The Secret North

by Ka Newborrn

  He continued to grip her throat in his hands but lost his footing in the rising water. He fell back against the floating steel, causing them both to slide backwards through the flooded house out of the front door and into the electric fence.

  Everything went flat green.

  JEMEZ, NEW MEXICO

  2002

  Lilith

  Screams rose from the trails of Jemez, New Mexico, prompting Helen Winters, Nina Baldwin and Spiree Roundtree to find the source. They abandoned the bonfire at the base of their campsite and stumbled through cacti, sagebrush and trees.

  “Up here!”

  Helen saw her first. She threw aside her walking stick, tucked her bobbed hair behind her ears and brushed burrs away from her shorts. “I found her! Hurry up!”

  Huddled against a boulder was an emaciated, naked woman in her late thirties with blazing red hair and wild, emerald eyes. Her arms and legs were covered with bruises.

  Nina plucked a stray twig from her afro before kneeling down next to the woman. She gently examined her head. Blood seeped from a gash at the base of her skull. Her companions piped in with a barrage of unanswered questions.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Do you know where you are?"

  "Who did this to you?”

  Nina looked up at her friends. “Do you think she was running from an animal?”

  Helen looked at Nina as if she had two heads. “You flashed your tits to UCLA’s Board of Regents, didn’t you?”

  “Excuse you?”

  “I said, with logic skills like that, who did you bribe for a PhD? A person did this. I wonder if she can identify him.”

  “Tit meet nipple. Because women almost never know their attackers personally, right?”

  “Well I guess we’ll never know since he got away, huh?”

  “Unless they’re in cahoots. Felons on the lam living off cactus pears and snake meat.”

  “Bullshit. That’s a bottle job if ever I saw one. A salon one, at that.”

  “And the stylist chose twigs and dirt over a round brush and product because?”

  “Because her hair, her choice. And if her accomplice shows up he can’t hurt all four of us.”

  “Well at least you’re right about that. Because we have this.”

  Nina reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, black Glock 33 handgun.

  “Are you kidding me?” Helen pulled her bobbed hair back with her fist and looked aghast. “She has a goddamn gun!” She glared at Spiree. “Did you know about this?”

  “We need the protection.”

  “Oh, that's right. How could I forget? I'm always the problem.” She narrowed her eyes.

  “Hey, Helen?”

  She folded her arms in front of her chest. “Spiree?”

  “Have I told you lately how white you are?”

  Helen thrust her arm out dramatically and pointed to her watch. “Not since, oh, ten this morning, but I was just about to remind you.”

  Spiree knelt down next to the woman. “Can you stand up?”

  She stared at an odd necklace of feathers and bones that loomed a few inches away from her face. A stray lock of Spiree’s hair tickled her nose. She swatted it away with her fingers.

  “All the time I’ve spent lobbying for gun control…”

  “Look, we can argue about this when we get back to camp.”

  “Spiree, can you get reception out here? Maybe we shouldn’t move her. We should call an…”

  “No!” The woman’s voice was surprisingly strong. Her eyes darted back and forth between the women as she grew increasingly agitated.

  “But…”

  “Please!”

  Nina sighed. “Let’s just get her to the tent, okay?”

  They eased her into standing position. Spiree untied a sweatshirt from her waist. She placed it over the woman’s head and guided her arms into the sleeves. The woman traced the UCLA logo with her fingers and tried to pull it off.

  “No!”

  “Let us help you,” Helen said.

  “I have clothes. Where’s my coat?”

  “What coat?”

  “My coat! It’s green. It’s full-length cashmere.”

  The three women briefly scanned the area.

  “Look,” Helen said. “I don’t see it right now, but we’ll keep our eyes peeled for it on the way back to camp, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Lean on us.”

  She pulled up one of her knees in pain after trying to put weight on her soles. Nina knelt down and noticed that the bottom of her feet were raw and scabbed. Her biceps rippled as she scooped the woman up and over her shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

  “I’ll give you a pair of flip flops when we get back to the tent. But until then…”

  “Lead the way, Cleo Jones!” Helen cheered.

  “You got it, Mommy.”

  She fell asleep watching the upside-down sunset as Nina carefully led the way down the incline. Spiree and Helen followed closely behind.

  She bolted awake to the sound of laughter and guitar playing two hours later. She was inside a tent and lying on top of an inflatable mattress. She was covered in unwashed blankets and wearing a t-shirt, boy shorts and flip flops. Her head was wrapped in gauze. And she was thirsty. Terribly thirsty.

  She unzipped the opening and peeked through. Three women surrounded a bonfire. One was playing a classical guitar. A second rested on her back and watched the stars. The third was pulverizing burdock and ginger root against a rock and trying to read the label of a bottle in the starlight.

  Spiree’s voice rose over the din of the guitar. “Burdock and ginger warm and descend. Use glycerin.”

  Helen loved a good performance.

  “Just because you’re indigenous doesn’t mean you know everything. You think I don’t understand the fundamental properties of herbs, but I aced my continuing ed herbal studies class.”

  Spiree, too, had thespian chops of her own.

  “I’ve only been wildcrafting since I was four years old, but do what you want. As you said, you aced your continuing education herbal studies class. All one of them.”

  “As usual, my life experience is sorely lacking compared to yours. But isn’t it a bit ironic, seeing that Wyoming’s a billion times whiter than New Jersey, and New Jersey’s the fucking Garden State?” She snatched up a nearby bottle of glycerin and dumped its contents into a bowl.

  Spiree threw her head back with laughter. Nina applauded. Helen stepped away from the bowl, gathered the edges of an imaginary skirt in her fingertips and curtsied.

  She stepped out of the tent opening and stood outside of it. New Mexico’s big sky was a gestalt of stars. A hot spring glimmered in the distance.

  “Welcome back. Did you have a nice nap?”

  She stayed where she was and shifted her gaze to the guitar.

  “Do you play?” Spiree asked.

  She watched them for a few more seconds and glanced down at the too-large flip flops on her feet. Turning carefully, she minced in the direction of the hot spring. She removed the t-shirt and flip flops, placed them on a rock and tested the temperature with her toe before stepping in. She waded until the water was chest high, unwrapped the bandage from her head and disappeared briefly under the bubbles.

  Nina sniffed her armpits. “She’s got the right idea.”

  Spiree scrambled to her feet. “I’ll grab the salt scrub. Coming, Helen?”

  Helen felt upstaged. “You go ahead. I’ll finish making dinner.” She swigged from a bottle of red wine and turned her attention back to the pile of burdock root.

  A doe peeking through the nearby trees bolted away as they immersed themselves in the water. Nina massaged her scalp with a blend of sesame oil, sea salt, and helichrysum attar. Spiree poised for monologue.

  “All the elements play nicely in the spirit realm,” she baited. “The fairies in the forest. The nymphs in the water. The angels in the air. Except for one, that is. Always to my exclu
sion, of course.”

  Nina bit but only out of boredom. “What are you talking about?”

  “It's never about the fire!"

  “So?”

  “So? Aren't all elements vital? Why is fire excluded from positive spirit ascription? Why does fire’s association with hell preclude its collective value? Why is fire solely associated with hell when all the other elements are spared? Aren’t they equally cataclysmic?”

  “Oh, no. You’re serious!”

  “And offended! I want a damn fire fairy.”

  A loud fart erupted from beneath Helen, who was passed out on her back on top of the air mattress at the edge of the bonfire. The bottle of wine was still in her hand.

  They squealed with laughter. Spiree resumed her ranting.

  “So I’m supposed to just let that bias go?”

  “Nope. Not without weed you don’t. Hold up.”

  Nina reached into the pile of clothing on the rock behind them and grabbed a joint and lighter from her jeans pockets. She lit the joint and passed it to Spiree.

  Spiree inhaled. “That shit’s what caused me to question Christianity in the first place. And I was all in, back in the day.”

  “Since when are you Miss Literal Minded?”

  “Says Nina the Christian girl.”

  Nina coughed. “I’m not being an apologist. I mean, isn’t dealing with the etymological and cultural differences of translating Japanese into English tricky enough? Why should we expect to do any better when tackling the divine? And it’s supposed to be mystic. It’s not a Linux manual.”

  "Step away from the semantics and focus on the patriarchy. Eve was the spawn of Adam’s rib. Scroll back to the Gnostics. Lilith was purported to be a destroyer, demonized, and reduced from Adam’s equal to an owl.”

  She turned her head at the sound of her name and waded towards the women. Nina prayed for God to interrupt Spiree by making Helen fart again.

  “Why are white women so obsessed with Lilith?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sorry. Why are white women and you so obsessed with Lilith?”

  They laughed.

  “You don’t see her undoing as a patriarchal blow?”

  “I don’t know. Being an owl sounds pretty cool to me.”

  “Maybe you’re right. The whole thing’s a blur, anyway. Forest fairies. Water nymphs. Air angels. Lilith.”

  She cleared her throat and answered.

  “Yes?”

  They turned to face her. Her wet hair was slicked back from her face, and her cold emerald eyes sliced through the night sky like lasers.

  “You know the myth of Lilith?” Spiree asked.

  “I am the myth of Lilith,” she sneered. A drop of blood trickled from her forehead and splashed into the water. Nina and Spiree opened their eyes wide, turned to face each other and exploded into a fit of laughter.

  Bristling, she stepped out of the water, pulled on the t-shirt and flip flops and disappeared into the trees.

  “Hey, Fire Fairy! Wait! Come back!” Nina yelled after her.

  Nina and Spiree continued to giggle as they wrapped themselves in towels, gathered up their belongings and headed back to the tent.

  The smell of food led her back to the bonfire a half hour later. Spiree was the first to greet her.

  “So you’re the myth of Lilith.”

  “It’s silly, actually,” Lilith almost smiled. “Idolizing the cult of my celebrity.”

  Spiree cocked an eyebrow. “I’m Spiree. You remember Nina. And this is Helen.”

  She nodded and glanced at a large pot resting at the edge of the fire.

  Helen stood up. “I made tempeh chili. I’ll get you some.”

  She ignored Helen and made a beeline for a bag of apples in the open cooler. Selecting the largest, reddest one, she raised it to her mouth with both hands and bit into it, grunting. Her eyes closed. Juice dripped down her chin as she devoured its flesh down to the core. Nina, Helen and Spiree were speechless as they watched.

  When she became aware of the women staring at her, she froze defensively.

  “What? Like it’s an Eve thing?”

  “Try this, too.”

  Helen filled a bowl with tempeh chili and handed it to her. Lilith devoured it ravenously and accepted a second.

  She appeared serenely disturbed as the women huddled around the bonfire and passed a bottle of mead back and forth.

  Nina broke the silence. “So where are you from?”

  “Glaivelind. But I was born in Phialind.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “North.”

  “Scandinavia?”

  “Way north of that.”

  “What’s north of Scandinavia?”

  They waited for her to respond. She stared up at the stars and said nothing.

  “Where did you come from just now?”

  “The Adam Case.”

  “How did I know that? Did he give you those cuts and bruises?”

  “Things got crazy sometimes.”

  “Did he come here with you?”

  “I fly solo.”

  Nina stared at Lilith’s hair. “Some oil might work some of those knots out. I could help you.”

  Lilith glanced down at her red, waist length hair. It was embedded with branches, twigs and some kind of berries at the very ends.

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Nina rubbed sesame oil into Lilith's hair and tried to work the knots out with her fingers. Helen attempted to fill the space with conversation.

  “It’s a good thing we were here. It could've been weeks before anyone found you. It’s a pretty desolate spot. And it’s getting colder.”

  “I’ve endured much colder weather than this,” Lilith shrugged. “I have a full length cashmere coat and nine hundred dollar boots.”

  Helen smiled in a gesture of fake adulation and wondered if Lilith’s delusions were potentially dangerous. She glanced down at Nina’s pocket and hoped the gun was still inside.

  “More chili?” she offered disarmingly.

  Nina worked as carefully as she could, but the knots wouldn’t budge. She finally gave up.

  “I can’t get through all the knots and twigs without causing you serious pain because you have scabs all over your scalp. Why don’t you let me cut it? Then we could wash the scabs with peroxide and they’ll heal easier.”

  Lilith’s voice held the slightest air of condescension. “I get my hair done at a salon in Barterlind. It takes weeks to get an appointment.”

  “That’s a long time to wait. Tell you what. I’ll just cut where it’s matted the worst and your stylist can shape it up later. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Nina raised scissors to Lilith’s hair and started cutting. Spiree took a large swig from the bottle of mead and looked at Lilith. Her eyes misted over.

  “I just want to tell you that I stand in complete solidarity with you.”

  “Why?”

  “I was appalled when I read about you in the texts. You’re not a destroyer. They destroyed you. And now you’re the weak one needing care. But don’t give up. You’ll get stronger.”

  “You took that shit literally?”

  “You’re lucky, really. It could be worse. You could be a disembodied rib bone.” She passed the bottle to Lilith.

  “What?”

  She waited briefly for a punchline that never came before raising the bottle to her lips and taking a generous swig. “Oh, I get it. The Eve thing again.” She pointed to Spiree’s necklace. “Is that heavy?”

  Spiree touched it proudly. “It’s my talisman. Want to hear the story?”

  “Sure.”

  “Back in Wyoming when I was young, my grandfather shot a pheasant and brought it to the house. I remember him holding it by its feet. It was bleeding through the heart and everything.”

  Lilith nodded.

  “I didn’t want to eat it for dinner, but my parents made me. When I went to bed that night, a sharp pain in my chest nearly bowled
me over. It was like the bird was showing me its wound and saying, ‘It’s too late to save my life in the literal sense. I will nourish you, but be aware that it comes at the cost of my pain and sacrifice. Please be grateful.’ So I rooted through the garbage to rescue the feathers and bones and made this necklace to honor its memory.”

  “That is heavy.”

  Nina continued to snip and shape until Lilith’s hair was closely shorn with a few long tendrils that framed her face and curled down her shoulders and back.

  “Holy smokes, Nina!” Spiree said admiringly. “Gorgeous work! You could actually turn pro at this.”

  Helen applauded briefly, then opened a compact mirror and held it out to Lilith. She gazed at herself and brought her fingertips to the top of her head.

  “It feels so freeing. I love it. Thank you so much!”

  “I surprise myself sometimes,” Nina said. “And you do look stunning.”

  When the bottle of mead was finished, Helen and Nina nodded off on the air mattress. Spiree picked up the guitar and began playing again. Lilith listened quietly.

  The ground around her was covered in a nest of fiery plumage interspersed with twigs and berries. She picked up a shorn lock of hair, dangled it over the fire and watched it burn away. Then she scooped up a large handful and cast it into the flames.

  “No! Stop!” Spiree stopped playing and recoiled at the sight of Lilith hovering over the fire with her hands filled with hair. “What are you doing? We can wrap it with threads and make a necklace!”

  “Or I could just buy one. The boutiques I shop at have amazing jewelers.”

  Spiree persisted. “Why don’t you make a talisman and wear it around your neck to remember what you endured? To protect yourself from a reoccurrence?”

  “I won’t forget. And it’s never going to happen again.”

  “The imagery would symbolize your progress.”

  “Then would it be for me, or for the people looking at my neck?”

  Spiree reflected. “I never thought about it like that before.”

  She picked up another lock of hair and handed it to Spiree. Spiree gazed at it wistfully before setting it down on the fire. Together, they continued to feed pieces into the flames until the pile of hair was gone.