Freedom. Kinda.
CuriousWho: Esmé and Bob
Where: The Bunker
When: Mid-morning? Maybe?
After the last few days, Esmé had really needed a day like this. For the first time in days, she felt like she was actually alive again, like she was free. She'd taken her new wheelchair on a tour of their new home- not like that had taken long. But her day was made complete when she'd entered one of the pretty pastel bedrooms. She'd looked in the other rooms but they were too drab and depressing. But in this room- it was as if someone had known she would pick this room.
Her excitement had begun when she opened up a drawer at random. Inside was- well, it was old-fashioned, but she'd seen them enough to know that it was just what it seemed to be. A hearing aid. One of those big bulky ones that you draped around your neck and then put big plugs in your ears. The quality wasn't what she was used to, but it was such an improvement, she couldn't help but scream in delight. Opening the closet, she had to laugh. There were clothes in there- but it looked like they had come right out of Grease. A white blouse, a pink poodle skirt, bobby socks, and black and white saddle oxfords. The shoes were a little too close to the orthodpaedic shoes her parents had once tried to force her into, but everything fit perfectly.
Bouyed by her newfound freedom, Esmé kept exploring. Eventually, she found herself at the table with the CB radio. Eager to really see how well her new "ears" worked, she transferred from her wheelchair to the chair in the booth and started fiddling with the knobs, but got nothing but static. She played with them a few minutes, then, in a moment of silliness, moved the microphone in front of her and pushed the button. "Heyyo?" she said, a little giggle in her voice. "Bweakah one-ninah, bweakah one-ninah, does anyone got deah eahs on?" She let go of the button and broke down in a fit of laughter. This was the most fun she'd had in a while.
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Random terrorist threats neutralized for the moment, Bob had chosen one of the utilitarian bedrooms. The closet had been stocked with what appeared to be replicas of WWII-era Army uniforms--chaplain's uniforms, to be exact, and of course everything fit him perfectly. Which was disconcerting (did the scientists have teams of interns standing by to switch out the contents of the closet on a second's notice?) but it felt good to be able to shower and shave.
Now he wandered through the bunker, eventually drawn by the unmistakable sound of Esmé's voice... Speaking in CB radio slang, of all things. Bob peered around the door frame.
"Hey 'Big Ben'," he greeted her, "you haven't managed to raise the rest of the convoy on that thing, have you?
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Esmé turned around and smiled when Bob peeked into the room. "Nah, juss foowin awound." She pushed the microphone away from herself. "I don't fink anyone's yissening anyways." She looked at him in his chaplain's uniform and giggled. "You yook yike you got dwafted oah somefin." She slowly transferred herself back to the antique wheelchair. "Youah wecome to give it a twy if you want. I fink iss dead do." She backed away. She was getting the hang of the old chair, but it was still rough going to get it started moving.
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"And you look like you're on your way to meet Jimmy down at the malt shop," Bob countered, grinning. "I'll take your word on it," he said regarding the CB. Actually, he did have an idea in mind, but no. It was ridiculous.
"How about the rest of the, er, house? Have you had a chance to explore?"
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"A yittah, yeah," Esmé said, attempting to straighten out her skirt despite her legs' desire to keep moving around. "It aww juss seems so wead. Did you evah see dat movie wheah the kid fwom da fifties gwows up in a faw out shetuh? Dat's kinda what it weminds me of." She thought about the 'garden' she'd visted earlier. "It juss aww yooks fake somehow." She looked up at Bob. "So what do you fink happened to evewyone? Dey juss aw go away?"
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"This place is incredibly weird," Bob agreed. "Like an alternate time line scenario. Though I don't think I ever saw that particular film." He fiddled with the rank insignia on his uniform.
"It looks very realistic to me. Even the medical gear seems to be functional." Bob grimaced, remembering the nurse jabbing a syringe into Aamir. Now there was a movie moment, he thought, though more reminiscent of One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest than any WWII epic.
"You'd think the scientists would have left some sort of communique," he said. "Maybe the rest of the participants have been divvied up and placed into different eras of history?"
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"My chaiuh and heawing aid seem ta wook okay.", Esme’ said. "Iss juss weayee oad. Yike in an oad movie." She thought about what she'd seen when she was exploring. "You know, deah was dis one yaddah I saw- I can't cyimb it obviousyee. Maybe deah's somefin up deah."
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Bob murmured something noncommittal. He was struck by guilt; the past couple of days had been difficult for Esmé--there was no way they couldn't have been, with her wheel chair and hearing aides destroyed in the fire. And he'd done nothing. He hadn't even tried to comfort her.
"A ladder? We should check it out." He grinned. "Show me. I'll climb up and take a look, and you can report back to the others after my inevitable demise at the hands of post-nuclear mutants."
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Esmé laughed, secretly hoping that there weren't any post-nuclear mutants outside- she didn't put anything past the scientists. "Iss down dis haw way," she said, barrelling past Bob towards the door. "Iss juss a smaww woom- I weayee coudn't even get in it in my shair." And I'm not crawling again anytime soon if I don't have to. My knees still haven't forgiven me!
She headed down the hallway, not worrying about how close Bob was. This place was small enough you really couldn't get lost. She came to a stop just outside the "room". "Deah you go," she said, moving aside so he could get through. "Up and out and aw dat."
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"At your command." Bob gave a mock salute and stepped into the small space. A moment later he'd poked his head out again to hand Esmé the note that had been taped to the ladder. Then it was back into the little room and up the ladder. Bob wasn't particularly surprised to find that the hatch wouldn't budge.
"No mutants," he reported, returning to the hallway. "Actually, I couldn't get the escape hatch to open."
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Esmé was reading the note. "So it yooks yike we've been spyit up 'foah ouah own safety' whatevah dat means." She handed the note back to Bob so he could read for himself. "At yeast we know weah not da onyee ones who got moved." She looked up at the metal hatch, which looked like it was the only thing between them and the rest of the world. And freedom. She decided to change the subject. "So, if weah spyit up, I wondah if iss possibuh to tawk to da odda gwoups somehow."
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Bob scanned the note, then returned it to the ladder. He frowned when Esmé mentioned talking to the other groups, thinking it over.
"There's no telephones," he pointed out. "At least, I haven't seen any. And you tried the CB. Although," Bob mused, "if that's functional, maybe it's just that no one is listening on the other end. Is there someone in particular that you're concerned about?"
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Esmé thought about it. There really wasn't anyone she felt particularly close to in the house- Bob and Aamir, were already here, and while she had liked some people like Sarah and a couple of others, she really didn't consider them friends. "I can't fink of anybody- iss moah juss wondewing how evwyone is.. Iss up ta you if you wanna twy da CB again."
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"Maybe later. You didn't happen to find a kitchen, did you? I'm curious to see what we'll be eating. C-rations to go with the forties theme? Or casseroles and jell-o molds for the fifties?"
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"I dunno," Esmé said, backing away and turning, which wasn't the easiest thing to do in the cramped hallway. "I suppose we coud go yook. You wanna push me? Might go fastah." She smiled up at Bob, thankful there was at least one person in here she could still trust.