A World Divided

by Rebekah Clipper

  Caitlin wanted to argue but instead looked down at the floor and mumbled an insincere thanks. The woman waved the spoon above her head in response.

  Caitlin walked through the indicated door and shut it behind her. She gazed around, taking in her sparse surroundings. A small bed was tucked into one corner. It was roughly the size of a twin bed, but it lacked the uniform rounded corners customary on contemporary beds produced in a factory. A patchwork quilt lay over top of it with a smaller crocheted olive-green blanket folded carefully at the foot of the bed. She walked over to it and pressed down tentatively. It depressed where her hands touched and bounced back into place when she removed them. She gave the bed one more inquisitive look and then turned to face the only other area of the room that contained anything.

  Directly across from the bed was a closet about four feet wide and just deep enough to hold several outfits without impeding the door, that had once clearly hung on the hinges on the wall, from closing. The door sat next to the closet, resting against the wall. It looked as though it had been struck by a battering ram, large cracks emanating from the center and branching out. An angry moose could have possibly caused the same sort of damage and Caitlin smiled briefly to herself as an image of Oscar barreling antlers-first into the door flashed through her mind. She had a feeling the old woman had caused more than one person, or animal, to strike out in frustrated anger.

  Several outfits hung from crudely carved hangers. They were a hodge-podge of different items, ranging in size, color, and style. Several of the tops she found contained labels proclaiming them to be from stores like Kohl’s and Macy’s. Caitlin furrowed her brow as she took them in. They seemed incredibly out of place.

  An anxious feeling crept up within her. She didn’t know a single thing about the woman, not even her name. How had she managed to show up at Caitlin’s precise moment of need? Wouldn’t she be the most likely person to have brought Caitlin here in the first place? It seemed like the most likely theory Caitlin had going for her. She was determined that when she exited this room, she would get the answers to her questions. She wouldn’t let an old woman bully her.

  Running her hands over the clothes she almost pulled out an unassuming blue blouse and jeans when something caught her eye. She pushed the hangers aside to reveal an off-white tunic with three-quarter length sleeves. The front dipped slightly into a v-neck and all along the neck was intricately stitched forest green vines and leaves. It looked as though they were stitched by hand, with slight imperfections that would never have been rendered on a machine. The same stitching bordered the bottom of the tunic and the ends of the sleeves. On the next hanger a pair of supple green leather pants hung next to a brown belt with metal loops on one side.

  She pulled the garments out to get a closer look. She’d never seen anything quite like them, although she had seen outfits at the annual renaissance fair that were similar. The difference was that those outfits all looked like costumes; something someone wore a few times a year and then hung up in the back of a closet with a plastic cover to keep dust and moths away. The clothing she held in front of her looked like something someone wore consistently. They were more than just clothes. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something about the outfit felt right to her.

  She threw the clothing items, including the belt, onto the bed and slipped out of her damp outfit, crumpling it unceremoniously on the floor. Her excursion into the lake had left her pants and shirt with large holes. At this point she would be happy lighting them on fire and burning them to ashes. Her bra and panties, while still damp, had fared better than the rest of her clothes. She pulled them off and laid them on the window-sill to dry. She suddenly desperately wished for her high-pressure shower and cocoa-butter body scrub. You’re going to be grubby, deal with it, woman, she told herself as she grabbed the tunic.

  She pulled it over her head. The fabric was soft and light against her skin. In true tunic fashion it hung around her without providing much hint of her body shape. The bottom of the tunic hit her just below mid-thigh. She turned back to the bed and grabbed the green leather pants. Strips of brown leather wove up the outer sides of both thighs to her hips. After pulling the pants on she tied them up. She worried the strips would be inadequate at holding the pants up but found after a few squats and lunges, she had full range of motion. The pants were skin-tight but had a surprising amount of give to compensate for movement. Caitlin was amazed at how perfectly they fit.

  Suddenly, a loud rapping came from the door. “What in the good name of Milufan are you doing in there, girl? Your food isn’t going to taste any better sitting out. Get your skinny ass out here.” The old woman’s voice dripped with exasperation.

  Caitlin sighed and walked over to the door, swinging it open. The old woman froze momentarily, taking in Caitlin’s appearance. She caught herself and clamped her mouth shut.

  Caitlin felt uncomfortable with the intensity of the woman’s gaze. Heat crept up on her cheeks. “I was just going to—"

  The old woman raised a finger to silence her, a move Caitlin was getting more and more irritated with. “Well, it was made for a man, but I guess it will do on you. To be honest, I never thought I would see it worn again. It’s not quite right though.” Her gray eyes surveyed the room and landed on the belt that lay on the bed. The old woman hobbled over to it and picked it up gingerly. For a moment the metal appeared to shine, illegible inscriptions encircling it. Within a breath’s time it was just a regular belt, and Caitlin couldn’t say for sure if what she’d seen had been real or a figment of her imagination.

  “Raise your arms up, child,” the woman said as she hobbled back over to Caitlin.

  Caitlin raised her arms obediently and silently cursed herself for acting so subservient to a woman she didn’t even trust. The woman slid the belt around her waist and expertly tie it around the metallic loops.

  “What’s your name?” Caitlin asked as the woman finished her work.

  The woman looked up into her eyes then took a few steps back to get the full effect. A hint of tenderness passed over her face as she inspected her handiwork. “Give me a spin, girl.” The edge that had plagued her voice from the moment Caitlin met her was noticeable in its absence. Caitlin felt an oppressive urge to do as she was bidden. It took more force of concentration than she had thought ever necessary to disobey the command.

  “No,” Caitlin said. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me since I met you. You have consistently avoided my questions. This is total bullshit. Tell me your name.”

  The old woman frowned slightly at her and then let out a whooping laugh that took Caitlin completely by surprise. She looked as though she might collapse in her mirth. “What’s so funny?”

  “You child,” the woman said, wiping tears from her eyes. “I was starting to think your back was held up by something other than a spine, but you proved me wrong. Thank the stars, you might actually be worth some of my effort.”

  Caitlin was confused but determined not to let it show. “You’re avoiding my question again.”

  “You only asked once. That last time was a command. Come out, eat, and if I feel particularly giving, I may provide you with some answers.”

  Caitlin crossed her arms and scowled at the old woman. She was tired of the games, and her nicotine withdrawal was becoming evident. Her head hurt, her body ached, and she felt nauseous. She’d woken up in a meadow and had been dragged through a lake by some sort of mythological octopus, only to be saved by a moose and a bitchy old lady. On top of everything else, the scent of garlic, rosemary, and meat was wafting in from the kitchen and dammit she was hungry. She was hungry and pissed, so she planted herself in front of the door.

  The old woman threw hands up in the air. “Fine, fine. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen that move. Learned it from your father, huh?”

  Caitlin was taken aback by this statement but held her ground.

  “You can call me Esme. Now uncross those arms and get your ass to t
he table.” To emphasize her point, she jabbed Caitlin in the abdomen with her cane.

  Caitlin huffed slightly and turned toward the dining room. “Thank you,” she clipped out as she headed for one of the hand carved chairs that sat in front of a steaming bowl. For half a second, she considered the food and decided if the old witch wanted her dead, she would have just left her to the Boolah. She held no doubt Esme was the reason she survived that encounter.

  She picked up her spoon and started shoveling food into her mouth. There was something so familiar about the flavors that played on her tongue. A memory tried to wriggle free in her mind, but it was unable to find purchase. She pushed it aside when it didn’t surface and continued her steady pace of food shoveling.

  After consuming most of the contents in her bowl, she placed her spoon down. Esme had settled in the chair across from her and had been taking small mouthfuls of food, most of her attention on Caitlin. “For such a skinny thing, you certainly can pack away the calories in a hurry. Maybe I should feed you more. You’ll get round where a woman needs to be round again in no time. Doesn’t your husband tire of caressing a stick?”

  “You have made several references about my life at home. How do you know me? Where am I? Did you bring me here? Why was my bed in the meadow? Did you find out if my daughter is here?”

  That damned finger raised for silence again. Caitlin tried to ignore it, but something held her back from continuing. “All valid questions, and I feel sure at least a couple of the answers will be revealed in due time. However, they are not of great importance currently. I will tell you I’m not the reason you’re here. I’m still puzzling that one out. When I figure out what idiot summoned you here, they will have my wrath to deal with.”

  A snort attracted Caitlin’s attention to the window in the kitchen, where Oscar had somehow maneuvered his large head in. He was grazing on unidentifiable herbs in pots on the windowsill. “Yes, yes, and you too. You will strike fear into their hearts. Stop chewing up my basil, you oversized lawn ornament.” Oscar snorted again, shook his head slightly, and continued grazing, unfazed.

  Turning back to Caitlin, Esme said, “I’m going to make a stew out of him one day. He’ll feed me for months.” The sound of a pot smashing to the ground startled Caitlin. “I think I’ll cook you with peppers and onions. And of course, lots of basil. Ingrate.”

  Caitlin tried to suppress a grin, forgetting her own anger and curiosity for a moment. “Now stop distracting me. I’m trying to give off an air of mystery, and you’re ruining it,” Esme said.

  Oscar poked his large tongue out, honked, and knocked another pot off the sill. He made a baying noise Caitlin assumed was the moose equivalent to laughter. Esme grabbed a salt shaker and chucked it at him. He removed his head well before the shaker reached him.

  “Ungrateful piece of… Oh, never mind. Now, where was I?”

  Caitlin pulled herself back into the conversation. “You were telling me my questions aren’t important.”

  “Yes, yes. Not unimportant, just irrelevant to what needs to be known now. You asked me to look into your daughter’s circumstances. I had plenty of time while you were changing to consult the fires. They were being particularly obtuse. You know how flaky fires can be. They gave me a glimpse of what I was looking for but no concrete answers.”

  “That sounds oddly familiar,” Caitlin said, her stomach tensing at the mention of Elise.

  “Oh, shut up. You’re nearly as bad as the moose. I need something of yours to feed the flames. I figured you were done with your clothes, so I’ll use them. It should ground the flames and give us some answers.” Before Caitlin could respond, Esme grabbed a tightly woven sack from the floor next to her and walked over to the large fireplace. She produced the clothing Caitlin had just left in the bedroom, including panties and bra, and unceremoniously dumped them into the glowing coals. The fabric caught quickly, and flames burst into life.

  Caitlin walked over and stared into the flames, watching their mesmerizing dance. “What am I supposed to be seeing?” Esme produced the shushing finger. Caitlin very desperately wanted to show her a finger of her own but suppressed the urge.

  “Just watch,” Esme said. Caitlin sighed and continued to watch the fire. Suddenly an image formed. It took her a moment to make sense of it, and then she gasped. Elise was lying on a fur carpet with Chase curled up next to her. She appeared to be sleeping peacefully. The image altered, pulling them through a door where a horrifying cyclops creature waited. He was looking at the door, a smile on his lips. Sharp fangs were evident beneath those lips. The flames lost the image as they continued to dance wildly.

  “Hmmm, interesting,” Esme said, as Caitlin turned on her. “I guess if he hasn’t eaten them yet, he probably won’t.”

  So many emotions hit Caitlin at once, ranging from anger to panic, it took her some time to sort out her words. “What the hell was that thing? And where the hell is my little girl?”

  “That was a troggle, of course.” The old woman’s voice was maddeningly calm.

  “Don’t you dare bullshit me, old woman. You take me to my baby right now!” Heat rose from her core. She grabbed Esme’s arm with her left hand. The force she used would no doubt leave bruises on the older woman’s flesh, but she didn’t care. “I’m done with your games. I am not a puppet to be played with. That’s my baby girl, and she’s in this messed up world without anyone but the dog. Some sort of awful mutated freak is going to do who knows what to her. You showed her to me. You must know how to get me to her. I swear to Christ if you don’t take me right now I will… I will…” She screamed in frustration and flung her right hand to the side. The fury had been building inside of her, and she felt it release with the motion. Across the room a wooden shelf filled with plates lit into a blazing white fire, shattering the dishes in a cacophony of noise.

  Caitlin was so surprised she released her grip on the woman to look at the destruction. She vaguely perceived a word from Esme and the blaze dissipated. “What…”

  “Time to sleep,” Esme said, placing two fingers on Caitlin’s forehead. Before she could comprehend what was happening, Caitlin was enveloped in darkness.

  Chapter Ten

  Elise

  A loud noise wrenched Elise from her slumber. She stretched her arms above her head and yawned. She was in desperate need of the facilities and assumed Chase felt the same way. Slowly, she made it to her feet. Even though the furs had been soft, the ground beneath them had been hard rock, and her body was stiff. As she reached her hand out to the door of the bedroom another loud noise beyond it caused her to hesitate. She placed her ear against the door to see if she could figure out what was going on.

  On the other side were low grunts and guttural noises. She heard Aroon’s “aaaaaa---rooooooonnn’s.” Her hand moved away from the doorknob, and she slowly crept back onto the rugs. Chase sat up next to her, leaning on her side. She wrapped her arms around him and sat as silently as she could.

  The noises became louder. The distinctive sound of glass breaking was sharp directly outside, a few shards finding their way through the crack at the bottom of the door. A few more muted thumps were followed by a cry of pain. Elise buried her head into the short fur of the dog, as adrenaline forced tremors throughout her body.

  For a moment all sound subsided, and Elise looked up from the dog. She was just beginning to think the disturbance had ended when the knob turned. More swiftly than she’d ever seen him move before, Chase was between Elise and the door. His head was lowered, and a quiet, rumbling growl emitted deep in his chest. He let out two nearly silent barks.

  The door swung in, revealing an unfamiliar troggle. Before the creature had time to process what was happening Chase was on her, sinking his teeth deep into her left arm. The female troggle screamed in surprise and pain. Her other hand wrapped around the dog’s collar, unsuccessfully trying to remove him.

  “Chase!” Elise shrieked above the cries of the troggle. Her voice penetrated, and he releas
ed the creature. Dark red blood dripped from his jaws. He turned to look at Elise. In his instant of inattention another troggle pushed the female to the side and hit the dog forcefully in the head with a stone vase. Elise watched the dog’s eyes roll back into his head as he fell to the floor. “No!”

  She ran to Chase and crouched next to him, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. She pulled his head onto her lap, the blood smearing on her pants. Her chest constricted so tightly she feared she couldn’t breathe. Pained noises were wrenched from her as salty liquid poured from her nostrils. “Why? WHY?!”

  The vase-wielding troggle entered the room. Elise couldn’t fight him. She stared up at his single eye as liquid fell from her own onto the creature who lay unmoving in her lap. The eye was milky white, without a hint of an iris.

  Fear was pushed aside by the all-encompassing anguish she felt. He just stared back at her with no trace of emotion. “I hate you!” she yelled. In response, the troggle raised the vase once again. Elise barely felt the impact before she blacked out.

  *

  Cool liquid caressed Elise’s cheek. She opened her eyes and then quickly shut them again as pain lanced through her head. A groan escaped her lips.

  “Easy,” said a girl’s voice she didn’t recognize. “You have one heck of a skattle egg growing. Just relax. We’ve got a long trip ahead of us.”

  “Skattle egg?” Elise asked, keeping her eyes closed, “I don’t remember a skattle in Monoflufee.”

  “Skattles are everywhere. Pesky rodents are always flying around begging for food. I’m not sure what a Monoflufee is though. Is it a book?” The girl kept running a damp cloth over Elise’s forehead as she spoke.

  “There are Monoflufee books, but I prefer to watch the cartoon. There are also some pretty awesome video games,” Elise said, trying to make sense of what was going on. The headache was making it hard for her to concentrate. She could hear odd creaking sounds, and the ground shifted beneath her.