by Vered Ehsani
“Oh no,” I whispered as I felt myself fading.
“Ash?” Sara asked, standing up, her face stretched tight with worry. She hadn’t heard the voice or seen the world shiver, but she could see something was happening to me; I couldn’t stop it. I was now hovering slightly above the ground, and the bricks of the wall behind me were visible. “Don’t leave me.”
“Ashish!” This time the voice was recognizable as my mother’s. I began to fade even more. I willed myself to solidify, focused intently on it, but the world began to turn misty as the veil descended.
“Don’t leave!” Sara called out, her eyes wide with fear. “Stay!”
“I can’t!” I shouted back, but my voice sounded weak. “I’ll come back. Just wait here!”
I wasn’t sure if Sara had heard, as I could no longer hear her, although she was still talking. I could hear nothing except for my mom calling me. “Ashish, wake up!”
And with a quick jerk, I peeled my face off the Book of History and gazed blearily at Mom, who was staring back at me with a mixture of annoyance and concern.
“You’ve missed dinner. Didn’t you hear us calling?” she asked. Without waiting for my response, she continued, “You need to eat. Come on.” She touched my hand and gasped. “You’re frozen!”
“Um,” I stuttered, not feeling particularly intelligent at that moment, and then realized that the book was on my desk in clear sight. If she saw the confiscated item back in my room, there would be serious trouble, not to mention that Shanti would never forgive me for revealing her secret. She would make it her life’s goal to inflict misery and suffering upon me forever and ever. She would be very good at that. With a heart-felt groan, I leaned over my desk, casually flicked the book closed, and placed both arms across it. I rested my head on them, shivering. I wasn’t pretending either. That was a real shiver. Fear can do that.
“Yeah, now that you mention it, I do feel cold,” I said truthfully.
“Oy, you get into bed right now. I’ll bring your dinner up. You eat and then go straight to sleep. No more studying tonight! In you go!” She waved me toward the bed and then trotted downstairs. I didn’t waste time. I grabbed the book, stuffed it under my pillow, and jumped under the covers. I wasn’t surprised Mom was fussing. It was a balmy early summer evening outside, and I felt like I had just climbed out of a deep freeze.
A few moments later, she returned with a tray heavy with food. After extracting a promise that I would stay in bed (no problem), eat (definitely), and rest (well, at least on this side of the veil), she left. I waited a few minutes, listening to the household settle into its quiet evening routine, and then wrapped up the two hamburgers in a cloth. A couple pieces of fruit also made their way into my pockets. I gulped down the soup, left the salad, and placed the emptied tray outside.
Closing the door and switching off the main light, I returned to bed, lay under the covers, and pulled out the book. It opened to a page showing the Liberty Tree covered in snow and banners. And I was there.
Keeping myself invisible, I focused on Sara. The world blurred past in smears of color and light, and then solidified around me with gut-wrenching speed. I was getting more used to it, but I still felt momentarily dizzy. Sara was still standing at the entrance to the alley, gazing anxiously about. It seemed as if no time had passed. I was momentarily tempted to shout, “Boo,” but decided I really shouldn’t scare my ancestor like that. I mean, technically she was my elder. I retreated into the shadows of the alley, materialized, and then strolled out.
“Dinner time,” I announced as I pulled out the hamburgers. I wasn’t sure what made Sara happier: seeing me or the food. We ate quickly, sighing contentedly as the food warmed us up.
“Now to find Samuel,” I muttered and began to switch my focus. I could feel myself become lighter.
“Now where are you going?” Sara demanded, trying to sound nonchalant but looking worried and a bit scared. I can sympathize. I remember how scary it was hearing bodiless voices. It has to be even more unnerving to see somebody actually turn into a ghost.
“Don’t worry,” I responded, but the anxiety was distracting and contagious; I found it hard to focus on Samuel, and after a few attempts, I gave up. “Okay, we do it the hard way,” I announced. Sara actually looked happy about that. Straight ahead of us were a series of houses. I was still convinced that the road the others were on was straight ahead, but there was no way through the houses. “This way,” I decided, trying to sound knowledgeable and confident as I started walking in what I hoped was a direction parallel to the soldiers and their prisoners.
Snow began to fall softly upon us, and I shivered as a few flakes fell on my neck and melted into an icy trickle down my back. Yuck. But it wasn’t just the cold that made me shiver. The place was too quiet, as if everyone had either hidden deep in their houses or left the city. The snow muffled whatever sounds there might have been, including the crunch of our shoes on the fresh sprinkling. The entire effect made me very aware of the volume of our voices. I think Sara felt that too, and when we did speak, it was in whispers. Even those sounded loud.
Light began to fade, while the snowfall became thicker, and our breath floated before us in ghostly puffs. Sara was shuffling along, staring at the ground. I crossed my arms and stuffed my hands under my armpits to keep them from freezing; I hadn’t remembered to bring gloves. My cheeks and nose felt brittle. Just as I began to wonder when the street, which seemed unnaturally long, would end, we rounded a curve and saw ahead of us an intersection with a much larger road lined with shops, all of which were closed.
“Let’s see if we can find someone to ask for directions,” I suggested, hurrying forward. I didn’t think it was likely anyone would be strolling about in this cold, but we had to try. I had gone only a few steps when I halted abruptly, just as two soldiers walking along the larger road stepped into view. They stopped to stare back at me. With an exchange of looks and words, the two men changed direction and began to move along the side road, toward us. Definitely not good.
“Eh, wait up,” one of them called in a friendly way, but all I noticed were the rifles slung casually over their shoulders. I wondered if Kali had given out a description of his quarry (that would be Sara and me). I guessed the answer was yes, given the unusual interest the soldiers seemed to have in talking with us.
“Sara,” I whispered, glancing to the side. Just behind us and between a set of houses was a very narrow alley. Where it led was anyone’s guess, but I was guessing it led away from the soldiers. “Kali’s told them about us, I’m sure of it. This isn’t good. When I say go, run for that alley. Go!”
She really did try. Despite the suddenness of my order, we twirled about in unison. Sara slipped slightly on the icy snow and grabbed at me, pulling me downward. We lost a precious second or two, but I managed to pull us both up, and we ran. Shouts and footsteps followed behind us, but we didn’t dare look to see how close our pursuers were. We darted into the alley, which was so narrow that our shoulders grazed against the brick wall on either side.
Running through the alley wasn’t easy, but it was even harder for the soldiers, who had to turn almost completely sideways and shift their rifles about in order to follow. I could hear them cursing and still calling for us to stop. For a second, I wondered if running was the wisest decision. Wouldn’t it make us look guilty? But then I remembered to remind myself who we were really running from, and I didn’t feel so bad. If the soldiers caught us, they would take us to Kali, and that would be the end of us, I was quite sure.
I ran, focusing on the end of the alley, which was brightly lit compared to the dark shadows of the buildings towering above us. Brightly lit and flapping, it seemed. Frowning but not daring to hesitate, I exited the alley and smacked my face into a white bed sheet hanging from a line strung up above our heads. I pushed it aside and had to dodge a pair of pants, some shirts, and a set of ladies’ underwear as I hurtled through a small courtyard with Sara right beside me. Behind us,
the soldiers finally pushed themselves out of the alley, all the while shouting at us.
“This way!” Sara hissed and dragged me into a doorway. We entered what appeared to be a kitchen area. A large pot hung suspended over a cheerful fire in the stone-lined fireplace in a corner. Vegetables in various stages of preparation lay scattered over a wooden table, while scraps of meat and a couple bones competed for space with several dirty dishes and knives. Bits of vegetables were sprinkled on the floor under the table. There was no one about.
I followed Sara through the deserted kitchen, and wondered briefly if the soldiers would dare follow us in. Ahead, a woman’s voice called out a name, and we could hear footsteps approach. Sara slowed down, suddenly unsure what to do. We seemed trapped between soldiers and the approaching woman. I know who I would rather deal with, but I didn’t really want to deal with anyone at that point. I pulled Sara into a small room off to the side of the kitchen. It was a pantry, with an assortment of smells that assaulted the senses. We squeezed into a corner, behind a large cloth sack of potatoes.
“Come on, Maggie,” the woman called out louder still, and we saw a shadow cross the entrance to the pantry and then continue on. “Eh, what’s this?” The voice rose in pitch and volume. “I’ll have none of that here. Just what do you think you’re doing?”
A man responded in a muted voice, and the woman interrupted briskly and loudly, “Well now, there are no rebels running through here, I can tell you that. I would’ve seen them, now wouldn’t I? Or maybe you think I’m blind? Do you think I’m blind? No, I’m not. Now get on with you; I’ve a supper to set. Out!”
A door creaked closed and then thudded into place. The woman turned about, and we could hear her mutter, “Rebels running through my kitchen, indeed. It’s bad enough that they’re running about like mad things on the streets these days. Maggie!”
“Yes, ma’am.” A much smaller shadow floated by. Sara and I exchanged glances. We may have avoided the soldiers, for which I was personally very grateful, but we were now quite stuck until the dinner was prepared, served, and eaten. Just thinking about food made me salivate. The smells that filled the kitchen reminded me that actually the hamburgers had been rather small.
“I’m hungry,” I whispered and gazed longingly toward the kitchen.
“Here, have a potato,” Sara whispered and handed me a dirt-covered spud.
“Thanks,” I hissed back. Sara tried to suppress a laugh and instead turned it into a snort.
“Zip it,” I ordered, and then realized that the phrase was rather meaningless to someone who didn’t know what a zipper was.
“Hello?” a voice softly inquired.
Sara and I both clapped our hands over our mouths, a little too late, and stared wide-eyed through the gap between the potato sack and a barrel. Someone had entered the pantry.
“Maggie, hurry up, girl! They want their dinner sooner than later,” boomed the woman from the kitchen.
“Coming!” Maggie called out and stepped closer to our hiding place. When she reached the sack of potatoes, she hesitated, as if sensing the eyes that were peering up at her. She gazed about, her dark eyes wide but serene. Although it was hard to tell in the shadowy pantry, I figured she was a bit younger than me. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a braid.
Finally shrugging, she reached into the sack and pulled out two potatoes. Gathering up her apron so that it made a pouch, she dropped the potatoes into her apron and then reached up to pull down a string of garlic, which also found its way into her apron. She then left.
We breathed out in unison. “That was close,” Sara whispered.
I nodded and leaned against the wall, trying to get comfortable in the tight space. Not easy. My legs already felt stiff and awkward. We sat quietly for a long time, although my stomach grumbled rather loudly, and painfully. The clicking of a stirring spoon against the pot, the tiny smack of a knife chopping up ingredients and the aroma of cooking only added to my misery, but leaving Sara was no longer an option. Okay, here’s where I get all meditative and insightful again. As I sat there all stiff and hungry, I began to wonder about this change of attitude; before all this, I would have gone out of my way to avoid anything outside of my fairly limited comfort zone. And now … well, this was definitely outside of any comfort zone I could imagine. It was also outside any safe zone I might have had too.
The woman who seemed to be in charge of the kitchen continued to give orders to Maggie until, finally, everything was finished. The woman left the kitchen area, carrying a large tray with several serving bowls filled with steaming food.
“Oh, I really hope she left the leftovers in the pot,” I groaned, and, without thinking (I’m getting too used to that—not thinking, that is), I began to stand up.
“Are you mad?” Sara demanded in a harsh whisper as she yanked me down.
It was too late.
Maggie stood in the doorway of the pantry.
Chapter 14
So, there we were, or rather, there I was, crouched over a sack of potatoes and staring straight at Maggie. And there was Maggie, staring right back at me. Maggie may be small (actually, no “may be” about it), but she looked quite fearless at that moment. Of course, it helped that she was holding a rather impressive-looking butcher’s knife that at a glance looked more like an axe than a kitchen utensil; she could chop firewood with that thing. Her expression was grimly determined.
“Get up, now,” she ordered, waving the knife at us.
Sara and I glanced at each other (well, I glanced at Sara; Sara glared at me) and then we slowly stood up. Sara blurted out, “Please, we aren’t here for any trouble. We aren’t going to steal anything. We just needed a place to hide, and now we’ll leave.”
Maggie stared at us before slowly asking, “Why are you hiding?”
“Well, it’s because …”
“You see, we had to …”
The girl frowned. “One at a time. You, the strange-looking boy, talk.” She pointed toward me.
Calling someone “strange-looking” is not the way to make friends, but I was hardly in a position to give lectures. I stood up straighter. “We were separated from her brother and a friend of ours during a demonstration that we weren’t part of, but the soldiers thought we were and began to chase us.” I paused, and then added, “And I’m not strange-looking.”
Maggie blushed slightly. “Oh, no, of course not. I just meant … well, you are dressed a little strangely, or …” She continued hurriedly when she saw my dark glare, “At least differently, that’s all.”
Still a bit put out and irritable from hunger, I retorted, not very wisely I might add, “Well, you look like you are about to carve us up, cook us, and serve us for dinner. Are you?”
“No, of course not!” she responded in shock, her mouth twisting in horror and disgust as she lowered the knife. “I’m Maggie.”
“Yeah, we gathered,” I muttered, not prepared to be forgiving at that moment.
Sara gave me a disapproving look before clearing her throat and stating politely, “I am Sara Connel, and this is Ash.” Then, gazing wistfully toward the kitchen, she asked, “There wouldn’t happen to be leftovers, now would there?”
I shook my head in disbelief, but Maggie smiled. “Of course!” She beckoned us to follow her back into the kitchen. Okay, maybe I was prepared to be forgiving now.
With a quick glance at each other, we followed her into the cooking area. It looked fairly clean and clear of food, which was remarkable considering the state it had been in when we had first arrived.
“It’s over there, in the corner. Help yourselves,” she said as she handed us bowls while placing the axe-sized knife on a corner of the wooden counter that ran along one wall.
Well, we wasted no time and ladled thick stew into the clay bowls. I scalded my tongue in my haste to eat, and felt the warmth flow out from my stomach to my limbs. Oh yeah, I could definitely be forgiving now.
“Well, now what do we do? How’re we goi
ng to find Samuel, East Wind, and my father?” Sara asked in between mouthfuls of food.
I frowned as I swallowed. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe you could do that disappearing trick and find them.”
I didn’t answer. I was conscious of Maggie listening to us intently. “The first thing is to get some rest.” I waved Sara’s protests aside. “We can’t go out now; it’s a snow storm and we’ll just get lost and freeze to death, if we aren’t shot or arrested first.”
Maggie had been drying the last of the dishes. As she stored them away on the shelves, she shyly offered, “You’re welcome to stay here. There’s an empty room in the staff quarters. No one will notice.”
I yawned, thinking about my bed back home, where I was supposed to be resting. “Sounds good.”
The house was quiet and dark as we followed Maggie down a hall near the kitchen. She led us into a very small room, the floor of which was covered almost completely by a mattress. She lit another candle and placed it on the floor in a corner. “I’ll just bring you some blankets,” she offered, and left, only to return with two thick, wool blankets. After thanking her repeatedly, we waited until she had disappeared into another room.
“Well, I best be off,” I said softly, feeling a bit awkward about leaving Sara yet again, but knowing that she was taken care of, at least for the night.
“Right,” she said and nodded, trying not to look anxious. She flopped down on the mattress, lying with her face toward the wall, her back to me. I guess she didn’t want to see me turn into a ghost.
“Good night,” I called out as I faded and then disappeared. A second later, I was in my bedroom, which felt unusually warm, bright, and big as I curled up under my covers and wearily closed my eyes.
Chapter 15
My mom insisted that I stay in bed. That suited me just fine. She brought up another plate of food in the morning, and told my sisters not to bother me under any circumstances, on pain of something terrible. Oh, life was good. I waited until everyone had left the house for school and work, before returning to the Liberty Tree.
