because he walked over to a table with small chairs where a game was set up. He tapped one place. “You sit here,’ kay?”

I tried to sit where he directed, but could hardly get my legs under the tiny table. I moved the chair and sat on the floor.

He sat in a chair beside me, his eyes level with mine. “I go first, ’kay?” He counted the spaces and moved his piece.

Curious fascination overcame the knot in my stomach. “How high can you count?”

“I can count a lot. I’m almost five.”

I took my turn. “Figured you were.”

We kept playing. The boy, Lucas, chattered the whole time, telling me about what he liked to play. At one point he stopped and rested his chin on one hand. His big brown eyes contemplated my face. “You look like me.”

My laughter came before I could stop it. “I was here first, so that means you look like me.”

“And Eddy.”

I felt my smile collapse. “How do you know about Eddy?” I glanced around for Terese, but didn’t see her.

“Reesie told me. About Eddy and Eli, the twins. Eddy stayed outside to take care of Cocoa and Clementine. He’s going to come and get us out.”

Lucas knew no life besides the Compound. Yet even he felt the need to get out. If that didn’t signify the strangeness of our life, I don’t know what would.

Guess it was up to me to shatter his illusions. “Look, kid. Eddy isn’t out there. He’s gone.”

The statement didn’t seem to unsettle him at all. He simply looked at me. And he sounded very confident. “Reesie said you’d say that.”

I had no response.

“Why didn’t you come see me before?”

“Before what?”

“Now.” Lucas blinked. His dark lashes were a stark contrast to his pale, perfect skin. Such a beautiful child.

Again, I didn’t have anything to say.

Then he handed me a toy car. “It’s broken.”

“Huh?”

“It’s broken. Can you fick it?”

His face was so serious. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I can fick it.” The wheel had come off. I pried it back on.

As he leaned in to watch me, he was close, so close that I could feel his warm breath on my arm.

Too close.

My body tensed, waiting for my heart to speed up, my breath to become shallow. But it didn’t happen. I finished, handing back his toy.

Lucas smiled. “Thanks.” He dropped to the floor, running the car back and forth until he seemed satisfied it worked. He checked behind him, and then whispered, “Eli, can you keep a secret?”

“Yeah, of course.” Like there was anyone to tell.

Lucas led me over to a door. Inside, shelves upon shelves held toys, puzzles, and games. He went to the back, tugging out a wooden box. “I keep this back here so no one else can see it. It’s special.” He beckoned.

With one hand, he selected an item from the box. His grin showed a lot of teeth. “Look.” He held up a painted figure of an intricately carved clown.

Great. It had to be a clown.

He removed the top, which revealed another smaller figure inside the first.

“Oh, they’re nesting dolls.”

Lucas scrunched his nose up. “They’re not dolls. They were a special present. A secret.” He plucked one out of the other until there were six. He set them on a shelf in order, keeping the smallest in his hand. “This is the last one.” He held a finger to his lips. “It has a mystery inside.”

“The last one doesn’t open, that is the mystery.”

Lucas nodded. “It does so have a mystery.”

Was I actually arguing with a four-year-old? “Okay, whatever.”

He put them all back and hid them in the same spot again. “Do you hate us?”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. “Why would you ask me that?”

“You never came to see us.” His eyes blinked slowly, like he was waiting for me to come up with an explanation.

For a while, even before Terese had aroused my suspicions that day in the gym, I sometimes wondered if the staleness of our existence would slowly suffocate us. I finally understood why Mom and Terese and Lexie doted on the Supplements. Sitting with Lucas, my brother, I already felt different. More alive than I’d felt for a long time.

I explained it to him. “It was dumb of me to stay away. Let’s just leave it at that.”

He nodded. “I have to get my pie-jammas on now.” He skipped off to where Terese was helping a little girl with dark braids put on a nightgown.

In the rocking chair, Lexie held the youngest one, a boy about a year old. I heard her call him Quinn. I’d always considered my older sister to be completely self-absorbed, concerned only with herself and what she could gain from any situation. Her actions usually proved my assumptions to be true. But as I observed her, she was unaware of being watched.

Lexie held Quinn with a look on her face I’d never seen. If I had to describe it, I guess I could say she appeared happy. Not because she was getting her way or someone was doing something for her. She was just content in the role of observing Quinn, just waiting to see what he would do next. Mostly I was amazed to see her being so patient with someone.

Then Lexie saw me. “What are you doing down here?” Before I could answer, her surprised look turned to one of annoyance and she stood up, shoving Quinn into my arms. “Hold him, I have to pee.”

I tried to hand him back. “Wait, don’t leave.”

She was already into the bathroom on the other side of the suite. Terese had her hands full. I was stuck. I wanted to let go, drop him, anything to get him out of my arms. But he was clutching me so hard. So I held Quinn.

My hands on his waist, I tried to lean as far away as I could. He struggled to twist around and face me, patting my face with his hands. Blond hair curled around his ears. His footed pajamas were made of soft polar fleece, a blue and white print with moose and pine trees. His heavy, solid toddler body radiated heat. He smelled of baby shampoo and powder, not unpleasant in the least.