Friday, April 12, 2013

K is for Killdeer



My eyes went to the cupboard door for only the briefest of seconds to make sure it was still closed. It was.

      The keeper’s eyes went there as well. “Are there more of you?” he asked calmly.

      “Of course not,” I breathed. “You’ve seen my papers.”

      He nodded, taking too much time to study my face. He nodded again and moved toward the cupboard.

      Too panicked to be wise, I gripped my stomach and crumpled to the ground.  

      He froze, looking down at me. “Are you a disease bearer?”

       I glanced past him to the small eyes peeking up at me from the open cupboard door. “Yes,” I whispered. “I carry disease.”

      The man nodded, not quite so unfeeling now. “Disease bearers are not permitted in the relocation centers or the work camps. They must go directly to be recycled.”

        “Yes,” I said, as I stood up to follow him to the door. “I know they do.”