I learn all of it with genuine fascination, and by the time the day draws to a close, I feel like I’ve learned more in these few hours with Evelyn than I’ve learned in my entire life with father.
We retire upstairs, and grandma prepares another home-cooked meal.
“Keep your ears open for the doorbell,” she tells me. “We should be getting some visitors soon.”
“Who?” I ask her.
“People that will help us with our little problem.”
I’m not entirely sure what she means by this, but I have a few guesses. I keep them to myself. I prefer to let it be a surprise.
Just as the meal is finished cooking, the doorbell rings as grandma predicted, and I rush to answer it.
I unlatch the door and swing it open, saying with enthusiasm. “Welcome to the Grey Shopkeeper’s home! Fo—follow—fo—” I’m supposed to say more. I’m supposed to shake their hands and show them the way upstairs, but I stop in my tracks, fear paralyzing me as I stare at them in dread.
They’re the Red Watchers.
The gang lords who reign as kings of these slums. They dictate rules and demand donations for protection. They kill or torture those who they don’t like, and if they want something, they take it.
Nobody stands in their way.
There’s three of them. The central man looks down at me and smiles. I don’t meet his eyes, but I can feel their cruel gaze lurking down on me.
“You must be Sunshine,” he says. His words sound like snakes slithering in a lifeless stream. “Grey has told me so much about you.”
He holds out his hand, and I just stare at it, too scared to even shiver.
This is it. This is why she was so nice to me. They’re here to take me away. She was holding me for them. I’m going to be their slave. I can’t breathe.
“Now, now,” he chides me. “Don’t be shy. I smell a delicious meal. Be a good girl—show us upstairs.”
I slowly put one foot in front of the other, and they follow me to the living quarters. My mind races—it runs down the corner of every path and possibility, and none of them are good.
We come to the table where grandma is sitting, and she smiles at the Red Watchers.
“Have a seat my dears! Eat! It just came off the stove!”
The leader looks at grandma fondly. “Is it your famous lamb stew? Grey, you old treasure—you always know how to treat a friend!”
A friend? I can’t understand. People weren’t “friends” with the Red Watchers. People feared them.
I sit down beside grandma, and the leader of the three men sits opposite of us. His two bodyguards stay standing at his side.
“How have you been?” he asks grandma after he takes his first bite of the stew.
“Oh, you know,” she waves her hand dismissingly, “I get by.”
He laughs. “Don’t be so modest! We received your last donation—very generous. Very generous indeed. You’ve been doing well for yourself.”
She nods her head, smiles, and then looks at me. “This little one’s been helpful.”
“She seems delightful.”
“Oh, yes, a darling little creature—adds some life to the shop. I don’t want to have to let her go, you know? Good help is hard to find, and heavens knows I’m not getting any younger.”
“Oh Grey, don’t talk like that! You haven’t aged since the day I met you! You’ll outlive us all! Ain’t that right boys?” They smiled and grunted their agreement at his beckoning.
Grandma blushed, and shoed away their compliments. “We all grow old someday. When the day comes that I’m too old to carry on, I want this girl to succeed me.”
The Red Watchman frowns, and looks at me curiously. “Is that right? Well, if you like her, then she must be good people. I’ve always trusted your judgement, Grey.”
“And I’ve always trusted you to watch over me.”
He nods, and polishes off the remaining chunks of meat in his bowl.
“So what do you need this time? Is someone bothering you? Whatever it is, say it, and we’ll take care of your problem.”
She puts her hand on my shoulder and looks up at the watchman with sad eyes. “It’s Sunshine, the poor dear. Her father is, well, how would you describe him, darling?”
I look from grandma to the watchman, and I can hardly believe my own eyes. My heart thuds under pressure and my mouth fails me for words. I’ve never spoken to a Red Watcher before. I have no idea how to respond.
His reddish-blue eyes shift to me, and he smiles. “Don’t worry. You can trust me. From this moment on, you can consider us friends.”
I don’t know if this is a good or a bad thing, but I realize I have to say something. Reluctantly I try to find the best words to describe father. “He’s—that is, my father—he’s—a—a bad man.”
There were other things I could have said. I could have told him about how father sometimes hit me or sold me into tests and brothel contracts, but I don’t think I have to say anything more, so I don’t.
He gives a simple nod, and looks back to grandma. “Very well. Consider it taken care of.”
Grandma beams at him. “Thank you, child. I knew you’d understand.”
He smiles back. “You are one of our biggest contributors!” He laughs again. “Come boys! We have a little job to do!”
The Red Watcher stands from the table, and walks out the door followed by his men. I am left in shock, having barely touched my meal.
Grandma looks at me. “You okay?” she asks.
It’s the same question I’ve been asking myself. I’m not sure. Did I just order a hit on my father from the Red Watchers? Is he going to die tonight? Do I care? Should I care? I don’t know. I’m not crying, so it can’t be a terrible thing—but is it right?
I don’t have the answers.
I stare back at her with a blank face.
She frowns and leans back in her chair. “It’s natural to have mixed feelings about these things, child. Don’t feel bad for it—it ain’t worth the time. Business is business. When something needs getting done, the Red Watchers are the ones to deal with. Your father was a problem, now he isn’t a problem—that’s as far as it goes. You don’t need to worry about it any more than that.”
So I didn’t.
***
The following morning we work and talk, and at midday, we close up the shop to go enjoy the day.
As we pass near a tiny tailor’s market grandma considers me with a funny look. “How old are you?” She wonders.
I shrug, uncertain. “Fifteen by my count.”
She frowns. “You don’t look that age.”
“Yeah, I know. One of the experiments my father was paid to make me a part of was supposed to be some kind of life extension drug for wealthy folk. They wanted to make sure it was safe by using it on some poor people first. I think it did something to me—I’ve scarcely grown an inch since.”
“I’m sorry. How old were you when they did the tests?”
“Twelve, I think.”
“Don’t worry yourself with it. Some take longer than others. I’m sure you’ll grow in enough time.”
I’m not. The drug was still in its early development stage. It is entirely likely that this is some sort of glitch I’ll just have to live with. But I appreciate her words. It’s nice just to have someone care for once. It is nice to have hope. When my father presented me to the researchers a year later and I reported that I hadn’t grown, they’d just shrugged, given father his money, and started on the next prototype. I was a guinea pig to them, and a gold mine to father—nothing more.
“Let’s find you some proper clothes for a young lady,” Grandma says, taking my attention away from dark thoughts, and we search and haggle with the tailors until we get what we want.
I look in the mirror at the new pants and shirt I’m wearing and smile. I’d never thought I’d wear new clothes in my old life—in the life before I’d met the w
onderful old lady. It’s strange, but such a simple thing brings me pleasure I can’t describe in words.
But as I look up at Evelyn, her knowing smile assures me she doesn’t need them.
_________________
Part II: Sunshine
For two years we lived together, and in that time I learned much from her.
I learned that happiness can exist in a dark world, and smiles can create sunshine where it never existed before.
I learned the components of a flamer gun, and all the parts that are needed to make eye-lights and radio-talkers. Together we were a happy duo—master and apprentice, and the lessons never ceased.
I learned that sometimes it’s necessary to deal with bad things to take care of bad problems, and I learned the essential elements of survival in the world—who to be friends with, and who to avoid.
But it wasn’t an endless journey, as all paths lead to an inevitable destination, no matter how good or bad it is… or how much you fight to stop it…
***
There’s war in the air, and grandma doesn’t like it. Uncertainty is bad for business—it’s bad for everyone, both poor and rich. Grandma has explained this to me countless times, but I keep throwing her words back in her face.
“You used to always tell me, ‘it is what it is, you just have to make do with what you got!’” I tell her.
She shakes her head. “This is different. This is war. The Boneskull Brotherhood is threatening to challenge the Red Watcher’s territory—our territory! If we don’t do something, it could be the end of our shop, the end of life as we know it.”
I try to be the voice of reason. “It’s just a storm—we’ll weather it!” I want to add ‘What could one old lady and one small girl do to stop it anyway,’ but by now I’ve learned better. Grandma always has her ways—but I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing.
“You can’t weather a hurricane, darling!” she tells me. “You have to either flee, or find a way to stop it!”
“But you can’t stop a hurricane either!” I yell back at her.
She smiles, and I realize I’ve fallen into one of her traps. “Yes you can. If you have the right tools—if you can speak to the very wind. And we can, darling. We can speak to the storm—settle it before it even starts.”
I’m skeptical, and I don’t like where this is going. “What do you mean?”
“I think you know what I mean.” She reaches her hand down and grabs her mobile radio-talker.
“Don’t do it!” I command, but she doesn’t listen. She’s a stubborn, overconfident old bird. Once she’s set her mind to a task, the stars themselves wouldn’t dare to challenge her.
She adjusts the nob until she finds the right channel and then puts in the encryption code.
Static. Then, a voice. “Is that you Grey? It’s always nice to get a call from a friend. To what do I owe the pleasure?” It’s the Red Watcher Commander. I’ve grown used to his slithering voice, but I still don’t like it.
“It’s about the Skullbones,” she replies.
The commander gives a long sigh. “Damn them. Their always causing problems these days. I’m afraid there’s not much I can do about that at the moment—I can’t afford to make the first move in this war—my alliance with the World-Watchers would crumble if I start the hostilities.”
Grandma nods to herself. “I know that, daring. That’s why I want to offer you a solution.”
His voice peaks up in interest. “Such as?”
“A compromise. I’ve met with a few of the Skullbones—some of them have come into my shop and bought my wears. They aren’t the simpleminded barbarians we like to think they are—they may come from the Darklands, but they aren’t raiders. They have potential.”
The watcher clicks his tongue in annoyance twice. “Maybe, maybe. But if so, they sure as hell aren’t doing a very good job displaying their goodwill to me. War is what they want! They make that abundantly clear with each new threat!”
“Oh, nevermind all that—it’s just talk. They’re like an untrained dog barking to sound impressive—they don’t mean what they say, they’re just trying to show that they’ve earned some respect. Let me suggest this—if you offered them a place, a small section to supervise, but under your command, they would be happy to take it, so long as they were shown respect. They would become a legitimate company with legitimate subjects, and you would gain more warriors to help if YOU ever want to expand to other territories.” She paused for a moment as he wrapped his mind around her proposal. “What do you say? It’s worth a shot, isn’t it? Heaven’s knows this talk of war isn’t helping anyone—the way I see it, we need to end it as soon as possible before it becomes real.”
He considers her words slowly out loud, “If they would agree to such a proposal, it might be in my interest. I do like friends more than I like enemies—but I don’t think they’d be interested. You might be giving their willingness to negotiate too much credit—have you heard the things they’ve said? Barbaric, crude—I’m not sure how such a deal could come to light.”
“But if they would agree to the deal, you’d be happy with it?”
“More or less. But I’m not going to try to negotiate with them—sounds like a good way to get killed. It would take an expert negotiator.”
Evelyn scoffs, “Then write up your terms on a contract and send it to me. I’ll talk to them myself!”
I can practically hear the Red Watcher’s smile across the radio. “You ol’ treasure, you! I’ll send you the contract, and my best wishes! If you can truly end this war before it starts, I might make you my new commander!” he jokes.
Grandma Grey, rarely bashful, shakes away his complement with a determined grin. “It’s about time someone did something!”
***
“Stay in the shadows, Sunshine. And be cautious. I don’t know how the Boneskull’s will respond to my proposal. I think they’ll be happy, but you can never be too sure in this world. Always err on the side of caution—always! Remember that, child. Now hide,” she bids me, and I give her a reluctant look. She’d already spoken with several of the Boneskull lackeys who frequented her shop, and they set up the meeting for her with eagerness, suggesting that their leader might be interested. But I’m not as confident. Even in these two years of relative safety living with her, I’ve seen too much ugliness in the world to allow hope to remain firm in my heart.
“You don’t have to do this!” I tell her. “It doesn’t feel right!”
“It doesn’t matter, child. I can’t sit by and do nothing about the war if there’s a chance I can stop it from happening. You haven’t lived through the awfulness of warfare, so I don’t expect you to understand. But picture your childhood—the worst moments of your childhood before you met me, and then turn them a shade darker—that’s war. You can’t tell me you’d willingly condemn other children to live as you have, if you had a chance to stop it. Neither can I. The world is finally recovering somewhat. This is our chance to seal the peace. Now do as I say and get in cover! Everything will be fine!”
I hear voices approaching from down the street, and I jump behind the boxes of waste. I’m angry at Evelyn. I’m angry because she’s right, but I don’t want her to put herself at risk.
She can’t die.
I’m not going to allow her to. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me—the only light in my world. She won’t die.
I reach inside my coat pocket and grasp my flamer. It’s a good weapon. Has a reach of twelve feet, and can incinerate anything in its path—well, maybe not anything, but anything made of flesh, anyway. Should be good enough to protect her.
Grandma doesn’t know about it, but I’m not about to let her walk to her death. Not without a fight, should a fight come our way.
Half a dozen men walk down the alley, outfitted in skulls and armor and they greet the lone lady.
“Old Grey! Good to finally meet you!” a man with flame-red hair ye
lls enthusiastically, and jumps from the crowd to shake her hand with vigor. “I’m Captain Crimson! Commander Boneskull gives me permission to speak on his behalf! What have you to say? I’m anxious, and I mean ANXIOUS to hear it all! Spill it, grandma!”
She smiles up at him and pulls out the contract from her pocket. “Simple terms. You take the western blocks from the outlined map, and you do as you please with them. They are yours, and yours alone. The only thing the Red Watch asks is an alliance—a partnership, so that both of you may be stronger.”
“An alliance! A partnership! Such funny things you say!” His eyes dart over the contract in a flash and he looks back down at her. His eyes are wild. Men from the dark side of the planet often have oddities—but his are on another level. “It seems to me only equals are partners! Is this what you say? We, are equal to you! How lovely! How quaint!”
“Yes, equals. The Red Watchers respect you greatly, and will welcome you with open arms.”
“Respect! Now that’s the word, isn’t it! Respect! What do you say, boys? Does it sound respectful to call us equals of the Red Watchers?!” They look at him and smile with sharp teeth. Something is wrong.
Something is very wrong.
I pull out the flamer from my pocket, but suddenly I feel very small, and I’m not sure what to do.
Captain Crimson licks his lips and looks down at grandma with crazy, depraved eyes that she’s far too worthy for. “It seems to me, old lady, that respect is a word you fail greatly—and I mean GREATLY—to understand! No! No! The word you’re looking for is something very different indeed—insult! That’d be the one! Labeling us, the mighty Boneskulls as weak as the Red Watchers—insult! Insult and nothing more!”
She shakes her head. “That’s—that’s not what I meant. But if you don’t like the deal, that’s fine. I can go back to the Red Watchers and discuss a different offer. What do you propose?”
Ashes and Sunshine Page 2
