Rating: PG
CHAPTER 1
The evening whistles had bellowed more than an hour before Sandy trudged up the spindly coil of iron stairs to emerge from Umlasgrad’s understructure. Now she rode along the near empty streets on a steam trolley, gazing at the sky, lamenting the brevity of this, her only contact with the sun all day. The fat, ruddy star already sat low on the horizon, evident from dim flashes of color between the passing skyline of smokestacks and mills. As it sank lower, its few remaining rays stroked the bases of winter clouds with thinning stripes of chalk-orange. Sandy kept her eyes fixed on the sorrow of the sun’s retreat, unwilling to look away and violate the post-work ritual that she grew to depend upon. Her mind needed something to mark the passage of time.
Her assigned shifts stretched hours longer than those of her comrades serving above. The Energy Committee compensated by granting its workers two rest days in each week. More than three months since her commencement from the Civil Energy Academy, neither Sandy nor her body had adjusted to the five consecutive sunless days demanded by her sub-city profession. She released a quiet sigh and turned from the carriage’s window. The sky darkened to indigo and grey, signaling the official close of another long day of toil in the near-dark.
She curled her fingers into the palms of her gloves, warming her fingers by folding them into her palms. The slow, boring ride home left her little else to do. The steam-trolley would shamble another twenty minutes before reaching the intersection closest to the cozy old flat allotted to her and Reina-- Twenty minutes until Sandy had to face her sister and the dread of that same inevitable argument after their supper bowls lay empty.
The trolley labored up one of the steep hills, the chuff of its pistons slowing against the added resistance. Her body pivoted and rocked in contrary motion with the lurch and groan of the omnibus, denying her slight frame the luxury of seated rest, instead forcing a struggle to remain upright for the slow, rough ride.
Seated next to her on the wooden bench an old woman bundled in threadbare wool fidgeted and fussed; arranging and rearranging the end of a dull brown scarf that wound up from her shoulders to just beneath her dark, sunken eyes. From behind her seat, the slapping sputter of a man’s cough joined the clamor of straining drive gears beneath the floorboards. Sandy winced at each rumbling eruption from the stranger’s lungs. She lowered her chin to bury her nose below the buttoned collar of her overcoat, opting to draw her breaths through the gray wool. The morning reports from Moscow said that cities in the Western oblasts started issuing cloth masks to their citizens, attempting to thwart the spread of the rampant sickness. More than a third of the republic’s workforce had contracted this latest Eurasian grippe in the past month, leaving shelves at the markets and bakeries almost empty from the massive work shortage.
The trolley’s speed increased as it crested the hill and began descending the steep slope into the valley. With her nose still tucked into her coat’s collar, Sandy turned her eyes up and peered ahead, glancing between the shifting bodies of standing passengers to view the rank of square white towers at the bottom of the grade. Almost home, she thought. At this time the day before, she had tried to think of ways to reason with Reina. None of them worked. Today, exhaustion hampered any new thoughts of strategy from entering her mind.
The undercarriage shrieked as the trolley’s steel wheels ground to a stop. Sandy lifted herself from the bench and waited for those ahead of her to exit the machine. Once she filed through the carriage’s doorway, the biting night-winds of the valley stung her exposed cheeks and eyelids. She squinted against the steady bitter rush and pushed forward, leaning into the pressure as she walked the final hundred meters home.
After a quick trip in the building’s newly repaired lift, she walked the corridor of the apartment block’s fifteenth level. She slipped her hands free from their gloves and fished into her coat’s inside pocket, her fingers rummaging for the key to the flat. She managed to pull the key out as she reached the entrance to her modest little home. After unlocking the door, she bumped the portal with her knee, goading it open to slip inside.
Reina’s voice greeted Sandy’s arrival. “Your supper’s almost ready.”
Sandy leaned against the flat’s crude-fitting door, forcing it to clap shut with a nudge from her shoulder. She looked to the end of the room to find Reina hovering over the cooktop, tending a simmering pot. On the table behind her lay two bowls, empty save for an old mismatched spoon resting in each. Sandy shucked her coat and hoisted its collar over one of the wooden pegs next to the door. She unwound from her scarf to drape it over the hump of coat and then balanced her hat atop the whole heap. Reina’s back still faced her. Sandy cleared her throat, testing to see if Reina’s oblivion was deliberate.
“It’s almost ready,” Reina said, her head still hanging over the simmering pot.
Sandy approached the table and asked, “What is it tonight?” She pulled out one of the chunky wooden chairs and dropped onto its seat. Eager for a response from her sister, Sandy added, “It smells very rich, very good. What is it?”
“Pasted oats and barley. I put some red treacle in it for you.”
“Are you still cross with me? From last night?”
Reina ceased stirring, leaving the spoon in the pot. She drew a breath and sighed, “I’m not angry, Kassandrine. It’s just… I don’t know what we’re going to do. We can’t keep on like this.”
Sandy’s hands balled into fists. She narrowed her eyes, asserting, “I’m not going to Omsk.”
Reina’s shoulders sank. “Moscow, then. There’s CI there with a junior engineer program. You could finish advanced study in less than three years.”
Sandy folded her arms and grumbled, “You just want to be rid of me.”
Reina turned to face Sandy. The effort behind her thin smile was evident. “Your whole life is in front of you. I’m almost halfway through mine. You’re old enough too be on your own—“
Sandy shook her head, saying, “I don’t want to leave you.”
Reina pulled the other chair from beneath the table’s edge and lowered into its seat. She crossed her arms onto her lap and leaned toward Sandy, saying, “Someday, you’ll have to Kassandrine. Someday you’ll want to start a family—“
“I have a family. What’s left of it, anyway…” Sandy felt her throat tighten at the sound of her admission. Bubbles of impending tears filled the corners of her eyes. “Why do… Why do you want to ruin that?”
Reina sighed, “I want what’s best for you. That’s all.”
“It’s best for me to stay here with you.”
“You’re being childish—“
Sandy scowled. “I’m being honest. I’m telling you what I want.”
Reina stood, tapping her chest, asking, “What about what I want? Have you for once considered that?”
Sandy’s eyes widened, her nostrils flared. “You are trying to be rid of me!”
Reina’s head sank. She closed her eyes, turned, and loped away to disappear behind the curtain of their bedroom.
Sandy sat, staring at the battered copper pot simmering on the stove, listening to its bubbles and spatters as the emotion of her outburst calmed. She rose and headed to where Reina had retreated, knowing that dinner would not commence unless she tried to reconcile. She slipped around the curtain and into their sparse windowless square of a bedroom.
Reina lay on top of their quilt, face buried in her crossed arms. Sandy took a step toward the bed and lowered to perch on its edge. “I’m sorry,” she started, “I didn’t mean to upset you like that.”
Reina gave no response, her face still hidden in the frame of her arms. When Sandy reached over and rested her hand on her sister’s shoulder, Reina’s back started quivering through the motion of jagged, hushed tears.
Sandy chewed her bottom lip before adding, “I’m really sorry.”
Reina still said nothing, continuing to cry into their tattered red quilt.
Hoping to alleviate her mounting guilt, Sandy tried again, offering, “Can we put this aside? Just for tonight?” Her shoulders drooped as she added, “I’ve had a hard day is all… I can’t think straight with an empty stomach.”
The back of Reina’s head rocked forward and back through her sobs. After a few moments, her muffled voice sounded from the lock of her arms. “I have to finish your dinner.” Sniffling, she lifted her head and turned her face away from Sandy’s perch. She leaned forward to smooth the front of her dress saying, just above a whisper, “Take your place at the table… I’ll be out in a moment.”
Sandy grimaced at the distance in Reina’s voice. She rose from the edge of their bed and sneaked back through the curtain and into the kitchen. She took her place at the table and stared into her empty bowl, waiting as Reina requested.
Throughout their dinner, neither of the sisters spoke. Sandy lacked the courage to lift her gaze high enough to chance meeting Reina’s. After her last spoonful, Sandy rose to gather their bowls for washing. As she turned the faucet to rinse, Reina’s voice came from behind.
“Will they shut the power off again tonight?”
Sandy nodded, running the rounded end of a spoon between her thumb and forefingers cleansing it beneath the tepid stream. “Until further notice, they’ve said. A team from Germany arrived this morning. They’ve dealt with worse collapses than this one, I’m told.”
“Can’t they leave just the steam running all night? It’s not like anyone’s awake to use all of it up?”
Sandy ran the spoons through a folded dishtowel as she turned to Reina and replied, “To keep the steam up, we need to add water to the boilers. When we add water, the boilers cool. To keep the boilers hot, we need more coal. Until that collapse is shored-up, we’ve got barely enough to last until the end of the month.”
Reina rose and reached out to draw the towel and spoons from Sandy’s grip. She sighed, “I’ll finish the dishes. Go and wash up before lights-out. You’re face is positively orange with rust.”
“Can we listen to the tubes? Before lights-out?”
Reina propped a hand on her hip and gave a half-smile. “Maybe… Now go wash up or I’ll have you spend the night on the floor. I won’t stand for rusty blankets on our bed.”
“Yes, Reina.” Sandy nodded, bowed her head and shuffled to the lavatory.
TBC in Chapter 1b
