Turnabout

by Carmen Webster Buxton

  The only thing was, where could I go?

  I SPENT some time online looking up information about what was around the city of Egume. The rest of the State was mostly agricultural, with numerous towns and villages scattered throughout, but there were wilderness areas. In the foothills north of the city, where a mountain range formed the border with Dodomah, there didn’t seem to be any towns or even farms.

  I decided the best thing to do would be to get out of the city at night and hide in a rural area during the daytime, trying to work my way north at night. If I could manage to reach the mountains, I might be able to find a situation where I could scare myself into Turning without actually killing myself.

  I had to find a way to escape the men’s wing first. The downstairs door opened onto the courtyard, and one on the second floor led to the hallway to the women’s bedrooms. I had asked Hobart what the key codes were to open the cipher locks, and he’d looked me right in the eye and said he didn’t know.

  But even if I did get out of the men’s wing, all the doors to the street were kept locked, and keys were in short supply. Even the older girls had to ring to get in when they came home from school. I needed some way out of the house that wasn’t a door.

  One night, about eight days after Panya had visited me, I let myself out of my room. The upstairs door opened every night and every morning; I just needed to find out how. Fortunately, all the corridors had night lights for safety reasons, so I didn’t have to turn on a light. I crept up the stairs, headed for the broom closet between the door to the main house and the door to Hobart’s suite.

  Just as I stepped up to the closet, the lock on the door to the main part of the house clicked. I ripped open the closet door and whacked myself in the head trying to duck inside. I stifled a curse and ducked under the shelf as I jumped into the closet and swung the door shut behind me.

  I managed to catch the bucket on the floor before I knocked it over, and I crouched there, my heart pounding, praying that whoever had opened the door hadn’t seen me. The closet had no keyhole, so I was totally in the dark. I cracked the door open a tiny bit and saw a flash of blue going past me. I opened the door a little wider and saw Teleza’s mother knock on Hobart’s door. She was wearing a filmy sort of nightgown that would have made me check her out if I hadn’t been scared shitless.

  Hobart opened the door, wearing nothing but loose pants that looked like pajama bottoms. When Teleza’s mother stepped into his room, he slipped an arm around her as he closed the door.

  I figured they were set for the night, so I opened the closet door enough that I could see to explore the enclosed space. The shelf held cleaning supplies, the space under it, mops, brooms, a bucket, and a step stool. I rearranged things so I had more room and made myself as comfortable as I could on the stool. I propped myself against the wall and closed the closet door almost all the way, leaving just a tiny crack so I would hear when Teleza’s mother left Hobart’s room.

  Sitting in the near darkness reminded me of being trapped in Becca Sommers’ closet while her father rattled the doors. I had been scared then, and I was scared now, but for totally different reasons. I figured if Adeola or the other wives found me, I’d be locked up even tighter, and lose my only chance at getting out.

  “SEE you at breakfast, sweetie.”

  I sat up with a jerk, wondering if Mom was talking to me or to Lorrie, and realized abruptly that I’d been dreaming of home, and in fact it wasn’t my mother talking but Teleza’s, in Neluan instead of English.

  A crack of light poured into the closet as I leaned over to peer through the door. I bumped a broom handle and it fell. I caught the broom right before it hit the wall. I heard a door close, and then saw another flash of blue as I pressed my eye to the crack in the doorway. Having waited all night to watch Teleza’s mother work the door lock, I didn’t want to miss it.

  Her hand poised over the keypad and then swiftly keyed the code. I mentally repeated the pattern to myself—one, one, five, three, two. I wasn’t sure that’s what she had pressed, but if it wasn’t exact, it was close. The ease with which she did it reassured me. It didn’t look like they changed the code often because she hadn’t stopped to think.

  As soon as she was through, I dashed out of the closet and down the stairs. I was just about to turn toward my own room when the door to the courtyard opened at the end of the hallway. I darted across the corridor to the bathroom. Unlike Hobart, the boys and I had to share a bathroom, so I did have an excuse to be out of my room.

  I had made it to the bathroom door when Adeola’s voice came from behind me.

  “You’re up early, Jayzoon.”

  I glanced over my shoulder. “I didn’t sleep well.” I turned back to the bathroom. “Sorry, I’ve got to—” I stopped when I realized I didn’t know the Neluan word for taking a leak. I’d have to ask Hobart that one.

  Adeola laughed and started up the stairs. I let myself into the bathroom. I really did have to pee, but it was difficult to do it while I was still shaking.

  I SPENT the rest of that day making plans and looking for supplies. I figured with everyone planning for Wahlau in two days, they’d be too busy to worry about what I was up to. Scavenging proved difficult, though, because everyone I met kept asking me if I needed anything. I did, but except for some food, it wasn’t anything I could ask them for.

  After dinner I walked back to the men’s wing with Hobart. As usual, Kafele and Gyasi raced ahead of us through the courtyard. Hobart watched them with an affectionate grin.

  “Doesn’t it bother you that both your sons will be married off as soon as they turn seventeen?” I blurted out.

  He turned toward me and gave me a long gaze, and then he shook his head. “Nope,” he said in English. “It’s what they expect—what they look forward to. This world has its own rules.” He nodded at the two boys as they disappeared into a doorway. “That’s why they go to assemblies, so they can meet other families, maybe make friends—with girls as well as boys.”

  He seemed so truly okay with the situation that it made me wonder if I could ever feel that way. “But don’t you ever wish you were back home with just one wife that you cared about?”

  One corner of his mouth pulled up in a lop-sided grin. “Son, I was lucky to come here. I had nothing back in Fort Stockton—dead end job in a gas station, no education, no girlfriend, no family except a drunk mother and a father who beat her up.” He looked around at the courtyard. The light that lit the walkway made shadows on the walls, and the cool breeze carried the scent of the late-blooming flowers. “Here I have a huge family who all care about me and want to take care of me. I have time to read about things I’m interested in, work out when I feel like it, and talk to my kids any time they need me.”

  I didn’t say anything, but I was thinking about our apartment back in Bethesda, and Mom and Lorrie and even Sancho.

  “I know it’s harder for you because you miss your family,” Hobart went on, his voice gentle, “but since you can’t get back, you’re better off here with my girls.” He grinned even wider, the happy grin of a man who was pleased with life. “And besides, a man here gets sex every single night that he wants it.”

  Okay, that part sounded great, but I had already seen the down side of not being able to choose who I’d be in bed with.

  That night, I lay fully dressed in my Makoron clothes and waited until I heard someone knock on Hobart’s door. After it opened and closed again, I got up and put on my jeans, my tee shirt, and my denim jacket. I had to wear Makoron shoes, though, because my sneakers had worn out.

  I took my supplies from my hiding place in the back of the closet. I had filched a knife from the kitchen, a piece of fabric from the sewing room, and, most importantly, a length of rope from the laundry room. When I had told Panya I was hungry, she had made me a sandwich, shaking her head at my odd food choices. I had wrapped the sandwich in a cloth napkin and stowed it away. I used the length of fabric to fashion a sort of padded sheath for the kn
ife, so I wouldn’t stab myself to death carrying it around in my pocket.

  I wasn’t sure if there was anywhere in Makoro that I could hide, but I planned to try—if I could get out of this house.

  When I let myself out of my room, the house was quiet. I crept up the stairs as quietly as I could. I heard a low laugh when I passed Hobart’s room, but luckily no one appeared on the landing. When I got to the door to the main wing it took me three tries to get the key code right. I was getting panicked when I finally heard a click, and then I opened the door.

  I stepped through, still moving as quietly as I could, and walked down the corridor. I’d been there lots of times, in the daytime, but never this late. I didn’t hear voices, but a light shone from under the door to the room Teleza shared with Panya and Ulu. I crept past it trying not to let my shoes make any noise.

  Finally, I came to the end of the corridor and the tiny back stairs that led to the attic. No one had bothered to show it to me, but I had noticed that stairway on my own.

  I put my foot on the first step and started to climb. As soon as I put my weight on the step, it creaked loudly. I froze.

  Nothing. No sounds of inquiry, no lights from doors opening. I tried putting my foot on the far side of each step instead of in the middle. The stairs still creaked, but not as loudly. I made myself slow down, moving like I was in slow motion, and that helped more. It seemed like hours before I made it to the landing. Then, finally, I was at the top of the steps.

  I put my hand on the latch of the attic door and tried to push down. It wouldn’t budge. The door was locked.

  “Fuck!” I whispered furiously.

  I crouched on the top step and wedged the tip of the knife between the doorframe and the door. I took me awhile, especially because I kept looking over my shoulder, but eventually I was able to push the bolt back with the tip of the knife. I held it there with one hand and pushed the door open with the other.

  I cringed when the hinges let out a long, painful squeal. I left the door open, partly so I’d have some light, but mostly so it wouldn’t squeak again.

  Moving through the attic felt spooky; it was full of dark corners and odd, shadowy shapes. The room, a big open space, ran the whole length of the house. Small gabled windows on either side of it let in a little bit of light. I looked around as I walked in. Boxes, trunks, and all kinds of assorted junk filled the floor space. At least the floor was solid; the walls were rough and there was no ceiling, just the roof joists.

  I put the knife back in its homemade sheath and tiptoed over to the nearest window. It overlooked the courtyard. Not good. I checked the other side, but that overlooked the same busy street the gym did. Not much better. At the far end of the room I found a window that overlooked an alley at the back of the house.

  Fortunately, the window lock was a simple twist latch. The wood squeaked when I opened it, but not as badly as the door had. I looked down. No sign of anyone or anything moving in the alley.

  I set my shoulders and took a deep breath. Time to get going. I tucked the knife into a jacket pocket, checked that my sandwich was in the other jacket pocket, and then started to drag the largest trunk I could find over to the open window. The noise sounded deafening to me, but I told myself that was just because the house was so quiet and sound echoed in the open space of the attic. When I got the trunk close, I took the rope I’d stolen from the laundry room and tied one end to the handle of the trunk. I threw the other end out the window. When I looked down, it looked like the rope reached all the way to the ground, but it was hard to be sure.

  I thought back to gym class, and every movie with a mountain climbing scene I’d ever seen. I’d finally managed to climb a rope in gym, but I’d never had to rappel down a wall before.

  I figured there had to be a first time, so I wrapped the rope loosely around my left wrist and threw my right leg out the window. The window was small enough that I had to scrunch over, and it was a good thing I was so thin. I grabbed the rope a little farther down with my right hand, leaned away from the house to test my grip, and then pulled my other leg over the window ledge.

  I damn near fell right there. The rope slid through my hands—I’d never thought about rope burns until then—for a few seconds, until I tightened my grip. Finally, I got both feet against the wall and stopped myself from sliding. I didn’t so much rappel as inch my way down the side of the house. When I was still several feet from the ground, I realized the rope was slipping—not through my hands but from the window!

  A loud screeching noise sounded a little like someone using power tools. I realized the trunk was scraping the floor, so I tried to go faster. There was a thunk like the trunk had hit an obstacle but the rope kept slipping. The knot had come untied! I pushed out from the wall with my feet, let go, and dropped to the ground with my knees bent.

  The fall was enough that I fell over onto the pavement and scraped my knees just as the rope fell on my head. “Shit!”

  “I don’t know what that means,” a woman’s voice said in Neluan, “but I thought you’d never make it down.”

  I scrambled to my feet. For a second I thought it was Adeola or someone from her household, and then I realized the woman was a stranger, and she wasn’t alone.

  And then the two of them dropped a bag over my head and everything went black.

  Ten

  In spite of the fact that I couldn’t see a thing through the bag that covered my head, the two women made me walk damn fast. They tugged me along by the rope they had tied my hands with, the same rope I had stolen from the laundry room. I could hear everything they said, but I couldn’t talk because every time I tried to make any noise one of them would muffle my face with the bag until I couldn’t breathe. After the third time I got the idea and kept quiet.

  “I’ve been thinking, Esi,” the first woman said after a few minutes. “It’s not safe to take him past the camp.”

  The second woman snorted. “Very true.” A hand patted my shoulder. “If we want to profit from this gift that dropped from heaven we need to keep him to ourselves until we can find a buyer.”

  A buyer? That didn’t sound good. It made me feel like a used car.

  “You’re right,” the first woman said. “Is it even safe to take him home?”

  Esi must have pondered her answer because there was a pause before she spoke. “I think so. We’re far enough from the camp that no one could hear him even if he screamed.”

  Why would I scream? What did they have in mind? I could feel my forehead sweating inside the bag.

  “If we go the long way round no one will see us,” the first woman said. “But we won’t get any dinner.”

  “I’ll go and fetch it after we’re home,” Esi said, “as soon as we get him safely tied up.”

  We walked for at least an hour after that. I had no idea what direction we went, but I could smell woodsy smells so I didn’t think it was back toward the city. I kept tripping because I couldn’t see where I was going. Every time I fell one of them would haul me to my feet. I was exhausted, and I still had no clue where they were taking me. All I learned was that the first woman’s name was Marjani.

  “Here we are,” Esi said at last. “Let’s get him inside.”

  “Mind your step, young man,” Marjani added.

  “I can’t fucking see!” I had learned the Neluan version of the f-word only a week ago when Gyasi accidentally hit Hobart in the crotch during a jin-weh match. I hadn’t expected to need to swear so badly so soon after I had learned how.

  Esi chuckled. “You do speak Neluan. I wondered. Well, lift your feet, then. There’s a step here.”

  I lifted my foot, wondering why neither of them seemed to be opening a door. I climbed a single uneven stair and then took a few hesitant steps with one of them pulling me along.

  It got suddenly cooler and slightly damper.

  “Sit here.” Esi pushed down on my shoulder.

  I sank down slowly and found myself sitting on something cold and hard.
“Can you take the bag off, please?”

  “What do you think, Marjani?”

  “He won’t fetch much of a price if he accidentally suffocates.”

  A few seconds later the bag was pulled off my head, but it was still so dark it didn’t make much difference. Then I heard a sound like a match scratching, and all at once a bright flicker of light illuminated a bizarre scene.

  The taller woman had lit a small lantern with a tin base and a glass chimney, kind of like a hurricane lamp. She held it up now, and I could see I was in some sort of cave, except that while some of the walls were dirt and rock, some were concrete.

  It took me a second to put it together. We were probably under an overpass or a bridge. Boards and branches enclosed a space a little bigger than my mom’s living room. An opening in the boards formed a doorway. There was no real door, but more boards and some pieces of paneling had been nailed together and stood propped up next to the opening. I could see a half moon in the night sky, and lots of stars.

  I had been abducted by homeless people.

  The woman standing next to me was as tall as Adeola but younger and a lot more buff; she looked like she worked out. “There now,” she said as she put down the lantern, and I knew from her voice she was Marjani, “that’s better.”

  She stood beside a battered wooden table where she had placed the lantern. I glanced around and saw the table was almost the only real furniture they had. A large mattress at the back of the cavern lay directly on the ground, and crates and boxes stood stacked on one side of the room—if it could be called a room. Boards laid across the crates served as shelves that held a lot of assorted junk—dishes, pots and pans, books, clothes, and even a bow and a quiver of arrows. There were two home-made stools but no chairs. I sat on a block of concrete near the middle of the room. It was a homeless squat—better than a cardboard box, but not much more permanent-looking.

  “Welcome to our home,” Esi said. Shorter than Marjani, and several years younger, she had a wiry build but still looked like she could take care of herself. Like Marjani, she wore a slightly tattered Egume pantsuit, but hers fit better and looked cleaner. Both of them were a little on the fragrant side.