Chapter Five Little One

The books were scattered about in the rubble that remained from the once proud building that had held them.

There were curling pieces of half melted, yellow plastic that had once been cards; ‘Library Card’ was written in drooping capital, blue letters on the fronts of the thin, rectangular cards. A great deal of the books were burnt beyond recognition, their pages so brittle that the slightest touch would cause them to crumble into thick ashes.

Large bricks that had once made up the library’s proud walls were piled in various places around the books. Grass and wildflowers grew around the bricks and between the scattered, burnt and crumpled pages.

Roach was sprawled on the soft spring grass among the tall, swaying daises; a few of the more intact books were stacked neatly by his shoulder, the breeze toying with the old, crackling pages.Roach’s thin fingers were gently bending the emerald stem of one of the pale daises, lowering the white blossom to his face to take in the flower’s soothing fragrance.

The pale clouds had receded, leaving only clear blue sky in their wake. The sun was bright and its golden rays fell down onto Roach’s bare skin, drying him with their warmth. His robe was draped over a group of bricks that were still stacked together; it was all that remained of one of the library’s walls.

He and Precious had gone to the edge of the colony’s grounds to a small pond at the tree line; behind the pond the forest spread out like a vast and endless sea of trees. They had stripped down and swam in the cold water until they were visibly shivering and their teeth chattering.

Roach tilted his head, releasing the flower, and rested his hand on his bare chest as he watched Precious wander naked through the carcasses of books. The other boy sank into a crouch and lifted a badly burnt blue book, cradling its broken spine in one palm while his other hand delicately leafed through the pages.

The sun was glistening off the water on the younger boy’s pale skin so that he seemed otherworldly; the flowers were swaying and softly brushing their outstretched petals against his legs and ankles. Roach sighed softly as Precious’ blue eyes briefly lifted to meet his gaze. A smile turned up the pale boy’s lips, and Roach thought to himself that even the angels above would be shamed by Precious’ childish beauty.

The blue eyes lowered back to the book, and the full lips parted in speech.“See Jane. See Dick. See Jane run. See them run,” He paused; some of the words were too smeared or burnt to make out. “Run, Run… Help…” His voice was soft and deep, having recently changed from the more juvenile voice he had had when Roach had first met him.

The passage that the angelic boy had read, however, seemed out of place and eerie in the calm, bright afternoon.Precious turned the page and was about to continue, when he turned and looked over his shoulder in the direction of the colony.

Roach, who had been on the verge of dozing, yawned and sat up, bringing his knees to his chest. He stretched out his arms and rested them on his knees, placing his chin on one of his arms so that he might see what was distracting Precious from the strange book.“Precious, hello. Is Roach with you?”

Roach frowned at the strange voice and sat straighter, stretching out one arm to pull his robes from the pile of bricks. Sleepily, he tugged on his robes and started toward Precious, gathering the other boy’s robes before stepping up behind of him.

Precious was quietly talking to a young man, whom Roach recognized as the Drone named Darling. As Roach draped Precious’ robes around the younger boy’s pale, glistening body, Darling turned his attention to Roach and placed one of his hands to his chest in relief.

“There you are, Roach. I was afraid you had run off again. Your Son here,” Darling’s eyes narrowed as they moved to Precious, who was leaning his back against Roach’s chest. “Wouldn’t tell me where you were.”

Roach draped his dark arms around Precious’ neck loosely and smirked, whispering into Precious’ ear. “Thank you.” To Darling, he added. “What could be so important that you have to interrupt us on Precious’ birthday?”

As he said it, Roach shook his head; it was hard to believe that he was now seventeen and little Precious fifteen, just a year away from his first mating.Darling rolled his green eyes and placed his hands on his sharp hips. “Yes, its very important actually, Cockroach.” The name dripped maliciously through the Drone’s lips like venom from a snake’s fangs. Precious felt Roach stiffen and lifted his pale hands to press them against Roach’s dark arms.

“Just get on with it, Darling.”

“There’s something wrong with Little One.”

The words struck Roach like a blow to the stomach, and he slowly released Precious to step around the Son toward the speaking Drone. Little One was Roach’s and Joyful Tears’ child; the child that had been conceived on Roach’s birthday during that awkward first mating. Little One was several months old now, though she was still very, very small. The Workers who had helped Joyful Tears’ with the birthing had had to keep a close eye on the tiny child; they had been afraid she would not survive that first night.

Roach had been terribly worried about her and longed to see his daughter, but according to the rules laid down by Joyful Tears when the colony was started, he, as a Drone, was not allowed to see her.

To ease Roach’s mind, Precious had made frequent visits to the nursery where Little One was kept under the watchful eyes of the Workers and the Great Mother. According to Precious, Little One was doing well, and they believed she would be alright after all.

“What’s wrong with her?” Roach asked, startled by how unsteady his voice sounded.

“I can’t say for sure. I’m just the messenger. I was told to bring you back with me.” Darling shrugged and turned his back to Roach, continuing over his shoulder. “I think its serious.”

Roach pushed Darling aside and dashed across the field with Precious at his heels. Their robes billowed around them like red and gold wings. “What’s wrong with her?”Roach lifted the quiet child into his arms and cradled her against his chest; his gloved hand brushing over her flushed cheek.

There were ugly red bumps dotting her mocha complexion, and as Roach lifted the layers of blankets she was wrapped in, he saw that the marks covered her entire body. A small mask was covering his nose and mouth to keep him protected should the disease be catching. Roach was sitting on a wooden rocking chair in the nursery and Precious was reclining at his feet, his ungloved fingers toying with the baby’s toes, which were peeking out from beneath the folds of fabric.

A Worker, Tranquility, was standing by them, her brown eyes focused on the baby in Roach’s arms. “We think that its called chicken pox. It is a childhood disease from the City.”

“Is she going to be alright?”

Tranquility nodded, “Yes, of course. In a few weeks, I think she’ll be just fine.” She reached for the child hesitantly.

Precious looked first at her outstretched hands then shot a fierce glare toward the Worker. Lifting his own hand he made to push the woman’s hands away from Little One, but Roach shook his head.“Its alright, Precious.”

He murmured absently as he looked down at his daughter’s face, trying to imagine what she looked like without the terrible marks marring her flesh. “I’m just a Drone… I understand that. I can’t stay here as much as I’d like to.”

When he and Precious were back in their chamber, Precious lowered himself down onto his mattress. “Its not fair.”

Roach stepped over Precious and got into his own bed, tugging the covers to his chin. “What’s not fair, Precious?”

“Its not fair that you can’t be with your own child.”

Roach’s eyes widened. “That’s… that’s just the way things are, Precious.” He stammered.

“But what if something were to happen to her?” Precious sat up and moved to sit down on the side of Roach’s bed. “What if she died? Or her condition became worse? You’d never know! Why should the Mothers be the only ones to see them? The child is as much the Drone’s as it is the Mother’s!”

“Precious, that’s enough!” Roach’s eyes grew wide and he quickly sat up as he spoke; the words spilled in a nervous rush, slurring together. “What you’re speaking… its blasphemy!”

A shuddering sigh spilled through Precious’ lips, and he stood, walking over his mattress to the window. “And who gets to decide that it is blasphemy, Roach? The Mothers. Who gets to decide anything in this colony? Just the Mothers. I read in one of the books from the library that men used to be the rulers. That men like us controlled women. We would take one of them to be ours and mate for life, and raise a family with just that one woman.”

“Precious! Stop! You can’t talk like that. If someone heard you, you could be executed.” Roach hissed.

Precious glanced at Roach over his shoulder.“And who gets to decide if I am to be killed or not?”Roach cringed and looked away.“Who, Roach?”

Roach put his hands over his ears, keeping his eyes on the sheets laying across his chest. He didn’t want to hear the accusation in Precious’ voice, and he couldn’t handle the pain he knew laid in the younger boy’s blue eyes.“Who decides whether I live or die, Roach!?” Precious cried so that Roach even with his hands covering his ears could hear him. Roach sat up sharply and lowered his hands, curling his fingers into fists and bringing them down sharply onto his lap as he turned to shoot a glare toward Precious.

“I DO!”

“So are you going to kill me for thinking for myself is that it?!” Precious snapped back.

“Precious, listen to yourself! You’re questioning our way of life! The colony’s lived like this for years and you just want to change it all?! That kind of thinking is the reason there were wars and fights in the City!”

“I’m just trying to understand why things have to be this way! Why are Drones so mistreated?! If a woman is infertile she simply works for the Mothers, but if a male is sterile we are killed! Why, Roach? We are more than just tools for procreation!”

“Precious, stop it now or…”

“Or what, Cockroach?!” Precious snarled, his eyes flashing indignantly.

Roach fell quiet, his eyes wide and his fingers uncurled from fists and resting against his lap limply. Precious had never spoken to him this way, and he had never called Roach by his full name. “Are you going to kill me, Cockroach?” And with that, the angelic boy turned and stormed from the room, leaving Roach alone amid the limp, cold sheets of his bed.