Onliest

by J Daniel Batt

  Under the table, Kerwen grabbed her hand. She had seen the tears. Kerwen mouthed a single word that pounded on Syn’s heart. Please was the unverbalized request. Syn darted her eyes away from the silent but pleading Kerwen.

  Neci stood up. “If we were designed to be Eve, then that’s the Garden. But somehow, Olorun has taken it upon herself to stand as the sentry to the Garden and not let us through. The angel and her flaming sword, keeping us in Hell. So, I think we have a plan. I think—”

  “It’s true.” The words were out of Syn’s mouth before she knew what she was saying. In an instant she knew she had made a mistake and yet, her anxiety ebbed away. She had not wanted to say it, and yet, somewhere down inside, something released as truth washed through her. Perhaps the lie wrapped around the truth was that she truly had wanted to confess it all to them from the beginning. The words were carried with a hope that they would understand and the gulf between her and the Sisters would be bridged through her honesty and their understanding.

  “Excuse me?” Neci said, sitting back down.

  The others all looked at Syn, and the room went quiet.

  Syn could not lift her head up. The words came slow. “It’s true. That other Disc is true. But it was inhabited. They just died out faster, I think. I’ve had to clear the bodies away, but it’s just like you said. It’s green. There are trees. There’s a beautiful river.”

  Neci stood up and sat in the chair next to Syn, her red dress flowing behind her. “What are you telling us? Are you trying to say that you’ve been to the other Disc? That you found a way over there and you came back here?”

  Syn shook her head. “No.” Syn’s throat tightened. She strained to say the next words. “I came from that Disc. I’ve lived there all this time and just found out about this side. When you tried to blow up the gate.”

  Kerwen coughed. “Told you it was a stupid—”

  Neci held a hand up to stop her. “You’ve lived over there? Did you come with other Sisters? Did you leave them behind?”

  Syn shook her head. “Just me.”

  Taji grunted. “Lie. She killed them all.” Taji pointed a fork in Neci’s direction. “She’s just like you.”

  Neci shot a sharp look at the girl, and Taji averted her gaze. Neci put a hand on Syn’s shoulder. “Is that true? Did you kill the others?” Then with words just above a whisper, she added, “Tell the truth. I’ll understand if you did.”

  Kerwen twisted in her chair at this utterance.

  Syn looked over at Kerwen. “I didn’t know there were other Sisters. I was the only one. I was telling the truth. I woke up in my crèche. There were no others. Just me and my companion.”

  Neci looked around the room. “So why did you leave?”

  “I—I was lonely. I was by myself. I heard someone else on the other side of the gate asking for help.”

  Taji and Kerwen traded glances. Pigeon hunched up and leaned in. One of them whispered, “Laoule.”

  Syn continued, “I had never heard another person’s voice. At least not in real life. I watched movies all the time. I could talk to my companion. But I was by myself. I didn’t have Sisters.”

  Neci leaned in. “You left your Disc because you wanted to meet us?”

  Syn nodded.

  Neci drew close enough that Syn could feel her hot breath on her face. “You left Paradise because you were lonely? For us?”

  Syn nodded again, slighter this time.

  Neci drew back and roared with laughter. “Bwah!” The others gave slight chuckles, but the roar was Neci’s alone.

  In a flash, Neci grabbed Syn by the back of her neck, twisted her head around to look her in the eyes, and growled, “You lived in the Garden, you bitch? You lying, selfish, fat bitch. You could’ve taken us there the whole time! You have been sitting here, in this hellhole, with your great big secret!”

  Taji coughed. “She’s not told you everything, yet.”

  Neci’s voice grew dark. “What else?”

  Syn looked at Taji from the corner of her eyes.

  Taji said, “Tell her about the greenhouse.” She jabbed her fork in Syn’s direction and then at Kerwen.

  Neci glared at Kerwen. “What?”

  Kerwen held up her hands, “I was going to tell you!”

  “What?” Neci slammed her fist on the table.

  Kerwen pointed, “She can make things in the ship activate. We walked into the first greenhouse, and she turned all of the lights on. Not just the sunstrips. Even the buzzy little machines turned on. Everything. The ship responds to her like it did for the companions.”

  Neci turned back to look at Syn, and Kerwen mouthed I’m sorry to Syn. Syn glared.

  Neci pressed her thumb further into Syn’s neck, sending a sharp jab of pain down her back. “Is that true?”

  Syn could barely move, but she gave the slightest nod.

  “How?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Liar!”

  “I don’t. I promise. It just does.”

  “So you can go back up and open the gate?”

  Syn shook her head. “No. No—it won’t—it wouldn’t open for me. My companion had to open an access point. Even he couldn’t open the gate.”

  “Liar.”

  “No. I’m telling—”

  Neci jerked and slammed Syn’s head against the table, splitting her forehead open. Blood splashed across the table, and Syn cried out in pain.

  Neci roared. “You came over, and you can go back! Get up! We’re going now!” She jerked Syn to her feet as blood poured down the girl’s face.

  Kerwen held her hands up. “No way!”

  In a flash, Neci spun and turned on her, fire in her eyes. “What?”

  “I’m not going out into the Desert at night. It’s a few kilometers to the closest Jacob. We won’t make it.”

  Neci looked above, into the darkness of night. “Dammit.” Then to Syn. “Tomorrow morning, we’re going up there, bright and early, and you’re opening that gate.”

  Through her sobs, Syn said, “I can’t. I’m telling the truth. Only Blip can.”

  Neci pushed her back and slapped Syn, sending her to the floor. “I said to stop lying!”

  Something wriggled from underneath Syn. From out of her backpack, a black streak zipped into the air and hovered above Syn. Huck! It squeaked—something Syn had never heard it do, and then just as fast, he flew away and was gone. “Huck!” Syn shouted.

  “You brought a machine into Zondon? Here?” Neci kicked at Syn’s leg.

  Syn held her hands up. “No! I didn’t know! He must’ve hidden.”

  Kerwen interjected, pulling Neci’s focus away, “I told you the companion could do it.”

  Neci shot back, “I believed you. That’s why I didn’t bash the thing to bits. I had hopes. But it won’t turn on.” Then she looked at Syn. “But machines love you, don’t they?” She pulled back and pointed out the door. “I bet you know how to turn him on.” She was spitting as she spoke. Every word came out with a rasp. “You are going to get that companion to work, and you are going to show us how to get back to the Garden.” She reached out and slapped Syn hard. “You little lying brat. You’ve lived in Paradise, and you have that gall to lie to me about it. No more!”

  She snagged Syn’s spear from the ground and slammed it against the table and a crack radiated down the shaft. “You came through. You’re going to take us back. And I swear, if that machine has told anything to that Great Old Woman, I’ll personally kill you. Olorun is blind and deaf. It’s going to stay that way. She has no eyes, no ears, and no voice inside this aborted world. She rejected us. Discarded us like a forgotten mass. And I won’t have her following us into Eden.” Neci held the cracked spear in front of her, a single white line running the course of the shaft raggedly jutting like lightning, turning it like a lathe in her hands. Her face curled in disgust. She flung it across the room, and it smacked against the wall.

  Above them, the clouds thundered again, and drops o
f rain began to pour down.

  Syn stammered, “I was going to tell you.” Blood dripped from her lip as she came up onto her knees. “I was scared.”

  Then as if a switch had been turned off, the anger drained from Neci, and she stood there poised. The fury behind her eyes vanished. She spoke clear and confident. “You were going to tell me?”

  Syn nodded her head. “I was going to take you there.”

  The Crimson Queen crouched down and lifted Syn’s chin up. For a brief time, Neci examined Syn’s face. Then she dabbed at a tear and wiped a swath a blood from Syn’s cheek, staining her own fingers. It didn’t reduce much of the blood on Syn’s face but left a clean streak to the dark skin below. “You are telling the truth. Okay. And now?”

  Syn opened her eyes, straining to focus through the blood and tears matted over her eyelids. Her words were a whisper, “I’ll take you there.”

  Neci stood up, straightened her dress, and wiped a splatter of Syn’s blood from her own face. She nodded. “Well then. If I could, we would leave tonight, but…Kerwen, you are correct. Tomorrow morning. So, let’s all get a good night’s sleep, and we’ll be up early, ready to go. Have everything packed.” Neci turned away. “And clean her up. Post a golem by her room. Grab her companion and have him loaded to go. We leave in the morning. Oh, and Taji, I need your help in my lab preparing the new ones. We have a final bit of heavy lifting to do before we leave.” She glanced back at Syn and gave a wink. “A guarantee. A back-up plan of sorts.”

  As she left, her dress dragged through the small pool of blood at Syn’s feet. In her exit, unseen by her, Neci smeared a streak of crimson across the cold concrete.

  34

  Menagerie and Blood

  “[A] dragon had set up its nest at the base of the tree, the Zu-bird had placed his young in its crown, and in its midst the demoness Lilith had built her house.”

  —Gilgamesh and the Huluppu-Tree

  Unlike the last night, sleep came fast. She had bathed again, but ended it as the water turned red from her own blood. She slipped into the old, tattered blankets wearing only a thin shirt one of the Sisters (she assumed Pigeon) had left out for her. Her head hit her pillow, and despite hearing the hoarse breathing of the burly set outside her room, she fell asleep in moments.

  In her dark dreams, she heard her name whispered. “Syn. Syn. Syn, wake up.”

  She swam up into consciousness and opened her eyes to the still eyes of her own face looking down at her. The mirror Syn brought a finger across her thin lips. Syn thought to herself, how did I ever get so thin? As the fog of sleep drifted away, the confusion left. It was not her own face. It was Pigeon. “You’re not me,” Syn whispered.

  Pigeon gave a quick “Shh” and then said, “I need you to come with me. Don’t talk. Don’t make a sound.”

  “There’s a burly…a golem outside,” Syn said as she sat up.

  “Don’t talk,” Pigeon hushed, “Follow me.”

  Syn noticed there was a different quality to Pigeon’s whispers than her own. The girl could only be heard when Syn was against her. As she leaned back, the words seemed to fade. How did the girl act like a living shadow?

  Pigeon grabbed her hand and pulled Syn along toward the back, where the tub room was. Syn tugged back and pointed toward her clothes piled on the ground. Pigeon shook her head. Syn glanced at her own bare legs, gesturing at her own nakedness. Pigeon paused and nodded.

  Syn hurriedly put on her pants, but Pigeon grabbed her hand and yanked her along, still wearing the thin shirt rather than her own clothes.

  In the back room, beyond the tub, Pigeon walked up to the rock wall and ran her fingers across a lighter-colored stone. With a small tug, her fingers pressed into a visible crevice, and the rock moved toward her. No—it wasn’t just one rock; an entire door of rocks swung on hinges inside the wall. A hidden door had been there the entire time.

  Syn’s mouth hung open in surprise, but Pigeon did not give her the opportunity to ponder. Instead, she pulled her into the dark passageway beyond. They moved through a few smaller rooms, and Syn recognized these as spaces that the zoo handlers and the assistant bots (at least on her Disc) had used to prepare food for the animals. Syn smiled—of course there had to be a door into this space—the handlers wouldn’t come through the main gate; they would have to use an entrance that allowed easier management of all the animals. The various animal enclosures were set up in a ring around the singular hub that the handlers had operated and managed them from.

  Soon they were outside walking through the pitch-black roads and paths that twisted throughout Zondon. She was nearly unable to see ahead more than just a few feet. Light from several distant lamps near the spired quarters of the Crimson Queen shone but did little to illuminate their path.

  Her skin felt clammy and each step into the dark unknown sent panicked images racing through her thoughts. “Where are we going?” she hissed and jumped at her own voice, loud in the quiet of the dark passages.

  “Shhh!” Pigeon whispered but then leaned in, her mouth to Syn’s ear, and said, “I want to take you to two places.”

  “Now?”

  Pigeon breathed out, “Yes. Now.”

  They were off again, Pigeon pulling Syn behind her. The thin girl seemed to be at home in the dark, never once stopping for uncertainty, gliding through the turns as if she could see them during daylight.

  The area ahead cleared up, and while everything was still veiled in darkness, Syn knew that they were no longer confined by walls on either side. A wide structure with a pointed roof appeared in silhouette against the gray sky.

  In a flash, the entire thing lit up in a deep red light from Pigeon’s flashlight. The structure was a carousel with dozens of plaster animals, each frozen in running position, bound to the structure by a large spiraled pole. Syn had seen carousels in movies from Mary Poppins to A Summer Above the River. She gasped.

  Pigeon whispered, “Do you like it?”

  “I’ve never seen one in real life before.” The structure was a beautiful spectacle. Across the canopy, scenes from the construction of Olorun were painted: the dry dock, the launch out with Earth in the background, images of Àpáàdì, and Orisha masks in between each muraled scene. All glowed menacingly in Pigeon’s red light.

  Pigeon turned around and narrowed her eyes. “There’s not one on your Disc?’

  Syn shook her head. That was odd. There wasn’t a carousel on her side. Everything had been nearly the same, except this and the absence of a great tree on this side. A carousel here and a tree there? “No. There isn’t one in our zoo.”

  Pigeon pulled her ahead. “Be quiet. And choose one.” She pointed to the various plaster animals: horses, zebras, big cats, and more. She stepped close to the white horse with a glowing mane. Next to it, an ebony stallion raced, red feathers lining its saddle. A large white bunny stood a few feet away, and Syn found it frightening. She stepped up onto the wooden platform and scanned the other options. A giraffe stood straight and tall. The zebra was stretched out long and in mid-stride, adorned with a pink saddle. Behind that, a regal lion with a full mane stepped, front paw up. A mare with a teal mermaid’s tail was paired next to that.

  But there was no question for Syn. She stepped up to the massive tiger and ran her hand down its back. “Eku,” she whispered, but only to herself, and then climbed on, wrapping her arms around its cold neck.

  A thought flashed in her mind as she remembered the high-note calliope music that accompanied every image of carousel in her memory, and she turned sharply to Pigeon, climbing onto the dark, gray wolf paired with the tiger. “This doesn’t work does it? We can’t wake the others.”

  Pigeon smiled. “Neci isn’t asleep yet anyway. She’s…um…busy. Besides, I’ve disconnected the speakers, and I’ve oiled the gears. This is as silent as me.” Her grin grew large, and she tapped something strapped to her belt.

  Syn’s tiger jerked up as the carousel moved into life. Pigeon turned off the flashlight as th
ey began to circle around, going up and down with the rhythmic parade of animals. A giggle escaped Syn’s lips, and she cupped her hand to her lips to prevent the next one following. It was wonderful. They spun around, and she could hear her own heartbeat race as she held tightly to the tiger’s neck. I miss you so much, Eku.

  Memories of Eku flooded in. Her soft stepping through the brush on their long walks. Her deep sleeps against Syn, the cat’s great heart beating like a drum.

  Around and around the carousel turned and Syn felt young again. Her froth of hair blew back behind her, and she couldn’t help but smile widely.

  For years, she had wanted to have a friend to play with. Movies showed playgrounds and theme parks—girls racing about from ride to ride, giggling as they went. She had abandoned the hope years past. Syn reached out and found Pigeon’s hand and held it tightly, giving it a squeeze. Pigeon’s fingers resisted the touch at first but then curled around Syn’s hand, and they rode around like that forever in the silence, wanting each to squeal and laugh and knowing that to do so would mean being caught.

  Like the plaster animals they rode on, time seemed to freeze, and they just orbited the dark star at the center of the carousel, circling about without any future or any past to worry about. Their momentum slowed and soon, the dance that seemed to go on forever came to an end as the carousel stopped.

  Syn leaped off of the tiger, still holding onto Pigeon’s hand. She pulled the thin girl close to her and hugged her tightly. In Pigeon’s ear, Syn whispered, “Thank you,” before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  Pigeon stood motionless herself, like the animals around her.