The choppers were fewer now. The last one we saw was a day behind us and I knew it wasn’t looking for us; it was carrying a giant curve of concrete wall. It twisted and swung in the wind, a somber arc. I wondered whether it was part of something they had torn down or something they were building. My mind went to all those girls we had left behind. Had some escaped? What about all the babies? The haunting question was—what were they going to do with all those children?
Around noon, we sat down for lunch. I ventured into the forest, searching for some berries I had tested out a few days ago. They were so sour, I felt my mouth salivating at the thought of them, but they weren’t poisonous and that was good enough for me. Joseph had started following me into the woods, asking questions about the plants. This was easier. I didn’t mind sharing this information and it gave us a way to communicate without touching on the subjects I couldn’t handle. Every now and then though, he looked at me like he wanted to say something more. I was good at reading those times and quickly changed the subject, bending down and picking up a leaf or a pinecone, shoving it in his consternated face and telling him to look at it. I knew he was frustrated with me. I knew it was only a matter of time before he confronted me, but not yet. I wasn’t ready, the leech made sure of that.
When I came back, they were all staring at the box like they were waiting for it to burst into song. There wasn’t much sun and it was taking a while to charge. Slowly, the light came on and they started preparing their lunch. I declined. I had some pine nuts, some dandelions, and the purple berries. I did take some water.
Clara inhaled her lunch. She then complained of a stomachache. So we sat with her for a while until she said it had passed. Just indigestion, she said. Just to be safe, I stayed right by her, exchanging worried glances with Apella.
It became increasingly difficult to walk off the railway line. On one side it fell away steeply. On the other side, we were looking up at the mountainside, straggly pines clinging to the loose, grey dirt. Pebbles constantly dripped down, pinging off the ground. The line was cut into the rock now. Alexei announced that we were not going to be able to hide anymore. We would have to take our chances in the open. We would be hard to spot anyway, all in grey except Alexei. We could hide against the cliff side if we heard the helicopters coming and be quite well camouflaged.
As we rounded a bend, the line seemed to just stop. In front of us was a steep mountainside covered in grass with a heavily wooded peak that went on forever. Juvenile pines, only my height, stretched as far as the eye could see. I could no longer see the railway snaking its way up the mountain. It was a dead end. Without thinking, I grabbed Joseph’s arm.
“What do we do?” I asked, pointing straight ahead and then letting my finger rise to the sky. This was our only plan. What would we do if there were no line to follow?
“It’s all right, look a bit closer,” he said, chuckling. Sure enough, on closer inspection, I could see two black holes punched into the hill. Tunnels. The thought of being underground again filled me with dread. So much so that I didn’t know I was digging my fingernails into Joseph’s arm, clinging to him like a half-drowned animal. He gently put Clara down and grabbed both my shoulders. I was gasping for air.
“Rosa, breathe slowly.” Joseph’s green eyes were locked with mine. I searched them, picking out flecks of gold, watching his eyelashes flutter and close. I concentrated on that, as I tried to slow down.
“I can’t go in there,” I stammered, shaking. I was picturing all the earth piled on top of us. No air, no light.
“Ahhhhh,” Clara emitted a slow, painful sound. She was crouched on the ground, holding her stomach, rocking back and forth. Like that, I snapped out of it. This was no stomachache. Apella knelt down beside her and touched Clara’s enormous belly. She nodded to me.
“We need to find some shelter,” Apella said. I knew there was only one place we could go. Joseph scooped Clara up in his arms and walked briskly towards the black holes. Deshi and Alexei were running ahead. They arrived at the tunnel and entered, disappearing into the blackness like it was a solid curtain. I shuddered.
When I got to mouth of the tunnels, I peered in suspiciously. I couldn’t see a thing. Deshi clicked on his torch and scanned the area. A stone archway curved around and disappeared. There was no light, no end to it, only stark darkness. On both sides of the railway tracks, there was a narrow ledge built up with more carved stone blocks. It was dirty and black, hundreds of years of grime and smoke layering the surface.
Apella spread out one of our blankets and rolled another one up for Clara to rest her head on. It was cold, damp, and completely uninviting.
I had only one boot inside the tunnel and that was enough. I volunteered to collect some wood for a fire. They didn’t seem to hear me, too busy arranging Clara comfortably. I sighed in relief as I turned around, heading away from the darkness. Deshi was close behind me.
We collected the wood in silence. Large, dry branches had fallen from the straggly pines above and there was more than enough. Every now and then, we could hear Clara moaning in pain. The sound bellowing out of the entrance, like the tunnel itself was a dark mouth calling out to us. I told myself I had to go back, that I was being a coward. She was going to need me, but my feet were cemented to the ground.
Deshi put his hand on my shoulder. “We better go back,” he said, his eyes full of concern for Clara. We had all grown to love her. You couldn’t help it. He actually had to pull me there quite forcefully, but we made our way back.
What I saw when we got there was not what I had expected at all. Joseph was sitting next to Clara, holding her hand. “You’re doing great,” he said kindly, running his other hand through his hair adorably. It was an action that only I would recognize. Because even if he felt out of his depth, he wouldn’t show her. She didn’t know the little things he did that conveyed his nervousness, not like I did.
Clara beamed at him. “You’re lucky to be a man,” she said.
He chuckled. “Yeah, I think in this case that’s probably true.”
Clara turned to Apella, her face more serious, “How long now?” She patted her belly and leaned against the wall.
Apella whispered something quietly to her. Clara frowned for a second and then cooed at her stomach, “Not ready to come out yet, are you? I know it’s safe and warm in there but Mama wants to meet you.”
I tried not to roll my eyes at her and bent down to build a fire, watching its light transform the darkness, bringing warmth. Sometimes, Clara would close her eyes and make a noise. She was clearly in pain, but it never lasted very long. She was amazing. She made it look manageable.
I moved to her other side and held her hand. She was sweating and pale but beautiful in the firelight. Showing a woman’s strength in a delicate vessel, holding strong like a warrior. I have never admired someone more.
But after a few hours of this, she was starting to get very tired. She slept between contractions, waking with a start and then falling unconscious when they ended. I fed her small sips of water and rubbed her back.
Joseph was impressive; he helped her through every painful moment. Unlike Deshi, who was standing back from us like labor was catching.
Gritting her teeth, she screamed into the blanket. “C’mon,” Joseph said as he wiped the sweat from her forehead with his sleeve. “That was nothing. What’s all the noise about? You’re scaring the baby back in.” He winked at her. She let out a breathless laugh and tried to swat his arm. Even I had to laugh at that. They were so alike, never letting anything get to them, rising to the challenge like it was something they did every day. I touched my own stomach, wondering what lay ahead for me. I doubted I would handle things as well as Clara. Would I become an out-of-control, screaming mess? Would Joseph be able to cope with me being in that much pain? Would I even want him there?
Then it changed. The pain no longer seemed manageable. She was screaming and tearing at her clothes. One minute she wanted to stand, the next
she was lying straight out on the cold, hard stone, her ear pressed to it like she was listening for something. I tried to talk to her, but it was like she had disappeared, retreated. She was in another zone—one filled with agony and waiting.
Apella asked us to get her to sit down. She needed to examine her. Clara was pacing back and forth. We gently coaxed her down to sitting.
“Is she ok? She’s acting crazy. Is this normal?” I asked, touching Apella’s rounded shoulder.
Apella didn’t look up. She was focused and talked as she worked, lying Clara down and covering her with a blanket. “She’s fine, she was like this in her last labor,” she said as she removed Clara’s boots and pants.
It hit me like a sledgehammer. I actually felt myself blown backwards against the stone wall, digging my nails into it, trying to find something to hold onto, to stop me. Stop.
Apella, unaware of the information she had let slip, peered between Clara’s legs, completely unaware of my growing anger.
“What do mean, her last labor?” I stammered, my lips barely able to commit to speaking. I was trembling with rage, with fear. This wasn’t Clara’s first pregnancy. I moved towards Apella, my body sliding off the edge, slow. I was so close to her face that I barely had to speak for her to hear me.
“How many babies has she had?” I hissed through clenched teeth. She looked away, biting her lip. I grabbed her, squeezing her thin arms, hard. I pulled her away from Clara for a moment. “Look at me. How many?”
“Four,” she said in a barely audible whisper. She sighed it. Four. Like it could be exhaled and expelled from her conscience.
Before anyone could stop me, I slapped her as hard as I could. “You’re a monster,” I screamed, my voice echoing down the tunnel. “You deserved that and so much more.”
She touched her hand to the already bright red handprint on her pale cheek. “I know,” she said quietly as she returned to tending to Clara. Joseph had a hold of me now, but even he was struggling to hold me back. If he hadn’t, I would have strangled her.
Clara was sitting up now, looking at the three of us. Scared. I don’t think she heard us but she was startled out of her dream state by my screaming. I felt sick at the thought that she didn’t know. She didn’t know she’d had four babies taken away from her. It would kill her. I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to breathe when all I wanted to do was scream. Clara needed our help now. Whatever problems Apella and I had would have to wait.
I returned to Clara, wiping the sweat from her face. Her once springy curls were plastered to her forehead. I felt so protective of her. I wanted to wrap her up in a blanket and run away from here. Like if we ran fast enough, arms linked together, somehow we could escape the pain. Apella finished her examination. She said she didn’t have long to go. I was hoping she would say it was time to push, but no.
Clara said she wanted to stand so we tried to help her to her feet. The contractions were so close together she didn’t even get halfway up before she was screaming again. When she stood, I could see she was sitting in a pool of blood. I hadn’t noticed before that Apella and I were both bloodied as well. It was dripping over the ledge and onto the railway line, spreading like a ghastly, growing shadow.
Deshi and Alexei were standing back, keeping the fire going. They looked worried. We were all worried.
Clara started to speak, in breathless whispers between the contractions. She was in so much pain; it was agonizing to see her this way. “I can’t, I can’t. It’s too hard, please,” she whispered.
Joseph took her burning face in his hands, forcing her to focus on him. “Listen to me, you can do this, it’s nearly over. Then you will see your baby.” She blinked once, listening to him. She took a deep breath and focused all her energy on this last task. The pains were on top of each other, leaving barely a second to breathe. But she stopped screaming. She bore down and took control. I could almost see light shining from within her. White hot in its intensity.
It took two hours to get to the point where Apella said she could push. Clara was beyond exhausted, but the reminder that she would soon see her child sustained her right to the end. We lifted her tiny body to a squatting position, Joseph and I holding her up by her arms. It felt like holding nothing. She was air and light. Apella told her that on the next contraction she had to push. I don’t know where she found the strength, but she took a breath and let out an almighty scream. Joseph cried out that he could see the head. I closed my eyes. I couldn’t look.
Clara held herself in that position, waiting for the next assault of pain to tell her to push the baby’s body out. She did this quietly—eyes squeezed tightly shut, body and face tense. Her usually dark skin looked pale, ghostly in the firelight. And then there was a baby in Apella’s arms. A screaming creature, covered in blood and muck. Clara held out her hands eagerly and Apella placed the child across her chest. A boy.
Joseph was grinning at me. “You’re an aunt!” he said. I felt my own mouth creeping up at the corners, smiling too. It was over. Thank God it was over. I looked at him. I wondered if he found that as terrifying as I did, or whether he was looking forward to the birth of his own child. I leaned into Clara’s face and whispered, “I’m glad it’s a boy.” I was thankful there was not going to be a Rosa the Second running around.
She didn’t respond, too engrossed in the baby boy clinging to her chest.
Apella was busy cutting the cord with instruments she pulled from her mysterious pack. So that’s what was in there, medical supplies. Joseph had walked over to Deshi and Alexei, all smiles, relieved. The baby screamed again. Clara was still. The poor girl must have been so tired. Her eyes were closed lightly, her arms haphazardly flopped across her body. I motioned to Alexei; he came staggering over like he’d just been in labor. “Can you take the baby? We should let her get some rest,” I said. He took the child, wrapping him up tightly, just his springy, black hair poking out the top of the blanket. Clara didn’t move. I swept the hair back from her face, her cold face. It left a smear of blood like a brand across her forehead.
No.
I looked to Apella. She took Clara’s limp hand in her own, her fingers on her wrist, searching for a pulse. She shook her head minutely. She checked again, putting her head to Clara’s chest, tears forming and spilling down her cheeks. I stood. Joseph took broad steps towards me and I slipped, feeling cold liquid soaking into my clothes.
No, no, no.
The panic was rising. My mouth felt dry, bile rising in my throat. I slid off the ledge and pushed Apella out of the way. I grabbed both of Clara’s arms and pulled her towards me. “Wake up!” I yelled. Knowing she wouldn’t, knowing she couldn’t open her beautiful brown eyes and smile at me. The light was out. She slumped forward and fell to the side, limp like a ragdoll. Blood. There was so much blood.
Somewhere inside of me, something snapped. It shattered and splintered, sending slithers of debris coursing through my veins, grating and fraying the sides. I held onto the metal bar of the railway line, like it was the only thing stopping me from sinking into the ground. The sun was rising, light penetrating the darkness, showing the devastation the night had hidden from our eyes.
It was over.
She was gone.
My beautiful sister.
I crumpled like a piece of paper in a flame, disintegrating to dust.
I don’t know how long I stayed there. I heard muffled voices—people moving around me, sharp rocks clunking dully together.
Strong arms tried to pull me up from where I squatted, head between my knees, clinging to the rail. A baby cried. Someone punched the wall. I stayed there still.
The light was touching my hands, bare-knuckle white. My body tensed. Someone was talking to me, but it was like I was underwater. His voice warbled and I couldn’t make sense of it.
I was teetering on the edge of a precipice, wind in my hair, staring down into blackness. With all my courage, all my energy, I made the choice. I let go and I let myself f
all, endlessly falling, cold air pulling my hair up over my head.
One finger at a time, detached. Tick, tick, tick. Heavy cloth shrouded me.
He picked me up in a blanket and walked outside. Silent. It was bright. I closed my eyes and focused on his footfalls on the solid earth. Thump, thump, thump. I felt us descending. I opened my eyes and it was cooler, darker.
He lay me down gently, kissing me on the forehead. I felt numb with no senses, like there was a barrier between me and the outside world. He rolled my shirt up and pulled it over my head. The cotton stuck to my skin. Carefully, he used his hands to peel it away from my stomach and chest, push, pry, rip. A faint copper scent stung my nose. He stood me up, removed my boots and trousers, dunking everything in the shallow pond he had brought us to. I sat there. Blank. Cold. Watching the water change from clear to pink and then clear again as it washed away. Washed her away.
He soaked a cloth in water, and begun carefully wiping the rust-colored blood from my body. I didn’t care anymore. I let him touch me, lifting my arms, turning my head, pulling my hair back and cleaning my neck. He did it all slowly and deliberately. There was no charge in his touch. This was a kindness to one who was broken.
When he was done, he wrapped me in the blanket and propped me up against a tree trunk like a wooden puppet. I watched, disconnected, as he soaked my clothes and rinsed them until the water ran clear.
He gathered me up, in only my underclothes and a blanket, and slung my wet uniform over his shoulder, taking me back into the sunlight.
The world was grey. The color washed away, dripping down the sides of the trees like it was soaking back into the earth. I moved through the world but not in it.
We kept walking, leaving it all behind.
We walked through the darkness for miles. When the light started to show at the end, I took up my initial position, clinging to the rails. I didn’t want the light on me. It burned my eyes. Coward, coward, coward, the light screamed, balancing a slant over my face. You couldn’t save her.
From then on, he carried me as much as his strength would allow and, after his arms trembled under my weight, he held my hand and led me like a child. I followed him. I let him carry me. The fight in me was gone.
The Woodlands Page 18
