Fourth Generation

I: A Broken Leg

"What are Sectors?" I ask glancing down at Sam's textbook which has petite dancing figurines along the margins.

"Sectors are portions of land which is divided by a distinct border. This is where each generation lives." Sam smiles at me childishly trying to peak over the rim of the pages.

I promptly push his head away and smirk, "Correct, who are the Train Runners?"

Sam sits fiddling with the peg on his artificial leg. "They're criminals who hideaway on trains. Jumping from one train to the next in order to get to another Sector."

"Why do they do that?" I quiz while shutting his notebook.

"They steal items from others," Sam's fawn brown eyes fall off of his fake leg to the dusty wooden floor. "Others who don't deserve what they have."

"Sam," Pa roughly calls from his rocking chair, "don't speak like that. It's incriminating. We already have one criminal in this household, we don't need another."

I scoff and look back at him. My eyes rolling at his deceiving youthful blue ones. They peer above his crooked, thinly framed glasses. His skin is porcelain white and as soft like a dove's feather. Wrinkles gather around his eyes as his lips stretch into a soft smile.

"I can't control who I am Irvin." I walk over and ruffle his white hair filled with specks of grey.

Sam's chair squeaks from behind as a thud follows quickly. I spin on my heel and stare at Sam's fragile body laying on the ground. "Oh my god, Sam!" I instantly drop to his side lifting him up with me, "what happened?"

"I fell," Sam blatantly says trying to stabilize himself again.

"I see that, but you never fall." I slowly back away allowing him some space. "It's not like you."

"So I can't fall once in a while?" Sam snaps before limping away, slamming his foot to the ground.

I turn to Pa and he shrugs while grabbing his cane. "Go see what's wrong with our boy, and I'll make him some warm water."

I nod my head and leave the living room past the kitchen and knock lightly on Sam's door frame. "Sam," I whisper. "Sam are you okay?"

It's silent and I urge myself to lift the ragged curtain separating his room from the kitchen. Peaking through I find Sam's head hung low resting on his hands as his shoulders shake.

"I'm sorry," his susurrus voice trembles. "I'm sorry I'm such a burden to you and Irvin."

"Sam, no." I walk over and sit on his creaky bed beside him, "you are far from a burden. We love you no matter what."

"Even if I can't walk?" Sam's head rises off of his hands like the sunset over the horizon; slow and calm. His gaze catches my own.

"Of course," I pause and set his head on my shoulder. "Why can't you walk?"

"It hurts too much and my leg swings weird. It keeps hitting my other leg." Sam breathes through his nose raggedly trying to calm himself down again. He lifts his loose pant leg to reveal a black and blue ankle.

"That sounds like a mechanical problem I can fix." I smile and kiss his soft hair. "Remove your leg and let me take a look."

I was never good at fixing things, but Pa taught me when Sam started to learn to walk and began to crash into things. We saved all of our money for a better leg for him to use, selling his old one for a bigger one every few years. When he reached growth spurts it was hard to keep up. I've adapted to having Sam as a little brother since I was ten years old. Irvin came back home late from work with an orphaned amputee baby limp in his arms. Since that rainy night we've had a light in our lives that refuses to be put out despite society's standards and expectations..

I gaze over the leg and feel the padded stocking which slides over the remaining of Sam's leg. It feels fine and aside from the sweat sticking to it. Next I move to the peg on the kneecap which keeps the prosthetic in the correct position. It's off place which explains why it moves strangely, but not Sam's extensive pain. Finally, I move to the springs and pistons and notice that they are completely worn to the bone. They are no longer cushioning Sam's leg every time it impacts the ground.

"Well?" Sam sniffs and rubs his nose and drys his tears.

"Well," I stare at his leg and swollow the hard truth. "I can tell you that it's not you, but your leg that's hurting you and making you fall."

"Can you fix it?" Sam's voice rises in hope.

"Yeah. I think so, but it might take me time to grab the right parts. The best I can do right now is readjust the peg so you walk more regularly. However, your leg will still hurt until I fix the springs and pistons. Make sure you don't run and take it easy."

I continue to scan the leg and Sam wraps his arms around me gratefully. "Thank you Elysia! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

I smile and pass him his leg back, "I'll be right back, I have to talk to Pa for a quick second." Sam nods and I leave the room, my smile falling off my face.

"That'll be pricy... pistons cost a lot El. How are we going to afford it?" Irvin asks raising a brow while passing me cup of warm water.

"I won't," I lower my voice and take the cup from his quivering hand.

"No." He shakes his head, "you are not going back to that lifestyle. Train Running is off limits."

"I don't have much of a choice right now Pa. Sam needs those parts in order to get to and from school. He depends on that leg more than he depends on us. I have to do this. It'll be a one time thing before I go back to buy a new leg in a few years." I walk towards the table and rest my palms on its steady surface. 

It was only two years ago, I was 17 and audacious. Hopping on trains, meeting new people, stealing food, and when I got cocky stealing money. The thrill and adventure was far more intoxicating than any job could offer. The intense galvanizing moment when you could get caught or could escape would either paralyze you or spur you in the side. It was a time when one could do stupid things intelligently, smile explicitly and be devoured by instinct and hot passion. A time where often love was a game of the heart to teach you a travailing lesson.

"It's too dangerous, we'll find another way." Pa says, shaking his head in denial.

"How's that?" I ask pushing my long, messy braid over my shoulder. "We starve for another month so we can afford some parts? I'm not putting Sam and you through that again."

"We'll find another way," Pa sits down in a rickety rotting chair.

"You say that every time," I lower my voice and kneel down by his side. "I can't watch you two suffer any longer. Tomorrow is my last day off for the next two weeks. I have to get the parts now, we don't have any time left."

Pa lets a lengthy sighs part his lips and nods, "you shouldn't have to do this. I know you'll do it anyways with or without my permission."

"Damn right I will," I smile and squeeze his hand. Heading for the door I grab a jacket and stuff my hands into its pockets. "I'll leave tonight."