by Peter Ponzo
Chapter 20
Josey was put to bed. Charles and I sat before a low fire in the living room, me in my bathrobe, Charles in his usual attire of suit and vest.
"Yes, Miss Fleetsmith, that would explain the absence of women at the Chokli village," Charles said.
"Well, there were women. Not many, but some. Pelvis, for example. By the way, have the police any clues as to where she is? She's been missing for—"
"No, no, none. They are stymied." He answered almost too quickly.
"And aren't you worried? It's not like you to be so calm. You and she were quite close, in more ways than one. She was your student. You fed her, washed her, clothed her—"
"Yes, quite so, Miss Fleetsmith." Charles looked uncomfortable. "I feel that if she was able to survive in the jungle she would be able to look after herself in the city."
"Bullshit. You know as well as I do that—"
"Miss Fleetsmith, the statues."
"Statues? What statues?"
"The statues we discovered in the jungle clearing, not far from the Chokli village. Mother and child."
"Mmm."
"The recumbent statues which encircled the mother and child, they had little detail as you will no doubt recall. Much like smooth blobs of stone. Much like—"
"Cocoons!" I shouted. "Charlie boy, that's brilliant! You have a remarkable gift for logical deduction. First the lack of Chokli women. Now the significance of the smooth statues. Brilliant!" I grinned, Charles blushed slightly. I continued. "The statues on the ground depicted people who had been treated with the fungus, covered in a smooth membrane. No detail."
"Quite so." He sat back, pleased with himself. He had a right to be. It was beautiful. Things were falling into place. Beautiful!
"Then the Chokli knew of this ... this consequence of using the weed." I said. I stared at the ceiling, humming. "The women were treated with the fungus—"
"After having given birth."
"Mmm, yes, yes! They were rejuvenated, within the cocoon, emerging with distinctly male characteristics. The natives regarded this transformation with reverence, carved the woman and child to celebrate birth, then the prone figures—within a cocoon—to venerate the metamorphosis." I hummed. "Shit!"
"Miss Fleetsmith?"
"Now we really need Pelvis. To confirm this. To indicate how they were able to survive within the cocoon. Our experience would lead us to believe that they'd all die. Shit!"
Charles was silent for a moment, then got up very slowly from the chair.
"Where are you going Charles?"
"Please wait, Miss Fleetsmith. I will return shortly." He walked to the cellar stairway, hesitated for a moment, then descended.
The cellar? Now I remember. There was something about the cellar, something Charles had said, something I meant to ask him about.
I went to the top of the stairs and listened. I could hear Charles talking to someone, but I couldn't hear what was being said. I tiptoed down a few stairs, enough so that I could make out Charles in the dim light.
"Penny?" Charles whispered. He was standing in a darkened corner of the basement. There was a shuffling sound from behind a row of cabinets that contained the volumes of books Pops had accumulated over the years.
"Chully?" came a soft voice.
Shit, I thought. Who's he got down there? Was it really Pelvis?
"It's okay Penny. Please come out."
The native girl emerged from beyond the cabinets, rubbing her eyes. She had been sleeping.
"Come with me," Charles said gently, taking her hand.
"Chully?"
"It's quite safe. Please come upstairs"
"Up?"
Charles smiled warmly, kissed Penny tenderly on the forehead, then led her up the stairs. It was a great scene, sensitive and emotional. A man in formal dress. A Raggedy Ann being led by the hand. The dark shadows, a thin strip of light running across the floor from a window.
I hopped up the stairs, ran to the living room and waited. I heard Charles whisper.
"Penny, please stay here, quietly."
"Stay?" she whispered.
Charles stepped into the living room. I was sitting back, on the sofa, my face wrapped in a frown. It seemed the proper visage to present.
"Miss Fleetsmith? I hope you will not think less of me for what is about to happen. I must explain that my motives were honorable and intended to avoid any unpleasant—"
"Cut the crap, Charlie. What's up?"
Charles reached back and pulled Penny into the doorway.
"Pelvis! Christ, Charles, where did you find her?" It was just the right touch of shock and dismay. I jumped up, paused, then said: "In the basement, right? She was never lost, right?" I ran to the young girl and embraced her. Penny seemed confused and backed away. "Don't be afraid, girl. We're your friends. Are you hungry? Are you well?" I looked to Charles. "How's her English?"
"She understands much, but speaks little. She has been an excellent student."
"Mmm, I'm sure." I pulled Penny across the room and pushed her gently onto the sofa. "Okay, sweetheart, we need some answers and you're perhaps the only one who can provide details on the Eumycota fungus. Tell me—"
"Miss Fleetsmith," Charles interrupted, "her command of the language is perhaps less than you would wish. If you agree, I can translate your questions."
"Translate?"
"Well, in a manner of speaking. I will put your questions to her in a manner she will comprehend."
"Ask if the Chokli women were treated with the fungus, the weed."
"They were," Charles said.
"But ask her."
"I did, and she said yes, the women were treated with the juices of the weed."
"You did ask her? Are you saying you can communicate without speaking?"
"No, I'm saying that I have asked precisely that question earlier. Yesterday, in fact."
I groaned. "Don't tell me, Charlie. You also asked about the smooth statues on the ground, the ones without detail. Right?"
"Yes, Miss Fleetsmith."
"So you're not as brilliant as I gave you credit for. The smooth statues depict women within a cocoon, transforming, to men. Penny had already told you that."
"Well, not exactly."
"What does that mean?"
"Miss Penny did indicate that the smooth statues represented women within a cocoon. She did not, however, confirm that they were being transformed in men."
"Did she tell you how they managed to survive? Our local populace seems to expire in the process."
Charles turned to Penny who looked frightened.
"Penny? Woman, in weed. Why they do not die?" Charlie had been watching too many old movies; the Lone Ranger, talking to Tonto.
Penny was confused. "Chully?"
"Woman who take weed." Charles pretended to rub a weed on his face. "They die?" He staggered back, as though to fall dead.
"Die?" Penny repeated. It seemed her sentences were restricted to a single word, and always a question.
"Hold it, Charlie. Let me," I said. I turned to Penny and pretended to pick a weed from an imaginary bush, then rubbed Penny's face with the invisible weed. "Weed," I said, then waved my hands in a wide circle about Penny's torso, to indicate the formation of the cocoon.
"Weed?" Penny said.
"You die?" I said. A two word question. How else could I get the point across?
"Die?" Penny said.
"Shit!" I said. It was hopeless.
"Shit?"
"Yes, shit." I got up, grunted, then paced the room. Charles sat next to Penny on the sofa.
"When you take the weed, do you die?" he asked the girl.
"Die?" she responded.
"Yes, die?"
"Shit," Penny said.
I grunted and left.
I could feel Penny's smile on my back.
PART SEVEN
