by Otto Schafer
“Because she can’t fly. Guys, listen, she isn’t any of those things. She isn’t real. She is an animated shrub. Everything else is fake.”
“That claw felt pretty real,” Lenny said, looking down at his bloody chest.
“It was a real wooden claw. But it wasn’t a bear claw,” Garrett said, as David knelt down beside Lenny.
“Let me take a look,” David said.
“It feels like a deep scratch, but I think I’ll be okay. Don’t go all glowy on me until we know we’re safe.”
“Yeah, we can’t have you passing out right now, David,” Paul said.
David’s mustache bunched up over pursed lips as he moved Lenny’s shredded shirt to the side. He nodded, then pulled his hand back and slapped Lenny hard on the chest.
“You son of a bitch! What was that for?!”
“You’re fine!” David laughed. “Just scratches.”
“Guys, knock it off! Something’s up!” Pete said, pointing toward the shore.
On the shore, Governess had shifted back to her human female form. She stood at the water’s edge, watching as forty yards became fifty and fifty became sixty. A green glow appeared around Governess’s hand as she waved it over the water.
“Oh, this isn’t good,” Lenny said, as a narrow carpet of vegetation sprouted from the water before her, slowly making its way toward them.
It looked like moss but had to be something more substantial, as Governess took one step onto the moss and then another.
“We need to move faster,” Garrett said, looking at Ed.
“I’ll try to maneuver us, but this thing is a whole lot bigger than pushing Pops on a bike,” Ed said, preparing to climb down into the water.
Pete narrowed his eyes and slowly extended his hand.
Governess took another step and stopped, her head tipping to one side in that curious puppy dog way.
Then, as if Pete were standing right in front of her, he pushed his hand forward.
Governess staggered back three steps and fell backward onto the muddy shore.
Pete dropped to one knee.
The carpet of moss broke apart, drifting downriver with the current.
Composing herself, Governess climbed to her feet. She stared at them with a hateful glower for a long moment and then turned her back to the shore and ran into the trees.
Everyone stared at Pete.
“I don’t think we’ve seen the last of her,” Pete said, taking a deep breath.
“No. No, no, no!” David said, waggling a finger. “You don’t get to breeze past that with some, ‘I bet that isn’t the last we’ve seen of her’ comment!” David said, throwing his hands out to the side. “Explain!”
“Yeah, what the hell was that, Pete?” Garrett asked, looking from Pete to the shore, then back again.
Pete took a breath and raised a finger to speak just as someone began shouting.
The boys spun to find an old grey-bearded man leaning heavily against the rail of the tugboat, an empty bottle of Malört liquor hanging slack in his hand. “Thecatfish… wasright!” he slurred, pointing at the muddy water.
14
Fleeting Laughter
Tuesday, April 19 – God Stones Day 13
Rural Chiapas State, Mexico
Once again Breanne found herself in Juan’s modest barn, sitting with her back against a stack of large burlap bags stuffed with raw coffee beans. Laid out in front of her were the Smith & Wesson nine-millimeter, two magazines, and her remaining ammunition.
It was dark when they arrived, but after feeling around for a few minutes Gabi located a lantern and box of matches she had remembered seeing the last time they had taken shelter in the barn. The night the giant wasp came through the window of Juan’s house.
Together, they cleared the barn, ensuring there were no giant bugs or god only knew what else. After they were sure it was safe, Gabi lay down and fell asleep almost instantly. Breanne was tired too but thought it best to keep watch for at least a little while. She thought about her family, Garrett, and the others. God, how she missed her dad. She thought of waking Gabi so she could talk to him, but that wouldn’t be fair. The poor girl had been through a lot – they both had. She let her sleep.
The night was quiet, except for the soft sound of tin rattling in the wind outside and a cat meowing from somewhere in the shadows. She pushed her thumb down on the last round, and it clicked into the magazine. That was the last of it. The pistol had already saved her and Gabi more than once, and now she was down to only a couple dozen rounds. How many had she put in that last magazine? Ten? Yes, she thought, that was right. One full mag and ten in the other. She needed to be more careful with her ammo or, even better, she needed to find more.
Breanne holstered her pistol, settled back, and watched the lantern’s flame. It was small and steady, a bright bit of warmth in a strange dark place. Then, as she watched, the flame began to move oddly. There was no wind in here – no draft at all. But there it was, moving about inside the glass chimney in a way that almost appeared intentional.
A she leaned forward to look at the tiny flame, it split near the bottom and two little fiery arms poked out. Two legs and two arms and – she could see it now! – a small head with little spikes of flame for hair jutted up. She couldn’t believe it. She leaned in closer. It had its back to her as it started dancing. Then suddenly it froze, like it had just been caught stealing or something. Slowly, very slowly it turned to face her.
When its tiny face came into view, Breanne gasped. The little flame gasped too, and it appeared suddenly as startled as she was. Then it was gone. Well, not gone. The flame was still there, but it was just a flame again. Jesus! Was she losing it? Had she been exposed to so much that her sanity was slipping? Or was this something else? Mr. B had said the power of the God Stones would saturate the world and that everything would change. Is that what she had just seen? Was this the God Stones at work?
She lay back, reached beneath her shirt, and pulled out her father’s gold chain. Daddy, where are you? I miss you. Please be okay. She knew he couldn’t hear her, but still it comforted her to talk to him.
But then her eyes sprang wide as her father’s voice came back to her.
I am fine, baby girl.
She lurched forward, goose bumps prickling her skin with excitement. She looked over at Gabi, expecting her to be awake. To somehow be linking her to her father without even touching his chain. But her eyes were closed. Breanne watched her for a moment and saw her chest rising and falling rhythmically. No, she was not doing this. She was sound asleep. Then what? How? She leaned back and closed her eyes, holding the chain tight in her fists. Daddy? Daddy, can you hear me?
Yes, baby girl. I’ve been so worried. You haven’t checked in. Are you okay?
Breanne’s eyes pooled. I’m fine, Dad. Where are you?
We’re leaving tomorrow. Earlier than planned. The dragons came and burned the city. We lost a few men, but it seems they have moved on.
Moved on? she asked.
They are searching for Garrett. The dragons are with a boy called Jack. I think you must have met him in the tunnel?
Jack? And he was with the dragons? Her heart beat faster.
He killed the men. He is dangerous, Breanne. If you see your friend Garrett before I do, warn him, baby girl, and for god’s sake, be careful.
Okay, I will, please be careful too. I… I love you, Dad.
I love you too. You are staying safe, right? Still in the cenote? Have others joined you? Remember, safety in numbers.
Shit. What was she supposed to say? “Sorry, Dad, we went right back into the fray to get Sarah meds so she wouldn’t die.” She couldn’t say that. Just like she couldn’t say, “Oh, and I had to kill some really bad men.” She shook that thought away. She didn’t like the next words that came out of her mouth, but it would do her father no good to worry. And besides, there was nothing either of them could do about it now. I don’t know for sure, Dad. There are many at the cen
ote now. And more keep showing up all the time. Okay, not exactly a lie. At least she could tell herself that, but she knew omitting the truth was the same thing, and she hated herself for it.
Good. And Sarah? How is she?
She hesitated. Bad, Dad. She’s bad. She has a horrible fever. But there is a woman who came with us to the cenote, a midwife. She is helping to care for her now.
There was a long moment before her father spoke again, and for a second she thought she’d lost the connection. Then he said, Glad you have help there. I know you will do your best for her. Ask around for antibiotics – maybe someone will show up with meds.
Her father’s voice held no confidence, and he was right to worry. People weren’t walking around with pockets full of prescription drugs in rural Chiapas. Okay, Dad.
Good. How is the little girl, Gabi?
Growing up fast, she thought. Growing up way too fast. She’s good, considering everything that’s happened to her.
And so the night went, Breanne talking with her father like he was right there beside her. They talked for an hour, then two, sharing memories of days gone by. For a little while nothing else existed but her, her dad, and a laughter that belonged only to them, no matter how fleeting. When finally this day ended and the next began, Breanne began to drift in and out of sleep.
I think it’s time for both of us to get some shut-eye, her father said.
They said I love you to each other once more, and Breanne turned the tiny knob on the lantern, leaned back, and fell asleep.
Breanne woke to the strange sensation of sandpaper scratching at her cheek. She opened her eyes to find a calico kitten licking her face. She smiled, gently nudging the cat back. It purred loudly and let out a fragile meow. Tropical sunshine spilled through the window and across the wood-planked floor. She blinked. It was bright – too bright to be early morning. How long have I slept?
I don’t know. How late did you stay up? Gabi replied.
Gabi, I… wait. Where are you?
Outside, come.
Gabi! You shouldn’t go out without me! What if something happened? I wouldn’t know where you went! She was up, stuffing her feet into her boots and heading for the door. When she stepped outside, she smelled the smoke and food before she found the source. Gabi waved from her squatting position next to a small ring of stones. She was working a spatula through a cast-iron skillet that sat balanced across the long metal prongs of a pitchfork. She had positioned the prongs so that they jutted out over the small fire and held the skillet perfectly.
Wait, are those… are those eggs? Breanne asked, forgetting all about scolding the girl.
Yes! There are still chickens left. Something killed many, and I thought Juan would have taken the rest. She shrugged. Maybe he thought they were all dead.
Breanne looked at Gabi like a suspicious parent. The girl was talking a million miles an hour, as she split the contents of the skillet in half.
The thing is, even with their cage torn up, they don’t go far. Anyway, I found over a dozen! They hadn’t taken everything from the house, so I was able to throw this together. I found some canned chilis, some salt, and these bowls, she said, scraping out the last of the scrambled eggs into the second bowl.
Gabi, you okay? Breanne asked.
Okay? I am better than okay. Why?
Then she smelled it. It was hard to smell through the smoke and aroma of eggs, but it was unmistakable. Gabi, what is that? She pointed, already knowing the answer. The tin pot sat off to the side of the fire where it would stay hot but not boil.
Gabi smiled. Coffee!
No way! Breanne said.
Yes… way! Gabi declared.
Breanne filled a cup and sipped the dark brew. It was strong, but it felt so good on her sore throat. How did you make this?
Well, I found some roasted beans in the house, so I used a mortar I found in the kitchen to grind them down. Once I got the beans smashed down fine I used a piece of a tee shirt to hold the ground beans and then I tied it off, threw it in the pot, and, presto, a few minutes later – coffee! She picked up her own cup and slurped.
Breanne laughed. Gabi, have you ever had coffee before?
Nope. Too young. She giggled.
Breanne wanted to tell her she’d had enough, but why? Let her have some coffee. She had been through enough. She deserved it.
Thanks, Bre.
Shit. She stuffed another bite of the egg concoction into her mouth and chewed. She needed to get better at remembering to open and close the door. You heard that?
She laughed. Hey, you never said. How late did you stay up? Were you keeping watch all night?
She shook her head. Gabi, I talked to my dad last night for at least two hours.
Gabi looked up from her bowl. But how?
Breanne shook her head. I don’t know. I was holding the chain, and it just happened. I think you have done something to my mind. Unlocked something – she shook her head again. I don’t know, but it’s wonderful. Talking to my dad was… wonderful. Whatever you did, thank you.
Gabi smiled shyly and blushed. That’s really great, Bre. I am happy you got to talk to your dad like that. But don’t thank me. I don’t even know how it happened. If I did something, it wasn’t because I did it on purpose. Oh, not that I wouldn’t, of course. I’m just saying I wouldn’t know… didn’t know… you know?
I know, Gabi, but thank you anyway. Thank you for being my friend.
Now Gabi’s smile was broad and still growing. She nodded then, unable to find words.
Breanne finished her last bite of egg and said, Well, if you’re all loaded up on caffeine, I think it’s time we press on. How far to town?
I’ve never done this trip on foot, but it will take the rest of the day, I bet, she said, looking at the sky. And I think it’s going to rain.
Breanne followed her eyes to the sky. The sun was doing its best to shoulder its way between the clouds like a teacher breaking up a schoolyard fight, but it was a losing battle. I should have gotten up earlier. We’d best go.
They doused the fire, grabbed their gear, and started down the road, energized by full bellies of hot food and a solid dose of caffeine. Maybe it was going to somehow actually be okay. Maybe for once they would have a good day.
Then the first drop of rain struck Breanne’s face, with a fat splat. Suddenly the sun lost its struggle with the clouds and was snuffed out like thick dirt tossed over glowing embers. The sky went midnight dark and thunder rumbled as if from the belly of god.
Clouds too heavy to hold let loose all at once, and what followed was an unearthly deluge.
15
Catfish and Honey Buns
Tuesday, April 19 – God Stones Day 13
The Mississippi River, North of St. Louis
“What kind of catfish you talking about, old-timer? Blue cat or flathead?” David asked, shielding his eyes from the sun as he stared up at the man on the tugboat.
“He’s talking about the kind you find at the bottom of a bottle, not a river. Look at him – he can barely stand up,” Paul said.
“You… you think I don’t… talking about what I know!?” the old man shouted, wobbling as he threw the empty bottle of Malört at David but came closer to hitting Lenny.
“Hey, watch it!” Lenny shouted as the bottle shattered on the ferry deck.
The old man pointed accusingly. “Well, it wadn’t neither… neither kind! Wadn’t blue nor flat… but I been visitin’ with the catfish ever’ evenin’ for” – he held out a hand with all five fingers showing – “three days. He comes long ri… right before dusk.” The grey-bearded man’s mouth stretched open as he let out a loud belch and then swayed sideways, looking as if he might black out. He gripped the handrail of the tugboat as though he were navigating thirty-foot swells on the high seas and the railing was his only hope to stay vertical. “He told me you’d be likely… likely to… to cross here what… what with them trees after you.”
The boys stared up at the
man, then back at each other, exchanging dubious looks. “Right. Maybe you better lay off the liquor, old-timer,” Lenny said.
“I’ll old-tim… timer you! You young pup… sonofabitch!” the drunk man slurred.
“That’s enough, Lenny – you’re getting him all riled up!” David said.
“Listen,” Ed said, ignoring the drunkard, “we’re adrift and the current is taking us downstream. Maybe I can guide us, but we need to make some decisions, and quick.”
“He’s right. We need to decide if we stay on the river or just try and cross it,” Paul said.
“Look, Ed,” Garrett said, pulling Lenny to his feet, “if you can steer this thing, there’s no reason we can’t just float all the way down to New Orleans. If we stay in the middle of the river we should be safe and, who knows, maybe by then we lose Governess.”
David was nodding. “Yeah, I like that. My ass and legs are killing me. I vote we float as long as we can.”
“Did you say Governess?” Pete asked.
Garrett turned. “Yeah, she said something like, ‘I’ve been called many things over the millennia, but today I like Governess.’”
Pete pursed his lips in concentration. “And she said millennia?”
Garrett nodded.
“What is it, Pete?” David asked.
“Not sure yet.”
“Okay, back to the obstacle at hand. We have two problems if we stay on the river,” Ed said, gazing down the Mississippi. “One, the Mississippi has several locks and dams. I don’t how far we are from the next one. They run on power and that means it will be out of commission and we won’t be able to get through. Number two, once that tree thing finds out—”
“Shrub woman,” David said.
“No, Governess,” Pete corrected.
“Oh, right,” David said.
“Whatever!” Ed said. “Once it finds out we’re staying on the water, it will know our route and you can bet the trees will start working a trap. That’s what I would do.”
