by Ike Hamill
She used all of her speed to close the distance to the woman with the spear. Before the tip of the spear even came up, Madelyn had grabbed the shaft and jerked it. The woman stumbled forward and fell. Madelyn dodged out of the way and twisted the spear from the woman’s grip. By the time the woman hit the ground, Madelyn had the spear pressed to the woman’s back.
She looked up at the others. They couldn’t believe what had happened.
Only the old man seemed unfazed.
“I believe you could kill us all,” he said. “But that won’t get you your festival. We barely have enough people to execute it now. If you kill any two of us, we won’t be able to perform it.”
Madelyn realized something—the old man was negotiating. He was finding out exactly how important Madelyn’s quest was—would she kill for it? Would she die for it? She had revealed her avarice.
“What do you want?” she asked.
The old man smiled. “One hundred milliliters of your blood.”
“Ten,” Madelyn said. “And I draw it.”
“Fifty,” he said.
Madelyn nodded.
# # # # #
Madelyn stayed near the old man as he worked. She kept an eye on the people working, but they had all abandoned their weapons. Madelyn’s own knife was strapped to her belt, under the bear skin. It was too hot to be wearing it. She didn’t want to reveal too much to the people of Deadhorse. They seemed to know too much already.
The old man picked through the diamonds and rearranged them several times. He placed them on the scraps of metal and lowered himself to the ground to see how the sun reflected off of each stone.
“You have to get them just right,” the old man said. “There’s no formula. It changes every time. You need to develop an eye for it.”
He looked up at Madelyn and laughed.
“See? Look here,” he said.
His face was nearly pressed to the ground. He pointed at one of the diamonds that was balanced on top of a hunk of aluminum. Madelyn was more interested in the weld she saw on the metal. She knew how difficult that weld would have been to pull off. She indulged the old man and lowered herself to the ground.
The sun nearly blinded her. It bounced from one gem to the next, picking up intensity along the way. The beam that hit her eye was brilliant and seemed to pulse to an inaudible rhythm.
Madelyn sat back up. The old man laughed again.
She blinked as she watched the others making their pile. There were no trees in any direction. She wondered if they had walked all the way to the mountains to get the fuel.
Madelyn sat on her heels when the old man went back to work on his arrangement. She pulled smoked meat from her bag and cut off a hunk.
“Here,” she said, holding it out for the old man.
He took it, sniffed it, and then tasted.
“It’s elk,” she said. “It will do you good to eat proper game.”
He frowned and then moved it to his back teeth so he could chew the meat.
“You make the sky go dark?” Madelyn asked. “Is that part of it?”
The old man shook his head. “It’s not us who does it. Come with me. We’re almost ready.”
She followed him back to the edge of the depression. Their platform was build in the center of what must have been a lakebed at some point.
“How long have you done this ceremony?” Madelyn asked.
“Since before I was born,” the man said. He put his fingers to his lips and whistled. The people who emerged from the ground looked to be as old as he was. Madelyn counted. They had four strong people manning the platform—two men and two women. They had six old-timers including the leader who Madelyn had been talking with. She had also seen two children, but they had disappeared back into the holes.
“Where are the kids?” Madelyn asked.
“This isn’t for them,” the old man said. He raised his hands and captured everyone’s attention. When he lowered his right hand, the singing began. His hand bobbed to an internal rhythm. The notes they sang rose and fell with his bobbing hand. The people took breaths in shifts so that the singing remained constant.
In the distance, one of the strong people lit the fire. The wood was parched and the flames jumped up immediately.
Madelyn turned to one of the old women. The pitch of her note had begun to descend. It dropped lower and lower. Madelyn kept thinking that the woman would reach the bottom of her range, or she would run out of breath, but she kept going on and on. Madelyn’s attention was drawn to the man next to her, as he began to ramp down his pitch. They continued in a cycle. At some point, Madelyn realized that the first woman must have sucked in more air and started again at the top. Even with only six voices, the chorus was miraculous. They made a tone that sounded like it was constantly descending, even though the average pitch must have been steady.
Madelyn realized that the strong people in the center of the lakebed had raised the burning platform. When they extended it above their heads, the sky went dark.
Madelyn heard a thump. The old people had begun to beat their chests in time with the rhythm of the old man’s right hand.
His left hand joined the rhythm, and Madelyn held her breath. It felt like all the oxygen was being sucked out of the air by the bonfire.
She heard another sound in the distance. It was so faint that she couldn’t tell if it was real or imaginary. In the center, the men and women carried the platform until it was above the pile of metal and diamonds that the old man had so carefully arranged. Madelyn peered at the space under the platform. The waves of heat that radiated down from the fire shaped the bright horizon until it looked like a moving form.
The wavering horizon appeared to be a white bear, slowly pacing towards her. Madelyn shook her head to dispel the illusion. It wouldn’t go away. She could almost see the bear’s intent black eyes looking at her across the kilometers.
The chants of the old people intensified. The descending notes quickened, as did the pace of their thumping.
Madelyn heard the distant sound again. It was the click of a Roamer. She tilted her head. She hadn’t heard that sound in years. She began to walk forward. She wanted to meet that white bear. It was coming out of the sunburned north—the place where it was so hot that nothing could survive. The white bears had disappeared before the sun had even turned. The shape was impossible, but it was getting more and more clear with each step that Madelyn took.
She could feel the heat from the fire.
Behind her, the chant from the old people had reached its maximum speed. They stopped abruptly. Madelyn turned in time to see the old man throw his hands to the sides with closed fists. She spun again to see the two strong men and women drop the platform and run. It crashed to the ground a meter from where Madelyn stood. The sparks shot out and washed over her. The bear fur caught in several places and then the fire fizzled out.
Madelyn studied the horizon.
The white bear was gone. The clicking Roamers were gone. The fire was burning out at her feet.
The old man held his ground while the others headed back to their holes. Madelyn blinked and tried to make sense of it.
The old man approached.
He picked up one of the branches and poked through the coals, looking for his treasure. He spotted something. To Madelyn, it might as well have been another chunk of ash-covered wood. The old man kicked off his boots and walked barefoot into the smoldering fire. At the center, he dipped down, retrieved a diamond, and continued walking.
When he returned to Madelyn, he was wiping the gem on his tattered shirt.
He held it up for her to see.
“Do you like it?”
Madelyn shrugged. The old man held it out to give it to her.
When she shook her head, he said, “Okay.”
The old man popped the diamond in his mouth, swirled it around with his tongue for a second, and then swallowed. He opened his mouth and threw his hands in the air.
“Explain to me what
just happened,” Madelyn said.
The old man only smiled at her. With his arms up over his head, he did a slow spin. One of the strong men—Madelyn recognized him as the archer as he approached—came right to the old man and stopped.
The old man smiled up at him, even as the archer drove a knife into his belly. Madelyn watched the life splash out of the old man. The smile never left his face even as the rest of his muscles sagged.
“Why did you do that?” Madelyn asked.
“It’s what we do,” the archer said.
Madelyn backed away. They might have some ancient wisdom. The ceremony might hold some secret that still held power even though the Roamers were gone, but it was clouded with their terrible traditions. Whatever knowledge they had, Madelyn didn’t want to learn it.
One of the old singers came from a low building as Madelyn passed. She held a hypodermic needle.
“You promised us blood,” the woman said.
“Take it, if you can,” Madelyn said. She kept walking.
She passed by the mouths of their underground lairs and turned south. Madelyn stayed vigilant—ready for attack—until she was far away from Deadhorse and its strange inhabitants.
Chapter 53
{Return}
MADELYN GREW WEARY AS she hiked. She had traveled from the wall of ice to the south all the way to the scorched plain of Deadhorse. It was time to go home. The question remained—where was her home? As she followed the road up into the mountains, she pondered.
All the people who trusted her, and all those who had reason to hate her, were in Fairbanks. That assumed that they were still alive. It had been a long time since she had left.
Madelyn worked her way south, through the passes, and felt the pull of her grandmother’s cabin. It was waiting there for her, like a bed that was still warm, or an open grave. When she stopped to make a fire, she poured over her dirty maps, looking for an answer. She dreamt of Elijah, David, and Austin. She dreamt of her father and her grandmother. They all said the same thing to her. When she woke, she would be sweating and shivering at the same time. Their words echoed in her head.
“Heaven is gone, Mac. You destroyed it.”
She found the dreams disturbing, even though the message was fine by her.
Madelyn came down out of the mountains, scanning the horizon the whole time. She was looking for the line of smoke that would tell her that Fairbanks was still alive. Her optimism flickered like a candle in a breeze. She fully expected to find the streets empty.
She camped below the highway sign that read, “Fairbanks, 26km.”
Someone had spray painted, “ADH” over the peeling surface of the sign. It was an old designation meaning, “All Dead Here,” and it had never been true of Fairbanks. In the old days, it had been a felony to mark a place ADH if it wasn’t true. Madelyn couldn’t remember if the sign had been vandalized the last time she had been through there.
She built a big fire and dragged back a deer that she speared on the hillside. She cut up and roasted what she could carry. The rest she left for the wolves.
In the morning, she practically had to drag herself down the road. With each step, it felt like it would be easier to simply turn around and never learn the fate of Fairbanks.
She was well outside of the town’s border, when she drew her knife and waited for the approaching footsteps.
“Halt,” the voice said. “Who are you?”
Madelyn almost dropped her knife.
# # # # #
The kid couldn’t have been more than ten years old.
His eyes were suspicious and twinkling with intelligence.
“Who are you?” Madelyn asked. She tightened her grip on her knife, but lowered it to her side. She couldn’t stand the thought of pointing it at the kid.
“You’re a ghost,” the boy said. His shirt was rolled up so that it didn’t cover his hands. The strap of his rifle had a knot in it, so it would fit his little body.
“I’m not a ghost,” Madelyn said. “You shouldn’t point that gun at me. It’s not nice.”
“Drew?” a man’s voice called.
Madelyn narrowed her eyes at the man who emerged from the trees. His wiry muscles were hung on a big frame. His face was rich with lines, and his cheeks and temples were sunken. The man stopped when he spotted Madelyn.
“I’m surprised you didn’t hear me,” Madelyn said to the man.
He blinked at her. “You look just the same.”
“You don’t,” Madelyn said. She attempted to smile, but the gesture made her face feel stretched and awkward. “You look like someone left you out in the sun to dry up.”
Madelyn put her knife back in its sheath.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me, Logan?” she asked.
Logan came forward slowly.
“Of course,” he said. “Drew, this is my old friend, Madelyn. Some people call her Mac. Madelyn, this is my son, Drew.”
The boy slung his rifle back over his shoulder and stuck out his hand. As Madelyn approached, the boy looked like he wanted to take his hand back and run far away. He remained brave, and actually gripped her hand for a second before he pulled free.
“Why don’t you go find your mother and tell her that we have company,” Logan said to his son.
The boy turned and ran into the woods.
Logan came close enough to touch Madelyn, but kept his hands to himself.
“My hearing started going a few years ago,” he said. He frowned and glanced down. “Scarlett says I used it all up when I was younger. She says we all average out to the same level of hearing, but some of us use it up when we’re young.”
“Is she the mother of…”
Logan cut her off with a nod and a smile.
“When did you get back to town?” Logan asked.
“This is it,” she said. “I’m just getting back right now.”
He blinked at her. His jaw dropped with blank wonder. “Then you haven’t… You haven’t even seen everyone yet?”
She shook her head. “I’m coming back from up north. You’re the first.”
Logan reached out and took her hand. He turned and pulled her towards the woods.
“Come on!” he said.
# # # # #
Logan led the way over a hill and down an old creek bed. When he started up the western bank, she smelled the place before she saw it. It was the smell of cut pine and cedar. Logan had been busy. His cabin was at the back of his clearing. They cut through the garden on the way through the door.
The boy appeared from the far side of the yard. He was towing a giant woman. Madelyn didn’t recognize Scarlett until they got closer. Motherhood had changed her body—redistributed her flesh.
Scarlett dropped her axe and smiled as she ran to them. She grabbed both of Madelyn’s hands.
“I never thought…” Scarlett said.
Madelyn smiled back.
“She hasn’t seen anyone yet,” Logan said. “She just came down from the mountains.”
“Go!” Scarlett said. “Take my bike.”
Logan nodded.
He pulled two bicycles from the shed that was built onto the side of the log cabin.
Madelyn shook her head. “I never learned.”
“Ride on the back,” Logan said. “I can lean forward and pedal.”
“I’ll run alongside,” Madelyn said. “No worries.”
Logan glanced at Scarlett. She waved for them to go. He nodded and mounted his bike. Madelyn moved as fast as she could, but she was holding Logan back. He coasted on the dirt trail, riding his brakes the whole time. Madelyn jogged behind him.
When he got to the proper road, the terrain was more flat and it was easier for Madelyn to keep pace.
“We moved up here because of the trees. Scarlett and I cut a lot of timber and we trade it for things that we don’t like to do. We’re both terrible at canning, so we trade our wood for pickles and jams.”
Madelyn had questions, but she was moving too
fast to ask them.
Logan locked his tires and skidded his bike to a stop. He gave her a quick wave as he ditched the bike and ran down across a field. They crossed the back way into the athletic field behind the school. Madelyn was surprised when they burst through the low branches and she found herself in between rows of corn.
“Jacob!” Logan called.
Madelyn’s heart soared. She had been afraid to ask after her nephew. Because nobody else had mentioned him, she feared that he was dead.
Logan’s call was answered from the other side of the corn. Madelyn ran faster.
She burst from between the stalks and slowed to a stop on the lawn. The school didn’t look the same. Its brick facade had been violated. The new window was huge. On top of the building, a second floor made of wood had been added. In the center of that, she saw a ladder that led up to a lookout tower.
She recognized the man coming down the ladder.
He dropped the last few rungs and then disappeared inside.
When Jacob came through the door on the side of the school building, he stretched his arms open wide and came to Madelyn. She couldn’t move. She was too stunned by the sight of him.
Her nephew had lost some hair and some of the padding in his face. The lines around his eyes made him look kind rather than old.
“Aunt Mac,” he said. Jacob pulled her into an embrace. “You look just the same.”
He took her arm.
“You live here?” Madelyn asked.
Jacob led her parallel to the building. “A bunch of us do, yes. We have a little community within the community. It’s easier with the kids.”
“Kids?”
Jacob took her up to the door. He opened it and waved her inside.
“I never thought I would see you again,” Jacob said. “Why did you stay away so long?”
“I had to make sense of everything,” she said.
They had transformed the old cafeteria. There were tables on one side and storage on the other. She didn’t see their kitchen. The decorations were art made by little hands. Madelyn smiled. One wall was nothing but finger turkeys.
