1 Minute to Midnight
Part 8: Sofi Arrives
Written by Juliet Clare
Sofi breathed heavily. Air moved in and out of her just as steadily as waves reaching up a beach, grasping at particles of sand, before being dragged back out to sea. Blood pounded in her ears, pulsing up through her skull, throbbing in her temples. Fortunately, a canopy of fir trees rising high above her obscured the afternoon sun and alleviated the oppressive late summer heat.
This was the farthest west Sofi had ever gone. Her trek had taken her to the very tip of Washington. The Olympic Mountains stretched out around her, and beyond them the Pacific Ocean.
A dizzying amount of space, Sofi marveled at the great expanse of it all and how uninhabited it was. A decade before Sofi was born, the West Coast had still been well populated, but in the years since, forest fires and desertification had driven people to the center of the country, leaving only the stubborn behind.
The cramping in Sofi’s leg muscles begged her for momentary relief. She closed her eyes, the pain retrieving memories — a group of children speaking in hushed voices; Sofi’s awareness that it is her they are talking about. A slender girl with light brown hair tucked up in curls walking over, passing several tables of art supplies; the girl’s arm swinging up, a pair of scissors clutched in her grip like a knife, before plunging them into Sofi’s thigh; the girl waiting to see what happens, scissors held loosely in her hand, eyes wide with fascination; blood streaming down Sofi’s leg onto the linoleum floor; other children gathering around, waiting with anticipation. Shortly, the skin begins to repair itself, sealing her up with a fresh, pink stitch of skin. Rumors travel in the hallways and bathroom stalls about the monster who heals quickly. What the children don’t understand, however, is that not all wounds are physical.
The tops of the trees were within view now. At a safe house in Sequim, Sofi had been told that once she was able to spot Olympus’s West Peak, she would be home free. The shadows around her had grown deeper, only thin streams of light remained, gently touching the forest ground. Enough time to briefly sit and regain her strength for the final push.
With a glance behind her, Sofi settled on the ground; dirt kicked up around the heels of her boots as she stretched out her legs. Sofi tilted the toe of her boot back to find the leather was scuffed, dirt caking the treads. The boots had supported her for more than 3,000 miles.
How far she had come since the bar, since Khatereh’s apartment, from her last moment with her brother. All the people and places that laid bare the differences Sofi had tried so hard to ignore for so long.
The memory of an antique armchair Khatereh brought over from Iran. Sofi had always liked the chair. It seemed so out of place in her living room; a feeling Sofi was intimately acquainted with.
The image of Sofi sitting on the green velvet cushion, her feet barely touching the floor. Across from her, Khatereh is observing her, analyzing her; a subtle smile pulling at the curvature of her lips. There is curiosity in the woman’s eyes, not unlike a mother realizing the potential in her child’s latent talents. At 10 years old, Sofi doesn’t yet understand why she is of such interest. Her gaze hovers past Khatereh, to the hallway where her older brother stands.
Caleb always watched over her, defending her when necessary, fighting back when possible. Then they grew up and their goals diverged; self-preservation was no longer enough.
Another flash — Caleb asking Sofi to help him again. His eyes are hollow shells; he’s given body and soul to a greater cause — an organization, The Renegades, dedicated to protecting the dignity of all mankind. The ‘greater good’, ‘poor’, and ‘starving’ are used again to persuade her. He’s promising her it won’t be like last time.
Sofi still has the image of the guard’s face turning blue. She’s squeezing the air out of him, a vein protruding at the edge of his hairline, blood vessels streaking red across the whites of his eyes, releasing her grip just before the lack of oxygen kills him. Caleb is smuggling goods under his arms. Sofi leaning forward, whispering into the man’s ear, “I’m so sorry,” before stepping back and following Caleb out. The pain she feels as she’s declining to help him. Caleb’s face changing instantly. A feeling as though she’s letting him down, the one person who cares about her.
Sofi dug the heel of her boot in deeper. The pine needles spread apart, giving way to softer soil. She looked around at the trees. Their trunks were scorched, but beneath the earth, seedlings were sprouting. The burnt leaves revealed the truth — whatever damage may have been done, however long ago, will ultimately relinquish itself to fertile ground.
Several large trees, charcoal black bark encasing them, crossed the forest floor in front of her. Sofi picked herself up, wiped the flat of her palms against her jeans, adjusted the straps on her backpack, and stepped forward.
A gentle breeze touched Sofi’s face. The trees had thinned and the ground had leveled out. In front of her, she could make out a field; its tall, thin grass beckoned her out of the woods and into the open. Sofi’s hand pushed past the remaining branches and was greeted by a brilliant sunset. In the distance she could make out the West Peak. A bead of sweat trailed down her hairline, past her ear, indecisively moving its way along her jaw as Sofi’s mouth broke into a smile.
Several figures waded through the grass. Sofi squinted trying to make out their faces. She noticed rucksacks and tools at their belts. One of the figures’ arms was heavily tattooed; mythical creatures rode up from his fingertip past his shirt sleeve.
As they neared, the light finally gave way to their features. All were on the younger side, anywhere between late teens to late 20s. One woman stood out. She was older than the rest. Early 30s, perhaps. Where the others’ heterochromatic eyes gleamed, only one of hers was a discernible color. The other had gone milky white. A scar split the woman’s eyebrow in two.
The others fell to her side, standing back as the older woman approached Sofi. Her eyes ran over Sofi’s face, taking in her dampened hair, the dirt on her hands, the tear in her shirt, before locking eyes with her.
“You’ve come a long way,” the woman said. Sofi’s lips clasped at one another as she tried to speak. The woman smiled, pulled her rucksack around and removed a canister. She held it out to Sofi, who took it willingly.
“I’m Ellie,” the woman said as Sofi swallowed water before wiping her mouth with her wrist.
“Sofi Ward.”
Ellie embraced Sofi, taking her off guard. Sofi had forgotten the feeling of touch. She leaned into Ellie’s neck, arms wrapping tightly around her back. Sofi couldn’t help but cry. She gripped Ellie’s shirt in her fists and exhaled a laugh.
