“Put it back,” Cranker hisses, and the boy moves slow and puts the hen back in the cart.
“Get,” Cranker hisses again, and his menace even scares me. The thief smirks, then bumps into me and looks up. I’m taller; it’ll always be that way.
I’ll always be taller than most.
The thief gobs up at me, and hot spit hits my face. Then he laughs and runs off to his thieving gang, who rumble a few curses at us on their way. I’m too surprised to do anything but make sure Lisle is okay then wipe away spit.
“He’s gonna plague us next time,” Cranker mutters.
“What makes you think there’ll be a next time?” I ask, walking the stunned Littluns back to the other side of the cart.
“There’ll be a next time, Mann,” he says. Cranker has wisdom sometimes, and I know he’s right. Just one more thing in the City to fear.
I look over, and Grannie says something else too low to hear to the tall man. Then I see the precious gun slide from her hand to his. He hides the gun and the handful of bullets in his coat then turns to us.
“Gather your belongings and go.”
We get everything back into the cart quick and count the Littluns to make sure we don’t leave one behind (I’m scared enough to), then Cranker and me get into the back and Grannie starts Nellie and Nancy up, and we pass through the huge gates.
The last thing I see is Grannie’s prize nanny goat being led away and her precious hen already turning on a spit over a fire. The toothless thief rubs his hands over the fire with his gang. He looks up and catches my eye and spits again. I’m too far to feel it, but I do feel the memory of it, hot on my face, all the same.
I only stop shaking when we leave those gates behind us. We drive on another hour into the dark City.
When we stop in a quiet place between some small buildings, houses maybe, but it’s hard to see in the dark, I ask Grannie why the guards took the scissors, the goat, and the hen. I don’t mention the gun. It scares me that she gave it away to open the gates to us. Our passing through the gates took a long time, longer than most, and I saw the tall man and the guard look over at me and Lisle, again and again. Babies are rare, girl babies most of all, but not rare as guns.
Grannie says, grim, “Just be thankful that’s all they took, Mann. The cost of safe passage and not so high. What’s a goat, a hen, a pair of scissors, compared to the life of a child?”
I wonder at this. It’s true, there aren’t that many Littluns in the world, and even then not all of them end up in families that can feed them. The lucky ones, like me, Cranker, Lisle, our other Littluns, find their way to someone like Grannie. The unlucky ones? I guess they find themselves traded at the gates and left behind.
Cranker and me rub down the horses, feed them a bag of oats each, and find water from a hand pump we see others use. Grannie feeds us, we get carrots, fresh water and hard-baked bread that takes a lot of spit to soften. Then she puts the Littluns to bed in the cart, and Cranker and me fall asleep exhausted under it, listening to Grannie singing soft to all of us.
We’re in a quiet space away from the road, something Grannie calls a “courtyard.” There’s another family in a cart with mules near us. I have no idea if this is a safe place. Grannie says it is but to keep my knife close and Cranker’s slingshot, too.
The one-eyed dog slips past the cart just as I fall asleep and rests in a doorway, watching over us all night. Somehow I’m glad he’s here, something from home no one took yet.
What did he pay the guards to get through? More than likely he’s got nothing they want. He’s one of the lucky ones.
Miranda1
The streets are silent.
It’s dark, since Regulus has turned off the lights in the firmament, and Oculum is closed tight. I can see the Senate in the distance and the dim outline of houses and trees. This is the way the night has always seemed from safely inside my bedroom. But it is a different thing to be wandering the dark streets of Oculum alone for the first time in my life.
There are noises, small shufflings, scurryings, and gentle sighs that I have never noticed before. Suddenly I feel like a small child, like Jake47, frightened of Fan-doms, and I cannot stop the memories and whisperings about those strange images passing beyond our world, half-seen monsters wriggling and wavering against the wall of Oculum.
But we are told by our Mothers, by Regulus, that there are no such things as Fandoms. That there is no Outside, only the stars and the moon above.
But now there is William’s door.
If the door is opened … what awaits?
I almost wish he hadn’t shown it to me. I draw the hood closely over my face and walk as silently as I can across the street, along the sidewalk, between two houses (Gisele37’s and Simon50’s) until I come to the com-mon. I skirt the trees, past the great marble stairs and the square in front of the Oculum Senate. I have made up a story: if I’m stopped, I’ll say that I am unwell and on my way to visit the Medicus alone, since I was unable to wake Mother. If she is questioned, she would be alarmed, but I’m sure she would play along. I can act delirious or short of breath, or perhaps I will faint. I’m sure the worst that a Sentry would do is march me home or make me talk to Regulus.
There doesn’t seem to be a Sentry following me, which gives me pause. Even though I stood perfectly still in the bushes outside my house for several minutes, no Sentry appeared. So I can only assume that the Sentry does not expect me to slip out of my house unaccompanied at night because such a thing is unheard of.
William1 and I are taking a terrible risk. I do not wish to be banished.
Banished. What is it? And where is it? Perhaps it means that if we are caught, we will be alone, separated, banished from the company of everyone else. Even though I do not truly know what Regulus means by it, it strikes terror in me.
I stick to the tree-lined outskirts of the common and cross to the cherry-tree-lined walkway along the main street of Oculum. The cherry trees will soon be in full blossom. I slip quietly past the Punishment Hall, the Teaching Hall, the Food Hall, past the shops for Market Day. I pass the Medicus Hall where we go for regular checkups of our height and weight, or if we are hurt or ill. Our Medicus team is clever and can mend bones and tend our ailments very well. They teach us how to tend others, as well.
I’ve heard of a thing called death. Teacher has taught us about it, but I’ve never seen it.
No one has ever died in Oculum.
Then I pass the Tailor’s shop and the Cobbler’s shop, and I slip past the Toolman’s warehouse. The grounds around the warehouse are filled with broken-down Mothers and partially dismantled Nursies, which we don’t need any more now that the Andrews and Annas have left the nursery. There are some broken Sentries as well, and the effect of the mechanical arms, wheels, and grinning faces in the half-dark is odd and ghoulish. It looks perfectly ordinary by day, but I have never considered it at night, alone.
I quicken my pace.
So far I’ve seen no one.
I catch the scent of blossoms. I’m near the Seed Park. The lights in the firmament above are low, since the fruit trees need to rest, but it is not completely dark over the park. As I draw near, I can see the outline of trees; the bushes and flowers stand out in the low light.
There are no Treekeepers working in the fruit trees. I can’t see William1 anywhere.
I am alone.
This is the most dangerous part of my journey. The lights are low, but they’re on. I’ll be seen plainly by any-one who is near. I wait behind a small oak tree, a sapling, and scan the park for a moment, but there is no movement. I can see the rose-covered trellis, and I slowly, slowly make my way there, taking cover behind fruit trees, behind bushes, behind a greenhouse, behind a light pole. At one point I do see a Sentry, but it’s a good way off and turns and wheels the other way.
The last few steps to the rose bush trell
is are made in full light, but there’s nothing I can do about this. I wait until the Sentry is out of sight, then I dash to the rose bush.
William is not here.
My heart pounds. What if he’s been caught? What if I misunderstood his message on Anna12’s drawing, and he isn’t coming? I can see the curved wall of Oculum in the distance. It’s not that far. A short run and I could leap the perimeter fence and dash to the door.
And then what?
Suddenly I realize how foolish this is. What can I hope to achieve? What was I thinking?
“Miranda.” A whisper.
“Miranda, over here.” William1 is so well camouflaged in black shirt, pants, black shoes, and cloak that I can barely see him. He is standing almost at the perimeter fence, next to the tall black walnut tree. I can see the crown and the branches of this tree from my house, it is so vast. Some branches almost touch the wall. This is the tree that all twelve-year olds must climb, using a special lightweight ladder for the occasion, in the annual coming-of-age festival. It’s a long way up, a view I will always remember from my twelfth year, since I almost fell.
He waves at me to join him, but I’m frozen to the spot. A Sentry slowly wheels toward us. I can’t tell if it has seen William or not, but it certainly will if it con-tinues along its path.
William hasn’t seen the Sentry and waves at me again. I shake my head and nod toward the Sentry. I don’t think the guard can see me, but I’m not sure. William sees the Sentry, too, and lengthens against the dark trunk of the tree. At the last moment, the Sentry turns and wheels back the way it came, slowly traveling the curve of the wall away from us.
William waves at me again, and I dash to the walnut tree.
“William, this is so dangerous. What are we doing here?” I’m afraid my whisper is a shout. I can hardly keep my voice down.
“Shhh.” He draws his arm across my shoulder, a gesture of affection.
“It’s dangerous, but we have to find out more about the door. It’s inconceivable that there is a door in the wall. No Teacher, Nursie, or Mother has ever mentioned it, Regulus never has either, and yet … there it is.” William looks at me. His is a sweet face, a trustworthy face, a face I’ve known all my life. He’s got a few red-dish hairs showing along his jawline, the first time I’ve noticed them. His dark eyes shine in the half-light.
“I’m sorry, Miranda. I know I’ve dragged you into this. I told Regulus we were hiding together, we were in love, because that was the only thing I could say that he might not question. I didn’t want him to realize that we’d found the door.” I nod.
“But why haven’t we seen it before?” I ask. This has been troubling me. It doesn’t make sense.
“We haven’t seen it before because we were too short to see over the rose bush. I’ve grown lately, and so have you. When the Treekeepers pruned this area a few weeks ago, I caught sight of the top of the door and then got closer and closer each day until I could see all of it.”
“Well, why is there a door, anyway?” I ask.
William looks at me tenderly. “Someone put the door there, a long time ago. Someone wants us to walk through it.”
“No, William!” I cannot believe he has just said this. I look down at my hands in shock. He looks around, no Sentry in sight, and goes on quietly.
“Regulus threatened us with banishment, Miranda. Haven’t you wondered about that? Banishment? Where would they banish us to? Where else is there but Oculum?”
“Banishment? I thought it might mean separating us, making us live alone.”
William shakes his head and looks toward the door. “Miranda, it is something much more.”
He reaches into his cloak and pulls out a slim book with gold lettering on the front cover: For the Children of Oculum. He opens it and shows me the first page and there, written in a beautiful hand, are the words that we all learn from Teacher: “We have given you every plant seed, and every tree which has fruit; it will be food for you.”
He slips the book back into his cloak and whispers, “Mother gave this book to me two days ago. She has always had it and has been waiting to give it to me on the day that I first speak of love.”
“How did she know that day would come?”
William gets a wild look in his eye. “There are so many answers in this book, Miranda. As the oldest child of Oculum, it was given to my Mother to give to me when the time was right. Have you not always wondered about love? About death? About why the Mothers, the Sentries, Regulus, why they are so different from us? About the sky above, the stars that shine? It’s all here.” William is breathless, overexcited, and I try to calm him. I put my hand on his shoulder.
“SHHH! But what’s in it?” My heart pounds harder. William is starting to raise his voice. We are head-to-head, and he forces his voice back to a whisper.
“Miranda, there is a world outside. Outside is real. One of us has to go through the door to see it. One of us has to watch.” As soon as he says it … it’s obvious. A door is meant to be opened. I swallow my fear.
“William, it’s just a book. You cannot go out that door. You have no idea what’s out there. If there is anything out there.”
William shakes his head again. “When Oculum is open, Miranda, what do you see?”
“Stars, clouds, sky, the moon, the sun. What else would I see?”
William looks wildly over my head. The Sentry has turned and is wheeling our way!
“There’s no time! The book has told me so much, Miranda. I have written some of the truth of it on the back of the Map of Oculum in my house. If anything happens to me, you must get the map and read it. Promise me!”
“William, what are you talking about? Your map?” I know the map. He’s worked on it since he was small, a huge, intricate, carefully exact map of all the houses, buildings, and trees in Oculum. It’s been his life’s work.
“And what do you mean if anything happens to me?” My heart thuds painfully in my ears. He takes my face in his hands. The Sentry is closer.
“I am going to the door. I am going to push upon it. If it opens, I shall walk through.”
“But you’ll be caught. And banished,” I whisper. The last word catches in my throat. I want to talk him out of it. I want to leave and go home, right now. There is still a chance we may get out of this without getting caught.
Then our future is decided for us.
The Sentry sees William.
“Goodbye, Miranda!”
William kisses me on the cheek, then he dashes across the open park toward the wall. The Sentry blows its whistle and churns to top speed. I’ve never seen a Sentry move at top speed.
It’s fast. Faster than I could have imagined.
But William is fast too, and in a moment he vaults over the perimeter fence. The Sentry speeds forward, wheels a blur, whistle howling, and William sprints to the door.
He pushes upon it … nothing happens.
The Sentry is almost upon him. Another Sentry has wheeled into view in the distance, and another. They blow their whistles, too, and lurch forward as they pick up speed. William pushes upon the door again, frantic, and this time it moves. It opens wide, and just as the Sentry reaches for him … William steps through the door.
The door slowly closes behind him and shuts with a click.
I leap out of my hiding place.
“NO!” I’m fully exposed in the light, and the Sentries turn and stare at me. William is forgotten. It’s almost as though he was never there, since none of the Sentries moves to reopen the door.
Instead they only focus upon me.
I let the Sentries come. I don’t even try to run away. What would be the point? I stare at the door as it closes. In the next second, I see William’s face through the curved, opaque wall of my world. William leans into the wall and looks at me from wherever he is.
From Outside.
Outside the door.
His eyes are huge. His teeth leap out of his head, distorted. He puts an enormous hand against the wall, and his hand leaps and jumps like a monstrous, terrifying shadow up the wall.
The Sentries are upon me and grab an arm, a shoulder, another arm. We turn and march and wheel across the grass of the Seed Park. All this happens as if in a dream, though. The only clear thought I have runs through my head again and again: William opened the door and walked through it. William is Outside.
Outside is real.
Fandoms are real people.
And William is a Fandom.
Mannfred
Iwake up to a whine.
The one-eyed dog sits just out of reach. I see his paws and chest from where I lie under the cart. When I stir, he whines again and dips his head low so we can look at each other. Then he whines with a tiny growl mixed in, too, and disappears like a shadow. His black paws run away out of sight.
It’s early light, and no one else is awake. I want to wake Cranker, but he’s snoring like he won’t wake up. If I wake him when he’s snoring like this, I might get a slingshot stone in the face. It’s happened.
So I roll out from under the cart … and freeze. Two men stand at the entrance to the courtyard, their backs to me. They creep toward the other cart, toward the family with the mules. The men are big, strong.
The dog is nowhere.
I duck down low and whisper loud as I dare, “Cranker!” I wish I woke him now, but he’s not going to wake up. I gulp and look over at the men, who move toward the mules. Mules are rare and sturdy, and it’s clear the men plan to steal them.
Our horses, Nancy and Nellie, are standing and sleepy, tied to the cart rail. I move between them so I can see the men. Grannie snores, the Littluns breathe all around her in the cart. Our last hen hears me and rustles in her cage, opens one eye, and goes back to sleep. There’s one of Grannie’s new metal pots just inside the cart, and I lift it out quiet as anything. I reach in and get down a big soup ladle, too.
The men slip between the mules, and the family on the other side of the courtyard sleeps on. The mules are nervous, but the men soothe them with their hands. They untie the animals. They’ll be gone soon.
Oculum Page 5
