Ingathering

by Zenna Henderson

  “Do you suppose it is almost time? I have no way of knowing. Time is—is different here. I can’t put the two times together and come out with anything. I’m afraid, Glory! I’m afraid!”

  “We shoulda taken you into Kerry to the doctor a long time ago. He’d be able to tell you, less’n—” she hesitated “—less’n you are different, so’st he’d notice—”

  I smiled weakly. “Don’t tiptoe so, Glory. I won’t be insulted. No, he’d notice nothing different except when birth begins. We can bypass the awfullest of the hurting time—” I gulped and pressed my hands to the sudden emptiness that almost caved me in. “That’s what I was supposed to learn from our People here!” I wailed. “I only know about it. Our first child is our learning child. You can’t learn it ahead.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Glory dryly. “Child Within will manage to get outside whether you hurt or not. If you’re a woman, you can bear the burden women have since Eve.”

  So we planned to go into town the next day and just tell the doctor I hadn’t been to a doctor yet—lots of people don’t, even today. But it started to rain in the night. I roused first to the soft sound of rain on the old tin roof of the kitchen—the soft sound that increased and increased until it became a drumming roar. Even that sound was music. And the vision of rain falling everywhere, everywhere, patting the dusty ground, dimpling the lake, flipping the edges of curled leaves, soothed me into sleep. I was wakened later by the sound of Seth’s coughing. That wasn’t a soothing sound. And it got worse and worse. It began to sound as though he actually were coughing up his lungs as Glory had said. He could hardly draw a breath between coughing spasms. I lay there awake in the dark, hearing Glory’s murmurs and the shuff-shuff of her feet as she padded out to the kitchen and back to the bedroom. But the coughing went on and on and I began to get a little impatient. I tossed in bed, suddenly angrily restless. I had Child Within to think of. They knew I needed my rest. They weren’t making any effort to be quiet—Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer. I padded in my turn to their bedroom and peered in. Seth was leaning back against the head of the iron bedstead, gasping for breath. Glory was sitting beside him, tearing up an old pillowcase to make handkerchiefs for him. She looked up at me in the half light of the uncovered baking powder can, her face drawn and worn.

  “It’s bad, this time,” she said. “Makin’ up for lost time, I guess.”

  “Can’t you do something to stop his coughing?” I asked. I really hadn’t meant it to sound so abrupt and flat. But it did, and Glory let her hands fall slowly to her lap as her eyes fixed on me.

  “Oh,” she said. “Oh.” Then her eyes fairly blazed and she said, “Can’t you?”

  “I’m not a Healer,” I said, feeling almost on the defensive. “If I were, I could give—”

  “You wouldn’t give anybody anything,” said Glory, her face closed and cold. “Less’n you wanted to show off or make yourself comfortable. Go back to bed.”

  I went, my cheeks burning in the dark. How dare she talk to me like this! An Outsider to one of The People! She had no right—My anger broke into tears and I cried and cried on my narrow Outsider bed in that falling-down Outsider house, but under all my anger and outrage, so closely hidden that I’d hardly admit it to myself even, was a kernel of sorrow. I’d thought Glory liked me.

  Morning was gray and clammy. The rain fell steadily and the bluish light from the baking powder can was cold and uncheerful. The day dragged itself to a watery end, nothing except a slight waning and waxing of the light outdoors to distinguish one hour from the next. Seth’s coughing eased a little and by the second rain-loud morning it had finally stopped.

  Seth prowled around the cramped rooms, his shoulders hunched forward, his chest caved in as though he had truly coughed out his lungs. His coughing had left him, but his breath still caught in ragged chunks.

  “Seth,” said Glory, tugging at his sleeve. “You’ll wear yourself and me out too, to-ing and fro-ing like that.”

  “Don’t ease me none to set,” said Seth hoarsely. “Leave me be. Let me move while I can. Got a hunch there won’t be much moving for me after the next spell.”

  “Now, Seth.” Glory’s voice was calm and a little reprimanding, but I caught her terror and grief. With a jolt I realized how exactly her feelings were mine when I had crouched beside Thann, watching him die. But they’re old and ugly and through with life! I protested. But they love, came the answer, and love can never be old nor ugly nor through with life.

  “ ’Sides, I’m worried,” said Seth, wiping the haze of his breath off the newly installed window. “Rain like this’ll fill every creek around here. Then watch the dam fill up. They told us we’d be living on an island before spring. When the lake’s full, we’ll be six foot under. All this rain—” He swiped at the window again, and turning away, resumed his restless pacing. “That slope between here and the highway’s getting mighty touchy. Wash it out a little at the bottom and it’ll all come down like a ton of bricks. Dam it up there, we’d get the full flow right across us and I ain’t feeling much like a swim!” He grinned weakly and leaned against the table.

  “Glory.” His breathing was heavy and ragged. “Glory, I’m tired.”

  Glory put him to bed. I could hear the murmur of her voice punctuated at intervals by a heavy monosyllable from him.

  I shivered and went to the little bandy-legged cast-iron stove. Lifting one of its four lids, I peered at the smoldering pine knot inside. The heaviness outside pushed a thin acrid cloud of smoke out at me and I clattered the lid back, feeling an up-gush of exasperation at the inefficiency of Outsiders. I heated the stove up until the top glowed dull red, and reveled in the warmth.

  Glory came back into the kitchen and hunched near the stove, rubbing her hands together.

  “How’d you get the wood to burn?” she finally asked. “It was wet. ’S’ all there is left.”

  “I didn’t,” I said. “I heated the stove.”

  “Thanks,” said Glory shortly (not even being surprised that I could do a thing like that!).

  We both listened to the murmur of the rain on the roof and the pop and creak of the expanding metal of the stovepipe as the warmth reached upward.

  “I’m sorry,” said Glory. “I shouldn’ta spoken so short the other night, but I was worried.”

  “It’s all right,” I said magnanimously. “And when my People come—”

  “Look, Debbie.” Glory turned her back to the stove and clasped her hands behind her. “I’m not saying you don’t have folks and that they won’t come some day and set everything right, but they aren’t here now. They can’t help now, and we got troubles—plenty of troubles. Seth’s worrying about that bank coming down and shifting the water. Well, he don’t know, but it came down in the night last night and we’re already almost an island. Look out the window.”

  I did, cold apprehension clutching at my insides. The creek had water in it. Not a trickle, but a wide, stainless-steel roadbed of water that was heavy with red silt where it escaped the color of the down-pressing clouds. I ran to the other window. A narrow hogback led through the interlacing of a thousand converging streams, off into the soggy grayness of the mountain beyond us. It was the trail—the hilltop trail Glory and Seth took to Skagmore.

  “I hate to ask it of you,” said Glory. “Especially after telling you off like I did, but we gotta get outa here. We gotta save what we can and hole up at the mine. You better start praying now that it’ll be a few days more before the water gets that high. Meanwhile, grab your bedroll and git goin’.”

  I gaped at her and then at the water outside and, running to my cot, grabbed up the limp worn bedding and started for the door.

  “Hold it! Hold it!” she called. “Fold the stuff so you can manage it. Put on this old hat of Seth’s. It’ll keep the rain outa your eyes for a while, maybe. Wait’ll I get my load made up. I’ll take the lead.”

  Oh, no! Oh, no! I cried to myself as panic trembled my hands and hampered
my folding the bedclothes. Why is this happening to me? Wasn’t it enough to take Thann away? Why should I have to suffer any more?

  “Ready?” Glory’s intent eyes peered across her load. “Hope you’ve been praying. If you haven’t, you better get started. We gotta make it there and back. Seth’s gotta rest some before he tackles it.”

  “But I can lift!” I cried. “I don’t have to walk! I have my shield. I don’t have to get wet! I can go—”

  “Go then,” said Glory, her voice hard and unfriendly. “Git goin’!”

  I caught at my panic and bit my lips—I needed Glory. “I only mean I could take your load and mine, too,” I said, which wasn’t what I had originally meant at all. “Then you could take something else. I can transport all this stuff and keep it dry.”

  I lifted my own burden and hovered it while I took hers from her reluctant arms. I lifted the two together and maneuvered the load out the door, extending my personal shield to cover it all. “How—how do I get there?” My voice was little and scared.

  “Follow the hogback,” said Glory, her voice still unwarmed, as though she had been able to catch my hidden emotion, as the People do. “You’ll see the entrance up the hill a ways soon as you top out on the ridge. Don’t go too far inside. The shoring’s rotted out in lots of places.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll come back.”

  “Stay there,” said Glory. “Git goin’. I gotta get Seth up.” My eyes followed hers and recoiled from the little brown snake of water that had welled up in one corner of the room. I got going.

  Even inside my shield, I winced away from the sudden increased roar of descending rain. I couldn’t see a yard ahead and had to navigate from boulder to boulder along the hogback. It was a horrible eternity before I saw the dark gap of the mine entrance and managed to get myself and my burden inside. For several feet around the low irregular arch of the entrance, the powdery ground was soggy mud, but farther back it was dry and the roof vaulted up until it was fairly spacious.

  I put the bedding down and looked around me. Two narrow strips of rail disappeared back into the mine and an ore car tilted drunkenly off one side, two wheels off and half covered with dirt on the floor beside it. I unearthed one wheel and, tugging it upright, rolled it, wobbling and uncooperative, over to the stack of bedding. I started heating the wheel, making slow work of so large a task because I had done so little with the basic Signs and Persuasions—the practices of my People.

  Suddenly it seemed to me a long time since I’d left the shack. I ran to the entrance and peered out. No Glory or Seth! Where could they be! I couldn’t be all alone here with no one around to help me! I swished out into the storm so fast my face was splattered with rain before my shielding was complete. Time and again I almost lost the hogback. It was an irregular chain of rocky little islands back toward the shack. I groped through the downpour, panting to Child Within, Oh, wait! Oh, wait! You can’t come now! And tried to ignore a vague, growing discomfort.

  Then the miracle happened! High above me I heard the egg-beater whirr of a helicopter! Rescue! Now all this mad rush and terror and discomfort would be over. All I had to do was signal the craft and make them take me aboard and take me somewhere away—I turned to locate it and signal it to me when I suddenly realized that I couldn’t lift to it—I couldn’t lift around Outsiders who would matter. This basic rule of The People was too deeply engrained in me. Hastily I dipped down until I perched precariously on one of the still-exposed boulders of the trail. I waved wildly up at the slow swinging ‘copter. They had to see me! “Here I am! Here I am!” I cried, my voice too choked even to carry a yard. “Help me! Help me!” And, in despair as the ‘copter slanted away into the gray falling rain, I slid past vocal calling into subvocal and spread my call over the whole band, praying that a receptor somewhere would pick up my message. “There’s need!” I sobbed out the old childish distress cry of the Group. “There’s need!”

  And an answer came!

  “One of us?” The thought came startled. “Who are you? Where are you?”

  “I’m down here in the rain!” I sobbed, aloud as well as silently. “I’m Debbie! I used to live in the Canyon! We went to the Home. Come and get me! Oh, come and get me!”

  “I’m coming,” came the answer. “What on Earth are you doing on Earth, Debbie? No one was supposed to return so lightly—”

  “So lightly!” Shattered laughter jabbed at my throat. All the time I’d spent on Earth already had erased itself, and I was caught up by the poignancy of this moment of meeting with Thann not here—this watery welcome to Earth with no welcome for Thann. “Who are you?” I asked. I had forgotten individual thought patterns so soon.

  “I’m Jemmy,” came the reply. “I’m with an Outsider Disaster Unit. We’ve got our hands full fishing people out of this dammed lake!” He chuckled. “Serves them right for damming Cougar Creek and spoiling the Canyon. But tell me, what’s the deal? You shouldn’t be here. You went back to the Home, didn’t you?”

  “The Home—” I burst into tears and all the rest of the time that the ‘copter circled back and found a settling-down space on a flat already awash with two inches of water, Jemmy and I talked. Mostly I did the talking. We shifted out of verbalization and our thoughts speeded up until I had told Jemmy everything that had happened to me since that awful crashing day. It was telling of someone else—some other far, sad story of tragedy and graceless destitution—Outsider makeshifts. I had just finished when the ‘copter door swung open and Jemmy stepped out to hover above the water that was sucking my sneakers off the slant of the boulder I was crouched on.

  “Oh, thanks be to The Power,” I cried, grabbing for Jemmy’s hands, but stubbing my own on my personal shield. “Oh take me out of this, Jemmy! Take me back to The People! I’m so sick of living like an Outsider! And Child Within doesn’t want to be born on a dirt floor in a mine! Oh, Jemmy! How horrible to be an Outsider! You came just in time!” Tears of thankfulness wet my face as I tried to smile at him.

  “Debbie!”

  Surely that couldn’t be my name! That cold, hard, accusing word! That epithet—that—

  “Jemmy!” I collapsed my shield and reached for him. Unbelievably, he would not receive me. “Jemmy!” I cried, the rain wetting my lips. “What’s the matter? What’s wrong?”

  He floated back so I couldn’t reach him. “Where are Glory and Seth?” he asked sternly.

  “Glory and Seth?” I had to think before I could remember them. They were another life ago. “Why, back at the cabin, I guess.” I was bewildered. “Why?”

  “You have no concern for them?” he asked. “You ask for rescue and forget them? What did The Home do to you? You’re apparently not one of Us any more. If you’ve been infected with some sort of virus, we want no spreading of it.”

  “You don’t want me?” I was dazed. “You’re going to leave me here! But—but you can’t! You’ve got to take me!”

  “You’re not drowning,” he said coldly. “Go back to the cave. I have a couple of blankets in the ‘copter I can spare. Be comfortable. I have other people who need rescue worse.”

  “But, Jemmy! I don’t understand. What’s wrong? What have I done?” My heart was shattering and cutting me to pieces with its razor-sharp edges.

  He looked at me coldly and speculatively. “If you have to ask, it’d take too long to explain,” he said. He turned away and took the blankets from the ‘copter. He aimed them at the mine entrance and, hovering them, gave them a shove to carry them through into the mine.

  “There,” he said, “curl up in your comfort. Don’t get your feet wet.”

  “Oh, Jemmy, don’t leave me! Help me!” I was in a state of almost complete collapse, darkness roaring over me.

  “While you’re curled up, all nice and safe,” Jemmy’s voice came back to me from the ‘copter, “you might try thinking a little on ‘Just who on Earth do you think you are!’ And if you think you have the answer to that, try, ‘I was hungry—’ ”
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br />   I didn’t hear him go. I sat hunched in my sodden misery, too far gone even to try to puzzle it all out. All my hopes had been built on when my People would find me. They’d set everything right. I would be freed from all my worry and hardships—and now—and now—

  A wave of discomfort that had been building up slowly for some time suddenly surged over me and my fingers whitened as I clutched the rock. How could I have mistaken that other pain for this? “Glory!” I whimpered. “It’s Child Within!” Now I could remember Glory and Seth. I was back in the miserable half-life of waiting for my People. I scrambled to my feet and closed my shield, setting it to warmth to counteract the chill that stuck to my bones. “I can’t face it alone! Anything, anything is better than being alone!”

  I streaked back along the hogback that had almost disappeared under the creeping muddy tide. The cabin was in a lake. The back door was ajar. The whole thing tilted slightly off true as though it were chinking of taking off into the roar of the incredible river chat swept the creek bed from bank to bank. I staggered against the door as another hard surge of pain tightened my hands and wrung an involuntary cry from me.

  When it subsided, I wiped the sweat from my upper lip and pushed the door further open. I stepped into the magnified roaring of the rain on the roof. Blue light was flooding serenely from the baking powder can on the table in the empty kitchen. I snatched it up and ran to the bedroom.

  Seth lay white and unmoving on his bed, his eyes sunken, his chest still. I pressed the back of my clenched hand hard against my mouth, feeling the bruise of my teeth. “Oh, no!” I whispered, and gasped with relief as a quick shallow breath lifted the one thin quilt Glory had left him from the bundle of bedding.