Chapter 4
The Behemoth held the girl in his arms as they crossed over the tracks and passed the first building they had seen in what felt like days but had only been the better part of the morning.
They had been walking for hours without as much as a moment to contemplate the growing dissention in their limbs. The Woman ached horrendously; her knees wobbling as she planted every step onto the hot sand. She could feel the cartilage clicking in and out place and with every meter, the skin on her feet; blistered and sweating, peeled further from its settings; the sand sneaking into the thin strips of leather covering her feet and filling the open wounds and then tearing the skin, sending searing pain through her nerves every time her toes touched.
When they crossed the tracks they came across a row of small covered huts tied together and the space between, kept cool by a sheet of tarpaulin that stretched up into the air blocking out the unusual sight; the blazing afternoon sun setting fire to a clear blue sky.
The Behemoth and The Woman walked gradually into the shade with the girl secure in the man’s arms completely unsure of what to expect. Nobody had ever been out this far; beyond the station and into the desert realm.
“Say nothing. Maintain your focus. Keep whatever rhyme you can in your head; whatever you need to stay At One. The Famine here is strong, it travels in the wind. I have no idea what condition these humans are in. But for your sake, stay close, stay focused, respond to no question, return no glance, offer not a flinch of your concentration or of your conscious being. This goes for you too girl. We are all getting on that boat” said The Behemoth in a low gruff as they pulled under the shade and stopped by the first stall.
Safrine buried her head into The Behemoth’s chest not wanting to see whatever danger might be sensing her distress.
The Woman pulled close to The Behemoth. She didn’t trust him in the slightest. She knew she was only alive because of the girl and the girl, because of the boy and the boy because somehow he had outwitted this gargantuan monster; this cold mechanical human whose only thought was of himself on a boat heading to god knows where.
She wanted to kill him right then and there and she could. She could kick out the back of his legs, sending him crashing backwards to the ground then kick the back of his neck, sending him forwards so that he smacked his face clean in the dirt, then she could stamp him repeatedly on the back of his head, breaking his nose, shattering his eye sockets and eventually turning off his brain.
It would be so easy and the girl wouldn’t get hurt. She would fall to the ground, but the scratches would heal and The Woman would take her in her arms, lift her strong to her breast, step over the dead Behemoth and then what?
What was she going to do?
She had no idea where they were or of what terrible company they kept.
The Woman saw an opportunity pass. She let it go, but she dreamt of it for a second; embarking in the splendor of liberation. But she needed him and so she held close to his body and shaded herself in his mass as they edged slowly along the dusted path.
The three stopped in the middle of two stalls to their left and to their right. The air was dry and scorching even in the shade. Their mouths were parched, but thirst was low on their list of concerns.
The girl kept her eyes closed; her head pinned to The Behemoth’s chest, her hands shaking with fear, and her legs digging into his opposite hip. The Woman looked dead ahead, trying to visualize the orange hue of the Forever New Dawn, but her concentration kept slipping. The Behemoth looked forwards, but his peripheral eyes scanned left and right waiting, like a rat hovering above a piece of cheese, for something to come crushing down.
But nothing came.
“Take the girl,” he said, passing the frightened and terrified Safrine to The Woman.
The girl dug her claws into The Behemoth’s shoulders and then into his chest, unwilling to release herself from the security of his bulking stature. She didn’t like him, but she felt safer in his arms and she squealed as he peeled her off like an old sticker and passed her over to The Woman who held her close to her breast.
The Behemoth moved first, leaving the two and entering the first stall to his left. He lifted first the tarpaulin that covered the front of the stall but underneath, there was just the other side and with it came a sense of relief and at the same time, mild dread for it was undeniable that something was surely there.
His stomach warned him passionately and sang of Occam’s razor.
He would have loved to have killed the suspense and whatever it was that was suspending said suspense.
He willed it out in the open.
“Show yourself,” he thought as his heart beat faster with every breath that escaped his mouth.
Adrenaline dripped into his veins and his mind starting to race; to losing its calm and losing its direction.
He focused on his breathing and tried desperately to slow his heart and keep his state of one. He lowered the tarpaulin and stepped slowly over the table and into the stall. At the back of the stall, there was a table that had several sets of cans piled one on top of the other. Behind the table was a board and tied to it by yellow ribbons were scores of teddy bears and plastic dolls.
Everything was in mint condition as if the world hadn’t stopped a decade before. There was a long stick on the ground by his side with a metal hook at the end. He reached for it quickly and held it in his calloused left hand, using it to lift pieces of cloth and tarpaulin from above and around objects within the stall.
With his right hand, he maintained a striking pose ready to thrust into the throat of whatever man jumped to his sight. He wished that whatever he knew and felt was watching him creepily, was actually a man though his mind invented much worse. He crept towards the corner of the stall where an old wooden box pressed against a wooden frame that hanged a horde of bald headed, one eyed plastic dolls.
His hands started to sweat.
He gripped the pole tight latching the hook on the small lock at the front of the box. He leaned down closer to the object and slowly lifted his arm. The creaking hinges scuttled into his ears as a cold shiver ran his spine. As he leaned closer, the hole snapped.
He jumped backwards.
The lid crashed shut.
The pole dropped to the ground, clanking loudly.
And the girl screamed.
The Woman hushed her and The Behemoth lost a breath. They all stood still for a moment. The Woman didn’t know what to do. She felt like she was standing on a mine and any movement whatsoever would set off a massive explosion.
The Behemoth leaned closer to the box and lifted the metal flap with his finger pinching tightly against the plate. The metal creaked again as the old rusted hinges turned slowly and violently, murdering the silence that had brought them a cocktail of calm and fright. The lid lifted slowly as he pulled his hand higher, pulling himself closer to the box with every inch.
The worn metal screamed into his ears. He threw the lid backwards and fell back against the table as scores of rats scurried out of the box and ran up the length of his body. He fell onto the ground swinging left and right, waving his arms about in the air trying to shake the vermin off.
They bit into his chest, at his neck, on his arms, at the back of his hands and just under his eye. He screamed out loud; “Help me, get them off me,” rolling around the ground trying to tear them from his face and body but it was no use; they clung to his hands and dug their filthy teeth into his palms.
With every swing of his arm, their teeth sank further into his skin. He swung wildly, left and right and left and right again until finally they started to tear away, taking chunks of skin with them. For every rat he ripped from his skin, ten more came running and latched themselves to his monolithic frame.
“Hel…” he said choking; unable to get more words out as a rat latched onto his tongue while another crawled into his mouth and gnawed at the back of his throat.
The Woman held the girl close to her breast and edged towards the table
.
“No, no, please, stay here, please” pleaded Safrine.
“It’s ok, I won’t leave you. You’re safe with me” said The Woman resting her hip against the table, leaning her body slowly to the left; her sight pulling over the blue tarpaulin and catching sight of The Behemoth rolling around the floor and screaming in agony.
His arms thrust this way and that; his legs beating up and down like an Olympic swimmer kicking out of a turn and his head beat hard against the pavement. But there was nothing on him.
There were no rats.
The Woman put Safrine on the ground; the girl ripping at her dress desperate to not be left alone, not again.
“Please, just give me a second,” The Woman said abruptly, overwhelmed by the stress of it all.
The small girl kicked and screamed but stood - abiding and understanding - alone by the side of the stall as The Woman entered quickly and then vanished from sight.
Utopian Circus Page 5
