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“You are,” I answer for him with a gentle bop to his nose. That seems to snap him out of his curious daze. A little laugh escapes his even tinier lips.
“Oh, I just love babies,” Anna squeals. “Let me go get him some formula. I need him to love me!”
Before I can ask her to at least be careful, she’s gone. A soft wind blows in through the half-open window and I close my eyes and try to relish it. For now, we’re still safe. Be thankful, Cat.
Oscar tugs my eyes back open by pulling on a strand of my hair. “What is it?” I ask, still lost in the strange peace of the little bedroom.
“Boo-boo,” he gurgles. “Dada, boo-boo.”
It’s hard to tell what he wants more, his lunch or his father. The fact that both are within his reach fills me with a soft reassurance. Like most things these days, though, it doesn’t last long.
“What am I going to do?” I ask my baby boy. He tilts his head like a puppy, trying to understand.
“Dada!” he repeats, louder this time.
I don’t know whether to cry or smile. Angel. Do I follow his lead or blaze my own trail? My conscience won’t let me think in peace. All I want is a better life for Oscar, but is his future brighter if we run or if we stay?
It’s an impossible question... but I’ve survived the impossible before.
“We’ll figure this out,” I whisper, more to myself than to my baby boy. “We have to.”
22
Angel
The wind wakes me up in the morning.
There are no chirping birds, no sounds of children playing; even the fighting happening off in the distance is blanketed by the howling wind.
I get out of bed and slam the rickety window shut. It’s been so long since I’ve slept near any source of fresh air, but the last thing I want to do is wake up Oscar and Cat.
“Angel?”
Shit. I’m too late.
“Go back to bed,” I tell Cat. She needs her rest, especially if we’re going to make it out of here as soon as I want.
“Is everything alright?” she asks, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Yeah. It’s just another turn in the weather.”
That seems to satiate her early morning curiosity. Cat stretches out and lets a big yawn escape her lips. “Why didn’t we come here sooner?” she asks, looking around the cramped little bedroom with a relaxed gaze. That’s something I haven’t seen in a while—hell, have I ever really seen Cat completely relaxed?
Oscar whimpers from below her and she reaches to pick him up off the mattress. He slept with us last night, alternating between using my chest as a pillow and cuddling up on the little sliver of mattress between Cat and I. He’s still sleeping, and I plan to keep it that way; so, I keep my voice low.
“We’re not as safe here as we were in the bunker,” I tell Cat. There’s no use in hiding the truth from her. If I’m going to get her on board with this whole escape plan, she’s going to need to understand just how dangerous it is here for us, for her, for Oscar. “Already now, two extra people know about Oscar and our whereabouts, maybe already more. I like Anna, but she went to get those bottles for Oscar from a neighbour. What did she tell them they were for?”
“... I’m sure she was discreet,” Cat mumbles, standing up with Oscar in her arms.
“Maybe, maybe not,” I respond. “Are we really willing to risk our family on the whims of outsiders?”
That causes Cat to furrow her brow in contention. “Isn’t that what we’re already doing?” she whispers, her voice is sharp and determined. Her squinted brown eyes study the little room we’ve found shelter in. “Not only here, but with the whole revolution. We’d be lost without the ‘outsiders’ who have already helped us.”
I bite my tongue. It looks like Cat hasn’t been able to shed that irritating conscience of hers quite yet. So be it. Sure, I’d rather have her willingly get on board with my plan, but even if she never does, it’s not a huge deal. This is my family we’re talking about, my son; I’ll drag them onto whatever ship I deem to be the safest, even if it’s the last thing my shipmate wants to do.
That’s part of being a leader, a captain; it’s the way life goes when you’re in charge—sometimes, you just have to do what’s best for everyone, even if someone doesn’t like it.
“They’d be just as lost without us,” I retort, and I truly believe it... to a certain extent.
