Pile of Bones

by Bailey Cunningham

  “What happened?” Paul asked.

  He’d asked the same question when she’d called him from the hospital two years ago. What happened to your leg? She told him that she’d cut herself on a piece of broken glass. It seemed plausible, but she could still remember the look of suspicion on his face. He was the clumsy one, not her.

  “He fell into Wascana Lake,” she said. They’d repeated the lie enough times that it was starting to sound real. “We were walking through the park, and he slipped on some loose gravel. It happened so quickly—”

  She allowed herself to trail off. A proper lie, she’d discovered, was vague yet precise. It couldn’t have too many elements, and the more she described it, the less it would make sense. Keep it simple. Let him fill in the details.

  “Did he, like, hit his head or something?”

  “Yeah. He swallowed a lot of water. He’s okay now, though.”

  “Geez. That sounds like it was really close.”

  “It was.”

  “I guess a drunken kid probably falls in that lake once a year. He was sober, though?”

  “Completely. It was a freak accident.”

  She regretted the phrase the moment it left her mouth. Freak accident sounded implausible, like falling into a wood chipper. She wanted to correct herself, but it was too late. Paul’s eyes narrowed for a moment. Then he took a sip of his coffee.

  “Guess he was lucky.”

  “Very.”

  “I drawed you a picture,” Neil said. “I mean—I drewed you a picture.”

  “What did you draw?”

  “A baby bat with some TNT.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “Uncle Paul is so damn tired. That’s why we had to get coffee.”

  She gave Paul a look.

  “Sorry.” He stared at the ground. “It just slipped out.”

  “It’s okay. You can go home and sleep if you like.”

  “I’m pretty much awake now.”

  “The last time I said that, I passed out in the bathtub.”

  “I remember that. Neil covered you with towels and said that he found a mermaid.”

  “You were so beautiful, Mummy. Like Ice Bird when he freezes the pigs.”

  “Thank you, sweet.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m not sure how long he’s going to be here. They might want to keep him overnight, but with the bed shortage, I doubt it.”

  “We can hang out for a bit,” Paul said. “It’s kind of like old times.”

  “Don’t say that. Those times were horrible.”

  “We all made it.”

  Paul had seemed so young then. Now there were lines under his eyes. The thought of her brother aging was impossible to comprehend. He would always be six and popping out of the hamper, screaming I am a meat eater! Sometimes it was all she could do to refrain from wiping his nose and asking him if he’d remembered to flush. Dinosaurs always flush, he used to say, a non sequitur if she’d ever heard one.

  She turned to Neil. “Mummy is going to check on her friend. Can you stay with Uncle Paul for a few minutes?”

  “I want to come with you.”

  There was something strange about taking him past the threshold of the waiting room. He had no memory of the time that he’d spent here. To him, it was just a place full of random noises and colored lines on the ground. All she could think of was how small he’d once been, a miraculous hazelnut in her palm. The moment when they’d disconnected the wires, and she could finally hold him. Every nerve on fire as she settled him into the crook of her neck, so terrified that he might break or melt away.

  “You have to be very quiet and good if you come with me,” Ingrid said. “People are sleeping and trying to get better.”

  “Laser can help them,” he whispered. “He can take his mask off, and his face will change. He will be real. Won’t they like that?”

  “I suppose it can’t hurt.” She took his hand. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  They walked down the hallway. Neil was fascinated by the machines. He took them in silently, and she knew that he would have hundreds of questions later. What was that liquid? Why were those sturdy beds lined up against the wall? What did the lines mean? Somehow, it would all become part of whatever mythology he was crafting. Those proud birds needed dialysis for their nests in space. It was strange to think that he used to talk in sentence fragments, that his vocabulary was once a series of random words: couch, star, li-berry. Listening to the sound of his shoes on the linoleum, she recalled his first steps, the shock of seeing him upright as he chased after a block. How did it happen? She used to carry him in a sling, and now he was beside her. Now she understood what it meant to grow like a leaf. Whenever she turned her back, he changed in some small way, his roots churning.

  When they reached the room, he hung back slightly, observing from a safe distance. His grip on her hand tightened. Shelby looked up.

  “Hi, Neil,” she said.

  He looked at Andrew but didn’t reply. Then he walked slowly over to the bed. He arranged the birds carefully on Andrew’s lap.

  “What are those?” Carl asked.

  “Don’t ask that—” Ingrid began.

  But it was too late. Neil began to explain where the birds came from, and how they were able to survive in space (except for the red one in his pocket, deprived of a bubble). He waved his hands as he described the antipathy of the pigs, who wanted to eat the birds. Carl and Shelby listened politely. When he started talking about how Ice Bird could eat only frozen gummies or pieces of asteroid, Shelby raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

  A nurse came in. She thought that this would distract Neil, but he continued with the story, explaining in great detail how the golden eagle appeared only when you got three stars. The nurse checked Andrew’s IV. There wasn’t much point in keeping him sedated anymore. He’d most likely sleep through the night on his own. Ingrid was about to ask if they could discharge him, when the nurse turned to her and smiled. A shock went through her.

  It was Mardian.

  He was wearing a blue uniform, and his hair looked slightly different, but the resemblance was unmistakable. She could see the spado’s shadow hovering just behind him. Neil seemed to see it too, because he suddenly ran to her, burying his face in her stomach. Ingrid held him close and met the nurse’s gaze. His smile was brittle. There was something underneath, something with claws scratching to get out.

  Mardian said nothing. He just smiled, then left the room. Ingrid felt the blood pounding in her ears. They’d been found—and so easily. Latona’s influence was everywhere. How many others were watching them right now?

  “We have to go,” she said.

  “That’s okay.” Shelby reached out to pat the stuffies. “It must be long past his bedtime. We’ll call you in the morning.”

  “No. We all need to go. Right now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Ingrid walked over to the bed. She’d spent six months watching nurses insert and remove IV lines. That didn’t mean much, but it was all that she had.

  “Close the door,” she said.

  Shelby stared at her. “What’s going on?”

  “Just do it. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  It was exactly what Felix had said. Maybe that was why Shelby listened to her. Ingrid reached into her purse and drew out a wad of cotton balls. She slipped some cotton beneath the IV, then tore off the tape and removed the line as carefully as she could. The machine next to the bed started to squeal, but she reached over and unplugged it.

  “Have you done this before?” Carl asked.

  Andrew groaned slightly. She held the cotton to his bleeding hand. “We’ve been found,” she said. “The spado is here.”

  Shelby’s eyes widened. “The nurse. I thought there was something off about him.”

  “We need to leave.” She touched Andrew’s forehead. “Sweetheart, I know you’re tired, but you have to wake up for us. Okay?”

  Andrew muttered something. He was still half-a
sleep.

  “Get him dressed,” she said to Carl. “I’m going to create a distraction.”

  “What kind of—”

  “Just be quick. Get him outside. Our car is parked nearby.” She handed Shelby her spare set of keys. “It’s a gray sedan with a car seat in the back. Press this button on the fob, and the lights will flash.”

  She led Neil out of the room and back down the hallway.

  “What’s happening?” he asked.

  “Well,” she said, towing him along, “we’re playing a game, and Mummy needs your help.”

  “Is it a game in space?”

  “Yes. We’re in space—”

  “And we have to freeze the pigs before they steal our precious eggs!”

  “That’s right.” She pointed to the triage desk. “See where that lady is standing? When we get there, I need you to scream as loud as you can, just like Monster.”

  “But people are sleeping and trying to get better.”

  She kissed him on the forehead. “I know, sweet. But they can’t hear you in the waiting room. Are you ready? Scream like Monster, and don’t stop until we get outside.”

  He looked dubious for a moment. “You want the birds to speak with one voice?”

  “Yes. I want them to speak as loud as they possibly can.”

  They reached the counter. Neil began to wail. His high, keening voice cut through the waiting room like a siren. Paul got out of his seat and ran toward them.

  “I think he has an ear infection,” Ingrid said to the nurse.

  “He looked fine when you brought him in.”

  “He’s been screaming like this off and on the whole night. Can you at least take his temperature? He feels hot.”

  The nurse sighed. Then she approached Neil, who screamed and ran in the opposite direction, throwing stuffies at her.

  He’s definitely mine, Ingrid thought.

  While the nurse was chasing Neil around the room, Ingrid saw Carl and Shelby emerge from the hallway. They’d wrapped Andrew in a blanket and were leading him slowly forward. He appeared to be sleepwalking. Paul managed to get a grip on Neil, who was squirming and howling like a mad puppy. Ingrid ran behind the triage desk.

  “Ma’am!” The nurse was on her in a moment. “What are you doing?”

  “Paging a doctor. You obviously can’t deal with this.”

  “Do not touch that phone.”

  “I’m dialing—”

  She looked up, just as Andrew was stumbling through the doors. They slid closed behind him. Ingrid put down the phone.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

  “Just come out from behind the desk,” the nurse said. “If your son will cooperate, we can take his temperature.”

  She turned to Neil. “Honey, do you want to use this machine?”

  He stopped screaming. “What does it do?”

  “It looks in your ear and tells us how you’re feeling.”

  “You said—”

  “Come over here. It’s really neat.”

  Neil insisted on having his temperature taken six times and then asked for a peppermint, but eventually they got him out of the waiting room.

  “What the hell just happened in there?” Paul asked.

  “Heck. Say heck.”

  “Ingrid.”

  “Where did you park?”

  “Right over—” His eyes narrowed. “What the—is someone in our car?”

  “My friends are staying with us tonight. I’ll explain when we get home.”

  “Are you losing it?”

  “I don’t even know how to answer that question anymore.”

  “We spoke with one voice,” Neil said, beaming.

  2

  SHE WAS IN A BUBBLE, SURROUNDED BY EXPANDING stars. Pigs were everywhere—she’d never seen this many before, green and hungry, like deranged marbles. They’d eaten the catapults, and now they were noticing her for the first time. Spitting splinters, they began to move in a wave toward her bubble. It was too thin. If she breathed or moved, the stars and the pigs would rush in. Where was Ice? He should have appeared by now, a fan of electric blue tail feathers exploding from the void. But none of the birds were here. Didn’t they care about their eggs? How could they give up on her so easily? She heard a buzz. The pigs were building something with the splinters. They had tools, and schematics, and boxes of TNT. All she had was the bubble, and it was about to break.

  She looked at the stars again, cold and resplendent, like seed pearls on a black cushion. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Explosive decompression would kill her before the pigs did.

  It was hard to judge distances, but somewhere, a red light was flashing. Was it a vortex? Were they coming?

  “I’m here!” she screamed. “Don’t let them—”

  The bubble burst.

  Ingrid opened her eyes. The alarm was flashing. Neil had crawled onto the bed and was patting her shoulder lightly.

  “Mummy. Everyone is awake. Uncle Paul is making so much toast.”

  She kissed his forehead. “All right. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  His pajamas were the color of orange sherbet. “There are people here.”

  “Yes, love. Mummy invited some friends to stay with us.”

  “For how long?”

  That was a good question. Her instinct was to keep everyone close, but being together didn’t exactly make them stronger. Now they were just a more noticeable target. But when she’d seen the expression on Mardian’s face—that cold amusement—all she could do was gather them all to her, like doomed plushies.

  And now my son is probably going to need therapy.

  “They’re going to leave today,” she said. “It was just a sleepover party.”

  “They can stay. I have a lot to teach them.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Ingrid threw on a robe and took his hand. “When you said that Uncle Paul was making toast, did you mean French toast, or regular toast?”

  “I do not speak French, Mummy. I speak in words.”

  “Is he cooking the toast in a pan?”

  “It smells like Christmas.”

  They walked down the hallway and into the living room. She smelled coffee and vanilla extract. Paul had already gone through a loaf of bread and was defrosting more. The eggshells on the counter looked like a pile of bones. He looked up.

  “Morning.”

  She’d always been the sarcastic one, but there was a world of subtext in that greeting. He continued to crack eggs, while his crooked smile announced: This is FUBAR, big sis, and we’re going to talk about it after breakfast.

  Carl was watching an episode of Dinosaur Train. Beside him, Andrew concentrated on dividing his French toast into symmetrical bites. His knife and fork scraped lightly against the plate, while Buddy sang: “T-Rex…I’m a Tyrannosaurus….” Shelby sat on the ground, putting together one of Neil’s human body puzzles. He ran over and knelt down beside her.

  “Very good! Now he needs skin.”

  Shelby looked up. “Good morning. Did you sleep okay?”

  “Five hours in a row. That’s something, at least.”

  “Thanks for letting us stay here. My apartment is usually freezing around this time, but your place is—you know—” She grinned. “French toasty.”

  “Stop talking,” Carl said.

  “Go back to your cartoon.”

  “It’s educational. I’m learning about alternative families.”

  Shelby returned to the puzzle. She frowned, examining the pieces.

  “Try that one,” Neil said, pointing to an ear.

  Ingrid looked at Shelby for a moment. Awkward and beautiful. She was listening carefully to what Neil was saying. He could tell that he’d gained an audience, so he was pontificating about the small intestine. How long had it been since someone was actually interested in her? What was the appropriate response? Her mind was assembling a list of reasons not to pursue this. Damn logic. Damn her cute morning hair. />
  “Hey.” Paul stood in the entrance to the kitchen. “Here’s a plate for you.”

  Ingrid walked over to him. “Thank you.”

  “There’s coffee, too.”

  “You’re amazing.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She poured butter pecan creamer into her coffee, then sat down at the table.

  “Have you already eaten?”

  “Neil and I had some oatmeal.”

  “You could have woken me up. I would have helped.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “I really am going to explain this.”

  “It’s no big thing. You were worried about your friend. You got all mama bear and decided to have a team sleepover.” He flipped the bread in the pan. “It’s actually nice to meet some of your friends. I was worried that you spent all of your time alone and dehydrated on the top floor of the library.”

  “There are water fountains. I’m not wasting away.”

  “I know. You just work so hard. I’m glad that you’ve got people.”

  He smiled, and Ingrid wanted to stab herself with the fork. She was a monstrous liar. She imagined her good-natured brother at work, listening to the radio while he waited for a giant tray of muffins to bake. He was alone in the semidarkness of the store, already beginning to sweat from the heat of the industrial oven. In that silent, flour-dusted world, he paused often to think about his family. How many personalized cakes had he intentionally ruined, just so that he could bring them home, emblazoned with King Neil in blue icing? Now, on his day off, he fed all of her friends without complaint. He was so much like their father. She could almost see him in the kitchen beside Paul, cracking eggs and singing: I’m a lumberjack, and I’m okay—

  Ingrid drank her coffee. She could barely remember a time when it had been pleasant, something occasionally indulged in after a meal with friends. Now it was the bitter libation that kept her conscious and sent her running to the bathroom every few hours. It baffled her when people wanted to “go out” for coffee. Why go out? She had an enormous stockpile from Bulk Barn in the cupboard next to the fridge.

  “Mummy!” Neil ran up to her. “Are you finished eating?”

  “I just started, doll.”

  “Do you want to see something?”

  “By ‘something,’ do you mean a computer game?”