Hole in the Sky

by Pete Hautman

  I saw something move, dark on dark, then the door swung shut and the coughing started up again, now muffled. I felt my belly clench and twist inside me and it was all I could do not to fall to the ground in a miserable knot. A part of me wanted to rush into that boiler room. I didn’t care if I got sick and died. Life was too hard and lonely. But another part of me wanted to take off into the woods, to turn off my brain and live like an animal on berries and squirrels, drinking water from puddles and sleeping in the pine duff.

  I don’t know how long I stood there with my eyes squeezed shut. Maybe only a few seconds. Then I remembered Harryette looking out that window. I remembered her eyes and her hands, and I found myself walking up the hill toward El Tovar. I found an empty place in my head and I put the boiler room there. I would think about it another time, I promised myself.

  But not now. I still had something to live for.

  EL TOVAR

  THE IRON LADDER BUILT ONTO THE canyon side of ElTovar was rusted and missing a few rungs. I’d been up and down it before, but each time it got a little scarier. I’d need both hands, so I unloaded the rifle, ran my belt through the trigger guard, hung it over my shoulder and started to climb. The ladder gave off a few heart-stopping creaks, and one of the bolts that held it to the side of the building popped off as I climbed by, but I made it to the top. I stepped off the ladder onto cedar shingles spongy from years of neglect—carpenter ants, mold, and mildew had taken the starch out of them. I walked carefully. There were places so rotten that your foot would go right through.

  El Tovar’s roof was shaped like a barn roof—gently sloped on top, and steep at the sides. Each third-floor room had its own gable window jutting from the steep part of the roof. All I had to do was pick out the room where I’d seen Harryette the night before, work my way around the gable, and drop down onto the narrow ledge outside the window. It sounded easy, but it had to be a one-way trip. Once I got on the ledge there was no way I could get back up. But I didn’t figure to be retreating. I just hoped I wouldn’t fall off the roof and kill myself. And I hoped the window wouldn’t be stuck shut, and that I picked the right room, and that Harryette would be there, and she’d be alone, and—no! I had to quitthinking like Ceej, sweating all the details.

  No more thinking. Time to act.

  Following the ridge of the roof, I made my way to a point above the third gable from the north end and slid carefully down, aiming one foot at each side of the gable peak until I was sitting astride it. I inched my way out to the edge of the gable, leaned out over the eaves and looked down into the window below. The room was dark. If Harryette was there, she was sitting in the dark. I don’t remember making the decision, but the next instant my bottom half was hanging over the edge of the gable roof, feeling for the ledge below.

  It was farther down than I had thought—my feet found only open space. I hung there, fingers digging into rotten shingle. I knew the ledge was there, but was it a few inches or a few feet below? The sill was only about ten inches wide. If I landed wrong, I could fall the entire three stories.

  The decision was made for me when the shingles ripped loose. I fell, my hands shot out and clawed glass, my feet hit something solid, and I was on the ledge, my heart banging. For several seconds I didn’t move, getting used to the idea that I was still alive.

  I was pretty sure that no one was in the room, or they’d be looking out at me. I found the edge of the window with my fingers and tried to pull it open. I couldn’t pull too hard—if I gave it a really hard yank and it came open suddenly, I’d be on my way down to the ground the fast way. I wasted a few minutes trying to pry it open with my pocket-knife, but busted the tip off the blade. Only one thing to do. I unslung the rifle and slammed the butt into the glass pane. The glass shattered with a horrendously loud sound. I knocked away the shards, reached in and unlatched the window. It swung open easily. I climbed inside. The room was empty, but I knew right away that I had the right room. Her scent still hung in the air. I opened the door and stuck my head out into the hallway, half-expecting hordes of Kinka to come rushing at me.

  The hallway was dark and empty and quiet. I made my way past the other rooms, walking close to the wall so the floor wouldn’t creak. As I approached the staircase I heard voices coming from below. I went down the stairs to the second floor. Now I heard a single voice, coming from the direction of the mezzanine. I walked silently down the carpeted hallway. The voice was coming from the lobby. I got down on my hands and knees and crawled as I reached the mezzanine, the open area that overlooked the lobby. I could see the orange flickering of firelight tickling the wood beams of the lobby walls and ceiling.

  The voice rose and fell and became a stream of words.

  “…and the evil spread. Women abandoned their children.

  Men beat their wives. The leaders of the nations of the world told lies to each other, and lied to their own people, and lied to themselves•”

  I got down on my belly and wriggled up to the railing at the edge of the mezzanine and peeked through the wooden posts. The lobby was packed with Kinka—dozens of them sitting on the floor, on the furniture, on each other. They were listening, their eyes reflecting firelight. Mother K, now wearing a long golden robe, stood before the roaring fireplace. She spoke in a hypnotic, singsong rhythm. I had the feeling she had spoken these same words many times before.

  “… and the evil spread. Children joined gangs, they soiled their bodies with drugs, they killed one another with knives and bullets and cars. And the religions of the world became muddled and soft, and God was forgotten by his priests and ministers. And there were wars and famines and floods and storms and earthquakes and plagues, and many people died, but always there were more babies born, and they were stained with the evil of their parents.”

  She spread her arms wide, the golden robe unfurling like great wings.

  “Hear me now. Listen to Mother K. Evil fell like a mist over the land, and people saw it but only blinked it away and shrugged and said, ‘It is only the smog!”

  The Kinka swayed back and forth, lost in firelight and words. The melody and rhythm of the woman’s voice made me want to be down there with them, mindless and swaying. Then I saw Harryette sitting back by the wall beneath Bullwinkles moth-eaten beard. The words must have been gibberish to her, but she was listening as intently as the rest of them. Even Bullwinkle the moose seemed to be listening.

  If I was ever going to get her away from the Kinka, it would have to be soon.

  “Then one day, when the evil had become too much for the land to bear, the hand of God reached down from heaven and touched a man. And that man touched other men, and the hand of God spread, a purifying flame, throughout the land. And men and women and children fell, cleansed of life. The people of Earth, soiled by greed and wickedness, were dying.”

  She bowed her head, and all the other Kinka bowed their heads as well. For a moment the crackling of the fire was the only sound.

  “But then, by God’s mercy, Survivors began to appear. A young man in New York. A girl in Los Angeles. In Kansas City, in Flagstaff, in Seattle there were those blessed few who were touched but lightly by the hand of God. All over the world, Survivors began to appear. You, and you, and you—”

  She pointed randomly at faces amongst the Kinka.

  “—are the chosen. You, all of you, have within you a pure, clean, untainted place in your soul. God has chosen you to Survive. As God chose Noah and his children millennia ago, so have you been chosen to inherit this world. It is our destiny to spread the touch of God to all, so that every man, woman, and child is subject to the Judgment of the Divine.

  “We are the Kinka. We are the chosen.…”

  THE JUDGMENT OF THE DIVINE

  I HAD BEEN WAITING FOR MORE than an hour in the closet in Harryette’s room when the door finally opened and the light came on. I held my breath, looking out through the half-open closet door. I saw Harryette’s profile as she stepped into the room. She stopped and looked aro
und the room, her brow wrinkled, sensing that something was different. I wanted to let her know I was there, but not until I was sure we were alone.

  She took a few more steps, walking right up to the window. I had closed the curtains to cover up the shattered glass. If she opened them she would know right away that someone had broken in.

  I heard the soft tread of another person entering the room and saw the golden robes of the Kinka leader.

  “What is wrong, child?” she asked.

  Harryette turned at the sound of the Kinka’s voice. Her hands jerked, like she’d been about to sign something but had realized that it wouldn’t be understood.

  “You are disturbed by the girl, aren’t you?” said the Kinka. She closed the door, sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the mattress beside her. “Come, sit with Mother K.”

  Harryette sat down beside Mother K.

  “It is a most difficult thing, to watch the old race die.” She lifted one of Harryette’s hands and began to stroke it. “We must be strong. It is the Judgment of the Divine.” She pulled Harryette’s hand to her chest. “Feel my heart beat. It beats for you. All of us are here for you.”

  Harryette stared back at Mother K.

  “You don’t understand me, do you, child?” She released Harryette’s hand and, looking into her eyes, clumsily made the signs for family, love, and friend.

  Harryette nodded. This she understood. Her eyes filled with tears.

  I couldn’t wait any longer. I stepped out of the closet and stuck the rifle in Mother K’s face, right between her golden eyes.

  I don’t know what I expected. If somebody had pointed a gun at my face I don’t think I would have smiled and stood up and introduced myself. But that was exactly what Mother K did. She even held out her hand, like she expected me to shake it or kiss it or something.

  “Lie down on the floor, face down!” I said, quoting some cop movie I’d seen.

  Mother K laughed.

  “You better do it now or I’ll shoot you.”

  “I do not fear your weapon.”

  Harryette, still sitting on the bed, was signing frantically, Don’t shoot her!

  Mother K’s smile broadened, like she knew there was no way I’d do it. But she was wrong. I thumbed back the hammer. She must have sensed something, because her smile faded slightly.

  “Now, child, there’s no reason for you to be so upset,” she said.

  “I’m no child, and you better do what I say. Lie down!”

  Mother K tipped her head like a fox listening for a field mouse. Her eyes lost focus. “But he says he will shoot me,” she said. She frowned and nodded. “Alright then.” She backed up until her legs hit the bed, then slowly sank onto the mattress and crossed her hands on her lap.

  “How about if we just sit here with Miss Harryette?” she said, her smile returning.

  I shook my head. I needed both hands to talk to Harryette, and I didn’t dare let go of the gun as long as this Kinka woman could make a dash for the door.

  “You will be judged,” said Mother K. “It is only a matter of time. Why wait?”

  I stepped into her and put the gun barrel to her chest and gave a vicious shove. Mother K fell back with a gasp. Harryette jumped up. For a moment I thought she was going to throw herself between Mother K and the gun, but she just stood there looking frantically from me to Mother K and back again. Mother K’s eyes were huge, her golden irises surrounded by white. At least she was taking me seriously now.

  “Roll over,” I said.

  She hesitated, then turned onto her belly. “They say you are dangerous, they say I must do as you say,” she said.

  “Who are’they’?” I asked.

  “My friends and enemies.”

  I leaned the rifle against the dressing table, grabbed the edge of the bedspread, and threw it over her, then rolled her up like a burrito.

  Harryette signed, What are you doing!

  Helping you escape, I signed back.

  You can’t. They’ll come after us.

  They won’t catch us. I pulled out the coil of rope I’d stashed under the bed. I’d found the rope in the first floor utility closet while Mother K was brainwashing her troops. I cut off a few feet, and wrapped it around Mother K’s ankles.

  I won’t go.

  You have to.

  No! If you leave now, I’ll try to keep her from going after you.

  Like you saved Bella?

  Who?

  I made the signs for Native American and girl.

  Harryette set her jaw. I tried to help her!

  I tied the rope, then cut another length and wrapped it around Mother K’s arms and shoulders. All that time, Mother K was talking, but her words were muffled by layers of cotton and wool. She looked like a giant cocoon.

  I tied one end of the coil of rope around the leg of the radiator and dropped the other end out the window. Harryette was staring at me intently, her brow furrowed. I could not imagine what she was thinking, but I knew what we had to do.

  Now let’s get out of here, I signed, pointing at the window.

  She shook her head.

  I signed, I am not leaving until you do.

  If you stay they’ll catch you. She looked at the cocooned form of Mother K. You’ll be judged.

  I nodded. Then that is what will happen.

  Harryette closed her eyes. Her face twisted, like something was hurting her. Then she opened her eyes. She had made her decision.

  Climbing down thirty feet of rope seemed like it should be easy, but the nylon rope was thin and hard to grip. I showed Harryette how to wrap it around her wrists and ankles and, slowly, she made her way down to the ground. Once she was down, I pulled the rope up, tied the rifle to the end, and lowered it to the ground, then followed, rappelling quickly down the side of the building.

  Now what? she asked. Where is Ceej?

  I don’t know. We crossed the circular driveway, then ran down the short hill to where the Land Rover and Jeep were parked. So far, no one had raised the alarm, but I wasn’t sure how long the cocoon would hold Mother K. Popping open the Land Rover’s hood, I grabbed a handful of plug wires, ripped them loose, and threw them into the weeds.

  I motioned Harryette to get into the Jeep. I jumped in behind the wheel. The keys weren’t in the ignition, but that was no surprise. Hap always kept a spare set stashed in the door pocket. I reached for them. My heart stopped. A bubble of fear filled my chest.

  What’s wrong? Harryette asked.

  No keys. We have to run. I opened the door, grabbed the rifle, and got out.

  Then I saw a figure watching us from the edge of the driveway. Blue paint crusted his scalp. He raised one arm. A set of keys dangled from his thick fingers.

  “Emory,” I said. The rifle felt heavy in my hands.

  “You should not have come back here,” he rumbled.

  Harryette got out of the other side of the Jeep.

  Emory looked at her, blinking.

  “You wish to leave us, Harryette?” he said, pointing at her, then off into the darkness.

  Harryette nodded again, understanding his meaning.

  Emory pursed his full lips, staring at her. His eyes shifted to me. “Your father, he was a good man,” he said.

  I wondered if I could shoot him. Emory, divining my thoughts, looked down at the gun in my hands. “It is inevitable,” he said, his hands closing around the keys.

  Excited voices erupted inside the hotel. They had found Mother K, or she had worked herself free.

  Emory, looking toward the hotel, said, “It will come to pass.”

  The front door of El Tovar crashed open and a dozen Kinka flooded out into the night. One of them spotted us and shouted, and suddenly they were running toward us. Emory remained still for a heartbeat, his usually slack features contorting with indecision, then he jumped into the driver’s seat and rammed the key into the ignition.

  “Get in,” he said, twisting the key. Harryette and I scrambled into the Je
ep as the engine roared to life. “Stay down,” he ordered. With a squeal of spinning tires, we hurtled down the driveway toward the rim road.

  “All right, Emory!” I shouted, looking back at the horde of pursuing Kinka. Emory reached across the seat and palmed my head and pushed it down just as the back window exploded, sending a spray of glass through the cab. I heard two more shots, and then we rounded a bend and were out of range. I sat up. Harryette was lying on the back seat looking up at me, eyes wide.

  “We’re clear,” I said to Emory, giving Harryette a thumbs-up. “I yanked the plug wires on the Land Rover. They’ll never catch us.”

  Emory didn’t slow down. “They have motorcycles” he said.

  “They do?” It was the first I knew anything about motorcycles.

  “They will be coming.”

  In the distance, I heard the whine of a motorcycle engine. “They’d better not get too close.” I raised the rifle and pointed it out the back window, but Emory ripped it from my grasp.

  “Hey!”

  “I will take you where you wish to go,” said Emory. “But you will injure no one.” He threw the rifle out the window.

  “But they—”

  “Where do you wish to go?”

  “We have to find Ceej.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know. But we decided that if we got separated we’d meet up at Desert View.”

  Emory nodded. “I will take you to Desert View.”

  I could hear two motorcycle engines now, one high-pitched whine, the other a throaty roar. Just past the turnoff toTusayan, Emory let up on the gas, cranked the wheel to the right, and turned onto an old service road. The Jeep bounced along the rutted, overgrown trail for a few dozen yards, then stopped, just out of sight of the road. Emory shut off the engine and lights.

  “We sit here quiet now,” he said.

  The motorcycles passed by and kept going until we couldn’t hear them at all. We listened to the faint pings and creaks of the Jeep’s engine cooling. Minutes later we heard the bikes again, this time heading back toward the village.