by Jeff Kamen
After a minute, she set down her bowl. ‘Maybe I die,’ she said. ‘But I am here, always. My home. My family here. My parent, my nana, all there in this garden.’ She nodded past the kitchen wall. ‘My … my husband also. Kornél. Clareka’s father. Her Tata. He was very sick, so ...’
She stopped. She was staring. ‘Soldier,’ she said distantly. ‘Every country, every place. All years. Always they kill us, the little people. So maybe now I kill them, no?’ As she said this, her face took on a look of grim determination that at once frightened him and stirred something he could not quite define. ‘You call me stupid?’ she added, eyeing him reproachfully. ‘No. No, not stupid. This is mine here. My home.’
On that note of finality, she fell silent. He thought that more might come, but she was lost in contemplation and he feared to interrupt her. When at last she got up, he remained where he was, stewing on her words as she cleared the dishes.
At first he thought about the dead husband, realising whose clothes he was wearing. Then, sitting in a warm winey haze, he thought of the passionate force with which she’d spoken.
Courage, he reflected. That was it: he admired her courage. A quality he realised he’d so long wished for himself, for it was the quality that people seemed most to have admired in those he’d loved, above any other of their accomplishments, and one he imagined she’d inherited from those she’d loved in turn. He imagined her parents slogging through the dust with nothing but what they carried in their hands; people owning only the given day, only each other. Refugees, the world forbidden to them.
He sipped again. Courage: it seemed to him the ordinary people of the world were its perpetual victims, and yet in a strange, unacknowledged way were somehow its ultimate victors. Unknown to each other, the war they fought was unending and it was bloody and dirty, and for all he knew, it went unnoticed somewhere every day. It struck him that the greatest task a person faced was to somehow find a value encased within nature’s stern instruction to live; to discover it and hold onto it, to cherish it and pass it to others throughout the strange and baffling crawl between uterus and oblivion. To use it to make living worthwhile.
He nodded to himself, thinking of all those he’d known who had acted without promise of reward for what they’d done; whose actions were an end in themselves. He thought of Lütt-Ebbins recruiting people he didn’t know he could trust, risking everything; his mother on the court steps after the birth tribunals; his father travelling secretly from that faraway base to the mountain, leaving behind him all that he loved or knew …
And now, and now ...
She. Her. Cora. Making a stand in her house while the murderers were coming. Defending her garden, her pigs, her precious memories …
He stood unsteadily, feeling her eyes upon him. ‘Ah, listen,’ he said. He knew he was not himself, but in many ways felt more himself than ever. Finally, finally, they were talking. ‘I’m sorry. Sorry for what I said. I was wrong. You’re … you’re not stupid at all, you’re, ah ...’ He hesitated, then said, ‘I think you’re brave.’
After locking him to the bed, her features stern and coppery in the lantern glow, like some memorial engraving, she looked at him for a moment before she closed the door. In a lifetime, he knew he might not understand what was in her mind right then. It could have been gratitude or hatred, contempt without end, even pity or affection. It could have been the darkest sorrow, or the traces of some inner melancholic calm. He tried to weigh himself in the burnished pans of her eyes.
In the night the shutters blew open, clattering against the wall. He started awake with his fists raised but there was nothing in the room. From outside he heard the restless swish of branches flinging off their leaves. He got up to close the shutters, craning his neck as a faint pattern of light appeared in the skies to the south. He had no idea what it was at first, then it struck him that the stray motes were the distant form of a spotlight. It was a dark epiphany. Unable to sleep, he stared deep into the flickering spectra until dawn.
Chapter 54 — Go To Her
‘I’m crawling through the chains. It hurts ... I’m bleeding. I’m at the front, nearly outside. The frame ... the equipment’s hanging down ... it’s hard to see them moving. I go under one of the lights. They won’t see me there so easily.
I take up my bow ... I fire at the guards, the back of them. They’re hiding, it’s a big group. I fire again. They don’t notice me, they’re keeping their heads down because ... because of the guns in the entrance. The noise ... a prisoner’s using one of their weapons against them. It’s ... too heavy for him, he can’t control it. He’s going wild. The vehicle’s lights go out. I’m hit again. I fall backwards, the vehicle’s rolling back, too. It’s going down with the bridge. I can see the prisoners escaping, running out. My bow’s broken ... I try to get up ... I’m screaming ... some of them see me ... the guards, they ...’
‘Is she okay?’ whispered Lütt-Ebbins. ‘Don’t want to push her too hard.’
Nina was checking Jaala’s pulse. A thin tube pierced one of her arms and the thick woollen sleeve above it, grimy with oil and muck, was rolled up past her elbow. Her eyes were moving erratically beneath closed lids, yet her breathing was steady.
Nina said soothingly, ‘I want you to rest a minute. Let it go dark again. Let Vadraskar go, and in letting her go, take a short time to see that you are different to her. Count back from five and lie quietly in the dark. Begin now.’
As Jaala murmured the countdown, Lütt-Ebbins turned to Vonal, who was sat beside him. The container they were in was large enough to house half a dozen nursing beds and clinical equipment. It was cleaner than most containers within the medical compound, and all four of them present wore elasticated coverings over their footwear to contain the pollution. Vonal rasped his bearded chin with a thumb and said, ‘Got to be the driller, hasn’t it? The thing you saw outside Hagens.’
‘Can’t think what else it could be,’ Lütt-Ebbins replied. ‘It’s the only thing they had of this size. She said they were widening the route through the tunnel. Must have been to let it through.’
‘If they knew about Hoffstadt they were top brass, no doubt about it. Wonder if she spoke with anyone else. Can you ask her?’
Nina looked up from checking Jaala’s readings on a small screen adjacent to where she lay. ‘She might answer,’ she said, ‘but we need to know the context of the reply. She might jump back again and lose us. It happened before. I’d prefer to move her forward, if that’s okay. I want to know what the sequence was so I can pull her out of the frame knowing exactly what happened. And when.’
‘Right. Think you can do it?’ Lütt-Ebbins said. ‘Take the voice out?’
‘It’s not a question of taking it out as such, more of sealing it away without her feeling anything. Without even sensing it. It’s all about her being able to stop the intrusions, not the fact of having the thoughts inside her.’
‘How can you tell?’ said Vonal. ‘Maybe she’s just crazy.’
‘It’s physical in origin. Her blood’s twice as thick as ours, and there’s ancestral cells in it. I’m guessing they interact with her brain like a ... a drug. Whether or not they started as something external, they’re a part of her now.’
‘Ancestral? How old?’
‘The equipment’s not sensitive enough to give much detail. But I’d say about twenty generations. If each generation lives eighty years or more, that takes her back a long time.’
‘Twenty. Hell. Think she goes back all the way? Has she talked about it?’
Lütt-Ebbins glanced at Nina, saying, ‘Not with me. You?’
‘No,’ said Nina. ‘She’s not mentioned anything further back than this voice goes. This one, Vadraskar. Grehtà’s the other one. The one who gave birth to her. I don’t even know if she’s capable of going back further while she’s got Vadraskar locked in like this. If I can seal off the voice, we might find out.’
There was a silence. Vonal rubbed his eyes tiredly with his palms.
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‘Could it harm her?’ said Lütt-Ebbins. ‘I mean, permanently.’
‘Of course. But it’s what she wants, isn’t it. It’s why she’s here.’
‘Then we won’t know anything,’ Vonal muttered. ‘Which won’t be good. There’s already questions about the resources she’s taking up.’
‘I’ll handle that,’ Lütt-Ebbins said. ‘She barely eats anything and the animal eats grass. And when she’s outside the zone, she’s not even breathing our O2.’
‘Yeah. Lucky her.’
‘What are we doing?’ said Nina. ‘Are we continuing, or coming back later?’
‘I’m happy to try some more,’ Lütt-Ebbins said.
Vonal gave a nod, after which Nina spent a few minutes bringing Jaala through to where she’d left off. ‘Can you see any people around you?’ she said. ‘Versteckts? People fighting?’
Jaala’s dark face was moistening with sweat. A deep frown creased her brow. ‘Can’t count ... lots ... too many. It’s not light enough.’
‘Are they ... all dead?’
‘Dead, yes. Arrows in them.’
‘How did you get up again?’
‘I made myself. Always. I always make myself. I crawled to the vehicle’s front and pulled myself up. There were chains loose, I tore them down. Then I saw my spear. I took it. It was hard to move. The bridge ... it was at an angle. Sinking backwards. I wanted to reach the rear, find the people inside. The leaders.’
‘That’s it,’ whispered Vonal, and Nina signalled for quiet.
‘Go on. Go down to them.’
‘I’m walking. The chains ... lashing the bodies, lashing the scalps off. Stamping on their skulls. Crushing their throats. The blood, it’s ... there’s so ...’ She stiffened. ‘They’re coming up at me, running uphill.’
‘Describe them.’
‘Guards. People in grey. An officer. They don’t see me at first. I’m crouching down. Then I lash at them. One of them fires ... it hits me, but I don’t stop. I cut off his hands with the spear, I kick him out at the waterfall, I ... I kill them all, rip them open. I wear their blood, I wet my face with them. They are on my clothes ... how then can they not know who did win and how.’
Lütt-Ebbins and Vonal exchanged a look. Nina put a finger to her lips.
‘So it was written once ... she says ... no, I .... I’m there ... me, I feel it ... I go to the bottom of the vehicle. The metal bed ... it’s crushed, raised up. I can see the river over it. I want to dive but I can’t. She ... I have to finish it. I go on the ramp. I climb, walk up it. It hurts.’
The two men sat forward.
‘It’s silent. Everywhere. The archers have stopped. There’s no more firing. I look inside.’
‘What do you see?’ Nina whispered. ‘Are there any people?’
‘Dead ones. I look at the lights. It’s big in there, big metal crates and open rooms. There’s equipment. A glass cabinet. Blue water. Big boxes. Then he ... a man comes out. I retreat, it ... he looks like he has a weapon.’
‘What’s he wearing?’
‘He ... he’s in white, like the other leaders.’
‘He’s alone?’
‘Yes. He sees me, comes towards me. Wearing a cloak. Purple. His mask ... it’s different.’
‘In what way?’
‘It’s golden, it looks like an animal. An animal with a long muzzle. Schakal, or ... it’s not ... it’s not like the breathing masks. It doesn’t look like he can breathe. Foam ... there’s foam in his mouth. He’s trembling, sick. He comes out and looks at the sky.’
‘Poisoning,’ Lütt-Ebbins whispered. ‘They used toxic arrows on the leaders.’
‘Describe the man,’ Vonal hissed.
‘Do you see his face?’ said Nina.
‘I see his eyes. Cold. Grey, like his hair. His skin ... it’s rough. He stares through me like ... like I’m not there.’
‘Bruehl,’ whispered Vonal. ‘Damn it, it’s Bruehl.’
‘Does he say anything?’
‘Not then. I throw the spear ... it ... it sends him back against a wall. Pins him there. He’s stuck. But he still has a white ... a white stick in his hand. Long, like their weapons. A tube comes from it, goes all the way inside. I ... I see him squeeze the stick. The air goes misty. Full of fumes, it’s ... then I hear Radjík.’
‘Sandor’s daughter?’
‘Yes. She ... she has her bow. She wants me to run clear but ... I can’t move. She takes me by the hand and pulls me away. That’s when he speaks. He says, “Not vulgar, never that.” We ... we run down ... she helps me over the wreckage. We climb ... we climb over it but the fire’s already started.’
‘You see a fire?’
‘I see it in the air. Like the mountain again. Everything ... everything’s burning. There’s a snapping noise, then we drop away. That’s when it explodes.’
‘What explodes, exactly? The vehicle?’
‘The vehicle. The bridge. It’s ... it’s like a bright light. We’re hit by metal parts as we fall. We’re burning up, screaming. Then we hit the water.’
‘How do you get away?’
‘People ... villagers ... they’re diving in to help. I see them ... the metal box ... it’s burning, people on the bank. Then I ... I’m going under ... sinking ...’
‘What’s your name at this time?’
‘I ... she’s ... she’s Vadraskar.’
‘Okay. That’s very good. Now rest again. Count down from five to darkness. Then I want you to let Vadraskar go. And in letting her go, take a short time to see you are different to her. Understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘Count back from five and lie quietly in the dark. Begin now.’
~O~
They roused her several times more — that night and the day following. But as they talked her through the different stages of the battle, her reactions grew increasingly forceful.
Lütt-Ebbins witnessed some of it: her muscles contracting and rippling on her shuddering frame and her voice taking on an edge they became gravely concerned about, Nina most of all. When Vonal suggested they made her provide details of the other officers, she protested furiously, saying, ‘Hasn’t she suffered enough? Can’t you see the kind of damage we might be doing? She told us the Ostgrenzers were killed, all of them. That’s it. That’s all we need to know. There were no survivors. There’s no Bruehl, no one to get answers from. No help. No extra knowledge. They killed them and that’s all there is, Vonal.’
‘What if she’s made a mistake?’
‘A mistake? With that stuff going into her? You think she can change anything? Make it up for us?’
‘She’s different, Nina, you don’t need me to tell you that. Usual rules don’t apply.’
‘Well, if you don’t believe her, send someone out to check the bridge. Or go to Ostgrenze itself. See if it’s any better off than we are.’
The container fell quiet. ‘She’s got a point,’ Lütt-Ebbins said, and Vonal sat a moment with a foot tapping, then rose to go, placing his chair by the little desk he’d moved it from.
‘I’ll send a party out,’ he said. ‘Then that’s it, no more. We need to look forward.’
Nina took a pen from her soiled medrobe and jotted a note on a pad. ‘Are we agreed then?’ she said. ‘About her?’
Vonal looked at Lütt-Ebbins as he too got up and buttoned his jacket, saying, ‘I can’t see what else we can learn. Maybe if she’s less blocked she can help with other things.’
‘Yeah?’ said Vonal. ‘Like what?’
‘Like how the hell we survive out here.’
Vonal went to the door and opened it, letting in a roar of generators, the sight of huge semi-opaque sheets billowing over the encampment.
‘I’ll come by later,’ Lütt-Ebbins said to Nina, and went out with Vonal. She nodded back at him, watching as they closed the door, shutting out the noise. Then, when she was alone, she returned her attention to her patient, checking the arm feed, the cantering Genetik heart pumping at
a rate that would slam any Nassgrube dead to the floor. She looked around the grey metal room. There was a naked bulb glowing and she switched it off and in that subdued light took a chair and drew it up to the bed.
She collected her thoughts, then said, ‘You’re on the ramp. Looking at their leader. What do you see?’
‘Lights,’ Jaala answered faintly. ‘Blue and yellow lights. Small ... going on and off. They have machines in there. Glass cases. Blue water. Things are lying there.’
‘He says to you, “Not vulgar, never that.” Why? What have you said to him?’
‘I ... speak to him. Yes.’
‘Go on.’
‘I say, You’re vulgar and empty and you live without a soul. All you do is destroy, bring good people to death while they try to reason with you.’ She flinched, eyes squeezing shut. ‘You. I’m talking to you. You make life pointless, all your kind. You leave the rest of us to try and reason, and all you give us back is death. You left us for dead for centuries, and you still don’t change, even after all you’ve done. Do you? It was our sanctuary, this world. Ours. Everyone’s. Not yours. And your kind destroyed it all. Long ago but you’re all alike. You had everything. And now you’ve taken everything we had.’ She moved her head. ‘For all you that are, for all you’ve done, and for all your kind, this is our justice.’
Nina wrote on the pad. When she’d finished, she looked up. ‘Who are you, at this time?’
‘She ... she’s Jaala.’
‘Okay. Very good. I want you to stop there.’ She made another note, then said, ‘I’m going to count down now. First, I want you to listen very carefully. Are you listening?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who’s listening now, this moment?’
‘Jaala.’
‘Good. That’s what we want. So listen, Jaala, when you count this time, there is no more Vadraskar, only the true person inside.’
She waited a moment, watching the fists clench, then added, ‘Only the true person inside. Understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘Say it. The true person inside.’
