by R. Lee Smith
Up until now the interview had gone rather well. Murgull had asked several questions regarding Amy’s general health and the health of her family. Amy answered them, looking perplexed, remarking once or twice that they’d already discussed this, and why was Olivia here?
Heaving a sigh, Murgull finally gave in and told Amy that Olivia was here to learn how to midwive, and Amy came as close to losing it as Olivia had ever seen.
“You want a woman my own age, with no experience at all, testing her skills on me and my baby?” she said, astonished. “Absolutely not!”
“I told you so,” Olivia said.
“You hush,” Murgull commanded, pointing at Olivia. To Amy, she said, “Murgull is old and could die any day. Do you want to birth alone?”
“No,” Amy admitted.
“Do you want Horumn to help?”
“God, no!”
“Then help me teach Olivia.” She reached into her pouch and pulled out a clear plastic soda pop bottle. “Fill this.”
Amy glanced back and forth between them for several seconds, and then with an air of despair, she took the bottle with her into the entry room of Kurlun’s lair and filled it. She returned, holding it as far from her body as she could. “Well?” she said challengingly. “Are you going to run it under a microscope?”
Murgull glared at her fiercely to disguise her complete ignorance of the word, then took the bottle and held it up to the light. “Pregnant women need to drink water. If the urine is dark yellow, they are not drinking enough. If it is cloudy or foul-smelling, make a tea of goldenspray leaves, one good pot each day, eh? But this is good.” She passed it back. “Pour it out.”
From the look on Amy’s face, Olivia knew just where she wanted it to go, but in the end, she took the bottle back into the other room and poured its contents into the bucket of ashes that served as her toilet. When she returned, Murgull was ready.
“Lie back,” she commanded, and Amy did, looking at her suspiciously. “Olivia,” Murgull began, gesturing.
Amy’s thighs snapped together. “Why?” she said warily.
“She is learning to examine you,” Murgull answered, her expression growing thunderously dark.
“Uh-uh, no! She can examine me from back there!”
“Open your legs and keep your flapping lips silent!” Murgull snapped. “Pretend you are back at the conception! Olivia, come here!”
Olivia threw her friend an expression of abject apology, lowering herself ponderously between Amy’s knees.
“This is so humiliating,” Amy grumbled. “This is a part of me I never ever wanted you to see. God in heaven, I haven’t shaved in months.”
“Ignore the little frog’s croaking,” Murgull commanded. “Look for sores and bruising.”
Olivia checked, somewhat squeamishly. “I don’t see anything.”
“Put your hand here. Feel.”
Olivia massaged Amy’s belly, until, with Murgull’s help, she could identify what was either the head or the buttocks of the baby. “It’s very quiet,” she observed after prodding the protruding lump for several seconds.
“When was the last time your baby kicked?” Murgull asked immediately.
“This morning,” Amy grumbled. “Stomped on my bladder.”
“See if you can provoke it,” Murgull suggested. “Reach inside and find the baby.”
“Inside?” Olivia and Amy said together.
Murgull slapped them both in the side of the head, one with each hand. “Murgull does not need a voice for each ear,” she snapped. “Murgull’s ears work just fine. Now reach inside and move the baby!”
“Oh God,” Olivia whimpered, hesitantly prodding Amy with two fingers.
“Oh, for pity’s sake!” Murgull exploded. “Better results you get by reaching down her throat, you little goat!”
“Good Christ, what a life I’m having,” Amy muttered.
“Rub her belly and try to move the baby towards your hand,” Murgull ordered, glaring at Amy.
Olivia attempted to comply. The bulge against both of her hands twitched, and then tumbled over. A little hand poked her incuriously. “It’s moving,” she announced.
“How big?”
Holding her fingers against the baby from the inside, Olivia used her other hand to move Amy’s uterus from side to side. “About…two fists.”
“Good,” Murgull said, sounding pleased. “She is six moon-spans along.”
“We already knew that!” Amy said angrily.
“And now she knows what it feels like,” Murgull replied, unruffled. “Now use your thumbs. Feel the bones of her hips, there. Too soon to tell how big the child will be,” she added in a mutter.
“What exactly am I feeling for?” Olivia asked.
“Practice.”
“Welcome to my nightmare,” Amy intoned, closing her eyes.
“When the child is bigger, you will be able to get an idea of how easily it will be delivered, and be ready for difficulty.”
Olivia closed her eyes, trying to picture a baby’s head sliding through Amy’s pelvis. It seemed an awfully cramped passage.
“Good,” Murgull said shortly. She ran her hands over Amy’s hair, lifted her lips to examine her teeth, prodded her swollen breasts, and checked her fingernails briefly. “Need milk,” she mumbled. “Olivia, tell your mate to trap a she-goat. New mothers need milk.”
With an eager sound that was more relief that the examination was over than actual agreement, Olivia stood up, eager to leave and find a place to scrub her hands.
“Now you know how,” Murgull declared, looking smug. “Do it to all the other mothering maggots.”
13
Vorgullum and Olivia slept together that night, buried beneath sleeping bags, animal skins and stolen sleeping bags. Vorgullum even snored softly, twitching a little in his dreams as he chased dream-elk into the night. Olivia slept a while herself, but was roused by the touch of a hand on her arm.
“Mm?” she said fuzzily, blinking and looking around.
There was an exceedingly ugly creature standing in front of her.
At first, Olivia’s eyes had trouble taking the sight in, or even focusing on any one aspect of her body. It was a female, that much was clear. There were small breasts and a hairless sex, anyway. The hips, waist, and torso all flowed solidly into one another; the arms and legs were straight and solid and strangely androgynous. She had vaguely hand-shaped lumps at the end of her wrists, but no fingers; she had blunt hoof-like appendages in place of feet. The head was even worse, hairless even for eyebrows and lashes, with cavernous eyes and a lipless slit for a mouth. The nose was downturned and split like a goat’s, and the ears came off the head at an awkward angle and stuck out like open doors.
Her skin was white and made of stars. There were wings stretching out behind like moonbeams.
Urga reached out and extended her hand.
Certain she must be dreaming, despite the vividness of the image, Olivia placed her hand in Urga’s and felt a curious sense of detachment as she was pulled to her feet. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw her own sleeping body lying in Vorgullum’s arms.
Without a word, Urga wrapped her arms around Olivia’s waist and flew up and out of the mountain. Olivia was aware only of darkness for a long time, and then they broke out of the rock, hovered for a moment in the air, then arced lazily about and streaked towards town.
Olivia felt no urge to speak. She held on to Urga and looked back over her shoulder at the ground as it went whizzing by beneath her. The wind blew in her air and she felt snow falling against her cheek, but there was no sense of cold, so she knew she must be dreaming.
Still, it was a beautiful dream. Olivia saw tiny cars and trucks crawling along the highway far below her, twin rivers of light in red and white. She saw the glow of life pouring out of a thousand windows. She saw people, small as ants, scurrying across parking lots and down sidewalks in the halo of streetlamps, their heads tucked down into their winter coats and boots
skidding in the wet snow.
Urga flew faster than any gulla, and in minutes they were flying extremely low over the buildings in the upper side of town. After a moment, Olivia realized they were pointed towards the hospital, and sure enough, Urga flew in through the wall, coasting to a stop in the soft, soothing halls of the psychiatric division.
Urga set Olivia gently on the ground, and they walked together across the hall. Snatches of conversation came at Olivia from all sides. Nurses and patients, doctors and specialists. It sounded so real. No one seemed even to notice them, these two naked beings walking through their hospital.
Urga came to a door and walked through it, so Olivia followed. She saw Urga standing behind two men, one older with a beard, and one younger and balding. There was a woman here, too. A woman Olivia knew.
The madwoman who had been Bundel’s mate was seated in an overstuffed chair, clutching a stuffed bear instead of a saucepan.
The bearded man was talking in a soft, friendly voice, and after a moment, Olivia realized he was hypnotizing her.
“Amanda, do you hear me?”
The madwoman blinked rapidly.
“Amanda, raise your left hand if you hear me.”
The madwoman’s left hand rose slowly into the air and hovered there.
“How old are you, Amanda?”
“Five.”
“I want you to picture the calendar again, Amanda. The month is December, and it has your favorite picture on it. Do you see the calendar?”
Amanda nodded and smiled timidly. “Pony,” she said.
“Good. Now I want you to reach up and turn the page so that the calendar says November.”
Amanda reached up with her right hand and mimed flipping a page upward. Her expression brightened. “Puppy!” she said.
“That’s right, now go back to August for me. You can use your left hand if you need to.”
Amanda held the invisible pages in place with her left hand and turned time back with her right. She frowned at the picture, concentrating. “El’pant,” she said judiciously.
“Do you like the elephants, Amanda?”
“Yes, please.”
“Good, now go back one more to July.”
Amanda struggled with the invisible pages and the balding man took notes, despite the presence of a video camera in the corner. Finally, she managed to turn the calendar page and see the picture. She recoiled, lashing out with her hands.
“Amanda, it’s all right. Nothing can hurt you. You’re not in the room, you’re only watching.”
Amanda calmed down immediately.
“Now, what do you see on the calendar?”
Amanda shuddered. “Bats.”
The hypnotist made a notation on his own pad of paper, and then addressed Amanda again. “Turn around, Amanda. There is a window beside the calendar. Do you see the window?”
Amanda turned her face and nodded, frowning.
“You can see your home through the window. You can see High Hill Apartments.”
Amanda nodded again, still frowning. “Dark.”
“It is dark, isn’t it? Do you see any people?”
“Lots of people.” Amanda leaned closer, peering as though trying to look through dirty glass. “Ladies in the parking lot. They cry and cry.” She reached up and made trickling motions with her fingers over her cheeks. “I see Amanda.”
“But you can watch her. You don’t have to be the Amanda in the parking lot. You can watch her and be safe where you are.”
“Watch Amanda. See Amanda try to run. Oh, run Amanda!” the hypnotized woman called in a breathy, little-girl voice. Her face fell. “No, he catches her.”
“Who catches her?”
“The bat-man.”
“Batman?” the bald man echoed, looking puzzled. Clearly, he was imagining the Caped Crusader, blue tights and cowl, leaping onto the back of the fleeing Amanda.
“Look at Batman, Amanda,” the doctor commanded.
“Not Batman!” Amanda said loudly, very offended. “Batman helps people like Amanda!”
“Okay, not Batman, but a bat-man. Look at the bat-man. What do you see?”
“Big with hair on his arms,” Amanda whispered. “And wings. And big, big eyes and teeth. He wear a towel. Got naked feet with sharp hooks, and naked hands with claws. Pick Amanda up. Take Amanda back. Amanda cry and cry.” Those trickling motions again.
“What happens now?” asked the doctor gently.
“Big bat-man come to Amanda. ‘What do you want?’ he say. Amanda wants to go home, but he say, ‘I cannot do that.’ He give Amanda to other bat-man, and he hold her.” Both times when Amanda spoke as Vorgullum, she deepened and slowed her voice. “Bat-man say to Amanda, ‘What do you want?’ and now Amanda cry. So he take her back to home. All the women go home and get things. Amanda get a pan.”
“Why a pan, Amanda?”
“Amanda buy the pan yesterday. She buy the pan, and she wants the pan. She cry and cry.” Trickle, trickle, go her tears.
“Now what happens next, Amanda?”
“Bat-man talk to other bat-men. Amanda can’t understand them. Then bat-man take them all to the road and climb up the road. Take Amanda and say, ‘Turn around, please.’ Amanda turn and he hold her. He jump and fly away. Bye-bye.” She waved like a child, her open palm flapping straight up and down.
The balding doctor shook his head, but the hypnotist continued. “The window is like television now, and you can see where Amanda goes. Where does Amanda go?”
“In the mountain.”
“Where on the mountain?”
“In the mountain,” Amanda insisted. “It all black and can’t see. Bat-man carry Amanda up a little tunnel and he put her in a hole. He say, ‘This is a place to sleep in.’ Amanda wants to go to sleep.”
“Does the bat-man let her go to sleep?”
“He say, ‘Take off this.’ She take off her nightie and be naked. He take off his towel.” Amanda’s lip was trembling.
“You aren’t there, Amanda. You can watch and still be safe.”
“Amanda lost. Amanda can’t leave. Bat-man fold up wings little-bitty and lie down on Amanda.” Her staring eyes welled with tears. “Bye-bye, Amanda. Bye-bye.”
“What happens to Amanda?”
“Bye-bye, Amanda. Bye-bye.”
The balding doctor began to speak in a low voice, looking at the camera. Olivia tried to hear what was said, but Urga took her arm and led her from the room. She spread her wings in the hospital hall and flew away.
At first, Olivia though they were flying back to the mountain, but then Urga veered away and they landed in the police station.
Two men, one with graying hair and the other barely old enough to grow a beard, were being questioned by a police officer in a private room. Another officer watched from the door.
“Where did you take the women?”
“I didn’t take them anywhere, I just took them out of the apartment,” said the younger calmly. “They went to Jupiter to be with the Messiah.”
“Yeah, well one of the women fell back to earth. She says she was on a mountain. Tell me where the others are.”
“Jupiter.”
“Jupiter,” the older agreed.
“Jupiter, for Christ’s sake,” muttered the man in the doorway.
“Will you arrest us now?”
“Not until you are able to corroborate at least one piece of evidence, no,” the seated officer explained patiently. “If you want us to arrest you, tell me where the women are.”
The two men exchanged glances. “Well,” the younger said. “Like I say, we didn’t transport them. I guess it’s possible the landing site is somewhere on the mountain.”
“Possible?”
“The Messiah had a map,” the older suspect said. “With a big X.”
The two cops exchanged startled glances. “If we show you a map, can you show us where the X is?” asked the one at the table.
“Yes,” said the older suspect, smiling.
>
The officer in the doorway knocked on the mirror and left.
Urga took Olivia’s arm and flew again, back to the hospital. The hypnotist and the bald man were alone in the room, talking among themselves.
“—views her captors as bat-men,” the bald man said.
“As a metaphor, of course,” replied the hypnotist. “She was taken very quickly, so they have wings. They loom over her like monsters, so she gave them monstrous features. Sharp teeth and claws. It’s a very common defense mechanism, much more so than people realize.”
“And the mountain?”
“There must be some sort of structure up there. Maybe even a cave such as she describes, more than just a hole in the ground. Perhaps an old mine shaft, where the other women are being kept.”
“There was no evidence of sexual trauma when she was found,” the bald man observed, checking his notes.
“No recent trauma, you mean.” The hypnotist took off his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “In a way, that’s the most disturbing thing of all. It means someone was taking care of her. She was well-fed, clean, no signs of damage from exposure, no signs of physical abuse. That’s a lot of work.”
“Well, Batman or no Batman, someone is up on that mountain. Some of those women might still be alive.”
Urga touched Olivia’s arm, but Olivia resisted.
“We need to get some infrared equipment up on the mountain and see if we can detect any heat sources that might indicate a generator or electrical facilities. Fly a search plane over there a few times, see if we can pick out any sign that a large group of people has set up some sort of semi-permanent residence.”
“Is this happening?” Olivia demanded, catching at Urga’s arm. “Is this a dream or is it real?”
Urga looked calmly down at Olivia’s hands, so brown and rough looking against her starry skin. She kept looking, motionless, until Olivia released her. Then she brought her empty eyes back up, took Olivia in her arms, and flew.
Again, they circled the town, and now they landed at High Hill Apartments, dropping down through the roof and into Olivia’s old home.
A young, scruffy-looking man was sitting on the edge of his bed, smoking a cigarette and flipping through the TV guide. All of Olivia’s possessions were gone. The pictures she’d hung on the wall were not there, the holes left by the nails had been filled in and painted over. The carpet had been shampooed, then re-stained by the new occupant. The furniture was in a different pattern, and none of it was hers. Her life, if it could ever have been said to be here, had been removed.
