Chapter 3
Tay disappeared from sight, only her voice trailing gave hint of direction. Down. Kea came out of her misery trance and became alive to the moment. The earth had given away under her daughter’s feet as she approached the sink hole, the ceiling she was standing on collapsed and she, too, went down. She fell into water and came up struggling, gasping, orientating. Her daughter connected with her- clutched her neck and she went down again. She had to fight to separate herself from her own daughter. She hit her daughter in the face, stunning her, she undid herself from her the tangle of her daughter’s bag. She surfaced, recovered, and only then did she grab her daughter. She pulled her over to the wall. She struggled to get the pack off of her. She held her daughter, awkwardly, holding the side of the wall. Kea yelled at her daughter. She yelled at all the gods and goddesses.
Tay coughed and then screamed and clutched her mother, grabbing her about the neck.
“You’re choking me!” Kea yelled. “Stop it. Stop! Just stop. I got you. I need you to hold the wall,” Kea said.
“I am scared…”
“Hold the fucking wall!” Kea snapped.
Kea cried, but did not let go. Kea was so mad she wanted to just drown her and climb out.
Her anger was renewed by the fact she had held such a thought. She forced herself to breathe.
“Ease up, or I am going to go under,” Kea said. “Ease up. That’s it.” She sang a gentle song. “There we go. We got this. You and I. Together. We are both good swimmers. See. We’re okay. Hold onto this wall so I can find a way out.”
“You’ll leave me,” Tay said.
“I am not leaving you,” Kea said. “I need to get us out of here. I need you to hold onto the wall.”
Kea let go of her mother and clung to the wall. Kea followed the edge of the wall, studying the ceiling and walls for a way out. There was no indication that she would be able to climb out. The hole above was isolated. She smelled something awful and realized her hand was not in mud, but bat poop. She washed it off and swam back to her daughter. A huddle of bats were suddenly visible. There were lots of disinterested bats and sleeping bats and a few watchful bats.
“Fuck, gods, why do you hate us so?” she asked no one.
“I am scared, K’ma,” Tay said.
“I know,” Kea said.
“Why is there light below us?” Tay asked.
Kea looked down. There was a light source below. It puzzled her enough that she told Tay to stay put and swam down to investigate. She swam with eyes open; the water stung her eyes, likely due to bat urine. There was a tunnel and light on the other side, sunlight streaming into the water. She came up for air and held the rock. She was trying to make sense of it, but also trying to resist hope that there was actually a way out.
“I think there is another opening to the surface. Another room. We have to go underwater, swim through a tunnel, and then come up,” Kea said.
“No!” Tay said, firmly.
“It may be a way out,” Kea said.
“No,” Tay said, crying.
“If we stay here, we die,” Kea said.
“I can’t do this,” Tay said.
“You can hold your breath and hold onto me,” Kea said.
“No,” Tay said.
Kea nodded. “Okay. I am going to go check it out.”
“No!” Tay said. “Don’t leave me.”
“You can either come with me, or stay here till I come back,” Kea said.
“No!” Tay said, reaching for her.
Kea slapped her hands. “Hands on the wall.”
Tay cried. The echo of it was too much. Kea took a deep breath and went under. Tay grabbed at her and Kea fought her and put her back on the wall. She came back up.
“You stay put!” Kea snapped.
Kea took another breath and went down again. He daughter’s voice was exchanged for the sound of water. She pushed down towards the tunnel, forced herself into it. She pulled herself along easily enough, but at one point it was so tight that she knew she and her daughter would not fit through at the same time. She barely made it through herself, and for moment she thought she might drown. She slipped through, her clothing and skin torn. She fought hard for the surface and gasped. She found herself suddenly surrounded by people, grabbing her up and pulling her to the shore. She fought and screamed but stopped when she was on shore and there were weapons pointed at her.
“Please. My daughter needs me,” Kea begged.
They lowered their weapons. Two men went into the water. When they returned, they had a terrible fight with a strong willed four year old. Tay went straight to her mother and hit her.
“You left me!” Tay yelled.
Kea grabbed her up and forced her legs into a lap hold positioned. Kea held her tightly, eyes closed for the longest time. When she looked up, the naked people were dressed. They stood there, men and women, waiting, patiently.
“Thank you,” Kea said.
She was silently led to a crude, rope tied ladder, where she convinced Tay to proceed up. Kea went behind her. At the surface, the group led her into the forest. The trees here were impossibly large, and grew larger the deeper they went. She had never been so deep in the forest. They came upon a ladder that went into a tree. All but one of them climbed. They pulled the ladder up. They used it to go higher, and disappeared into the canopy. The man that remained on the ground with Kea and Tay motioned for them to follow. They walked for the better part of the day, taking breaks to relieved themselves, and then continuing on. The man ate leaves from bushes as he walked, and stopped once to gather berries, motioned for them to eat, and they continued on.
They came to a clearing, a circle of trees, and were suddenly surrounded by Walking Bears. Tay screamed. Kea grabbed her up, wanting to retreat, but there was nowhere to go. The man motioned for her to be calm. The Walking Bears were bigger than people, had long ringed tails, and wide people eyes. They gestured with their noses; it looked like a gesture, but could have been scent sampling measure. One wet his hand with a tongue and folded an ear back, cleaning it. Another gestured to the man. The man climbed up on its back.
Kea and Tay were separated and carried by Walking Bears. Kea cursed them and her mouth was covered by a hand that was all too human; human and alien. Black leathery hands, with fur on the back side. Tay’s screams were equally muffled. They sprang through the forests at breakneck speeds, bounding off trees, over felled trees, up into the canopy of leaves and down again, and along paths that were likely not paths, as they folded and closed. The trees became smaller, less densely populated and they came out into a clearing. Kea was set on her feet. Tay was handed to her. The man pointed away from the forest. Walking Bears disappeared into the forest, one by one, each taking a time to touch Kea and Tay before departing.
The man pointed, then he and his Walking Bear disappeared into the forest. The Walking Bears and man were gone for a moment before Kea came to her senses, turned and walked away from the forest. After a while, she put Tay on her feet and they walked hand in hand. They walked silently until almost night fall. They lay in tall grass as night fell and simply looked up at stars, cradled by grass.
“I told you the walking bears were real,” Tay said.
“I told you they didn’t eat people,” Kay said.
They both laughed until Kea started crying. Tay immediately snuggled in closer and tried to reassure her that everything would be okay.
निनमित
Kea and Tay came across a nomadic people that walked the land. They didn’t speak common, but they were welcomed. Tay actually learned some of their words, and there was laughter with the people. They walked with them for a month. One day they awoke to find the nomads had packed up and departed so quietly that even Kea hadn’t awakened. One remained and was there when Kea woke. She was afraid that there temporary friendship was now over and she and her daughter would be killed. The man pointed in a direction. He then turned and walked away, leaving Kea and Tay provisions for the day.
“Did we do something wrong?” Tay asked.
“I don’t know,” Kea said.
And so they walked. They peed and pooped in open fields without the bother of burying it. By midday, they found a road sturdy enough for a cart. Kea chose a direction and they followed the road. They came upon a row of nut bearing trees. The next evidence of civilization was the Inn. There was a village in the visible distance. Kea slowed her pace. A new worry occupying her mind. There was nothing to it but to go.
A man out chopping wood saw them coming. He paused in his work, planted the ax in the trunk, and waited for them to get closer. He was an elder, but still strong as an ox. Kea had to remind herself that not all elders were frail. Stereotypes were hard to dispel, even in light of the truth.
“Odd,” he said, sitting on the log he was carving. “Never seen a woman or child come from Morless, less’n they were on a horse or in a wagon.”
“We were robbed,” Kea said. That was truth.
“Were you now?” the man asked.
“And carried by Walking Bears,” Tay volunteered. She said ‘ouch’ when her mother pinched her shoulder.
The man smiled, but didn’t challenge the truth of it.
“You may skirt the village and continue on down the road, or you may remain as my guest for a month, before being allowed into the village,” the man offered. “If you choose to stay, you must remain for the month.”
“I told you I was robbed and can’t pay,” Kea said.
“I heard you,” the man said.
“I am not going…”
“Mam, I am not the forcing kind. I would point out, however, if this were a bigger city with a Circle of Elders, you would not be allowed to decline any advances and you would already be past the point of no return. You’re in my sphere of influence. My sister runs the Inn on the far side of Townsend, and I promise you, she will get her favors met. But, if you prefer women, skirt the village and come back to the road,” the man said. “The next city after us is Everfield. A good thirty day march from here- if you’re a man without child or urgency. I expect a wagon along in a couple weeks. Sometimes they take hitchers, but the drivers are lonely. They won’t ask you. They will take it from you, maybe even this little one.”
He stood up, took the ax from the tree he was working on. Kea was startled, but he turned to go the house. He figured she had already made the decision and she felt some anger towards his assumption.
“Come. I’ll show you a room. Got running water and everything,” he said. He motioned gently. “Come on, I can smell you from here and might even believe you are Walking Bears.”
निनमित
When Kea emerged, she was wearing the garment the man had provided. Both she and Tay were given simple, unisex dresses, practically just potato sacks with holes cut in it for arms and legs, only much nicer material than that. Many inns had these, but Kea didn’t expect him to have any. This village seemed too rustic to have modern amenities. The clothes were meant to be disposable, but could be washed and reused. They had been wrapped in paper, sealed, so not evidently reused. It would allow her time to wash and dry hers and her daughter’s clothes. It allowed her modesty, falling to her knees, and tied by a string.
Kea emerged hoping to find food and bring it to her room. There was food. It was set on the community table in the main room. The man had prepared it and was sitting at the table eating his portion.
“You don’t have to eat with me,” the man said. “But I do insist that you pour yourself a glass of wine, first.”
Kea came to the table. She chose a wine, opened it, and poured a glass. She drank from it. He motioned her forwards. She came forwards. He held his hand up to her. She took it gently, drew it to her lips and kissed it. He drew her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. He let her hand go, all of it merely formality.
“It’s begun,” He said.
“Thirty days,” Kea said. “I assure you, my daughter and I are well.”
“I believe you,” he said. “Leave this glass with me. You may take another if you like.”
Kea set her glass of wine in front of the man. He nodded.
“I apologize. I failed to learn your name,” Kea said.
“Bob,” he offered.
“Just Bob?”
“Robert if you wish to me more formal, but yes, just Bob,” he said.
“You live here alone?” Kea said.
“If you want my story, you will sit and eat with me. You didn’t bring your daughter, so if she is waiting, please, tend to her first,” Robert said.
“Tay,” Kea said. “My daughter’s name is Tay. I am Kea. I am grateful to you hosting us.”
Tay made it known she had been waiting by the door. Mother motioned her to come. She seated her at the table, bringing food and water in reach. She used a spoon to break a soft boiled egg. Yoke ran into the rice. She put this on the spoon and sat the spoon down. Her daughter took over. There was bread. She cut and buttered a piece. Tay put the spoon down in favor of bread and Kea put more rice and egg on it.
Robert observed without judgment. He continued at his meal.
“Your sister owns this place?” Kea asked.
“No,” Robert chuckled. “Oh, she would like to. It belonged to my wife. The village holds the paper on it. No one is rushing to be edged out to take over, but their hell bent my sister won’t own both.”
“Where is your wife?” Kea asked.
“She and my daughter died in the Last,” Robert said.
Kea looked at him skeptically. “You’re not old enough to have experienced the last fall. I wasn’t even born during the fall.”
“I am 82,” Robert said.
“You are not,” Kea argued. “Late sixties, maybe.”
“No, I am really 82,” Robert said. “And the village keeps me here because I am so damn useful. I ferry their dead. I bring them consumables from the forests and fields. There’s not an old person in the village as useful as I. Fuck, you’d be lucky to find someone your age in the village that is so employable.”
“Seriously?” Kea said.
“Kids these days, they just prefer their magic and games,” Robert said. “Lord help them if the plumbing stops up.”
“You can do plumbing?” Kea said.
“I can do everything,” Robert said. “I attribute my skills and work ethics to my longevity, and sheer determination to get things done properly.”
“You didn’t get sick? In the fall?” Tay asked. She was listening.
“Oh, I got deathly sick. I was bed ridden for nearly four days, and then intermittent fatigue for a month. My cough lasted for months after that even. All I can say is the gods didn’t want me,” Robert said. He finished his rice and cleaned the egg residue on his plate with bread.
Kea took to her own food, intermittently stopping to put food on her daughter’s spoon.
“Thank you, Robert, for allowing us to stay. For this food,” Kea said.
“Would you like to share your story?”
“I’d rather not,” Kea said.
Robert nodded. He stood, pushed his chair in, and began gathering his dishes to be clean.
“Leave them. I will clean them,” Kea said.
“I got this, and your dishes,” Robert said. “You’re the guests.”
“Please, leave them, so I may feel modestly useful,” Kea said.
Robert considered. He left the dishes. He went to the sink and washed his hands, his face. He returned and sat in a chair by the fire place. He took a book from a night stand. A directional lamp was turned and pushed at his book. Kea finished eating and began gathering dishes. Tay helped in bringing items to her mother. When the table was cleared, Tay made her way to the fire. There were books shelves to either side and she was looking the closet books.
“Any kid books?”
Robert thought about it, got up, and pulled one from the shelf. He handed it to her. She examined while he made himself comfortable. He was going to return to reading but he was fascinated by her effort to make the book work. She tapped on the cover. She opened it, tapped on the pages, traced the pictures, and finally, with extreme frustration in her voice, she declared, “It’s not working.”
“It is working exactly as it was designed to,” Robert said. “Have you no real books where you come from?”
“Show me,” Tay said, coming towards him.
Robert pointed sternly at her. “Stop.”
Tay stopped, trying to figure out what was wrong. Kea looked over the bar that separated the kitchenette from the living room.
“Your mother can show you,” Robert said.
“It’s your book. You can’t show me how it works?” Tay asked.
“You’re not my child. I am a stranger. You will defer to your mother,” Robert said. “Now, you can sit by the fire, or in that chair, but you will maintain a boundary with me. Stay out of grabbing range.”
“Tay, do as he says,” Kea said. “Go sit down. I will be there directly.”
Tay frowned and went and sat by the fire. She turned the pages and looked at the pictures. Kea came, drying her hands on her dress, and sat with her. She explained how a real book works.
“That’s boring,” Tay said.
“This is the way it was done forever,” Robert said.
“You looked at the pictures, what have you discerned?” Kea asked.
“It’s about a mouse,” Tay said. “I think it is his bed time, and he is resisting.”
Robert chuckled.
“You should know some of these words,” Kea said.
“Moon,” Tay pointed. “Green. I didn’t see a picture of Emissary.”
“Oh, that book is before the time of the messenger, and from another world,” Robert said.
“Let us begin. Goodnight moon, by Margaret Wise Brown,” Kea began.
निनमित
Kea emerged from her room once Tay was sound asleep. She found Robert still in his chair, reading. She sat in an opposing chair, towards the edge.
“Are you a carrier?” Kea asked.
“I am not,” Robert said. “But I don’t know you, and I don’t know what immunities your daughter has. Why risk it? What place have you come from that she doesn’t have better boundaries?”
“You would protect her?” Kea asked. “A stranger?”
Robert studied her face. He directed his lamp towards her, bringing her out of the shadows. “I don’t understand something.”
“You honor the old ways, her boundaries,” Kea said. “But does that extend to not molesting her?”
“Is that what you were dealing with?” Robert asked.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Kea said.
Robert marked his page and put the book on the night stand. He came forwards in his chair. “I would never engage a child in that manner. I would not harm a child. I would give my life to protect a child. I would give my life to protect you, forever more, no longer a stranger.”
Kea measured his statement. She nodded, stood up, and held out at a hand.
“Take me to your bed. I will pay you for room and board,” Kea said.
“No,” Robert said.
“What? You don’t want me?”
“Oh, sure, I’d fuck the shit out of you, but not now, not after your disclosure, not in the absence of understanding. You keep your secrets, I don’t need to know things,” Robert said. “I will maintain my boundaries with you, as well.”
Kea lowered her hand. “Now it is I who doesn’t understand.”
“Part of the Ways of the Elder is to test strangers. We are recklessly intimate because elders tend to be lonely, but the Way also assumes we are more susceptible to infectious diseases, and the best way to determine if a stranger is a carrier is by making them commune together with elders. Elders tend to get sick fast. That is probably especially true for big cities like the one you come from. Many elders would likely vie for your time, to touch youth once again. That won’t necessarily be true here. You could be a carrier. I could be immune to what you’re carrying. We might live here a month, even sharing a bed, and we won’t know the truth of it till you’re in the village and a month later someone gets sick,” Robert said. “I don’t need servicing for payment. I will eat after you and drink after you and if I am vulnerable to you, then that will be teased out in its time.”
“But you do want to be serviced?” Kea said.
“I am old, not dead,” Robert said. “You will be, too, if the gods hate you. You will do your time alone, as we all do.”
“How do you know I am from a big city?”
“The mark on your daughter’s forearm, banning her from a claim on someone’s property,” Robert said. “Standard practice in a whore house.”
“I was a paramour,” Kea said. “I was courted. I accepted. It was a bad deal.”
“He will come looking for you?”
“I doubt it,” Kea said. “That would likely be too much work on his part. I suspect he has others and he will move on.”
Robert nodded. “So, you left others to deal with his nonsense. He molests other children?”
“I only caught him with Tay. I suspect if he can do it to his own daughter, he will do it to others,” Kea said.
“And there are no laws protecting children in this grand city of yours?”
“In the city, yes,” Kea said. “On the islands, the private estates, the authority belongs to the matriarch.”
“You told her?”
“I did not. I was not allowed audience with her. Even if she granted it, Tay was marked, and she would likely see it as a negotiation tactic for alternative compensation,” Kea said.
Robert shifted to the fire. He opened the metal screen and provoked it with an iron.
“You’re a smart woman. You didn’t just leave. You had a plan.”
“I planned our escape,” Kea agreed. “Very little of it went as planned.”
Robert nodded. “A long and winding road,” he sang.
Kea didn’t understand the reference. “There were no roads. We went off path,” Kea said.
Robert didn’t correct her lack of understanding. Many people didn’t get his references.
“Without supplies?”
“It didn’t go as planned,” Kea said again. She began to cry, and then wept, standing there.
Robert got up and pulled her into an embrace. She accepted and cried on his shoulder. He let her. When the storm had dissipated, he kissed her tear stained cheek. She kissed his lips. He allowed this and then he backed up.
“You should retire for the night,” Robert said. “Breakfast will be ready at light.”