Chosen

Chapter 13

I have exactly one memory of my mother before she died. Sure, I can vaguely recall her face, her voice, her warmth, but they're like blurry photographs, still shots of moments with no context. But I do have one memory that stands out clearly. Over time, I've come to know that memory backwards and forwards. It plays in my mind almost in slow motion.

I'm about three years old, walking hand in hand with my mother only months before she passed. She still had her strength then. We're walking down the hallway in an older area of the compound, warm rust-colored tiles beneath our feet. Suddenly, she lifts me and swings me forward, setting me gently down in the center of one of the tiles. I giggle. "Okay sweetie, how many tiles from here to the end of the hallway?" She asks, laughing with me. Tentatively, careful to put my little feet exactly in the center of each tile, I begin to walk forward, wobbling a little but prevented from falling by my mother's steadying hand. "Ooooone, Twooooo, Thweeeee," I count each step, each tile, drawing out the numbers. We reach the end. "Sebenteeeen, mama!" I crow proudly. She gasps in wonder. "You're right, Ellie! Seventeen." She kneels down and pulls me into her arms. I do my best to put my pudgy little toddler arms around her waist. I feel a damp warmth on the top my head from her silent tears.

I've always wondered why she was crying that night. Maybe she knew she was sick by then. Maybe she was upset with my father. But I think that maybe, just maybe, she knew what was in store for me. Maybe, she was crying for me.

- - - - -

"Hey, I just wanted to say I'm sorry I've been such a downer lately."

Wallis startles me out of my reverie. "What?" I say stupidly.

"Sorry I've been a drag lately," he says again. "I was just disappointed that I didn't get lead tech is all. But I can see how hard you're working and how dedicated you are. You'll make a good lead when your apprenticeship is over," he tells me. "We've always gotten along in the past, I'd hate to lose that over something so small," he finishes with a small smile.

I return his smile, and feel that a small weight has been lifted. "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that," I sigh. "Thanks."

"No problem. Plus, I'm sure you'll be all responsible and take on the boring work and let me do all the fun stuff," he teases.

"Hey now," I reply.

He waves me off and turns back to his terminal. "So, where's Norman?" He asks casually as his keyboard clacks.

"Not sure." I reply. I've been looking over one of Norman's handwritten manuals on the terminal hardware, slowly but surely deciphering his untidy scrawl and typing it out so we can have a digitized version. He tells me it's pointless, why would we have a digital version when we'd only need the manual if we couldn't access the digital version in the first place, but I keep going anyway in-between training sessions. It's always better to have more than one copy of the manuals around.

"Really? I would have thought he would tell you if he was going to be late," Wallis raises an eyebrow.

I stop typing. "Should I be worried? I ask.

He shrugs. "I dunno. It's not like him to be late."

Just as I'm starting to feel unnerved, Norman pushes through the door. "Morning," he grunts as he makes his way to the back room. I save my work and rise to follow. "Give me fifteen minutes," he tosses out my way as he closes the door firmly behind him.

"Huh, that was weird," Wallis voices my thoughts.

"Yeah, a little. Norman's always been a little weird, though." I try to brush off the uneasy feeling.