Rootstock

Corpse Carrier - Act 1 | Chapter 4 - Rootstock
Five Hours and Three Minutes Until Juna Dies

Theo managed to clock in at 3:00. Rushing inside the warehouse, he slid his time card into the machine, and the second it popped out the clock hit 3:01. Another perk of the job besides punctuality, was stamina. Every day, rain or shine, Theo jogged somewhere close to a mile. Backpack in tow. He never pinned down the exact distance. Though today he swore the trail from school to the warehouse was more than a single mile.

Sweat coursed down his brow, he had never run that fast in his life. A knocking thump bounced inside his chest, and his sweat-coated palms itched to move. His hands shook and twitched, and Theo had the strange urge to shake them silly.

Caving to the sensation, he curled his fingers into his palms, mashing them together, then walked farther into the warehouse. Flipping a switch, the warehouse sputtered awake with light, revealing a wall of boxes—putting to shame any other wall with the word Great in it. More boxes than last week, at least twenty that he could count lining the shelves, and probably another ten behind them.

Theo worked alone, not even his boss greeted him at the doorstep. The warehouse functioned as the town's shipping and holding center. Boxes that needed to go out of town, the fully staffed, truck equipped, morning crew shipped. And Boxes that were delivered inside the town area, well, that was Theo's job alone to do.

He took off his vest and button up shirt, placed them on a wooden stool, and threw on a baggy black t-shirt. Theo heaved the first box onto a diamond plate workbench, then onto a pack frame and fastened it down. He shook the box, making sure it wouldn’t slip, and then tightened the straps once more. Theo turned the pack frame around, bent over, and slid his arms through the bands and put it on his back. Snapping the front buckle in place, Theo secured the shoulder straps before hopping onto a chrome bicycle near the front. He picked up a remote from the bike’s front basket, and mashed the biggest button. The garage door sputtered open, and Theo rode off.

Regular routes were taken first. Theo dropped packages off at Mary's Bakery, the local town hall, both mechanic shops on either end of the town, and at Crosswater Church. After each delivery Theo pedaled back to the warehouse, buzzed the garage open, and loaded a new package onto the pack frame. Then he delivered again. Back and forth through their small town, taking back roads and crossing bridges.

Once he finished with the normal deliveries, Theo worked on the new ones. He would check the new box's label and search the address on his phone. Though typically he knew the address by memory, or at least somewhere close by. Mental mapping was something he’d grown used to—a more reliable version of his phone's satellite-dependent map.

Delivering was a tiring task. Theo’s legs would ache in the morning following a shift, and each sip of water he took between deliveries would become parched sweat that soaked the town's streets. Though the warehouse pay made the strenuous effort worthwhile. Occasionally tips would be offered from the regulars, and on rarer occasions, from a new delivery. The warehouse hired high schoolers, and sent them to deliver boxes across town. For the small business here, the warehouse offered a cheaper service than direct shipping from other places. High schoolers delivering the shipment was more cost efficient, and delivering packages was treated like community service, or a kind gesture between townspeople. That, and the acceptance of tips after a delivery, was the reason the warehouse had a code of only hiring high schoolers for the afternoon shift.

Working the morning shift after graduation was an option. But one Theo didn’t treat in kind. The pay didn’t change, tips weren’t offered, and because he would work alongside others, the hours didn’t come close to what Theo could manage now. Normally two or three high schoolers worked the afternoon shifts and split them evenly between them. Less work, but less hours. Theo didn’t want that. He convinced his boss to keep him as the only afternoon worker. Since then Theo hadn’t missed a day and he worked all the hours possible. Boxes however, became a sore sight.

Theo checked his watch. 7:35. A good time to finally take a break. He rode past his warehouse on the way back from a delivery, and pedaled to the town's rehabilitation center. A small place that looked nothing like a medical building. Only one story tall, and built with red bricks mashed together by uneven concrete. The windows were stained gray and the door painted a fresh coat of white. Magenta flowers ran alongside the wooden pathway producing a fresh scent of pollen.

Theo hopped off the bike, unstrapped the pack frame, and rested them both against an oak bench outside the front. He opened the door and dug into his pockets as he entered the rehabilitation center. Theo pulled out two dollars nicked at the edges. He slipped them into the humming vending machine in the lobby, pressed E4, and watched as his favorite peanut butter oats bar dropped to the bottom. Stuffing it inside his pocket, he gave a nod to the cherry-cheeked receptionist behind a white laminate counter. She nodded back, smiled, and gave a thumbs up.

The go-ahead to visit Kaidia.

Theo waved the receptionist bye and walked down the hall. White plastic signs hung along each doorway, all pointing to specific rooms littered throughout the rehabilitation center. Theo hadn’t looked at them in years. He followed the regular route with ears flaring for a cheerful sound, eyes wider than normal, and a grin he had to bite down on to suppress. He took the second turn on the right, walked past the kitchen and an examination room, then took a left and stopped at the third door down the hall. Theo took the time to look at this sign.

Physical Therapy Room.

Theo knocked, then entered. He removed his sneakers and placed them in a cubby, so as not to dirty the beige carpet floor. An assortment of exercise equipment cluttered the room, lifting weights, balancing balls, stretch bands, and muscle stimulators. One of which items were being used by a frail girl wearing an oversized blue hoodie. She sat in a wheelchair, and tugged on a yellow stretch band wrapped around a wooden beam. It barely budged. Her arm never moved off the wheelchair's arm rest. With each tug, only her right hand would squeeze tight, and her right shoulder would nudged back ever so slightly. That was all Kaidia could manage.

Progress. Movement was progress.

“Mr. Clayton, good to see you again so soon.” Kaidia’s physical therapist, Nia, said. She had short curly brown hair and wore a white tunic. She smiled and grabbed the wheelchair's handles.

“Theo's here?” Kaidia asked, dropping the stretch band. Her voice was light and chipper, unfitting of her pale drained body. She faced away from the entrance, and eagerly tapped the wheelchair’s armrest with her right hand—indicating for Nia to turn her around.

“I am, I am,” Nia giggled. “She's been extra energetic today, Mr. Theo.”

“I hope that doesn't mean trouble as well,” Theo said.

Kaidia jumped in, fully turned around. “Of course not!” She flicked her right wrist. “My sleeve, Nia.”

Nia smiled, and rolled up the sleeve of Kaidia's blue hoodie. Under it was the same bracelet Theo wore. Brown-and-black threads crossed over another, and a copper wire cage encasing a clear quartz gem. Unlike how Theo's bracelet tightly fit his wrist, Kaidia’s dangled and dared to slip off each time she moved. Her arm looked thinner. Theo could see the bones.

Kaidia lifted her right arm, slowly. Like a crane lifting its boom, taking effort and time to set it up right. With each inch of strained elevation her bracelet crept more into her hoodie's sleeve.

Too thin, her arm was too thin.

Kaidia smiled, fully raising her right arm up, elbow still resting on the armrest.

Theo returned a smile. “That's a lot faster than last week,” he said, walking over and giving her raised hand a high five.

“You think so?”

Theo checked his watch. “Oh yeah, I timed it and everything. A whole two seconds faster.”

Nia giggled and Kaidia just rolled her eyes.

“I think Kaidia has something she would like to show you,” Nia suggested.

Theo raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

Kaidia said nothing. Instead she directed Theo with her eyes. She glared at her dormant left hand and furrowed her brow. Eventually, her index finger twitched, tapped the armrest. Kaidia looked up with a wide grin.

“See!”

Theo bubbled in his thoughts. He looked to Nia, who gestured a closed eyed smile back at him. Two years, two years since the accident that paralyzed Kaidia from the neck down. Not only had she learned how to raise her right forearm in that time, but also how to flinch her left hand’s index finger.

Where had Theo been this whole time? He worked each day he could, especially on the weekends. It paid well, and it paid for Kaidia’s therapy. Once his break rolled around, he would rush over to the rehabilitation center and visit Kaidia. Check on her progress and talk to her—let her feel like she had a family. Unfortunately, that break meant fifteen minutes a day. And If he had a lot of boxes to deliver, sometimes less than that. He could never guarantee a visit to Kaidia every day, though he tried, he was diligent.

Theo had to be diligent.

But while Theo lost himself to diligence—Kaidia made progress.