Broken

It was a grey day, just like in all the cliches. There were a small group of mourners for the funeral, a sad indicator of just how much impact on the world the adult Turners had had in their lives. Apart from the priest, there were the three children, a distant cousin and a couple of co-workers. As the service finished, the others drifted past and offered words of little comfort. The priest didn’t even try to console them, in spite of Becca’s sobs. He turned and walked away from the paupers’ graves where the bodies now lay. Luke stood between his sisters, one clutching each hand. He didn’t have the words either.

“Come on, then,” Hannah finally said. “We’d better head home.”

Later that night, Luke spread his books on the table. Funeral or no funeral, he had exams to study for. With only months of schooling left, the pressure was on him to get good grades. Hannah was doing the housework for a change, drying the freshly washed dishes by the sink. As she set the last glass on its open shelf, she turned to look at Luke, taking in his concentration and the hand flying across the page as he took notes. She sighed.

“Lukie, I need to talk to you.”

He looked up from his studies and, when he saw her serious face, set down his pen. Hannah moved to the table and sat in their mother’s seat, next to him.

“Lukie, you need to get a job.”

Luke seemed dumbstruck, fumbling for words for a moment as he adjusted to the unexpected topic.

“But school, Becca, the housework - they take up all of my time. When am I supposed to work?”

Hannah hit the table. She’d been forced to shoulder more than she could contemplate since the accident. She needed to share the load, the grief.

“Dammit, Luke, we were barely keeping afloat when there were four of us working. How the hell do you think we're going to survive now Mum and Dad are gone too?”

“But you work for the government,” Luke said, still dumbfounded.

“Yes, I work for the government and it's killing me. I get paid next to nothing to do a horrible job that I can't believe I do.”

“Ssh. Someone will hear you.”

“Let them bloody hear me!” she yelled. “It's no secret that I hate what I do. I do it because I have to. You've already had more time at school than Andy or I had. It's time you left and got a job. And Becca can look after herself. We're going to lose the house, Luke.”

Luke was once again stunned into silence. He hadn’t thought about the house payments. It had come as a shock to him to learn that his parents owned only a tiny percentage of the family home. He’d always assumed that the reason they’d lived in such a dump for so long was that they couldn’t afford anything better. He never realised that it was because they couldn’t even afford what they had.

“But what can I do? I'm not qualified for anything.”

“We'll find you something, somehow. We've got no choice, have we, since our sainted brother ran off. Heard from him lately, have you?”

Luke paused, suddenly remembering the photo, still in his pocket from the night it had arrived. He had never gotten around to sharing it with any of them. The accident had happened that night.

“There was something in the mail the other day,” he said quietly. Hannah looked at him disbelievingly.

“What, a photo of Paris, was it? A letter from Rome? Tokyo? New York? Johannesburg? Where has he been all this time then?” Her voice was harsh and bitter. She had never spoken of Andy since he disappeared. Luke hadn’t understood before just how much she resented him for leaving. They’d always been close until then.

“It was just a photo of desert, and a foot in the bottom corner.”

Hannah sat down at the table in surprise. The news seemed to mean more to her than it did to Luke.

“Andy's in the desert?” she asked in a whisper. The anger was gone now, replaced by worry.
“Yeah, it looks that way. Why?” Luke couldn’t understand her sudden change in mood. She buried her head in her hands, looking much older than her twenty-two years. Suddenly Luke could see his mother sitting in that chair, in the same pose, the morning that they had realised Andy was gone. He hung his head to hide the sudden tears the memory evoked.

“Don't you know what's in the desert, Luke? That's where the camps are supposed to be. the camps for the Vanished. There's stories that there are other camps there too. Not run by governments.” Hannah’s voice sounded weary.

“You think he's –?” Luke trailed off, unable to voice what Andy might have become.

“Yeah, I think he is." They sat silently at the table for a few moments. Eventually, Hannah ran a hand through her hair and got up from her seat. "Go to bed, Lukie. You've still got to go to school tomorrow, whatever happens after that.”

She pushed her hair back from her face and offered him a half-hearted smile. Luke began to tidy his books. He piled them together and scooped them off the table as he pushed his chair back and turned to walk from the kitchen.

“And Lukie?” Luke stopped in the doorway and looked over his shoulder at his sister.

“Don't tell Becca. She's too little to know this.”