Fallout Cures

06: Enervating Vocation

It had become days of dark and solemn work. The ground trainings became of air and water as if it could be easier as land—with little to say that it was not difficult. The meals became even scrumptious but less appetizing for the trouble ahead of us were more embraced by our minds. Our occasional pokes of laughter and easy-going steps had turned abruptly farfetched. Even the usual bright serenity of the greenhouse across from where my room was seemed to be downed by dark clouds that brought rain with it.

I cannot even think of any better way to subdue the burdensome thoughts I have.

We were on ground training once more as we stood in front of our austere trainer—Anne—who tried to chase away our unfitting mood as she had said. For a brief second then Doctor Anthony (Anne's brother) stooped down from their elevated stage and tried to wake the little eagerness within us but it was neither to work.

"Where's Linnea?" Tate asked out-of-bloom, his eyes transfixed on both Ms. Anne and Mr. Anthony who clutched their hands behind their backs and stood stiffly straight to the back of their spines.

Both our trainers seemed to pass words through a matched look to each one's eyes. And I could have foretold there was worry in it. But they have masked it well afterwards as they have told, "Linnea is without us—as of the moment—to be better with what she wishes to have." Except there was no ... better.

Orianna gave a little, hidden squeeze to my hand and I almost instantly felt better. And as quick, she went to her station then again to be beside Emory. I peeked a glance at Emory but never found emotion; for the way he held himself tight to his feet was with stoic eyes and unwavering words of none near soft-tendered. He used to be the one to squeeze my hand, but now, I could not even take courage to stand beside him.

"Hey," Tate nudged my tender side, and little did I wince for his elbow dug. "Look who keeps talking nowadays, Ms. Anne. She never talks and stands beside his duly bro-bro who does the chatterbox—"

As hard I could have mattered up, I kept silent and keenly listened to what Ms. Anne talked about, but Tate's cheerfulness cannot just be halted. For his short span of attention seemed to be on the run once again, "Want to know where Linnea is?"

And he got all of my attention in an instant, as I leaned forward to where he sat. Tate spoke in a whisper, "I... don't know."

I could have responded with an elbow to his side but thought otherwise. As I concentrated once again to the front for his battering of words seemed to falter... just for a moment.

"Listen to this." Tate said. And at the same time he leaned over to Cato's side who appeared to welcome Tate's words to his ear. But soon after, Tate's smile of mischievous play had drooped down to a look of sudden realization.

I was too curious then.

Tate said, "She's in Asylum." And I could not help myself but to stand in quick response of the sudden and unacceptable fact. For Linnea cannot be there as of now and Tate's word was ear-wrong.

Everyone then looked at where I stood straight up, their faces were contorted of questioning and reasoning. And I could not help myself again to keep my mouth shut when they asked why.

For a moment, Ms. Anne and Doctor Anthony appeared anxious to ask for the way they walked quite stiff and with either flickering eyes of doubt had stopped me from spilling questions. But they still decided on something.

And so we walked. Four guards split into two were both on our sides as we were led by Ms. Anne and another of white long coat to where we should be. I was beside Ms. Anne at the main front but I quickly revolted back in the middle of them all for I was neither anxious nor excited to see Linnea in the mental help room—as I would prefer to call the state.