The Touch of Heaven

Chapter 3

II

Haven. What was it? What wasn't it?

After our stint in Paradise and the ensuing boat ride back to civilization, me, Tango, and the other three applicants we'd brought with us – Darby, Jilton, and Lavender – had been placed in a community based in New Jersey. Charles, unfortunately, could not join us; he was infected with the Phantom, and its effects had developed enough that it would have been nothing more than a complete compromise of safety bringing him in. He had, however, had us introduced to the people running the place, and departed soon after by plane to go see Tara up in New York and begin the tedious process of arranging the necessary meetings for the new studies to begin. We hadn't heard hide nor hair of him ever since he'd flown up. Nobody knew how to feel about this.

Haven, as it was called, was a town of about three-thousand people. We'd been staying there for four-and-a-half months now (the month was November, two weeks and a day after Halloween), having arrived in late July, and we'd settled in much better than we'd figured. The place was a small town that was run jointly by an appointed mayor – his name was Piper Pleasance, which was absolute bliss to say over and over again – and by a government-mandated bureau simply called the civilization bureau. Pleasance was primarily responsible for taking care of local affairs, caring after the community, and responding to the people's concerns. The civilization bureau was significantly more bureaucratic, appropriately enough; it was staffed mainly by military and government officials, funded by Paradise Association and run locally by Lt. Donald Jones. They were responsible for keeping after all the icky government ordinances set in place to keep society safe after the outbreak of the Phantom. Those infected had been placed into quarantined zones, and those untouched by the pandemic were kept after in communities like Haven. Everyone within Haven had been registered within the bureau's own local database and given a record, complete with a picture snap, license, and everything. The bureau kept strict tabs on what went on in Haven, who came in, and who left. There was a barricade around the town's borders; occasionally a little claustrophobic, but one could quickly get used to it. As far as dystopian societies went, it was surprisingly lax. Policies were fairly strict, but all were set in place to combat spread and potential infection of the Phantom. Most of it was pretty common sense stuff, anyways; don't eat uncleaned food, keep clean, don't wander into zones that were potentially infected, the like. People were allowed to leave the borders only under regulation and never farther than ten miles away from the barricade (the safe zone) – coupled with a strict curfew. The community was pretty tightly wound and community centers – one at which me and Tango currently lived at – were all over the place, providing for those who couldn't necessarily provide for themselves. That was sort of me and Tango's distinction, at the moment, as neither of us had much in the way of actual legal guardians at the moment. Tango was scheduled to eventually be flown up to New York to partake in the new tests for a true cure, but months of paperwork and scheduling would precede it. And, as it would happen to be, every citizen in Haven over the age of thirteen would eventually have to take up a role in the community. It could be anything from a general occupation to simple volunteer work. I'd had my eyes on the courier service for a while, now; I'd befriended a girl named Tiffany who used her time to deliver magazines. That would have been a simple pleasure and it'd give me some time to ride the bicycle I'd been given two months back.

Breakfast went by uneventfully. Me and Tango swung by the cafeteria and, to Tango's joy, there was only about three people there. There was both a selection of easy-to-make foods like cereals and and bagels by the side and a cashier waiting to take orders in a dumpy-looking, coffee-stained uniform and a tired, grouchy face in a stand by the side. He didn't looked pleased to be up this early; he scowled as I gave him a spirited, happy smile. We simply helped ourselves to some cream-cheese bagels, me eating even in spite of having filled myself up with a float. The most exotic the cereal got was Honey Nut Cheerios, the rest of the cereals no-name brands comprised of bland oats Tango and I utterly hated. I couldn't stand anything that wasn't sufficiently sweet and Tango essentially refused to eat anything but bucket-loads of Froot Loops. Sam was tucked in their pocket the entire time through. I compounded the meal with a glass of apple juice, which was poured out through a white dispenser on the side into a plastic cup. It didn't really mix in well with the float, but I didn't mind and the juice was sweet regardless.

We left out into the open neighborhood shortly after. The community center, or the residential, was located right next to a small strip mall. There were a few businesses there: a cafe, an beer store, and even a cute little pet shop that took up most of the mall. Me and Tango both wanted a pet, but therein lied the problem; I wanted a cat, Tango wanted a cockatiel, and there was no way in Heaven we were going to be able to get both. I'd tried convincing them, but they were stubborn. Of course, I suppose I wasn't any less so. That kind of trait was a good thing to have in a place like Paradise. Not beneficial when it came to everyday quarrels. Aside from arguing like an old married couple every once in a while, however, me and Tango had settled into our shared apartment together pretty well. We'd adapted to our new identities as Mint and Tango rather than Alice and Jen. Of course, Alison Witzenberg and Jenny Waits were still technically our legal names and those were printed on our identification cards (little cards everyone carried around for the purpose of – surprise, surprise – identification) but our friends had taken to calling us by our preferred names. I didn't exactly mind being called by Alice, but it still gave up troublesome memories of Chayne doing the same. Tango, on the other hand, flat-out refused to be called anything other than "Tango" and nearly lashed out at someone when they read their name as "Jenny" right off the identification card. Still, it was a rare occurrence, and, to our relief, the deal with Heaven and Red Clover seemed in the past for good. We never did find out what happened to Red Clover as a division of the Association. Likely, it was terminated, despite how much money must have been lost in the process. Not much of a problem with the Association; it was rich and towered over everything, perhaps even the government sponsoring it, in the wake of the Phantom. The Association and its research were the closest thing to a hope of a brighter future the world had.

Me and Tango walked out of the community center, nourished and satisfied for the time being. I was feeling quite full, to my pleasure, although Tango still looked a little cranky. I gave them a slight nudge and winked.

"Hey," I said. "Don't fret. I'm sure you'll be great at whatever you choose to do."

Tango gave a brief smile, then looked at their shoes as we continued to walk out. That was another good thing about Haven – you could choose your own jobs (assuming they weren't completely filled out). Naturally, some jobs required special education and a few months – or even years – of training, but the jobs me and Tango had our eyes on (and the only ones we were really allowed at the moment, given our ages) would require nothing more than some paperwork and a two-to-four-week course. The small businesses in the community weren't so much interested in profit alone so much as keeping the community together. That's what Mayor Pleasance had ordained and that's what the civilization bureau maintained; needs came before wants. Survival before pleasure. Work before play.

I'd been settled on the courier job for three months already, ever since I met Tiffany. That'd also give me a free subscription to some of the magazines I was interested in. Tango, on the other hand, still hadn't made up their mind. I'd jostled them towards a few jobs they might have liked or even some that required barely any effort. Tango was still, I presume, suffering from terrible anxiety about every aspect of life that didn't simple revolve around lounging around at home. With their own handicaps (a mute probably wouldn't be taking orders in a Wendy's and neither would they be flipping patties with one arm), history, and self-doubts in mind, I'd been lucky to rouse them off the couch on a particularly lazy day. It wasn't so much as they were slothful as they were content with the way things were and incredibly averse to any change in what had become the norm for them. They were anti-social. Friendly and eccentric in a good mood, but still anti-social. They'd awkwardly pointed out they weren't able to talk numerous times before despite the fact both their card and their personal record made clear light of their disabilities.

I'd settled into Haven's community much better, I think. Not to brag, but I was outgoing and confident in myself in something of a contrast to Tango. My own little quirks didn't much impede me. My albinism won nothing more than a few odd glances and I mostly overcame the irritation of bright light against my eyes from my photophobia with tinted black lenses over my own specs. I used those whenever we went out during the day, and the overall result of it, I was told, looked like oversized Lennon specs that completely covered my eyes. They were essentially round sunglasses, and I'd been once compared to an alien with freakishly large, lightless eyes – perhaps gaping black holes taking the place of my eye sockets. I didn't mind. I'd been prescribed new contact lenses as well and I sometimes just wore those, but I'd grown used to the glasses and they were significantly easier to find that a dislodged contact lens. That truly rustled my jimmies, pardon the language. Aside from that, though, I had a few good friends and I figured I was more-or-less well-liked around the community. Tango mainly stayed to the side of Lavender, Darby, and Jilton – mainly Jilton, as she still had no job and took to much to same habits of lounging around and watching television as Tango. If I was gone and Tango couldn't or wouldn't come with me, Jilton was always the next logical choice. Tango hated being alone.

They had, however, established a friendship with the person we were going to see, Miles Everence. And, as my mind latched onto that name and spoke of the Devil, we saw him down the road not far from the community center, in a jet-black Civic he'd gotten a month before. Maybe the black design of his car was ominous, but Miles was one of the least intimidating people in Haven. We strolled up to the Civic and gave him a wave as he looked at us, shadowed in the view of the driver's seat mirror. I could see him furiously fumble around with his seat belt and crawl over to the opposite side of the car – as getting out on the road from the driver's seat, however few cars there were, was far too risky in his paranoid mind – and stepped out of the car onto the sidewalk, where he awaited us.

He was a fairly lanky-looking fellow. He had perpetually mussed black hair, quite fluffy and with little flakes in between the strands, soft blue eyes that spoke of nothing more than gentle intentions – though by how much they quivered they may have easily just been forever afraid – and palish skin. He didn't get out in the sun much. He was fairly young, seventeen – eighteen in two months – but he'd managed to strike an admirable position as a worker in the civilization bureau. Of course, this was likely because his mother, Mrs. Debbie Everence, was a senior employee herself in the Association, and had connections many others wouldn't have. Regardless of this, Miles was very much a mama's boy. He'd been absolutely smothered by her overprotective affections and she'd laid out everything she wanted him to be. He didn't dare question it; anyone else might have, but Miles was a paranoid, anxiety-riddled mess, even worse than Tango in that department. He was a neurotic wreck at the best of times and fretted over everything, always a stick out of place from a freak out. Maybe it'd had also been from the sudden death of his father five years back. He didn't like to talk about it much, not even in the presence of me and Tango. From what I gathered, though, his father Emmett, another Association employee, ended up infected with the Phantom during a security failure in one of the quarantine zones. Emmett wasn't allowed the grace of succumbing to the Phantom gradually. He wasn't even allowed to go back to his family. They never even found out until a few days after his death. The Association just shot him dead the moment they learned he and a good few others were infected and disclosed the news to his family. Unlike Red Clover, the Association had the good grace enough to take the blame for this and not cover it up. They were extremists fighting for a good cause; it was risky, borderline inhumane measures like that and the P.A.R.A.D.I.S.E. program or it was the extinction of humanity. They were the closest thing we could look up to. Needless to say, there was controversy, and a twelve-year-old Miles did not take the sudden revelation that he no longer had a father that well. Maybe that was why he was such a jittery mess. Debbie told me once he'd been a more sociable kid. Of course, she hadn't taken her husband's death well either, and apparently decided to hammer in the "better safe than sorry" saying a thousand miles over into Miles' head until "sorry" was simply not an option whatsoever to him.

I waved at Miles as he nervously stepped out of the car, bundled up in a buff brown coat that fell to the back of his knees. "Hi, Miles! Were you waiting?" I called.

He rubbed the back of his head, taking a few strands of hair between his fingers and plucking them out of habit. "Uh, yeah. You're late. Are you alright?"

I beamed. "Perfectly fine! We just got a little sidetracked because we ran out of cereal. Went to the cafeteria and got a little something to eat."

Miles seemed a bit relieved and sighed out, apparently having held his breath. "That's good," he said. He looked over at Tango and relaxed a bit, giving an awkward, dorky smile. "Hi there, Tango. Uh, you been keeping well?"

Tango smiled in return and nodded. Miles was the only true and blue friend they'd made ever since we moved in. They'd gotten off on a rather amusing introduction; Miles had first met Tango and me while we were waiting to be initially registered. He'd been scrambling with his paperwork and tripped in the process, nearly into Tango. We'd helped him up and introduced ourselves. Miles had mistaken Tango for a boy at first, which just made Tango silently laugh and caused Miles to nearly cry of embarrassment, further amplified when he asked Tango's name and learned they were mute. They otherwise hit it off quite well. Miles accidentally found out our apartment number in the process of trying to give a flier to our apartment's neighbor (a bulky fellow named Gale Hannigan). Only Tango'd been home at the time, and they'd wrapped up in an awkward sort of half-conversation that nevertheless lasted a good hour and left Gale incredibly confused when he found the flier halfheartedly slid under his door the next day by Tango, long forgotten by Miles. Miles could be something of a forgetful airhead and that often interfered with his duties in the civilization bureau, but he was possessed of what I could only call a nerdy charm. He was socially awkward and a bit bumbling, but he was a complete sweetheart, especially to Tango, who really needed that sort of temperament after our experiences in Paradise. After that little incident, Miles started to come to our apartment deliberately to hang out with Tango in his off-time, sometimes when Jilton or I were around, or sometimes just on his own with Tango. They'd taken a shining to each other and I'd bumped them both to quit hanging around the apartment all the time (the trash Tango tended to leave around the couch and on the floor, especially when he was over, was irking) and spend some time outside. Sometimes, they'd go from the apartment to the cafe not far out from the community center. It was something, at least, and I quietly liked entertaining the idea of a cute little romance between the two – nothing I'd ever tell either of the two in fear of defiant tantrums from Tango and beet-red faces from Miles. Maybe it'd come to pass. Who knew?

Miles continued playing with his hair. "Well, sorry for getting anxious. Really. You, uh, got the message?"

I smiled. "That'd be right! I got the message on our apartment's phone!"

"Right," Miles said. "Uh, I take it you know the service what you want to register up for the time being, Mint? Because there is an open spot for the couriers next to Tiffany..."

A juicy grin grew on my face. That was remarkable news. "That's wonderful!" I exclaimed.

Miles quietly and nervously laughed. "You know what you're going into, then?"

"Yup!"

"You have the routes memorized?"

"Got 'em in the memory bag."

"And you know how to ride a bike?"

"Been riding for a while now!"

"Know all the numbers and names in your area?"

"To the letter!"

"And you most certainly-"

"-I've talked to Tiffany about it a hundred times, yes! I am absolutely ready for the course, Miles!"

Being a courier mainly came down to which people got which things. We mainly just delivered magazines, fliers, community documents, and the like; people got their actual mail over the local net. There was a brief one-week course detailing what we needed to do, and the rest fell to us. Tiffany had promised to help me for the first few days.

Miles slowly nodded. "...Right. You're all set?" he asked a final time

I bobbed my head up and down. "Yes, yes, and yes."

Miles gave an awkward smile, then looked to Tango, becoming noticeably uncomfortable. "And, uh... Tango? Do you think you'll be alright for a job, or..."

Tango didn't really give much of an answer. They just brushed the back of their head and half-shrugged, avoiding eye contact. Miles and I sighed in unison.

Miles fumbled over what to say. "Look, man, I know you're uncomfortable with this, and, uh, you don't... but, well, you know, and you can't just... but, like..."

Tango gave him a flat glance that caused Miles to cut himself off with a sigh. "Maybe we should have a few minutes to talk about it. Or, like, a few hours. It's legally required but I know you need some time to think, so I'll help you make a decision."

Tango smiled in appreciation. Miles looked over at me. "Uh, Mint? You know where the community bureau office is, right?"

"Uh, yeah," I said, recalling the path to the building where Haven's legal affairs – registration for a hundred different things and the moderation of the database those things went into – was.

Miles nodded, then pulled out a purple sticky slip from the pocket of his trousers, rooting around through them for a pen before drawing that out and writing his name and a number down on the sticky.

Miles handed the slip to me. "Just tell them I sent you and give them that," he said. "Registration should be painless. I'll talk to Tango."

"Alright then," I said, nodding. I looked at Tango and put a hand on their shoulder. "Hope it goes well. I don't want you to just continue languishing, Tango."

They gave me a well-meaning smile, then looked back at Miles. He quietly signaled to the Civic.

"I've, uh, got a place for us," he said. "Maybe it'll ease your mind a bit."

I scoffed good-naturedly. "Is it the apartment again? Or are you going all the way to the cafe this time?"

"No," Miles said. "Just... a private place I think I feel comfortable with Tango seeing now."

"Can I see it later?" I asked, genuinely curious.

Miles and Tango exchanged a glance, then Miles grinned. "Maybe if you behave yourself," he said, apparently in imitation of a parent talking to his child. We shared a laugh and I started off to the bureau's office, waving behind me.

"See you later, then!" I called out.

Miles and Tango nodded, Miles stepping back into the driver's seat and Tango crawling into the seat. The Civic started off behind me and our paths split. Inwardly, I wondered about several things. Where was Miles taking Tango that required it to be private? Would Tango finally get a job?

Would I get employment insurance?

I hoped I darn well did.