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Empty Places

By Lauren Rivers

“Come on, we’re going to be late,” his mother said as she grabbed her coat and pulled it around herself. Joe acknowledged her with a nod, absentmindedly fiddling with his zipper while he stared at the empty chair by the table. Following along as she pulled him out the front door into the cold he stared upward at the imposing sight of The Candle. Their destination and the lifeblood of the city, it was where his father had worked for most of his adult life. It was also where he had died.

Belonging to the burn team, his father had one of the most dangerous jobs in the city. Operating around the clock they oversaw the constant feeding of coal into the massive steam furnace that kept the city alive. It was a thankless task undertaken by those who were not fortunate enough to earn their way into more skilled professions such as administration, agriculture, or maintenance. Yet without them the Candle could not burn, could not provide its life-giving energy to the rest of the city. One would expect that such a fact would earn them some sort of recompense for their efforts.

All it got them was a shack barely worth the name far away from the central heat of the city’s beating heart, and a short funeral. Trudging through the snow, Joe stuffed his paws in his pockets. Unable to afford gloves on his father’s ration allowance, he felt a chill right through his fur where the kids of the Central Nexus wore scarves. Walking past them he could tell most of them had never seen the inside of The Candle. Their fur was pristine, their coats lacking the tears and rips his own displayed.

Avoiding eye contact, he could feel their eyes staring at his back, almost certain they were thinking something nasty. Just wanting to get through the day, Joe followed his mother into the entryway.

Funerals in Coldhaven were short, and generally only attended by immediate family and a few well-wishers. Due to his status on the burn team, more than a few of his teammates had made a special effort to be here. Dressed in their work uniforms they were only permitted a brief break from their duties to attend. Most of them had coal dust covering their clothes and all of them had at least some darkening their fur. Some would view it as dirty, but to anyone who worked The Candle they were badges of honor.

As they made their way through the crowd, every person they passed offered their condolences and expressed their respect for his father. His mother graciously thanked them, but for his part Joe simply nodded.

Both Joe and his mother took up a spot in the center of the front row which was reserved for the family of the deceased. Before them stood the administrator who would be conducting the service.

The leopard seal stood before them with a look of condolence upon his face. “Mrs. Kennedy. My sympathies for your loss.”

“Thank you. This is my son, Joseph.” She wrapped her arm around him and inched him forward.

“Joe,” he said, preferring the shorter version of his name.

“A handsome young man,” he replied. “We’re about to begin shortly. Would you prefer to be here during the incineration?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I think I need to be. Joseph may stay or go, depending on his preference.”

“As you wish,” he said. Moving to the center of the space, he held up his webbed paws. “All of you, please take your places.” He waited a few moments for the conversations to die down and the attendees to settle into nice, neat rows. Behind him, the shrouded figure of his father’s body lay resting on a conveyor belt designated for this purpose. Wearing only his fur, his form was covered in a sheet that concealed his features but could not disguise his clear ursine shape beneath the beige fabric. Tradition and practicality required that his clothes and other useful items were to be distributed among the rest of the population, but his widow was permitted to keep a few personal effects. Joe shuffled in place and lowered his muzzle as the administrator began the service. “Thank you all for coming. I know you have work to get back to so I will make this brief.” He paused and held his paws clasped in front of his chest. “Alexander Kennedy served on the burn team for most of his career. He kept The Candle burning with every piece of coal he placed within it. We can never thank him enough for the work he did keeping the city running.” A moment of silence. “It is tradition when one of us dies for their body to be placed into The Candle. Their final sacrifice shall provide those of us left behind with their most precious gift. As their heat returns to the city, we are reminded of all it has done to shelter us. May its flame continue to burn as a symbol of our survival.” His sermon completed, he turned and pressed the button that began the slow journey to deliver the body to its final destination.

Joe’s paw flew to his chest as the shape began to move. He struggled to breathe. Unable to stand it a moment longer, he hurried outside and fell onto his knees in the snow. He stared at the snow on the ground between his paws in an attempt to force his heart to slow. It beat powerfully in his ears with a loud thunderous rhythm. It only broke when the sound of a voice reached him.

“What are you doing on the ground, Kennedy?” an older puffin boy asked with a hint of derision.

“Leave him alone, Colin,” his compatriot said. “We’ve got more important things to do.”

Colin waved him off and leaned forward placing his paws on his knees. “At least you know your place. What are you doing in the yard anyway? A kid like you isn’t old enough to be working in The Candle.”

Another boy, an arctic fox named Derek, made a dismissive gesture. “It’s just another Coalie funeral.”

Rage swelled inside Joe as he clenched his paws into fists. Coalie was a derogatory term for the members of the burn team. Thrown around by people who had never shoveled a lump of it in their lives, it was often said workers for The Candle were as common as the fuel itself. To the people that lived in the Central Nexus they were just another renewable resource. Anyone that lived in the residential ring was only valuable as long as they kept The Candle burning. “You show some respect,” Joe said through clenched teeth.

“What for?” the fox flattened his ears. “There’ll just be another one in a few weeks.”

His paw searched the ground clasping around a large lump of coal laying among the snow. He stood up and threw it with all his might, smacking the arctic fox hard on the side of the head as he laughed to his friends. “Shut the fuck up!”

Derek fell over and clutched his head in utter shock at what had just happened. Shaking the dizziness from his vision he pulled his paw away to find it stained with blood and coal dust. “You Coalie shit! Do you know who my father is?”

“Someone who has an utter piece of scrap for a son!” Joe shouted.

Derek screamed and charged him, tackling Joe in the midsection and taking them both down into the snow. The arctic fox punched and clawed at him, giving as good as he got as Joe got in a few good blows to his muzzle and midsection before the adults pulled them apart.

“What the hell is going on here?” one of the workers asked. Neither boy answered.

In response to the ruckus his mother emerged from the funeral, her eyes settling on her son. “Joseph?” She ran up to him, grabbing his head and looking at the cut on his temple. “Have you been fighting?” She looked at the other boy who merely stared.

“This isn’t over, Coalie,” he said, before pulling free of the adult who had grabbed him and walking off with his friends.

“What was that about?” his mother asked.

“Nothing,” Joe replied.

“I’d hardly call that nothing,” she said, pointing to the rows of claw marks on his torn sleeve. She examined it with a disapproving stare. “I can probably mend it, but it’ll take a few days. Let’s get you to a doctor, first.”

Joe shook his head. “I don’t need a doctor.”

“Humor me.” She pushed him forward with her paw. “It’s just you and me now. I need you to stay in one piece.”

Not wanting to argue, he walked with her to the nearest clinic. Medical care in the residential ring usually consisted of a handful of overworked physicians and whatever supplies they could get their paws on. It was often hours before anyone could get in to be seen barring an emergency. As much as his mother insisted that’s what it was, they would have to wait their turn.

After almost two hours they were finally called into the back room where a kindly snow owl greeted them. “Hello, young man. Apologies for the wait but you wouldn’t believe the sorts of things that walk through that door. My name is Doctor Gregory.” The avian extended his hand.

He shook it with a neutral expression. “Joe.”

“Ah, the Kennedy boy. I thought I recognized you. Let’s take a peek at you, shall we?” He stepped in front of Joe and took a closer look. “Hm. A cut, a couple of claw marks, and a bruise or two, but nothing serious. I’ll clean it up and get you a bandage.” He picked up a bottle of disinfectant and soaked a rag with it before dabbing it against Joe’s injuries. The polar bear winced, showing his fangs. “I don’t suppose if I asked you’d tell me how this happened.”

His mother answered for him. “He was fighting in the yard.”

“Fighting?” He tilted his head at an unsettling angle. “Well, I do hope you won.”

“Doctor!” his mother chastised.

The physician shrugged. “Trust me, it’s pretty typical for boys his age. I’d be surprised if he wasn’t fighting, at least a little. Face it, with the outside world being all bleak and lifeless it’s a wonder we aren’t all a little mad sometimes.”

“You aren’t helping,” his mother said with her arms folded.

Holding up his hands in a placating gesture he interlaced his talons. “Well, consider it a free perk as part of your treatment.” He placed his hands in his lap. “You should be fine in a day or two. Just keep the bandages clean and don’t get in any more fights. Medically speaking that’s about all I can do.” The snow owl hopped onto his feet and gave Joe a pat on the back. “I imagine I’ll probably end up seeing your opponent in here before long.”

“I doubt it,” Joe said. “He’s from the Central Nexus.”

“Really?” the snow owl asked. “What does he look like?”

“He’s an arctic fox, tall, with really finely trimmed claws and red hair.” Joe stared at his bandaged arm.

The doctor chirped and tilted his head in the other direction. “His name wouldn’t be Derek, would it?”

“How did you know?” Joe suspected he would not like the answer.

“He’s Councilman Arrington’s son. He’s a little shit, but his father has connections. He probably won’t report you, but I’d be careful for a while. Folks like him tend to hold grudges.” He chirped again and placed his hands in his pockets.

“Well, thank you anyway, doctor.” His mother bowed and gestured for Joe to wait for her outside.

Snow fell softly while he thought of his father. A kind and hardworking bear, he had always done his best to provide for his family. Though he had never been able to give them everything he wanted he made certain to do the best he could with the resources he’d been given. Growing up in Coldhaven one never had the luxury of making plans. Every day was an exercise in making do with limited resources. Hard choices were common, especially for anyone on the burn team. But no matter how hard life got, Alexander Kennedy never complained. He never blamed the precursors for turning the world into a ball of ice nor the city’s strict regulations put in place to ensure their survival. He got up every day and shoveled coal into The Candle.

And for a lifetime of loyal service, he was rewarded with a short funeral and a few premium rations for his family, as if that would make it all better. Feeling the tightness return to his chest, his paws balled into fists once more.

His mother emerged a moment later. In truth he expected to be admonished for his actions in the yard. But to his surprise his mother simply placed a paw on his shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze. “I know better than to ask if you’re okay. But if there’s anything I can do to make it better, I hope you’ll let me know.”

Joe turned away from her, his ears flattening slightly. “Dad deserved better than this.”

“I know,” she replied.

“He gave everything he had to this city, for us. And now he’s gone, and it’s not fair.” He slammed his paw against the front of Doctor Gregory’s clinic.

His mother wrapped her arms around him. “I miss him too.”

“I keep expecting to see him at that table. But I know he’s never coming back and I’m angry at him for leaving us and I don’t know how to make it stop.” He pulled free of her.

She let out a deep breath and reached for him but lowered her paw to her side. “I know it hurts, and it’s going to hurt for a while. Maybe a long time, but it will get better. I promise.”

“When?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. “Tell me when, because right now I don’t see it.”

“I don’t know. But I do know that your father loved us very much, and he wouldn’t want us to stand out here in the cold.” She placed her arm gently around his shoulder. “So how about we go home?” His mother gave him a kiss on the cheek. “It’s your birthday in a couple of days.” She smiled. “Maybe I can even get you a cupcake. I’ve saved up a few favors from the right people. Come on, let’s get someplace warm.”

Joe simply stared at the snow as his mother guided him home. He felt her pull his boots off of his feet paws and his coat from his torso, but he was not aware of much else until the following morning when his eyes opened to find she had covered him with a blanket. He sat up, looking up at his mother. “How long was I asleep?”

“A good seven hours. I was going to let you sleep a lot longer if you hadn’t woken up.” She sat in her chair by the table. “If you want to stay home today, I don’t mind.”

Joe shook his head. “I really think I’d rather be in class right now.” He looked at his father’s empty chair. “I’m not ready to be here without him.”

“Okay,” she said. “Would you go by the ration line and pick up your father’s funeral allowance?”

“All right,” he replied, reaching for his coat. A few moments passed as he gathered up his books and headed out into the cold. The ration distribution centers were often placed along the main roads of the city, presumably for efficiency’s sake. The one his family usually visited was on his way to school. Likely this would be his final year, as once he reached thirteen, he would be assigned a job if he did not earn an apprenticeship.

The line was long, with more than half the people in this section having sent someone to pick up their family’s allotment. Joe shivered as a chill breeze passed through his coat. He stood in line behind a young king penguin who rubbed his webbed hands together for warmth. He was about his age dressed in a thick coat and a knit hat with a little red puffball on the top. “Picking up your family’s rations?” the bird asked.

“Yeah,” Joe said. “It’s a favor for my mom.”

The penguin extended his hand. “Mike.”

“Joe.” They shook and moved to stand beside each other.

“I think I’ve seen you in school, haven’t I?” He squinted, as if trying to envision Joe from a different angle.

He stared at him a moment and then pointed with a claw. “You sit in the front, by the door, don’t you?”

“Yeah! I’m new to this section. We used to be in H-14, but they reassigned us when they reevaluated the allocations for our family.” He pointed towards the edge of the city. “He’s on one of the exploratory balloon teams. They go out every few weeks trying to map the area around the city, a little bit at a time. He’s the best navigator they’ve got. He shows me the maps he makes.”

Joe looked up in the direction of the hangar. He’d seen one fly out over the frozen wasteland every now and then. They were slow with subpar heating systems, but they were the only way they had to explore the area around the city. Far from comfortable, they generally had a crew of eight and would go out for weeks at a time. Upon their return their crews would provide the city with information about what was within range. Future expeditions would follow up on the things they found. That is, provided they returned in the first place.

Several expeditions had resulted in whole crews being lost, either to navigation errors or failures in the heating systems. Unless the crew managed to radio back their status it was rare that their fate would ever be known to those they left behind. Rescue missions were impractical with any such efforts more likely to result in losing a second balloon than being able to reach the downed craft in time to do any good. The job paid well, but only provided the balloon returned safely.

While they were gone, the crew members family had to make do with reduced rations, as a large portion of their share was allocated to their storage requirements on board the balloon.

A moment later it was Mike’s turn at the front of the line. He stepped forward and looked at the large rhinoceros that sat at the window. “Rush family allocation, please.”

The rhino checked his clipboard and nodded, calling out something to one of the people in the cage with him. They placed the small box in his webbed hands as he nodded his acceptance. “Next!”

Joe swallowed. He and Mike exchanged glances as he stepped forward. Doing his best to appear confident, he spoke. “Kennedy family allocation, please.” Once again, the attendant consulted his list and barked out a command to someone Joe could not see. A much larger box appeared, large enough that it did not fit through the small opening in the cage.

The rhinoceros got up from his seat and carried it towards the door, motioning for Joe to follow. He did as he had been instructed and a moment later found himself holding a large brown box. Filled with food and supplies well in excess of the standard allocation, it was the only compensation for his father’s death his family would receive. He shifted it in his paws to feel its weight and sat down on a bench.

He held the precious package knowing its value. Portioned out properly it could sustain him and his mother for quite some time. With luck he could soon choose an apprenticeship and earn a ration allowance of his own.

Mike sat beside him, his small box looking even tinier beside the one Joe held in his paws. “Who did you lose?”

Joe looked up, startled. “My dad. It’s his last allocation.” He looked at it, tears staining the top of the wooden box. More began to form as he fought back the memories that threatened to overwhelm him. He wiped them away with the back of his paw.

His companion placed his webbed hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to wake up every morning without him there to greet me, or for me to welcome him home from a long day in the Candle.” He held the box in his paws. “They give us this and we’re expected to turn over his things like he never existed.”

“It sucks.” Mike held his box between his talons. “It sucks that they expect us to make do with this just because my dad’s job is out there.”

Joe suddenly felt self-conscious about the contents of the box in his paws. “Do you have enough?”

“What?” Mike asked. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean to…”

“Please. My mom and I can’t eat it all. Take something, just to hold your family over until your dad comes back.” He opened the lid and handed him a neatly wrapped parcel of meat.

He held it in his right hand. “Don’t you need this?”

“I’d feel much better helping a friend.” He smiled. “I guess we’d better get to class.” He stood up, carrying the box in his arms.

“Thank you,” Mike said.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, as they walked off together.

Class that day was about the steam system that heated Coldhaven and provided it with power. Describing how the massive reactor operated, the teacher explained how careful management of the powerful forces within allowed them to lead relatively comfortable lives in spite of the harsh environment outside of the city. Constant monitoring and adjustments were needed to keep everything operating at peak efficiency. This meant they were always looking for people to join the maintenance team to ensure the hard work of those keeping the Candle burning made it all the way through the system.

Joe momentarily wondered if there was any purpose in their classes other than to teach them how to be useful. Of course, he knew that the city was their home, and they had a responsibility to contribute to its survival, but there had to be more to it than simple lack of options.

Staring out the window, he wondered what his father’s life would have been like had he not been pulled to work in the Candle as so many people were when times were hard. He never complained and never once spoke about what he would have done if given the option, at least not to his family. But in Coldhaven your possibilities were limited and what choices you did have were meager at best. Although Joe knew that he likely would be assigned to whatever the city needed, his father had always told him all he wanted was for his children to have a better life than he had.

While most of the students seemed uninterested in the lesson, Joe found himself intrigued by the inner workings of the city in which he lived. Seeing beneath the surface into the complex network of machinery that maintained everything almost seemed like being handed the keys to the kingdom. The more he learned about the way it all worked the more he wanted to know. It was almost a disappointment when the bell finally rang and most everyone filed out.

“Class is over, Mister Kennedy,” the teacher said.

“Are we going to learn more about it tomorrow?" He clutched his notes to his chest.

“Are you interested? Most of your classmates seemed more fascinated with their desks than in the internal structure of the city.” The teacher shrugged, apparently used to a class full of bored students.

Joe nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir. It’s fascinating.”

“You know, if you think you’d be up for it, I could speak to the Workshop foreman about giving you an apprenticeship. It’s not often people get to choose their vocation, but if you’re interested in it, I could see what I can do,” he replied. “They’re always looking for talented maintenance techs.”

“I’d like that, sir.” His ears perked up.

From the front of the classroom, Mike slapped the surface of his desk. “Count me in too, that is, if they’ve got another spot.”

“I’ll find out and let you know.” The teacher gathered up his papers. “Now run along. Before your parents start looking for you.”

He flashed the teacher a grateful smile and walked out the door with Mike, his family’s rations in his arms. Although he had never considered working on the machines that kept the city running before he found himself entranced by the notion. So much so he had not even noticed when he walked right into Derek, bouncing off the arctic fox and dropping the box of rations onto the snow. Joe knelt to pick them up only to be rewarded with a spray of snow being kicked into his face by the taller fox.

“Watch where you’re going, Coalie.” He sniffed derisively. “You should know better than to get in the way of your betters. I thought I already taught you that lesson.” Seeing what he had dropped, he scoffed. “Since when do they give you coal hurlers fancy things like that?”

“It’s my father’s last rations,” he said. “He earned it keeping people like you warm.”

“It almost seems a shame to waste it on someone from the ring. I bet you wouldn’t appreciate the good stuff even if you knew what it was.” He reached out and grabbed it.

“Hey!” Joe growled. “Give that back.”

“Make me, Coalie.” He held his prize in his paws while his friends formed up on either side of him. “It’s six versus one.”

“I thought they taught you how to count in the Central Nexus.” Mike stepped up beside him. “Hand it over.”

Derek passed it to one of his companions and swung at Joe. The punch connected across his jaw, sending radiating pain through his face. He blocked the next swing and returned the favor hard enough to send the fox stumbling. Most of Derek’s companions watched from the sidelines, cheering on their champion. Joe knew that most of them were cowards, but he also knew that they would not hesitate to play dirty if it suited them. He moved out of the way of the next swing only to take a kick to the chest from the growling fox.

Joe punched him twice. Each blow made him stumble as blood dripped from his mouth. The arctic fox spat, turning the snow crimson. “You’re going to pay for that.”

“I can’t wait.” Joe roared and tackled him to the ground. The two rolled around in the snow as he slashed a set of claw marks across the fox’s cheek. He grunted as Derek wrestled free.

The arctic fox slashed deep red marks across Joe’s arm. The pain caused him to wince as Derek licked the blood from his mouth. “Not so tough, are you?”

One of Derek’s companions picked up a pipe and approached the fight. Mike moved to block him, holding a webbed talon up in his face. “Trust me, you really don’t want to do that.” The pine marten looked at Derek and then at Mike and dropped the pipe. “Good decision.”

Another punch to the chest stole Joe’s breath as he fell to his paws. He looked up at his tormentor, who laughed at his presumed victory. “When are you Coalies going to learn? You only exist because we let you. Without people like my father this city would fall apart.”

Joe bared his fangs, staring up at the arctic fox. “I think you’ve got that backwards. I doubt your dad could run this city for a day without people like my father to keep the Candle burning. You like to think you’re important, that you matter, but the truth is you couldn’t survive without us. You want to tell yourself that you’re the power behind Coldhaven, go right ahead. But don’t ever forget that the only real power is the people behind you.” He stood. “And I think all of yours just ran away.”

He laughed only to realize that all his supporters had vanished. Derek held up his paws as Joe and Mike took a step closer. “Get back here you cowards!” He turned back to Joe, enraged. “You filthy Coalies aren’t worth the—!” Whatever he was going to say was lost as Mike punched him in the face.

“What?” He shrugged. “He had it coming.”

Joe chuckled, picking up his father’s rations and heading home. Quietly he opened the door and entered, his father’s chair filled with a small, wrapped package. “Mom?”

She smiled, turning to greet him. “You’re home late.” She did not ask about the new injuries he had acquired as he set the rations on the table. “Well, dinner is almost ready. I know your birthday isn’t for another couple of days, but I thought you could use this.” She sat down in her usual chair. “It’s from your father. Apparently he had bartered for it a while ago but it only came in today.”

“What is it?” he asked, looking down at the brightly colored box.

“Why don’t you open it and find out?” she suggested.

He took his usual seat at the table and held the box between his paws. It was the last gift his father would ever give him. Gingerly, he opened it with a claw. As he lifted the top of the box, inside was a wine-red scarf. He held it in his paws and with his mother’s nodding approval, wrapped it around his neck. “How do I look?”

“Very handsome. Your father would be proud of you.” She smiled at him. “And so am I.”

Joe looked at the now empty chair and for a moment felt the warmth of his father’s love filling his chest. When the day began all he had were empty places, but now they were full of possibilities to explore.