by A N Sandra
“I try hard not to be sentimental,” Golda replied, knowing that she sounded too prim to be good company. Goodness, no one would want to spend time with her at all, but she couldn’t seem to help herself after managing Jurgon for six hours. “There are too many things to be sentimental about.”
A plate of crispy meat and tender grains was set before each of them, and in seconds the mortal girl brought glasses of delicious purple wine.
“Oh, this is almost as good as my mother fixed,” Sith said because evidently, he was determined to be sentimental. Golda gave up and joined his emotional remembrances.
“My mother made wonderful roast duck like this also,” Golda added. “She put little bits of citrus peel in the sauce—”
“So did mine!” Sith recalled, delighted that he had tricked her into joining in his mood. Their mothers had been friends, and the two of them had known each other from early childhood.
They both had left their mothers to establish the colony and never returned to them. Their mothers had come to visit occasionally but had long since passed away. There had been seven half-mortals who founded the colony a little more than fifty years before. Golda, Sith, Wesslan, and Rynd had had the idea that together the half-mortals of the world could move to the small island close to the mainland and live safely, away from those who wanted to hurt them, and pursue higher learning and higher ideals.
Those had been intoxicating days. The discussions they had over how they would live, the ideals they would hold to, and the discoveries they might make had kept them talking to each other and over each other with dizzying speed. The talking with others of like mind had even distracted them from sex, although they had not been entirely able to keep from indulging.
The four of them had approached the other ten half-mortals who were still alive and fathered by those who fought against the void. There had been more half-mortals than that, but only those whose fathers had brought them totem animals from the other place were still alive. The unfortunate half-mortals who had been forced to depend on their mothers for safety had never lived to see the age of ten. Only three of the ten others had been intrigued enough by the idea of the colony to join.
The seven of them had founded the colony with the idea that members could not come and go. Any member who left, or worse, was asked to leave, would never be allowed back. Those who had been invited to the inception of the colony and decided not to join would not be allowed to join later. The seven of them had built a round, two-story cedar compound on the island, and before long women were approaching them to keep their babies safe from the degenerating morals in the world.
“Once we take them, they belong to us and will not return,” Celeste would warn the young women, who would swallow lumps in their throats and wipe away tears from their cheeks and leave the precious babies. Some of the children were completely mortal, some of them were one quarter mortal, but all of them were held to the same standards. If they left the colony, they were not to return under any circumstances.
“You are as sassy as always!” Golda told Cattu as the two of them romped on the beach, Cattu enjoying the sand more than a normal cat would. Even though Golda was well over sixty years old she ran in the sand easily, burning off the pent-up energy of the day and the filling dinner she had enjoyed with an old friend.
Cattu purred and butted her huge head against Golda. The enormous cat even reached a large paw around Golda to give her a “hug.”
“We need to go back,” Golda fretted at last. “I can’t keep you here to myself.”
She wanted to keep Cattu to herself. Cattu had been with her since before she was a year old. The two of them had eaten the same food, prowled the same territory, fended off Blood Drinkers when they were older, and joined the colony together. With so many people living on the island, it was important that all the half-celestial animals were mostly kept in common areas to help everyone exist calmly, so their moments alone were brief.
There was order and routine to life in the colony. Everyone did a certain amount of communal work; at least six hours. Golda had done that already when she made medicine with Jurgon. Four hours of quiet study and contemplation were also the rule for everyone. Mortals and the quarter-Eternals found that to be very difficult, but there were no exceptions. Everyone ate communally, and everyone kept their dormitory rooms clean. Those who were not inclined to do anything else could spend the rest of their time relaxing. All the half-mortals and many of the quarter-mortals had too much energy to relax. Those were able to work on projects of their own design for the rest of their day.
Golda had never needed more than three hours of sleep in her life and she spent several hours a day doing research for a project she considered key to keeping the island colony a good place. Golda was working on ways to clone the wonderful pets the Eternal fathers had left on earth.
Isolating DNA and preserving it enough to work with had taken more than ten years, but Golda had persisted. Others had told her that her work was futile. “Only the Creator knows the real secrets of life,” they would say.
“We have to try,” Golda would insist. Golda had a shelf of ivory boxes with perfectly preserved living DNA from each of the founding colony members’ totem animals. None of the animals she had tried to clone had lived more than a few days, although all of them had seemed much more special than ordinary animals in their time on Earth. And the boxes with the DNA in them did make a big difference in her own lab. Even without Cattu, Golda felt a deep sense of well-being in the lab where the boxes were, and when she carefully placed the boxes secretly and strategically around the colony, they brought great calmness to the places where they were left. Jurgon refused to work with her after his allotted time, but Golda was convinced that if he did, he would be a different person in the lab with the boxes. The other half-mortals admitted that the DNA boxes were powerful, but all of them were unhappy about the work Golda was doing.
“Duplicating the presence of the animals might have adverse effects,” Celeste had said. She had been the first to voice that opinion, but not the last.
“If the Blood Drinkers magnified the effects of their terrible snakes—” Rynd had started.
“I would never take a DNA sample from one of their snakes!” Golda said indignantly, as though she had never thought of such a thing. She had thought of it, but was not that brave, even though she was deeply curious about what she might learn if she did.
“They may learn how to do it from you,” Rynd had gone on.
“We can’t stay ignorant because we worry they will steal our learning from us. If that’s the case, we shouldn’t do anything because they might take anything. We shouldn’t take in anymore children because the Blood Drinkers drink their blood if they choose to leave—”
“I agree with that!” Wesslan had interjected and Golda had wanted to hit him for the first time since she had known him even though he had been stubborn for the last fifty-plus years. Her desire to hit him proved the point that she needed to bring more totem animal DNA into the group, especially if it was going to continue to grow. She had never wanted to hit anyone with Cattu or an ivory box next to her.
“Helping the helpless is one of our founding values.”
“Helping too many helpless people is making us less fit as a group and we should reexamine that directive,” Wesslan had said. Once a very dynamic man, Wesslan had given in to his worries and become more annoying to Golda with every passing year.
“You can leave if you no longer agree with our founding principles.” Sith had sounded positively deadly and Golda found him more handsome than ever. “We debated this issue extensively before we vowed to uphold these ideals. I, for one, am not going to reopen subjects for debate that have been settled for more than fifty years.”
Silence reverberated through the stone chamber. Every half-mortal looked at the others. Sith looked at everyone before going on to finish his thought.
“Anyone who cannot live by our moral code is unwelcome.”
&
nbsp; That was the threat that kept them all together. The knowledge that living alone on the mainland would be more than unsafe, it would be lonely. That didn’t mean that living in close community with people who always thought they were right was easy. It never had been comfortable. They were all people who would choose a life of temporary ego clashes over a detached existence. It was what held the colony together.
Chapter 2
September 1st, Interior Alaska Homestead
There were few deciduous trees surrounding the meadow to show that fall had come, but there was such a change in the air after the first snowfall that everyone was clearly aware summer was over. The grasses in the meadow turned golden, then they went to seed, then they were bare shafts waving in the breezes. Because their childhood had been spent in Texas, neither of the Harris children had ever seen a real seasonal change in nature on that level before. Christina and Joel Harris watched Helena and Peter’s delight in fall with satisfaction.
Even though Mr. Todd put the computers together, one in each house, no one had to do school yet. There was still firewood and berries to gather, and the massive garden to clear away. Everyone worked several hours a day at those tasks.
“This might be the most high-tech homestead effort in the course of humanity, but it’s still a lot of work,” Peter said as he threw corn stalks over the fence into the goat pen to see if they would eat them.
“It was not the summer I expected,” Helena said. There had been no luxury vacation, no SAT prep courses, and no arts camp. Only an unpredicted adventure. “But I enjoyed it more than I would have thought.”
“Me too,” Peter said. “If Mom and Dad were living together and Tawna and her kids weren’t here we would be like Little House on the Prairie, but with electricity, supplies, computers, and no silly dresses for the girls.”
“No silly dresses is a real bonus,” Helena reflected. “But we need Tawna for Little House on the Prairie. She looks a lot like Nellie Oleson. She’s just as sneaky and mean.”
“Got anything to do now?” Peter asked.
“I’m gonna make jam from some berries that Duane brought me.”
“You are so Little House on the Prairie,” Peter said, grinning.
“I do what I can.” Helena replied. “I might weave some calico and make a bonnet later!”
Helena was stirring the berries with sugar over the stove in the storage building. The steam from the hot purple mess smelled tantalizing and she smiled, anticipating the taste of the jam on biscuits in the morning.
“I’m going to need that stove tomorrow,” Mr. Harris said as he walked up to her. “And the refrigerator you have here.”
‘Huh?”
“It goes in the Wilson’s house. I would like to put the appliances in before I finish all the siding, it’s a lot easier that way.”
“Oh,” Helena pouted. “Then I can’t cook in here anymore.”
“No, our days of community meals are over,” Mr. Harris said. “We all appreciate how well you’ve kept us fed. It was almost the same as having Maria here, but pretty soon you’re going to need to do school work most of the day and spending three hours a day cooking for everyone isn’t a good use of your time.”
“I’d rather cook than learn biology,” Helena tried what she knew was a weak argument. The real issue was that no one gives compliments for how well you learned your biology.
“Doesn’t matter. You need to know biology. You need to know calculus and you need to polish your grammar and writing skills.” Mr. Harris looked at Helena kindly. “You need science skills and you need to learn from your mother.”
“Can’t I learn from you and Mr. Todd?” Helena asked with a weak voice.
“We’ll help,” Mr. Harris promised. “Miss Jan is going to teach art to all of you.”
“Really?” Helena missed spending time with Miss Jan the way she had on the trail, so her heart leaped at the promise of more time with one of her favorite people.
“Miss Jan is a very accomplished artist. I know we haven’t talked about it a lot, but when we move this makeshift kitchen out of the way she is going to make an art studio here.”
“Oh.” Helena got interested. “Cool!”
“I’m glad you’re interested. Miss Jan is really looking forward to helping all of you. She always wanted to be an art teacher.”
“Why wasn’t she?” Helena wanted to know.
“Mr. Todd worked on Project Plan B and he worked constantly. It took all Miss Jan’s time to raise Duane and take care of her mother. Her mother suffered from Parkinson’s Disease.”
Imagine that, Helena thought, putting your family ahead of your dreams. Christina Harris probably would have said that being an art teacher was a meaningless endeavor, but it would have been very noble in a way. Helena had even more respect for Miss Jan than she already had.
“So, tomorrow after breakfast, I’m dismantling your kitchen and you won’t have to cook for everyone anymore. You can cook what you like in your mother’s house.”
“Super.” Helena frowned.
“Try to be kind to your mother,” Mr. Harris sighed.
“I don’t try to be unkind,” Helena said sincerely. “I just don’t want to pretend that things aren’t the way they are. Pretending takes a lot of energy.”
“Tell me about it.” Her father sighed unexpectedly.
The loft turned out to be quite cozy with sunshine filtered in from the small double paned windows just below the ceiling. The flickering light was magical. Her bed was an air mattress, and Helena found it to be quite soft after sleeping on the ground for so long. She had a huge grey down comforter and soft grey flannel sheets. The loft was too small for real furniture, but she had a pretty pine box for a makeshift nightstand next to her air mattress, with a tiny clock resting on it. Her few clothes fit into some narrow pine boxes that stacked neatly at the foot of her bed. The knotty pine siding inside her loft reflected the light that came in through tiny diamond shaped windows and made the space feel open and clean.
Downstairs, the house was also snug and cheerful. A small wood stove heated part of the main room, which was furnished with built-in furniture, window seats with large cushions, a small table for dining, and a desk with a laptop. The kitchen had a two-burner stove, a half-sized refrigerator/freezer, and some cabinets over a small marble slab of counter. A convection oven that doubled as a microwave was over the stove. On either side of the main living area were bedrooms that barely fit single air mattresses and small dressers made from Ikea kits. Both of those beds had fluffy blue down comforters and large pillows. Between the bedrooms was a compact bathroom with a shower that Helena had a hard time fitting into, but it was still a shower with hot water. She laughed to think she couldn’t have shaved her legs in it even if she’d had a razor.
The first day of school came. Helena had an extra-large mug of coffee while her mother explained the way a school day would flow.
“The blue workbooks are what you fill out, and the lessons are on the DVDs,” Christina told Helena and Peter. “You listen to the lesson with the headphones on, and then you do the work in your workbook. You will switch off and on throughout the day.”
Two stacks of thick blue workbooks lay on the desk next to the laptop. Helena guessed that the eleventh-grade stack was for her, even though she would have only been a sophomore the next year, and the ninth-grade stack was for Peter even though he would have been an eighth grade student. She wondered if they had been moved up a grade because their curriculum at their previous school had been advanced, or whether her mother simply assumed that, as one of the smartest people in the world, her children would be at least a grade ahead of everyone else. She decided that later she would discreetly find out if Lourdes and Ray had grade-appropriate curriculum.
“Vocabulary, Spelling, and Poetry,” Peter read the title of the top book in his stack out loud. He began sifting through the other books. “Student Bible: King James Version, Grammar and Composition, Bible Philosophy For Our Ti
mes - where’s the math?”
“The math program is separate, and I will use it with you myself,” Christina said. “As well as the science.”
“Couldn’t handle making us use the religious nut math and science stuff, huh?” Helena relished her mother’s discomfort. She looked at some of the titles in her stack. “Jesus and the People Who Followed Him, Grammar and Composition, Literature - wait, I don’t see any books.”
“All the books you need are loaded onto e-readers for you,” Christina said. “You each have a device with the books required for this curriculum for the next two years, plus classics that you’ll want to have read before college.”
“I had forgotten how much I miss reading every night,” Helena said, softly. She felt as if she had betrayed her favorite friends, her books, by not even really thinking of them for months.
“There are a few bestselling young adult titles just for fun for each of you,” Christina said. “It’s going to be a long winter.”
“You keep saying that, and it’s making it worse,” Peter said.
“Whether I say it or not won’t change anything,” Christina sighed, “but you are correct, pointing out the obvious never helps anything.”
“Thanks,” Helena said. “So, who goes first on the laptop with their school?”
“We could flip for it,” Peter said.
“You can just go first,” Helena told him, happy to delay beginning.
“I want to go last, that’s why I wanted to flip,” Peter said.
“Heads or tails?” Christina pulled a coin from somewhere. Helena wondered why she had it, when she had no place to spend money at all.
“Heads,” they both said at the same time.
“Gonna be a long winter.” Peter grinned.
