by Amy Cross
“He hurt you in a fight?”
I nod again.
“And now...” She pauses, as if she's trying to get it straight in her mind. “And now one of the bad man's friends has come to get revenge for the fact that you killed him?”
“Something like that,” I reply, placing both my hands on the altar. I don't know if I'm expecting to receive strength or courage or honor or comfort, but I swear I feel as if the altar is the means by which the church might choose to communicate with me. I know it's just a building, but still, buildings might have a thing or two to say sometimes. Finally, I realize that the church's silence is its only message. I'm being vain again, expecting thanks when thanks are unnecessary. I did what I did for this place, and that's enough.
After a moment, feeling as if I might collapse, I turn and start easing myself down until I'm sitting on the steps.
“Is it happening now?” Tammy asks.
I turn to her, feeling a little out of breath. “Is what happening now?”
“Are you...” Her voice trails off for a moment. “Are you dying?”
I shake my head. “No. I'm not going to die just yet. I'm just tired, that's -”
Suddenly I feel something pass through my body, like a kind of whisper that briefly rattles my chest. Is that it? Is this the shadow of death, or whatever the hell people want to call it? I look across the church and realize that everything feels colder now and somehow more distant, as if I'm becoming less attached to the world around me. Earlier I felt as if invisible ropes were tying me to the world; now I feel as if those ropes are all gone and I'm drifting away. I guess it would be appropriate if I die next to the altar; in fact, now I think about it, that seems like the perfect, most appropriate way for this all to end. I lean back, resting against the altar's wooden side as I focus on a series of slow, deep breaths, each of which might be the last. Outside, the storm is raging, but everything feels as if it's so far away now. A faint shiver ripples up my arms and I feel compelled to close my eyes, even though I know what that might mean.
“Tell me a story,” I whisper, my voice cracked and weak.
No reply.
Turning my head slightly, I see Tammy watching me with caution.
“Any story,” I add, trying to smile.
“I don't know any stories.”
“Didn't your parents ever tell you any?”
“They told me about...” She pauses, before stepping closer and sitting on the step next to me. “They told me your story.”
“I doubt that.”
“They did!”
“I doubt they got much of it right.”
“They told me you were an orphan. They said your parents did a long time ago.”
Staring ahead into the darkness, I briefly imagine that I see my parents standing at the far end of the benches. It'd be easier if I really remembered what they looked like. Finally, for Rachel's benefit, I nod.
“They told me you were raised by a wicked grandmother.”
“They did?” I frown. “Not really. Sort of. It's complicated.”
“And you used to work at a market in a busy town.”
I smile.
“And you were an ace pickpocket.”
“They -” Pausing, I realize there's no point denying that part. “I wasn't an ace pickpocket,” I tell her, “I was the best pickpocket. I only stole for food, and only from people who could afford it. I never got caught, not even once, I could slip my fingers into a pocket and take anything out, and no-one could feel a thing, but that doesn't mean it was right. There's not a day goes by when I don't feel ashamed.”
“But you needed to eat,” she points out.
I nod.
“Didn't your grandmother feed you?”
“No,” I whisper, feeling another shiver pass through my body, “not really.”
“Mama and Pappa told me you had a vision of this church one night.”
“Not a vision.”
“A dream?”
“A dream.” Sighing, I can tell that even in this simple telling, my story is getting mangled and changed.
“They told me you traveled alone for millions of miles to get here.”
“Not millions.”
“They told me you only found the church because of what you saw in the dream. They told me there were no signs on the road, and most people had forgotten it even existed.”
I nod. “That part's true.”
“And when you got here,” she continues, “the church was falling apart so you had to fix it.”
I nod again.
“And you did that all by yourself.”
“I never felt alone,” I whisper.
“And they said you were happy here.”
I smile.
“But then you had to go and fight.”
I feel a ripple of fear moving up my body and across my chest. Just an echo, of course, of the fear I felt that day, many years ago, when I realized I had to leave the church.
“Then said you weren't scared, though,” Tammy continues, “and you knew you had to go, so you set off again and you got them to help you. Mama and Pappa met you and agreed to go with you to fight...” She pauses. “Were you fighting a demon?”
I shake my head.
“Who were you fighting, then?”
“Someone very bad.”
“Who?”
“I can't tell you. You're just a child.”
“Oh.” She pauses again. “But you did fight him, didn't you? All by yourself, and you beat him.”
“Not all by myself,” I reply, briefly imagining I can hear the roar of the army all around me, and the sound of their weapons clinking together. “There were lots of other people.”
“Where are they now?”
I swallow hard. “It was a hard battle.”
“But you survived.”
“Barely.”
“And you killed the bad guy.”
I pause for a moment. “I did.”
“So you won. You must be a really great soldier.”
“I'm not a soldier.”
“Mama said you weren't a soldier at the start, but you became one and that's how you beat the bad guy.”
“I didn't become a solider,” I reply, bristling at the suggestion. “Get that part straight, at least.”
“Okay.” She pauses. “And then after the battle you were hurt, and Mama and Pappa brought you back here.”
Taking a deep breath, I feel a sense of pure, animated life spreading through my chest. Was that it? Was that my final breath? I wait, but another comes. Still, I know the end is close. The darkness of the church is closing in all around, so I lean a little further back, resting all my weight on the side of the altar. I guess I should come up with some noble final words, but right now I'm all out. Maybe it'll just have to be a sigh...
I blink.
Something seems different.
I blink again.
“Don't disturb her,” a voice says.
“What?” Trying to sit up, I feel a shaft of pain running through my chest. Donald is standing close by, holding Tammy's hand, and when I look back across the church I see that cold, gray morning light is streaming through the open door. “What happened?” I stammer.
“You were sleeping,” Donald tells me. “It's okay, go back to sleep.”
“No,” I reply, turning to Tammy. “I was talking to you.”
“Then you fell asleep,” she says. “You seemed so tired, I thought I shouldn't wake you, so I fell asleep too. I slept with my head on your shoulder. I hope you're not mad at me for that.”
“Mad at you?” Staring at her, I realize that she's genuinely scared. I reach out and, although she flinches, I run my hand against the side of her soft, cool face. After a moment, I realize that my right shoulder feels a little warm from where she was sleeping . “No,” I say, shocked, “I'm not mad at you. Thank you for sleeping next to me. Not many people are allowed to sleep on the steps of the altar here, you know.”
“Even Mama and I aren't a
llowed,” Donald says, ruffling the top of Tammy's head. “You must be very special.”
“She is,” I tell him.
He nods. He knows.
“So it's really morning?” I ask, hauling myself up and waving away Donald's offer of help in the process. I can feel my bones struggling to support me, but the regular flashes of pain tell me one thing: I'm alive. I lasted the night. Yet another night. Why? “The storm...”
“There's a lull,” he replies. “We can already see worse approaching from the south.”
“Then you have to get away from here,” I tell him, filled with a sudden sense of urgency. “You have to take your family and get them to safety.”
“We could stay if -”
“No,” I say firmly, “let's not have this discussion again. You have to go now!”
He opens his mouth to argue with me, but I can tell that he knows I'm right.
“We can't leave you,” Tammy says, staring at me with sadness in her eyes. After a moment, she looks up at Donald. “We can't leave her. She'll be all alone.”
“I won't be alone,” I tell her, forcing a smile. “I've never been alone in my life. Come on, really... It's time.”
A few minutes later, after I've very slowly and very painfully made my way along the aisle, we all reach the front door of the church and look out at the rainswept landscape. Everything is gray: a slate gray sky covers us, with dark clouds churning above and more approaching rapidly; the sea is rough, crashing against the causeway, but at least the route is passable; in the distance, half a mile or so away at the causeway's other end, the mainland's shore is also gray, strewn with rocks. It's not the most inviting scene, but it's the way Donald, Marnie and Tammy must pass if they're to get back to their green and fertile homeland. They'll be fine.
“Thank you,” Marnie says, with tears in her eyes as she clutches my hands. “For everything.”
“Thank you,” I reply. “You did so much for me.”
Too emotional to speak, she pulls me close and hugs me. There's a little pain, of course, but I don't let that show.
“What do you want us to do about this place?” Donald asks as he, too, gives me a hug. He doesn't hold me tight, which I guess means he saw my pain a moment ago. “After you're gone, the church will still stand. Should we arrange for someone to come and -”
“Someone will come,” I reply, interrupting him. “You don't need to arrange it.”
“Who?”
“I don't know, but it won't be left alone for long. I think maybe this church has a way of... I don't know, reaching out to people it needs. And who need it in return.”
“Well...” He pauses, clearly not totally convinced. “Maybe I'll still come and check on it occasionally. Just to be sure.”
“Thanks,” I reply, before looking down at Tammy. For a moment, I genuinely don't know what to say to her.
“I'll never forget you,” she tells me.
“Ditto.”
“I'll tell everyone your story.”
I can't help but smile. “I guess I can't stop you, but at least try to get it right.”
She nods.
“We should get moving,” Marnie says, and she's right. When I look at the causeway, I can tell that it's going to be difficult to pass. A moment later, I hear a scratching sound up on the church's roof.
“What about that thing?” Donald asks.
“As long as I don't step beyond this doorway,” I reply, “it can't get at me, and then once I'm dead it'll leave. I don't foresee any major problems there.”
He nods. Maybe he suspects that I'm lying, that I plan to go up and face the bone snatcher, but he doesn't say anything.
“I think that's all our goodbyes over with, then,” I tell him. “Now get going before the storm comes back. And good luck with your journey.”
I remain in the doorway for a few minutes, watching as Donald and Marnie help Tammy across the rocky shore. They're taking the cart, of course, using it to transport some food and other wares that'll sustain them for the journey. As they start to make their way across the narrow, slippery causeway, I feel as if I want to go and help them, but of course then I'd be opening myself up to another attack from the bone snatcher, and I figure this isn't the right moment. Instead, I watch as the three of them pick their way along the causeway, and when Tammy turns and waves at me, I wave back before deciding that there's nothing more I can do. If I watch them until they disappear past the mainland, I might start to feel lonely. Better to turn and head back toward the altar.
Limping and filled with pain, I can finally stop pretending, now that there's no-one else here. I stumble a couple of times, and I have to stop and let out several agonized gasps. I truly believed that I was about to die last night when I was sitting next to the altar with Tammy, and I don't know why I'm still here, but I know it can only have been a brief respite. Looking ahead, I see the altar waiting for me, and I know that death has turned its attention this way. Maybe going up onto the roof would be a mistake after all. I just don't have the energy. With faltering steps, I make my way past the benches, stopping at each to catch my breath, and then finally -
Suddenly I hear a scream.
Turning to look back toward the door, I hesitate for a moment before the scream rings out again, and this time I feel a shiver pass through my body as I realize that I recognize the voice.
It's Tammy.
Nine
Stumbling as fast as I can, pushing through the pain and somehow managing to stay on my feet, I reach the door in just half a minute or so. As soon as I look out at the sea, I can tell that something's wrong, but it takes a moment longer before I realize just what has happened.
The causeway is gone.
Almost all of it.
Gone.
The sea has already reclaimed its space.
Ignoring every jolt of pain in my body, I stagger out onto the rocks and then hurry toward the shore. When I reach the spot where the causeway starts, I see to my horror that just the first few meters remain, with everything else having somehow been overturned and sent tumbling into the rough sea. I look toward the distant shore and squint, hoping against hope that I'll see three figures on the other side, but there's no sign of anyone. Instead, a moment later, I hear Tammy's scream again, and I spot her trying to swim toward me before a rough wave crashes over her and she's gone.
“Tammy!” I shout, limping down the slope of rocks and splashing into the water. Tripping on one of the rocks, I drop down hard onto my knees and feel my flesh being scraped away to the bone, but the pain doesn't matter right now. I crawl forward through the rough salty water, but when I look out at the sea there's no sign of Tammy at all.
She can't be gone.
She can't be down there, sinking.
Drowning.
“Tammy!” I shout again, as loud as I can manage, ignoring the agony in my ragged throat. “Donald! Marnie! Where -”
Before I can get another word out, my throat catches and its dry walls seem to close tight for a moment. I cough and splutter, and after a couple of seconds I'm able to breathe again.
“Tammy,” I stammer, my eyes watering from the salt water spray. “Where are you?”
I wait, but all I see is the rough gray sea and all I hear is the sound of waves crashing against what's left of the causeway. Already the storm is starting to pick up again, and it's clear that there's no way anyone could survive for long in the cold water. Crawling forward, up to my shoulders now, I try to work out what I can do to help, but I feel completely helpless as I watch the waves being whipped about by an icy, growing wind. There's no sign of any life out there, just vast, angry grayness everywhere, smashing waves against the rocks in tribute to the blackening sky. It's almost as if the waves are dancing to celebrate three more lives lost to the sea.
“No,” I whisper, convinced that this can't be happening, “please...”
“Rachel!” Tammy shouts suddenly. “Ra -”
Her voice is immediately cut off.
It takes a moment, but finally I spot her just a few meters away, waving at me frantically before she slips back beneath the surface. Filled with a sudden burst of energy, I stumble to my feet and stagger forward, wading through the cold water and getting ever deeper until I reach the spot where I last saw Tammy. After glancing around for a moment, I duck down under the surface and start looking for her again. Salt water stings my damaged flesh, and the sea is too rough and too dirty for me to see much, but after a moment I feel something brushing against my outstretched hands, and then I feel small fingers gripping mine. With no time to lose, I start to haul her back, stumbling out of the water and finally, to my shock and relief, seeing that I've managed to drag Tammy ashore.
She drops down onto the rocks and starts coughing desperately, spewing out seawater.
Kneeling next to her, I pat her hard on the back, and after a moment she looks up at me. Shivering with cold, her teeth are chattering and there's an expression of pure horror in her eyes. Saliva is dripping down her chin, mixed with seawater, mucus and a little blood.
“Where are your parents?” I ask, too worried to let the cold get to me right now. “What happened?”
“It came after us,” she stammers, her voice barely rising above the sound of her chattering teeth. Turning, she looks out toward the destroyed causeway. “It pushed us into the water and then it tore the rocks away.”
“What did?”
“The thing,” she replies, turning back to me and then looking toward the church. “The thing from the roof.”
“No,” I stammer, “that's not possible, it wouldn't bother trying to hurt you, it only cares about me. There's just -”
Suddenly I realize what must have happened.
The bone snatcher, tired of waiting for me to emerge from the church, must have decided to take matters into its own hands. Glancing at the church, I see no sign of the creature; it's most likely still injured, so it probably can't move fast, but it must be watching us from somewhere and it's only a matter of time before it attacks again. I can defend myself, but if it comes for Tammy and tries to get to me through her...
“Come on!” I shout, grabbing her hand and forcing her to her feet, before leading her as quickly as I can manage toward the church's door. “We have to get inside!”
