Page 36 of The Compound

Eleven

Tom stayed in bed for the entirety of the next day, and most of the day following that too.

It meant that we couldn’t do any Communal Tasks.

Not that anyone particularly wanted to. With the exception of Becca and Tom, we kept to our couples, and I saw hardly anyone apart from Sam for most of the time.

We brought our beanbags to the pond, and spent long hours there, retiring to the shade when the nylon material became hot to the touch.

We talked a lot about how it would be if it was just the two of us at the end.

Sam was shy about the idea, but I had been thinking about it constantly.

From the way that he spoke, I gathered he assumed we would stay for a week or two after everyone else had left, as a way to enjoy spending time together.

I didn’t tell him, though I hinted, that I wanted to stay as long as possible.

Before I had even come here, I had fantasized about making it to the end.

When I watched the show and saw the people building up the compound, or changing things, I planned what I would do in their place.

It was different when you were actually there, of course.

Although I had adjusted to the heat, I was tired often, even when I had done nothing all day. Still, I had no desire at all to leave.

When Sam was gardening, or fixing things around the house, I had plenty of time for Personal Tasks, and consulted my little screen often.

I got some fake plants, which I put in the bedroom, though Andrew pursed his lips a little.

I got nail varnish, the kind I sold in the shop but could never afford myself, and put on coat after coat after coat.

I found Candice and did her nails too, out on the patio.

When I finished, she held out her nails and admired them.

She smiled at me then, and said, “I always knew we would be good friends. I’m sad that Jacintha is gone, though. I liked her a lot.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice, and she looked at me with sympathy. “I know it’s been difficult,” she said. “But things will be better soon. There are only six of us left. One more gone, and then the rules will be lifted.”

I nodded again. It was exciting, even if the idea of talking about our lives outside the compound felt disconcerting.

“Listen,” Candice said, and lowered her voice.

She took my hand in hers and held it tightly.

Her fingers were long and slim, the varnish on her nails smudging as they pressed against my skin.

“Andrew and I have been talking. We’re going to be here until the end, but neither of us wants to win and live here alone.

That’s kind of sad, I think. We’re going to stay as long as we can and win as many valuable rewards as we can, and then, when we’ve had enough, we’ll go.

But we both agreed: it wouldn’t be right to kick everyone else out.

We have enough things here to last us for months and months, probably.

We wouldn’t have to do any tasks; we wouldn’t have to banish anyone.

We could just live here in peace and have a simple life.

We want you and Sam to stay. Just the four of us. What do you think?”

Up until that moment, genuine friendship with Candice had seemed out of reach, but now it felt like a gift I could hold in my hands and admire, like one of our treasures in the shed.

I knew too we would work well together as a group.

Candice and Andrew were the opposite of Sam and me, in the best way: whereas I was passive, Candice was authoritative, and while Andrew had a great vision for the compound, it was generally Sam who was able to realize his ideas; Andrew couldn’t hammer a nail into a wall, but Sam had built the shed, almost entirely by himself.

“That sounds incredible,” I said honestly.

“We wouldn’t have to worry about anything if it was just the four of us. ”

“Exactly. And we get on well too. We could be like a little family. More fun that way. And if anyone wants to leave and go back to their old life, there’s nothing to stop us. But we won’t banish anyone. We’ll live free, without the screens.”

“It sounds perfect,” I said.

We looked out on the gardens, which were blooming and magnificent, and the shed, tall and proud, and the pool, glinting and glimmering. Mine, I thought.

—

That evening, when the sun had sunk beyond the horizon, and a chill had started to creep in, I heard Tom’s voice calling for me. I was lying on the couch with Sam, and he said, “I’ll go with you.”

“Don’t bother,” I said. “He’s asked me ten times today for aloe vera. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Tom called my name again, and I was surprised to realize his voice was coming from the gray room.

He had been recuperating in the bedroom until now.

I hesitated for a minute. I had forgotten about the record player.

But he must have heard my step falter, as he stepped outside and saw me. “Come in,” he said.

His skin was pink now, though his hands remained raw and angry. He was pointing to his record player. “Do you know what happened here?”

“No. Did you get tired of listening to that same shitty song over and over?”

I didn’t see the blow coming. Before I registered the sting of the slap, I felt the heat of his hand. I staggered, clutching my cheek.

We stared at each other for a moment. The slap had surprised me, but I think it had surprised him, too.

He took a step toward me, and I didn’t wait to see if he was approaching with a pacifying or threatening gesture.

I spat at him, and he glanced down at the glob of my saliva that had landed on the collar of his shirt.

He struck me again, this time knocking me off my feet.

I felt a tooth move in my gum. I gagged.

“You’re an idiot, Tom. It’s against the rules to hit another resident.” I started to laugh then, loud and not at all like my usual laugh, but it felt good, so I laughed louder. His expression stayed flat, though I knew that it bothered him. “What will they do to you this time, do you think?”

He crouched in front of me, then reached out and touched a lock of my hair that had come loose from my ponytail. He twirled it around his finger, gently, almost tenderly, and then took it in his fist and ripped it from my head. I screamed: at the pain and at seeing the lock of my hair in his hand.

Strangely, it seemed to disturb him almost as much as it disturbed me.

He stared at the piece of hair, then let it drop to the ground.

He put his hands in the air. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said.

Although his demeanor was placating, my body screamed out with terror, and I let out some cry of distress, skirting backward.

He took a step toward me, frowning. Suddenly Sam was there, and Tom was thrown against the wall.

I tried to say stop, don’t, but I made some strange babbling noise instead.

Sam punched Tom in the face, once, twice, three times.

“Stop!” I said. Where were the others? Didn’t they hear us? Didn’t they care?

Tom groaned. His head had hit the wall, and he looked strange, his eyes rolling back in his skull.

He brought his hands up to try to strike Sam, but they appeared pathetic, cooked as they were.

Some sense seemed to come to Sam at last, and he stepped back and let Tom stumble away.

He came to me, hands gripping my arms, his eyes wide.

He gingerly touched the stinging point on my head where my hair had been, and I gasped at the pain of it.

When he pulled his hand back, I saw that there was a smudge of blood on his fingertips: not a lot, just a trace.

I wasn’t really wounded, I reminded myself.

Only a chunk of my hair was lying on the ground besideme.

“Are you all right? Lily, are you all right?”

The voice said, “Good evening. Fighting between residents is forbidden. Punishment will be administered to the compound before sunrise.”

I gripped Sam’s shirt, my hands shaking. Tom groaned in the corner. Andrew appeared, white-faced under his tan.

“What did you do?” he shouted. He looked unlike himself; he looked wild. He wasn’t looking at the boys: he was looking at me. “What did you do?”

—

All six of us waited in the bedroom for whatever punishment would be doled out.

We were all thinking of possibilities, but not speaking them aloud.

I was remembering a few years ago, when a group had to go naked for a whole week.

The punishments were there, of course, to keep us in line, but they usually also had some entertainment factor for the viewers.

Tom sat on the edge of his bed and jumped at every noise.

His face, which had already been pink and tender, was now bloody and puffy.

Candice sat on my bed and dabbed my swollen face with antiseptic.

When she was done, she used her nicest products on me, her moisturizer and eye cream and serums. I hadn’t looked in the mirror; I couldn’t bear to think of how I looked.

Candice glanced at Sam and shook her head. “You shouldn’t have hit him. I know why you did it, but still. We’re all in a mess now. God knows what will happen.”

“Don’t be angry with him,” I said. I worried, even through the fear of the punishment, that she wouldn’t want to share the compound with us anymore.

“I’m not angry with him.” She turned to Tom. “It’s his fault, of course.”

“Andrew,” Tom said. “Tell your girl to be quiet.”

“Watch it, Tom,” Andrew said. He stood up from his bed, and took a step toward him, but no farther.

“Let me be clear,” Candice said to Tom. “Your hours here are numbered. Tomorrow, the next day, the day after—there’s going to be a banishment. And when you’re gone, Lily and I are going to turn your stupid little man-cave into a yoga studio.”