13. Kintsugi
Jul. 18th, 2022 11:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gunwithoutmusicWednesday, August 18th—9:13 a.m.
1,569 words. Approximate reading time: 7 minutes, 50 seconds.
Patrick wiped the sweat from his brow after hammering the last nail into the board, patching a hole that had formed in the fence surrounding the Zone. He stepped back, surveying his handiwork. Much of the original chain link had been taken over by sheets of plywood in various sizes, along with siding from the old cabins and various bits of scrap wood. Patrick found himself wondering how many more years it would be before there wouldn’t be any more chain link to be seen, no more reminders of what his community had been.
He liked the patches, though. Each piece seemed to have its own personality; each piece was a little bit of the history of the community in itself. Many of the children had taken to drawing or painting on the inside sections of the patches, creating crude murals that were always on display for the whole Zone. Some of the so-called pillars of the community had complained about the artwork, but since Patrick was the one responsible for patching the fence, and he liked the art, he had the final say in what to do about it, and decided that it would stay.
He liked to think ahead to the future, to see what the children of future generations would paint on the inside of the fence. Creating and holding onto traditions was, as far as Patrick was concerned, one of the best ways to keep a community together. And this fence, with its scattered patches, showing off the fact that it was being constantly maintained, was a testament to everything that could be done when people just worked together.
Patrick headed back into the Zone through the main gate, locking and barring it behind him, and started toward the only cabin that was still standing, directly in the center of the Zone. He pushed through the bright red door and into a well-decorated sitting room. He always found it a little strange that they had decided to leave the cabin decorated as it had always been, but in a way it served to help as a reminder to not let themselves return to the way things were.
He passed through the sitting room and into a small hallway. Next to an unassuming-looking door was a box of candles and several boxes of matches. He took one of the candles and lit it before opening the door and continuing down a spiral staircase. The staircase went down a few hundred feet, finally ending at a small landing with another door directly in front of him. He took a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the lower amount of light, then pushed through the door into the main hall.
The room was large, and it reminded Patrick of an upscale hotel he had stayed at years ago, before things were different. It wasn’t nearly so grand, but it was a wonderfully open space, several stories high, surrounded by residential suites on three sides. The candles had already been lit for the morning, which Patrick was thankful for, and a few of the other early-risers were already milling about on their way to their daily duties.
Patrick extinguished his candle, leaving it in another box next to the stairwell door, and continued on toward the stairs that led up to the residential suites. Sarah would have breakfast ready, he figured. The kids should already be up. He wondered if John would be ready for what he was going to have to do. Just fourteen years old and already getting into the dangerous stuff. But he was the carpenter’s eldest son, and it was time he got into everything involved in the trade so he could be Patrick’s replacement someday.
He reached his family’s suite, and stepped through the door into his own sitting room. The furniture wasn’t nearly as nice as the sitting room upstairs in the red cabin, but it was serviceable. To his right was a small eating area, where his wife Sarah was just laying out plates of breakfast.
“Perfect timing, babe,” Sarah said with a smile. “How’d it go this morning?”
“Fine,” Patrick replied. “But there’s something we gotta talk about. All of us. Where’s John and Andy?”
“In their room reading. I’ll get them. John! Andy! Breakfast!” Sarah shouted toward the hallway going to the back of the suite, and two boys came running out toward the breakfast table, shoving each other lightly and laughing.
Patrick looked at his family and felt a sense of warmth and safety come over him. He wanted to let this moment last as long as it could, so he sat at the table with his wife and kids and ate breakfast, laughing and joking with them. When the plates were clean, Sarah stood up, gathered everything, and headed for the kitchen. John and Andy started to get up, but Patrick stopped them.
“Wait a sec, boys,” he said. “There’s something we gotta talk about.” The boys both stopped and sat back down, looking at their father.
“Is everything okay, dad?” John asked.
“It is and it isn’t. We’re running low on supplies to keep the fence kept up.”
“Are you and John leaving again?” Andy asked with a frown.
Patrick sighed. “No, we’re not both leaving again. But someone has to. And, well... John...” John perked up and stared at his father quizzically. “Well, you’re fourteen now, so you’re going to have to start taking over some of my responsibilities around here. And it’s been decided that you’re going to be the one making the supply run this time. Alone.”
John sank into his chair. “Seriously, dad? We’ve only ever gone together twice. I don’t know if I can do that on my own.”
Patrick was worried, too, but he didn’t want to let it show. John needed to make this trip. “I believe in you, John. It’s just to QC 10, and we just need some more scrap wood. A couple of days and you’ll be back.”
“Alright dad,” John said. “If you think I’m ready. I can go make the trade.”
“Good boy. Now, it’s already getting late in the morning, so you’ll need to get started right away. Go say goodbye to your mother and we’ll go out to the gate together.”
John got up from his chair, took a few deep breaths, and went into the kitchen to say goodbye to his mother. Patrick looked at Andy, seeing the worry on his face. “It’ll be alright, Andy,” Patrick said. “I know it’s scary, but John’s done this before and he’s always been fine. QC 10 isn’t so far away, and all he has to do is follow the tracks, so he won’t get lost.”
Andy frowned and stood up from his chair. “I could go with him,” he said.
“Now Andy, you’re only ten. There’s no way we’d send you out there. But it is about time you started learning about the fence, too. So we’re gonna start that tomorrow.”
Andy huffed and left the room without another word, going back down the hallway to his bedroom, where Patrick expected he would spend the rest of the day pouting. What a shame, Patrick thought, that these kids had to grow up so early.
John came back out from the kitchen, wiping tears from his eyes. Patrick moved toward him and wrapped him up in a big hug, which elicited a smile from John. “You ready?” Patrick asked, and John nodded.
Patrick and John walked outside together, up the spiral staircase and through the red door to the grassy expanse above-ground, above the entire community living in the bunker. They headed for the gate, which Patrick unbarred and unlocked. On the tracks just inside the gate was an old handcar loaded up with goods for trading.
“Now you know how to get to QC 10,” Patrick said to John. “Just stay on the tracks. When you hit the switch, take it left.”
“I remember, dad,” John said, climbing onto the handcar and grabbing the handle. He looked at his father with a look more serious than Patrick had seen on him before. A boy going through a rite of passage. A tradition that would hopefully continue on to John’s children, and their children after. John knew the importance of what he was about to do, not just for himself but for the entire community. The fence needed to be maintained.
Patrick reached up and gently took one of John’s hands from the handle of the handcar. He squeezed it tightly and said, “I’m proud of you, son. What you’re doing will help keep all of us here and safe.”
“Thanks, dad,” John said, squeezing Patrick’s hand in return before moving his own back to the handle. He started pumping the handle down and up, causing the handcar to move slowly through the gates. “I’ll see you in a few days,” he said to Patrick. “And I’ll have so much wood!”
Patrick laughed a little and smiled. “I love you, John!” he called after his son.
“I love you, too, dad!” John shouted, picking up speed with the handcar and pulling away from the Zone, with its fence all covered in his father’s work.
Patrick watched the handcar disappear down the tracks along with his eldest son. He closed, locked, and barred the gate again, then wandered along the length of the fence until he found the spot. He dropped to his knees and whispered a little prayer in front of a child-like drawing of a man, woman, and two boys, drawn just above the words, “John Altman, 8 years old.”
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Date: 2022-07-26 02:38 pm (UTC)