TWO

“This is it,” Mara said, as we drew up to the curb opposite a squat, three-story building that looked like it had seen better days but was clearly well maintained. “Wilkes House.”

There were several people gathered on the stairs outside the squat building, smoking and chatting, and our arrival drew a few glances. They were all women, ranging from what looked like late teens to the middle-aged.

“Is this a women’s shelter?” I asked as we stepped out of the car.

The night was setting in, and a diffused haze of light rose up from the city behind the buildings lining the block. Our drive over had taken some twenty minutes, and to Mara’s great amusement, I’d spent most of it with my head half out the window, trying to absorb as much as I could.

The sight of two glowing ultras flying at breakneck speeds over the city had been the highlight of the trip. Their distinctive glows suggested they were Rayburst and Moonbeam—ultras operating out of Ashburn—but they were too far away to tell for sure.

The sight had left me in a stupor that had lasted until we’d arrived at our destination.

“It’s more like semi-permanent housing for women who need help,” Mara replied. “Think of it as a place of transition. Most of the residents spend a few months here before they move on to something better.”

“Oh,” I said. “So I’ll be able to stay here for a while?”

“As long as you need, if you follow the rules.” Mara came around the car and gave me a reassuring smile. “Ready to head in?”

“Not really.”

“C’mon. It’ll be fine.”

We crossed the street and walked up to the front of the building. Several women called greetings to Mara as we approached, and one in particular hopped off the stone banister she’d been seated on, sporting a broad grin.

“Looking good, Sam,” Mara said. “I hear you’re heading out in a week.”

“Oh, yeah. Got myself a steady job and everything,” she replied. “I’m looking for a place, but it’s a sure thing.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Mara turned to look at me while addressing the gathered women. “This is Ruha. She’s going to be staying with you for a while. I hope you’ll look out for her while she’s here.”

A chorus if acknowledgments followed, but I noticed some of the women watching at me closely. I wasn’t sure what the typical person who came here looked like, but clearly I fell outside the standard in my running clothes and stark lack of luggage.

I gave the group a nod and pursed smile before following Mara into the building.

I didn’t know what to expect, but the foyer opened up to a large, homely common room, with women scattered about on couches and chairs, the general attitude quiet and comfortable. Mara cut across the room, fielding greetings from all sides, and down along a narrow corridor at the other end.

“You seem popular,” I commented as we approached a closed door.

“Maybe a little bit,” she replied with a laugh. “I’ve been doing this for a while now.”

Given the reception, I believed her.

We arrived at a closed door with a nameplate beside it that read:

Taylor Colsaza

Mara pushed through without knocking.

“Taylor,” she announced. “How’s it going?”

The woman behind the desk had a sharp nose and a chin to match and arched eyebrows that seemed to reflect a permanent skepticism. She looked up from the papers strewn in front of her and shot Mara a flat and unimpressed look. “We’re over budget,” she snapped. “And I haven’t seen a dime of the funding you promised me two months ago.”

I hesitated in the doorway of the cramped office, uncertain if I was intruding, but the woman’s eyes slid toward me.

“Come on in,” she said, her voice losing some its edge. “I just need a short word with Mara here, and then we’ll get you sorted.”

I shut the door carefully and joined Mara in one of the chairs opposite the desk.

“When aren’t you over budget?” Mara replied. “Besides, I told you it might take a while. I was waiting on a donation from the Elstrom Foundation, but they’re being audited right now.”

Another familiar name. They gave money to all kinds of shady research.

“And how much longer is that going to last?”

“A week—tops,” Mara said. “You will get it, though. Just like you have the past four years, if you haven’t forgotten.”

Taylor sustained her cold glade for a few more seconds before sighing. “Yeah, okay. I can hold out that long.” Her attention turned my way. “Now that we’ve settled that…so you’re the mysterious guest Mara’s asked me to take in on short notice?”

“Ruha,” I replied, clearing my throat. “Fletcher.”

“So I was told,” she said. “As it says on the door, I’m Taylor. I run Wilkes House, or at least I make sure everything goes smoothly. Normally, I’d want to know you who you are, why you’re here, and what kind of trouble I should be expecting, but Mara doesn’t want me asking you any questions. I’ve known her long enough to trust her judgment, so instead I’ll tell you what it is we do here and what’s expected of you.”

I nodded slowly, glad that I wouldn’t be facing an interrogation. I got the feeling that I needed to be even more careful with this woman than I’d been with Detective Sparda.

“Think of Wilkes House as a transitional hostel. People who’ve had a rough time come here when they’re ready to get back on their feet,” she said. “We don’t take families or minors; there’re other places for that. Right now, we’re at capacity, which means we have fifty residents, and all of them are expected to help out. The only way this place stays open is if we’re all committed to keeping it that way. You okay with that?”

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“Sure,” I said. “I can carry my weight.”

“You’ll be expected to,” she replied. . “We have an employment counseling and life skills training sessions every Monday and Friday, and a finance and budgeting class on Wednesdays. We also arrange for computer classes for people who’re interested. There are a wide range of other educational and vocational resources at our disposal, which we can get into once you’re settled in. There’s also legal aid assistance and psychiatric counseling available, if you need it.”

I nodded.

“If you want to stay here, you will be expected to avail some of these facilities. This isn’t permanent housing,” she continued. “We want to see residents working towards self-sufficiency. Hundreds of women have been through Wilkes House. Not all of them made it, but we’re rather proud of our track record so far. Any questions?”

“Uhhh.” I looked at Mara briefly, somewhat overwhelmed by Taylor intensity. “No?”

“Other resources will also be made available to you,” Taylor said. “You’ll be given food vouchers for lunch, but breakfast and dinner is on the house. You’ll also be given a transportation voucher, which will be good for most bus routes in the city. You’re expected to clean up after yourself—that includes your personal area, as well as common areas that you happen to use.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to get used to things here,” Mara assured. “And you’ll have a roommate to help out.”

There goes any chance of privacy, I thought. But it’s better than I thought. Far better.

Taylor nodded. “Your roommate has been here a few months; her name is Isla Dolan,” she said. “Every room has its own bathroom and furnishing, which includes two desks, a coffee table, chairs, beds, a dresser and plenty of cabinet space. You’re responsible for all it; break anything, and you’re expected to replace it. You also have a refrigerator, which you have to share with your roommate. And finally, curfew is at 11:00 p.m.”

“Curfew?”

“Yes,” she replied. “If you’re back after curfew, you’ll be let in, but we have a strict three-strike rule. Third time and you’re out, got it?”

“I understand.”

“Great.” Taylor leaned back in her seat. “Mara also mentioned that you don’t have any belongings. You’ll get the regular toiletries we give to every resident, but I’ve asked Jodi, who helps manage Wilkes House, to show you through our collection of donated clothes. You can pick out whatever you like.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll be glad to change out these clothes.”

“Jodi will also show you to your room,” Taylor said, “if you want to get settled in.”

I recognized the dismissal, but it didn’t feel like Taylor was being rude. This just seemed like her default attitude towards everything, and to be fair, she did seem to have a lot on her plate.

“I’ll drop by to see you before leaving,” Mara said. “Go head.”

I left the pair in the office and made my way back to the common room. Off to the side, one of the residents was lounging in a lay-z-boy, a paperback book in hand.

I approached her with an apologetic smile. “Hey,” I said. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

She glanced up at me. “No problem. What’s up?”

“I’m looking for someone called Jodi,” I replied. “She’s supposed to show me around.”

“You’re new here?”

“Yeah.”

The woman sat up and craned her head around. “Uhmm…that’s her right there. The one playing chess.”

“With her back to us?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” I replied, working my way over to where I’d been directed.

On approach, one of the chess players looked up at me—an older woman in her thirties—and her eyes immediately brightened. “Ruha, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Jodi?”

“That’s me,” she said, before glancing at her opponent. “I’m out Clara. You were going to win anyways.”

“Damn straight I was,” she replied.

Jodi got up and winked at me, muttering under her breath. “She says that every time. Hasn’t beat me yet.”

I managed a genuine smile and shook my head.

“I’m guessing Taylor gave you the general rundown of this place,” Jodi said. “We don’t have many rules, and it’s a great place to be if you’re trying to find your way back to who you were.”

“She covered most of it,” I replied. “You won’t have any trouble from me.”

“That’s good. We don’t much like drama here, so as long as you tidy up after yourself and don’t step on anyone’s toes, you’ll be fine.”

We stepped through into a small room with metal shelves lining the walls and several tables arranged in the middle, stacked high with all kinds of supplies. Jodi led me to one corner, where several boxes were stacked up on the shelves.

“I’ll be back in five minutes,” she said. “Look through these and pick out whatever fits. It’s all been washed, so don’t worry about that.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

For the next few minutes, I pursued the selection of clothes, which had been neatly folded and packed in cardboard boxes. I took care to put them back the way I’d found them, and by the time Jodi returned, I’d picked out a few dark t-shirts and pants, with a focus on comfort rather than appearance.

“All done?” Jodi asked, walking up behind me.

“Yeah,” I said. “I hope I didn’t pick out too much.”

“Nah,” she said. “Most of this is surplus. We usually end up giving it to other shelters at the end of the year. Here, I got you this for the clothes, and here are your toiletries.”

She handed me a nylon gym bag and a smaller transparent container that held all the basic necessities, from toothpaste and comb to nail clippers. I gratefully packed the clothes away in the nylon bag and shoved the toiletries in the space that was left over.

“Right,” Jodi announced. “Let me show you where you’ll be staying.”

The room was on the second floor and we had to wind our way up narrow but well-lit stairs. The door was closed, but Jodi entered anyways.

“For safety reasons, you’re not allowed to lock your doors,” she said, “but we’ve got a strict policy about entering without permission—even for the management. Since you’re staying in this room, you should be able to come and go freely, but if any other door is closed, that means no entry without permission unless it’s emergency.”

“Got it,” I replied, stepping in behind Jodi and looking around. The room was larger than I’d expected, and it had all the amenities I’d been promised by Taylor. Except there was no one else present. “Ms. Colsaza mentioned a roommate…?”

“Isla Dolan,” Jodi said. “She isn’t in right now. Quiet girl; keeps to herself. About your age. That’s her side of the room.”

I looked over at the hastily made bed, the scattered belongings on the bedside table, and everything else that caught my eye, trying to get a sense of my roommate. There was nothing in particular that stood out to indicate what kind of person she was, except perhaps the sturdy boots at the foot of her bed.

The other side of the room was sparse. A plain bed, clean sheets, two pillows and bedside table. I could also see drawers that pulled out from under the bed, with keys slotted into their locks. Two desks were pushed up against the wall not far from the sleeping area. Neither of them appeared to have seen much use.

“Looks great,” I said honestly. I’d stayed in campus housing worse than this.

“I’m glad you like it,” Jodi replied. “Why don’t you get refreshed and put everything away. I’ll be down in the common room if you need anything. Dinner starts at in an hour at 7:30 and ends at 9:30, but I wouldn’t wait that long if I were you. There won’t be anything left. Also, if you want breakfast, you’ll have to be up early, because we don’t offer anything after 9:00 a.m. Our cooking staff works part-time, so they’re usually here early and head out quickly.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Also, see me tomorrow about the food vouchers,” Jodi said. “We have deals with several diners and restaurants nearby, so they’re good for almost every place a few blocks around. Also, if you need any other supplies, just let me know. I’m responsible for most of the purchases, so I’ll make sure to get the next time I go shopping.”

“That’s…very generous,” I replied. “Really, thank you for all of this. I didn’t expect anything besides a bed to sleep in.”

Jodi shrugged. “It’s not much. We wish we could do more. I’ll leave you to it then.”

When she was gone, I stowed my clothes away and flopped down on the bed, staring idly at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity. I hadn’t had much time to think throughout the day. The first few hours had gone by in a haze of panic and stark disbelief, followed by a silent stupor—caught up in a feeling like I had become unanchored from the world.

That was all beginning to fade away at this point as I slowly found my bearings.

Oddly enough, there was just a little guilt mixed into everything else I was feeling. Guilt for not really caring about what I’d left behind but rather what came next. It was as if a part of me had been ripped away when I fell through the portal in this world—the part that was tied to my old life. Although I struggled, I couldn’t muster the will to feel much about it.

You didn’t have anything back home anyways, I thought defiantly. Not after Dad passed away. Most of your friends were on the other side of the country, and you barely spoke except through text. They probably won’t notice you’re missing until they see something in the news.

I shook the dark thoughts away and sat up, breathing out a sigh.

First, a bath. Then, the internet.

I needed to figure shit out.