--------------------> Click Here For Part One <-------------------
The decision weighed on Sam's mind. He did not want to upset Mr. Schull, and investigating the source of the voice would surely be something that would upset him. Then again, Sam really wanted to see who made the voice. The more he listened to it, the more appealing it became; the soft delicateness of it gave him a peace that quieted the strange feelings inside. The strong desire to see the voice’s source continued to weaken Mr. Schull’s warnings, and after a few more vocalizations from the voice, Sam had made his decision.
He went back to the front of the house and went through the hole into his room again. He walked around the pile of rubble and went to the door. Mr. Schull always opened the door from the outside because there was no doorknob on the inside “so it does not distract you” as Mr. Schull always said. Unsure how to get to the voice, Sam went back outside. He thought that maybe he could yell through the wall to the voice, but he then thought that maybe it would be better to see whose voice it was before he talked to it.
He went to the porch again and decided to go through the front door. Having never opened a door in his life, Sam only guessed at how it worked. He remembered how Mr. Schull always grabbed the small, round device off to the side of the door whenever he closed the door to Sam’s room.
With that in mind, he grasped the small, circular knob on the door and tried pushing in, but the door did not move. Confused, he tried pulling the knob out as well as pushing it in, but neither worked. Then, he accidentally rotated the knob while pushing inward and the door swung open. He now knew how doors worked.
Once inside the house, Sam began taking in the details of the room. There was a dark red rug on the floor in front of him, a brown couch and chair immediately to his right and a mysterious black box on the far side of the room with a flat, glossy surface that faced the couch and chair. There was a large grandfather clock in the corner opposite of the black box, and the walls in the whole room featured paintings and other miscellaneous decorations that only confused Sam. To the left of the room was a mahogany table with three candles in the center, and six funny-looking wood chairs surrounding it. Straight ahead of Sam laid a corridor that piqued his interest.
He walked across the room towards the corridor. The voice continued to scream, and Sam knew he was getting closer since the voice became clearer and louder. After a few steps down the corridor, he came to a closed door that seemed to house the voice, since it was now at its loudest. Sam’s heart was beating hard in his chest as he listened intently to the voice on the other side of the door.
The voice was soft, as Sam knew from before, but the quality of the voice was far purer and less muffled now that he was inside the house. For the moment, he was content just listening to the voice because of how different and gracious it sounded. It was not deep like his or Mr. Schull’s voices. It was high-pitched and fair. Sam began to wonder what kind of person made such a peculiar voice that differed from his and Mr. Schull’s.
After enjoying the voice for a few moments, and desiring to see how different the person was, Sam decided that it was time to open the door and see the mysterious person. He brought his hand towards the doorknob, but hesitated.
This is the second person, besides Mr. Schull, that I will meet, he realized.
In all the books Sam had read and perused, he could not remember seeing even a single picture of a person. Most of the books were about animals, nature, logic, mathematics and English.
What will this person look like?
The enormity of it all almost made Sam change his mind about opening the door. He waited there, staring at the doorknob while he continued to listen to the voice and weigh his decision. After a few more vocalizations from behind the door, curiosity and desire won out, and he made his final decision to see who the person was. With his heart pounding harder than ever, he grabbed the doorknob, rotated it and pushed the door open to see a person inside.
Upon the sound of the opening door, the person inside stopped mid-sentence and looked over at him. The person was a little shorter than Sam, and had much longer hair and fairer skin. It had a face that made Sam’s heart jump in an odd, but pleasant, way.
Sam examined the figure standing before him. He noticed how the person had a shape that was more curvaceous than his own and how it had wide hips and two, odd-looking lumps protruding from its chest. Sam did not know what to do or say, so he kept staring.
After a moment, though, he began to have even more unwelcome feelings that he did not understand. They were altogether strange, unwelcome, and powerful. The feeling consisted of a strange tension in his abdomen and groin that he had experienced when he was around the age of twelve and thirteen. Mr. Schull had taught him that those feelings and bodily reactions were the greatest hindrance to his growth, and that they must be ignored. What intrigued Sam about the feelings this time, though, was that they seemed to serve a purpose; when we was younger and had experienced the same feelings, they didn’t seem to serve any purpose. Although all the feelings and sensations were unwelcome and took him by surprise, Sam found them pleasant and not discomforting as the earlier feelings caused by the loud noises.
After a long pause with the two staring at each other, the other person said awkwardly, “Umm. Hello.”
Sam paused slightly before answering. “Hello.”
“Who are you?” Sam asked the figure.
“My name is July. Spelt like the month, but sounds like ‘Julie.’”
“I like that name, July.” Sam said with more confidence. “My name is Sam.”
“I like yours too.” July said.
“Do you know Mr. Schull?” Sam asked.
July looked confused. “You mean Mrs. Schull?”
Now Sam was confused too. “No, his name is Mr. Schull.”
“His?” July asked, looking even more confused. “What is ‘his’?”
“His name is what his is.” Sam said with a hint of irritation.
“But what is ‘his’? Like what kind of a word is that? It’s new to me.”
“It’s a pronoun for a person. Didn’t you learn about that from him?”
“I learned about pronouns from her--Mrs. Schull.”
“Yes, the pronoun for people.”
There was another pause. They looked at each other for a bit, each trying to make sense of the confusion.
“It’s Mr., and the pronouns for people is ‘his’ and ‘him.’ Sam said after the pause.
“No, it’s Mrs. and ‘her.’”
Sam was getting frustrated, and he could tell that July was too. He took a breath and asked another question. “So what non-possessive pronoun do you use?”
Even though Sam had never learned about this word either, he felt like they were getting somewhere. “So either we are wrong, or Mr.--or, Mrs.--Schull is wrong.” Sam said.
July thought for a moment. “How can Mrs.--or Mr.--Schull be wrong?”
“You’re right,” Sam said, “Schull--we should call him or her, ‘Schull,’ from now on--has taught us everything we know. Shull is trustworthy.”
“Then maybe we just heard wrong.” July said.
There was another pause.
“We should wait for Schull to return so Schull can clear this up. If you ask me, it’s interesting that Schull taught us two different things.” July said.
“Yeah, what if Schull purposely taught us differently?” Sam replied.
“But what is also interesting,” July said, “is that Schull kept us separated from each other for the past 19 years--”
“You’re 19?” Sam interjected. “I’m 21.”
“We look to be around the same age.” July said awkwardly, not sure how to respond.
“Why would Schull do this--keep us apart and teach us different things?”
Sam thought for a moment. “I don’t know.”
July voiced an idea. “Maybe Schull thought we would be distractions for each other? You know, in our personal growth?”
“Possibly.” Sam replied as a pang of realization swept through him. “What about our personal growth now? How can we return to our former lives after seeing each other? Wouldn’t that make it worse?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” Sam began, “If we each end up back in our rooms to create our worlds, how could we possibly keep each other out of our memories?”
“Don’t you see? I was outside, walking around, and now I saw you. I now have all these memories of the outside world. How could I forget them and you?”
July thought for a moment. “Maybe Schull will be able to extract them somehow.”
“Even if he could, would you want to forget me? Because I don’t want to forget you. I like seeing you.”
July gave Sam a peculiar smile. Her face crinkled under the pressure of her puckering grin, which gave her an irresistible image for Sam to behold. He felt the abdominal tension return.
“No.” She replied with a pleasant tone.
“Well then, while we wait for Schull to return, want to explore with me?” Sam said with a smile that matched hers.
She hesitated, and lost her smile for a moment.
“You can trust me. I’ve been outside. It’s safe.” Sam pleaded.
“OK.” July answered as she stepped towards Sam.
Sam watched her every move as she walked to him. Her gliding steps held a gracious ease that made his heart flutter. The way her hips pivoted and the way her legs delicately took their turn prompted Sam to smile once again. He liked July.
He turned to leave. “Follow me.” He said while taking another glance at her frame.
Wow, he thought.
The couple gradually made their way out of the house with Sam showing July the items in the room that he previously examined. After she was satisfied with her perusal of the room, she followed Sam out the front door into the world beyond.
He sat back against an oak tree and sighed with relief. Seeing his two “children” (as he called them) break free, he now found hope for the new world. Although the current world was riddled with an incurable disease, Sam and July were safe. Together, they would build a new society and a new world, and it would start here.