—
I'm not a big man. I was clever, that's how I got to be able to bring up the rear. Besides, that Former Big Man was old and wanted to leave the group to me. Everybody wanted me.
—
We tell him, bring us apples and potatoes. We say an onion would be nice. We say, “And bring something for the children."
—
I say, “I'll try."
—
I never take charge, it's not my place, but when they tell me to take the boy with me, I say, “If you don't mind, maybe next time.” I'm not supposed to contradict, but I feel I must. He wants to come, but if there's danger up here, he's the one they'll need. I'll leave him my staff.
—
Our Big Man shouldn't disagree, but in this case we know he's right. We let him go alone and keep Our Boy with us.
—
It only takes me one day trotting down, though it took all of us three days climbing up, what with our bundles and our little ones. When I get close to the crossroads I duck behind brush. The same man is there. As before, he sits where the road branches. He's much bigger than I am and he has a rifle. But I can cut across beyond the man and wade their canal. I can be in town faster than the road would take me and I'll not have to pay.
I hide behind sage and bitter brush and circle around him, crouching. I only move when he's facing the other way. It's not hard.
Right at the edge of town I notice an apple tree in a backyard. Some of those would be nice for the children. The laundry hanging there will hide the person stealing them. I gather a few, zip them into one of my bags, and leave them in the shade of a boulder. I sit and eat one. I want to wait till twilight before going into town.
—
There are lots of rusty pick-ups parked along Main Street. Not many people about. I walk from store window to store window. My mouth waters as I pass the bakery but I mustn't pause there too long. Bread isn't for the likes of us. Maybe a box of crackers for the children, they should know what those are like. I'd like to show them some chocolate, too. The littlest ones have never had it.
I let myself get locked in the grocery store. I fill my backpack. I take things that won't be noticed. Mostly from the bins of loose things like nuts. There's a bin of pretzels and a bin of beans.
I leave the store and start around to back doors.
I'm thinking another blanket would be nice, but too hard to get this trip.
Before I leave town, I check out an empty house. I wonder.... How would it be if some of us came down and camped here? We might not be found out for quite some time. They might put me in jail. That would be an odd end to my stint as Uncle.
—
I head back to the apples, but here's Our Boy, right in that very back yard, gobbling them up as fast as he can. He'll make himself sick. What was he thinking, sneaking out and following me on his own?
Well, I know what he's thinking, but isn't he a little young for it?
He'll be a much larger man than I am one of these days. MaryEllenson. I didn't think he'd be trouble for another couple of years.
There's always a coalition. He might consent to that for a while.
I don't want to have to hurt Our Boy. The way things are these days, he's more important than ever. Grandma depends on him.
I creep up and grab him from behind. I hold his mouth shut to keep him from crying out. He hasn't learned much yet. This'll be a good lesson.
I press his face into the grass.
Foolish boy.
I whisper. “Does anybody know you followed me?"
He shakes his head no as best he can.
If he has any sense at all he'll realize how stupid he's been. I could kill him right this minute and there'd be one less problem for some other Big Man later on.
I wait until he's choked enough. I whisper, “Silence!” then let him go.
But he's about to throw up his apples. Just as well. I hurry him away—farther from the edge of town. I hold his forehead. I wipe his face. Coalition? No problem.
I leave him collapsed there and go back for the batch of apples I'd gotten when I first came into town.
He's a skinny young one, our biggest boy. A redhead. Freckled. No son of mine. I remember his father. That was a man worthy of being called “Our Big Man."
I feel good. I've even got some chocolate for the little ones. I have cheeses. Grandma and Second Grandma do love cheese.
Now all we have to do is get past the man at the crossroads with our stolen goods. Turns out MaryEllenson paid a coin to get here. We won't go anywhere near the crossroads. I show him how to do it.
A lot of admiration in his eyes that wasn't there before.
Coalition firmly established.
There's a bright almost full moon. We get well away and up into the first steep hills, then lie on our backs looking up at it.
“Uncle?"
“Hmm?"
“Thank you."
He knows he owes his life to me. That will be important later on.
When it happens, I hope Rosalia will come with me.
—
What we know so far is that there used to be moon watching platforms, one in each of our stopping spots. Those will be the first to rot away. Tent platforms and our hanging hooks will be next.
—
Everybody's happy to see us—happy that we're not locked up down there and that we're still alive, and happy about all the good things we brought.
They've started setting up a permanent camp. I'm not pleased about that, but if Grandma says it must be so, then it has to be. I believe Grandma is being led by her sore knees rather than her head. There may have been objections, but I wasn't there to hear them. Everybody is working to make sleeping spots with drainage ditches. There isn't much usable brush. They've laid out a spot for me. They're going to enlarge it for MaryEllenson now that we've formed a coalition.
—
We have done as Grandma said to do. At first we argued about it but then realized it had to be or we'd lose Grandma. None of us wanted that. This is not a very good spot to lose a grandma. Second Grandma changed her mind right in the middle of arguing against it. We understood and voted for it along with her, wondering all the while what Our Big Man will think. This puts more of a burden on him than ever before. We fear that town will be our only resource. But we're glad he'll have MaryEllenson to help.
MaryEllenson swaggers around as if he's already bringing up the rear, elbows out, knees half bent.... Everybody smiles behind their hands. Even Our Big Man.
—
What we know so far is that some of us starved out of kindness to others. They gave away their food and died quietly in the night. Some slipped away, who knows where? Perhaps they threw themselves into the sea when we were near the sea, or into a rushing river to be taken back to the sea.
—
We think we're being followed by one of our men. We think it's Ruthson. We haven't seen him for six years. We'll be happy to greet him, but we're worried about what might happen to Uncle. But setting our village way up here may change things. We don't think Ruthson would like living here. None of us want to. Uncle will put up with it, though, and not complain. He's one of the sweetest ones we've ever had.
That night it storms. A real top-of-the-mountain storm. Water in all our tents, and the drains we shoveled overflowed. Grandma got wet. We can't stay here. Second Grandma thinks we should overrule her. This would be a big thing. (Second Grandma is Grandma's little sister.) But even if we overrule her, we don't have to leave her here, though it's often done. We can take her with us to a better place. Our Big Man can carry her.
—
They mean me.
—
Our Big Man says there's an empty house on the outskirts of town, with a fireplace and four rooms. Living in a house, we'll not be keeping to our way and towns scare us. All those people and not a single one living or even thinking as we do, but it's just till things warm up. And not all of us need go there, just the littl
est ones and Grandma and a couple of us to look after things. Our Big Man can go back and forth and MaryEllenson can help.
We'll tell Grandma it's only until she's well again. Of course she'll know better than to believe us, but it'll save face.
—
I carry her. At least the way is mostly down.
I don't know why we don't have even one beast of burden. Have they all, long ago, made a decision about that? None of us Big Men would have had a say in it or it would have been decided differently. Even a donkey would be better than nothing. Or what about an elderly stallion that's been kicked out of his herd? I'd relate to that considering my situation. Or a young one still in his roaming years.
All of us men have had a few years on the fringes of the other life. Many of us have lapsed into that world, mated with one of them and been lost to us. Others, if they refuse to mate with any but their own kind, are condemned to a life of nothing but “the roaming years."
During my “roaming years” I rode a motorcycle. Now and then I drove a truck for a farmer in exchange for food and shelter. Sometimes I sneaked into classes with the farmer's sons. I've even had some college. Not that any of this is useful to us. Mostly we need to know how to protect and serve and service, and, when the time comes, how to fight.
—
What we know so far is that we will return to the sea no matter where we die. All our dead must be returned to water.
—
We ensconced Grandma in the empty house in the middle of the night. Less than half of us came down to do it. Thank goodness the house is well away from other houses and surrounded with a hedge in back and a fence in front. Our candle lights won't be seen. There's a nice outbuilding, too, only a few feet away from the main house ... a rickety garage. Just right for Our Big Man.
We left Our Boy up with the others. He was proud to be in charge of protecting the group all by himself.
Grandma got wet again when we had to cross the canal. Our Big Man was so tired from carrying her on his back for two days, he actually fell in. Thank goodness, at the spot where we crossed, the canal is only two feet deep, so no great harm done except for getting wet and cold. (That water comes straight down from the snow on the mountains.)
After we got Grandma dried off and in bed, we went out to the garage to see to Our Big Man, but he was already asleep. We covered him with a rug and left tea and crackers beside him. In case of ants or mice or rats, we left everything in a tin box. Rosalia went out later to add her shawl to the rug. We approved of that.
—
What we know is that we used to be but one of more than seven groups. We know that babies died. We ask ourselves: Are we the last of those who live as we do?
—
I wake up sore and just as tired as I was last night when I collapsed. I hope there's no new chore for me this morning. I'm still wet. I didn't have the energy to change into something dry—if there was something dry. What Grandma has been feeling in her knees, I'm feeling now myself.
I lie, not moving. Then I notice the shawl around my shoulders. I know whose it is. I feel better right away. I sit up and open the tin beside me, drink the cold tea. Then I begin to feel dread. It's a fearsome thing, to be right here in a town. Almost any circumstances would be better than the way we're set up, half of us here and the other half on a windy hill—a long steep hike between us. That man who follows might get discouraged and wait for some better year, so I may have a little more time. Actually, if Rosalia will come with me, I'll be glad to leave. Wouldn't it be nice, just the two of us? We'd pretend to be an old married couple. I'd have to change my name.
She and I have a boy out there somewhere. Rosaliason. I should say, a man—by now. I wonder what became of him.
Rosalia was my first opportunity. I followed the group for several months. Rosalia got herself lost on purpose just to meet with me. She's the one, picked the spot, made it happen. It was dangerous. Especially for a not very big man. She knew that but she picked me, anyway. If not for her, I wonder if I'd have had the strength and know-how to become Uncle and take over the guardianship.
—
What we know so far is that there will be a hidden valley where the earth is black and soft and there'll be plenty of berry bushes. The water will run down from three streams that join a rushing river. One can die in peace knowing the way to the sea is open.
—
We're almost out of food again, but we let Our Big Man sleep. Grandma, also, sleeps on and on.
Our Big Man is getting older, too, but he's still clever. We've eaten better with him than with most of our others. But Grandma, dumped in the canal! That wouldn't have happened with a younger man. And now Our Big Man will have to keep those of us up on the hill fed and those of us down here, also. We can't let him sleep too long.
Second Grandma calls us all together in secret. We shut ourselves in one of the rooms and consult without Grandma. It's up to us. It always is.
—
I pull the shawl close around me ... (Rosalia knitted it. I watched her. She didn't dare really give me such a nice thing, but she lends it to me every chance she gets, and she thinks of it as mine—as do I.) ... and go to the house to see if they have dry clothes for me and anything warm to drink.
I find that they're all in a back room with the door closed. I don't dare knock. If I want dry clothes I'll have to find them myself. Grandma is still asleep. What I put her through! Wouldn't it be nice if, when the time comes, Rosalia and I could run away some place and bring Grandma with us? Until two years ago, she was a fun and funny leader.
One doesn't suggest such things. One doesn't even mention such a thing as, thanks for a shawl, knitted for a person's birthday but never given.
Since that man's been following us, I've kept a small paring knife in my pocket. I keep it wedged into the top of a fountain pen so it doesn't cut my pants or me. I'm not sure yet how fair I can expect him to fight.
When we come out of our meeting we tell Our Big Man what food we have left and send him off. There have been times when one of Our Men actually got a job in a grocery store. We suggest that. Money is not our way but we want him to know he's free to pick any way he thinks best.
After Our Man leaves, we wrap Grandma's legs in warm wet towels and feed her a special broth. She may guess what it is, but she drinks it willingly.
—
It's not so easy to steal in the daytime. I pass the place with the apples. I ask if I can take a few. Sometimes that works. The lady there says, yes.
Then I do as they said, I ask for a job in the grocery store. I don't need an address. I say I'm just passing through and need a job for a week or two. They put me to work. I won't dare steal for the first few days except maybe a pocketful from the bins.
When I return to the house at lunch time with beans and nuts and the apples, there's no sign of Grandma.
So much for Rosalia and me ever bringing her with us when my time is over.
I don't ask. It's not my place to know.
Second Grandma says she saw a man hovering about in the meadow beyond the house. She says she could hear him whistling a love song.
This is happening much sooner than I expected.
Grandma ... Grandma! (It's going to be hard remembering to call Second Grandma, Grandma. It might have been better to do what they had to do up there, rather than have me carry Former Grandma all the way down here and dump her in the canal—that was icy water.)
Grandma says it again. “He was whistling a love song.” She could be hinting that I have to make a show at defending my position.
I sneak out into the meadows. It's too soon for planting so there's nobody around.
I might be able to get it over with right here, now.
But there are two men out there, standing by a copse. A good place to hide, but they're not bothering to hide. Hard to tell from this distance, but they look large. I wouldn't have a chance even with Our Boy. I don't dare go up to get him, anyway. If I leave, those two mi
ght take over and our group might split. And Rosalia is down here. We never talked about going off together, and this is the only life she knows, she might not want to come with me.
Once I was privileged to bring up the rear, Rosalia and I lost the habit of talking as we had before. I had too much work to do. Sometimes she came out to my shelter when I was too tired to eat. Brought me soup. Rubbed my sore back. (Former Grandma said it was all right.)
—
We know that one has to observe the formalities. That there can be no taking up more than your share of space, no eating more than your share of food, no harsh words, and especially no secret alliances, no favorites.
—
I don't want Our Boy to get mixed up with two big men. Coalition or not, if anybody's going to get beat up it has to be me alone.
Their hair is long and tied back in ponytails. They're wearing black leather motorcycle jackets. No sign of motorcycles, though.
They don't look like good material for bringing up the rear. I'm not even sure they're our kind. Maybe they heard about our ways and are trying to take advantage of it. They could beat me up, mate with everybody, and then take off. It wouldn't be the first time outsiders have done such a thing.
If they're not us, one way or another, I'll have to win.
I make a big circle around the copse and come into it from the rear. I'm thinking that's where the motorcycles are.
And I find them. I take the spark plugs and some wires and hide them in a different part of the copse. I might have a little more bargaining power with that.
Of course they might really be us, brothers often form a coalition, and riding motorcycles is what many of us do in our roaming years, but it's safer to go with the idea that they're not us. And they're too chubby. With all our walking, we don't have a chance to get fat. And their hair is so long. We generally try to blend in with the conservative people. Also we'd have known better than to come in to us in our motorcycle jackets, though whistling a love song is exactly what we would do. I'm surprised these men knew to do that. Though maybe that was their warning to our women.
—
We know that women have ways. They are full of ancient and intricate lore. Many of their recipes go back a thousand years. There are secrets no man knows.
Asimov's SF, March 2008 Page 18
