Ascension Part V: Secrets

 

Myra studied Wyatt, his face, his eyes. He believed he was telling the truth.

He continued, “I don’t think you or anyone could do what you’re doing if they knew the whole story. Let me keep doing what I’m doing so you can keep doing what you’re doing.” He looked into Myra’s eyes. “You really are helping people.”

“What about the man those soldiers picked up on the beach? He was hurt.” Myra pointed out.

“Now that he’s in military custody he’s getting medical attention. Everyone is safe now Myra. Let’s get back to work.”

Myra watched as Wyatt waited for her to nod quietly, agree, and move on. She looked for something, some hint he might relent, come around. Eventually open up to her. She realized as she looked at him odds were good nothing was going to change. If she wanted the truth she was going to have to extract it from the media room herself. In order to do that she was going to have to make Wyatt believe that she swallowed his story for a little while longer. She gave him a gentle smile, a quick nod of assent, sat down on the couch and looked at the floor like a disappointed child.

Wyatt nodded back. “Let’s forget all of the nasty business we saw earlier and get through the episode meeting,” he said with a quick clap. “Tomorrow we delve into the exciting world of food rationing.”

Myra’s mouth dropped open, “Rationing? Food is being rationed? What’s going on out there Wyatt?”

Myra was yelling. Myra rarely yelled. It was one of the things he loved about her. Wyatt turned away from her and walked into the kitchen. He could feel her as she followed.

He stopped at the stove, picking up the kettle, Wyatt crossed to the sink. He closed his eyes for several seconds and took a deep breath before filling the kettle with water. He placed the kettle on the stove top and turned on the burner before responding.

“As you know two devastating waves of the GRMN2 virus have come through in less than a year. We have lost so many. Workers in every field. Food production is down. Markedly. It’s been difficult to keep people living in heavily populated areas of the world fed. California included.” Wyatt looked at Myra. “People with financial resources are panicking, emptying store shelves, hoarding groceries. More than just the homeless are having a tough time. Some families with little to no income due to closings are living on a good meal every other day. More and more are at risk of starving.”

“Can food be brought in?”

“No. It’s not a lack of resources to get the food here. It’s a lack of food being produced. Supply and demand. The demand outweighs the supply several times over. All grocery stores closed at midnight last night. State wide. Not a single customer walked inside one today. Only emergency deliveries to the elderly, the disabled, and medical facilities were made. Books of coupons allowing the purchase of food in predetermined quantities are being delivered to residents’ homes. Many will receive their ration books by Friday and the rest on Saturday, a few might not see theirs before Monday. Ours will arrive before air time on Friday.”

“Oh.” Myra said. She thought for a bit then began listing possible points of discussion for the episode. “We start with a brief summary of the week’s events, greatly reduced food production, hoarding of food, demand being much higher than available supplies, confirm that food is being rationed until the pandemic is more controlled, more non-contaminated workers hired and food production can be brought up to previous levels. How often will people be issued coupon books?” She asked.

“Monthly.” He answered. The throbbing in Wyatt’s head was becoming stronger. Wyatt looked at the clock. The headaches were always worse at night. He hoped it would stay tolerable a bit longer. Myra was becoming less and less agreeable with the current arrangement. 

He feared leaving her alone before she usually retired for the evening. Left alone in a mood like this she might push a bit harder. He couldn’t take the chance she would find something.

“People will need tips on how to stretch their coupons.” She looked at Wyatt. “Is it a coupon or is it a stamp?”

“I’m not sure. Does it matter?”

“I don’t know. It would be useful to get a list or a copy of the template used for the ration books before Friday. We could find recipes and menu ideas. What happens if a family runs out of coupons before the month is out?”

Wyatt thought, his head pounded as he tried to picture the content in the email he was reading before he saw Myra arguing with the soldier on surveillance feed. “Containers of powdered nutrition mix.” He closed his eyes. “Each family has coupons for up to four cans of a powdered nutritional beverage of their choice. I have a list of the items that are going to be in the coupon book. I’ll go into my office and print it up.” He took two steps and stopped. He felt a burning pain in the center of his forehead. A wave of nausea rolled through his stomach.

“What is it?” Myra said, looking at him.

“Nothing.” He looked at her. “A bit too much excitement today that’s all.” Wyatt continued, looking at the wall behind her. He stepped past her and walked to his office quickly hoping she did not follow. Wyatt let out sigh of relief when he reached the door to his office without her in pursuit. He reached out to enter the password on the security pad, his hand stopped seconds before the tip of his finger met with the keypad. He could not remember the entry code. “This is inconvenient.” His heart began beating faster, there had to be a way to end this meeting and get the hell out of here before his headache got any worse. “You are the one and only assistant to one of the greatest actresses in the world, this is easy, come on Wyatt.” He whispered. “Tomorrow is Thursday. The new episode doesn’t record until Friday and I have sat in on plenty of acting workshops.” Wyatt stood up straight, took a few cleansing breaths, turned, and walked out the direction he came in.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. I completely forgot.” He said walking down the hall and into the living room.

“Forgot what?”

“It’s my grannie’s birthday. I’m supposed to video chat.” He looked at his phone. “In five minutes. Mom’s probably already at the nursing home setting things up.”

“I thought all homes were closed to visitors.” Myra said.

“Her quarters are separate from the main building and she has private staff that does not assist with other patients. Mom doesn’t go out much and when she does she double masks. The non-visitor rule doesn’t apply.”

“The show is Friday.” Myra said. “Do you want to finish this tomorrow?”

“Could we?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t want you to miss your grannie’s birthday.”

Wyatt looked at the door leading to the patio, past the pool house, to his own quarters where he could weather the pain in privacy.

“Can I come?” Myra asked. “I would like to wish your grannie a happy birthday. I haven’t seen your mother in ages.”

He thought quickly. “No unapproved online appearances. It’s in your contract.”

“Surely it can’t mean online visits.”

“You know it does.”

  “I’ll just go up early tonight. Get some extra rest.”

“If you want to watch a video I can probably get back in an hour and make you some dinner.” Wyatt answered. Please say no, please say no.

“No. I’ll just grab one of those smoothies you make.”

“I have a new flavor in there for you to try. Blue label.”

Myra turned off the stove. She reached into the refrigerator and pulled out one of the smoothies with a blue label.

“Blueberry.” She said, reading the label out loud. “You’ve made this flavor before.”

“It’s a new recipe. Greek yogurt and a few other twists. Let me know what you think.”

“Sure.” Myra looked at Wyatt. “I thought you hated those things.” She said as she pointed to her head.

“Kerchiefs?” Wyatt asked touching the one wrapped around the upper portion of his head.

“You always said kerchiefs were for the uncivilized and the chronically late.”

“What can I say? I changed my mind.” Wyatt watched as Myra walked down the hall and upstairs to her bedroom. He turned off the lights in the kitchen and living room locking the door behind him. He stopped on the patio. He watched as the lights came on in Myra’s bedroom and were extinguished several minutes later.

The throbbing in his head grew stronger. If only the headaches would stop. If only he could get some relief. Wyatt turned in the direction of the pool house and began walking home to the guest cottage on the other side. The aching in his head grew stronger. Another bout of nausea rolled through forcing him to stop and rest his hand on a nearby patio table. Wyatt managed to stay upright when the feeling traveled through the rest of his body causing his forehead to break out in a sweat. Cursing to himself he removed the kerchief.

A breeze came in from the sea, cooling him before his knees gave way. Wyatt stood still and enjoyed the respite. The sweat dried and his forehead cooled. His breathing slowed. The throbbing slowly began again. When he dropped his hand against the outside pocket of his shorts, he felt something solid. Something was inside it. Wyatt pulled the object out and looked at it. It was a knife. A sharp one.

The throbbing began growing stronger. Wyatt’s hand began to move. In coming years he was never able to tell anyone, even Myra, what compelled him to the raise the knife to his forehead. It was like his hand was moving of its own volition.

It only hurt for a moment, much like that bit of pain one feels as the body adjusts to the pressure of liquid slowly being forced inside as is done with an injection. A groan escaped Wyatt’s lips.

Once the cut had been made to the correct depth his hand found a spot, a strange groove. He slowly followed it. The more he cut, the better he felt. The throbbing became less intense. For the first time in weeks, Wyatt was feeling better. He released a relieved sigh as he finished cutting and whispered, “Finally.”

Wyatt palmed the removed skin in his outstretched palm, it was dangerous and would have to be burned. He wiped the bloodied blade on his shorts, leaving the knife on the table before he continued across the patio to the guest cottage and bed, grateful the broadcast was scheduled for Thursday. Tomorrow morning he would be sleeping in.