Circles of Seven

by Bryan Davis

  Bonnie glanced around. The alley was empty, and the entire street was still deserted. She pulled apart a pair of Velcro fasteners at the bottom of the back hem of her sweatshirt and began pulling it over her head. “Would you like something warm over your dress?”

  Shiloh rubbed her bare arms, her gaze fastened on Bonnie. “I guess so.”

  Bonnie removed her inner shirt, then pulled her outer jersey back on. She handed Shiloh the white shirt and smiled. “Sorry it’s not clean.”

  Shiloh popped her head through the neck hole and pushed her arms through the long sleeves, then hugged herself tightly. “It’s nice and warm.”

  Bonnie straightened out her sweatshirt. “Good. And this will be plenty warm for me. I don’t see how you could stand this cold the way you were dressed.”

  “It’s cold, but at least my feet are warm.” She raised one of her shoes on its toe, a dark blue sneaker with a “PF” logo on the side. “I’m glad I wore these instead of my patent leathers. They haven’t worn out at all.”

  “So, what’s this place all about?” Bonnie asked. “Do you live here alone?”

  Shiloh rubbed her hands together and blew on her fingers. Her eyes seemed focused on the street behind Bonnie. “Alone? Sort of. This place is so weird, it’s hard to explain.”

  “Try me.” Bonnie made her wings shudder and pointed back at them with her thumb. “It’s hard to get weirder than this.”

  “Yes, that is weird, all right,” Shiloh said, nodding. “But you’ll see what I mean when the people come.”

  Bonnie turned her head toward the deserted road. “People?”

  Shiloh walked slowly out of the alley and looked both ways down the street, repeating her words in a stretched-out singsong. “You’ll see.” She followed the narrow sidewalk to the front of the dry goods store and sat on a two-person bench. Leaning against the backrest, she folded her slender arms over her new shirt’s imprint, a sketch of a majestic lion with block letters underneath that spelled out, “He’s not a tame lion.”

  Bonnie sat down next to her, tilting forward to make room for her wings. “How did you get here?”

  Shiloh kept her eyes on her shoes and kicked at a pebble on the walk. “I was going to ask you that. I’ve never found a way out of this town. Every street hits a dead end.”

  “I flew here from . . . well, I guess you could say I came from another dimension. I was with a friend of mine, Billy Bannister, but we got separated, so he’s probably looking for me now.” She gripped her knee, massaging the soreness in an old injury. “I guess that sounds pretty crazy, huh?”

  Shiloh picked at a splinter on the bench. “Not any crazier than what happened to me. I was kidnapped and locked in a little room, and I woke up in that alley three days later.”

  “Kidnapped?! Who kidnapped you?”

  “You wouldn’t recognize their names. It was a short guy with bad breath and a creepy lady with horrible taste in clothes, nothing but black.”

  Bonnie cocked her head to one side. “Black?”

  “Black and slinky. She reminded me of Morticia from The Addams Family.”

  “The Addams Family?”

  “Yes. On American television. I visited the States many times, and I enjoyed watching your programs there.”

  “That show’s been off the air for a long time.” Bonnie narrowed her eyes at Shiloh. “How long have you been here?”

  Shiloh put her finger on a series of gashes on the back of the bench. “I make a mark when the sunrise gets as far south as the old mill. I think that’s when winter starts.” She lifted her eyes toward the sun, which was now fully above the horizon. “It’s heading that way, so I’m guessing it’ll be winter again pretty soon.”

  Bonnie counted the marks, each group of five set off with a slash through it. “Thirty-nine?” She sat up straight and grabbed Shiloh’s shoulder. “You’ve been here thirty-nine years?!”

  Shiloh drew her head back and slid a few inches away. “Probably forty by now. I first noticed the sunrise point a couple of months after I got here, so I didn’t start marking it until then.”

  “Forty years! Whoa! They need to bottle what you’re using to stay so young!”

  “Pretty strange, huh?” Shiloh placed a palm on each cheek. “I can see myself in the windows, and I still look fifteen.”

  “Fifteen?” Bonnie tapped her chest with her fingers. “I’ll be fifteen in December.”

  “Really? What month is it now, about October?”

  “Good guess. It was the thirty-first when I left England.”

  Shiloh bowed her head and laughed, but it seemed like a sad laugh. “Well, then . . . Happy birthday to me!”

  “Today’s your birthday?”

  “Yes. If it’s the same date in this world, I’m fifteen going on fifty-five.”

  “Wow!” Bonnie leaned back, her wings cushioning her body. “How do you survive? What do you eat?”

  “I eat—” Shiloh sat up straight. “Look! Here comes someone.”

  A mustachioed man dressed in a black suit and bow tie ambled along the walkway, a cane hooked over his arm. A bowler hat covered his head, and brightly polished leather shoes adorned his feet. His lips seemed to be pursed for whistling, but no sound came out.

  Shiloh jumped up from the bench and stood in the man’s path, turning back toward Bonnie. “Watch this!” When he came within reach, Shiloh pulled on his sleeve. “Please listen to me, sir! I’m trapped here.” The man kept walking, and Shiloh stayed at his side, still yanking on his suit coat. “Can you help me get home? Do you have any food?” The tugging seemed to have no effect on his clothes or his arm. He didn’t notice at all.

  Shiloh plopped down on the bench and spread her arms over the back. “I call that guy Bat, ’cause he reminds me of Bat Masterson.” She winked at Bonnie. “That’s another TV show. But it went off the air even before I left.”

  Bonnie nodded. “I’ve heard of him.”

  Shiloh leaned her head against the wall. “I give the people names and follow them around until they disappear.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It gives me something to do to pass the time.”

  “Sort of like being invisible?”

  “Yes.” Shiloh closed her eyes. “I used to daydream about being invisible when I was little, you know, learn people’s secrets, find out if they’re talking about you.” She sighed. “But it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

  “You asked him for food,” Bonnie said. “Are you hungry?”

  Shiloh patted her stomach. “I’m hungry most of the time. There’s no real food here, but I do get one tiny meal a day.”

  “Just one meal? What’s that?”

  Shiloh glanced at the sun again. “It’s almost time. C’mon, I’ll show you.” She jumped up from the bench and walked to the middle of the street. Bonnie followed, stepping quickly down the road, passing numerous boarded-up businesses, many with shattered glass in their windows and broken doors barely hanging on their hinges.

  They arrived at the town’s center circle, in the middle of which stood a twenty-foot-tall statue of a man on a rearing horse. A dog dressed in a red sweater ran around the statue as though he were chasing pigeons. He seemed to bark, but all was quiet. A matronly lady sat on a bench reading a book, a white parasol over her head. She kept glancing at the dog. Her stern face and moving lips scolded him, though no words came out.

  At the base of the statue, large, block letters on the foundation stone spelled out the name of the honored man, “Captain Timothy Autarkeia.” Just below the name, an eight-line poem was etched in cursive.

  An urban prison lies in six

  Where faithful soldiers e’er prevail,

  And death will sprout in life anew

  From seeds of light within the grail.

  The faithful souls will learn the truth

  That spoils of earth will never last.

  Contentment holds eternal keys

  To days of peace that never pass.

  Bonnie read the
verses twice, then tapped on Shiloh’s arm. “Any idea what this poem means?”

  “No,” Shiloh replied. She flicked her head toward the statue. “Probably something to do with the soldier on the horse.” She stepped up to a berm in front of the foundation stone and put her hand on an old-fashioned pitcher pump. “I found this little oasis the first afternoon I was here,” she explained. “I use it for drinking water and washing up, but watch what happens.” She pumped the handle three times, and a narrow stream trickled from the spout, spilling on a circular plot of grass underneath. Within seconds a thin green stalk erupted from the ground. Growing at a miraculous rate, it stretched up to knee height in less than a minute. The top of the stem sprouted a tulip-sized bulb with five dark green leaves wrapping the outside.

  As soon as it stopped growing, Shiloh plucked it from the ground. She dug into the edge of one of the bulb’s outer leaves, picking at it with her thumbnail until it peeled away. “The leaves are stubborn, but once I get the first one off the rest are easy.” She stripped the last outer leaf and tossed all five into the wind. “Those are inedible,” she explained. “When you’re hungry, anything looks good, but the leaves are impossible to chew.”

  Now exposed, the inside of the bulb boasted a white, fibrous substance that looked like a cross between cotton and cauliflower.

  “You eat that white stuff?” Bonnie asked.

  “Uh-huh. I get one almost every day, but it usually grows only once a day no matter how many times I use the pump. Occasionally it works twice, but if it does, it always skips the next day.” Shiloh pulled off a piece and popped it into her mouth, chewing and swallowing in rapid succession. “It’s kind of soft, like overcooked beans.”

  “What does it taste like?”

  “Sweet, like honey. Maybe a hint of ginger.”

  Bonnie watched a short, old man shuffling through the dust, waving a long stick at the pigeon-chasing dog. “Sounds delicious.”

  “Yeah. Not bad.” Shiloh plucked off another marble-sized chunk. “You can have some if you want, but I don’t think you’d like the aftereffects.”

  The dog ran to the bench and sat next to his mistress, and they both disappeared, along with the old man. Bonnie turned back to Shiloh. “The aftereffects? You mean like gas?”

  “Worse. It always makes me sick. My stomach gets real bitter, and I get terrible cramps.”

  “That’s awful!”

  “Worse than awful, but I’d starve without it.” She tossed the chunk into her mouth and spoke while chewing. “I skipped about two weeks and shriveled into a scarecrow.” She swallowed and picked at the bulb again. “It’s all I have to eat, but it keeps me alive.” She pushed another white lump into her mouth and chewed while watching a young couple passing by, staring at each other with loving eyes. The woman munched on a plume of pink cotton candy, and the man stuffed his mouth with a handful of popcorn from a red and white box. A kernel dropped to the ground and vanished.

  Shiloh swallowed again and sighed. “I have all I really need.” As she peeled off the last clump of food, a tiny luminescent bead remained in her palm, pale blue with purple sparkles within. “Oh, that’s a pretty one!”

  Bonnie leaned over to have a look. “It has a seed in the middle?”

  Shiloh raised the bead, allowing the sun’s light to shine through. It painted a bluish spot on the cobblestones. “I don’t think it’s a seed. I’ve tried planting and watering them, but nothing ever happens.”

  Bonnie gazed at the sapphire-like globule. “What do you do with them?”

  “I save the prettiest ones.” She gave the bead a gentle squeeze. “They’re mushy enough to poke a hole through.” She tugged a string that hung around her neck, then pulled it over her head and handed it to Bonnie. “I put some of them on a necklace.”

  Bonnie cradled the necklace in her palm. The multicolored beads painted a kaleidoscope of blending hues on her skin.

  Shiloh pushed a scarlet bead along the string with her finger. “Whenever I get a new color, I put it on the necklace. Would you believe that after all these years, this is my first blue one?” She pulled a needle from her dress pocket. “I found needles in the seamstress shop down the street.” She untied the knot and inserted the string through the eye of the needle. “I wish I could find some fabric. I’d patch my dress or make a new one.” After poking a hole in the blue bead, she threaded the string through it. “There,” she said, retying the string around her neck and letting the beads dangle over her shirt. “That makes forty different colors and shades.”

  Bonnie lifted the necklace. “I love the way the light makes them glitter. It’s sort of like a rainbow, but with lots more colors.”

  Shiloh pushed the pump lever and let the stream pour over her cupped hands. She splashed her face and pulled up the hem of her shirt to dry her eyes. “Sleeping in that alley gets me dirty, but it keeps me out of the wind. And I can’t sleep in any of the buildings. For some reason I have terrible nightmares unless I’m outside. It’s worse than not sleeping at all.”

  Bonnie reached her sweatshirt sleeve up to Shiloh’s face. “Here. Let me get a spot.” She gently wiped Shiloh’s cheek with the cuff. “Where did you come from? Your parents? Your hometown?”

  Shiloh gave Bonnie a thankful nod. “Some of the details are fading away, but I do remember that I lived in Glastonbury, England. My father was a teacher, and Mum stayed at home. For all I know, they’re both dead now.”

  As Shiloh talked, Bonnie couldn’t help staring at her face. It was like watching a movie of herself, the way her eyes and lips angled with certain words. Shiloh’s bright eyes and creamy, smooth skin made her face shine like an angel’s. It was so strange. Somehow Bonnie had found her twin, a mirror image, a—

  Bonnie’s heart thumped. A mirror!

  Shiloh lowered her brow. “What’s wrong with you? Your jaw’s hanging open.”

  Bonnie closed her mouth, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. She snapped her wings out, stretching them to their full span. “I . . . I really can’t explain. I just have to get out of here.”

  Shiloh dropped the empty stalk to the ground and clutched Bonnie’s arms. Her voice pitched into a wail. “Don’t leave without me!” Tears welled in her eyes. “I can’t stand it anymore!” Suddenly, her eyes turned glassy, widening to panicked orbs. She clutched her stomach and dropped to her knees, gasping with deep, spastic grunts. “Ohhhh! . . . Augh!”

  Bonnie knelt at her side and rubbed her back. “Cramps?”

  Shiloh nodded, folding her arms tightly against her waist, breathing rapidly. “It . . . it only lasts . . . a few minutes.”

  Bonnie kept rubbing Shiloh’s back, sighing to herself. “I can’t understand why God would let you suffer like this.” Several people walked past, none noticing the poor girl’s misery. A lady in a tight dress sashayed within two feet of their crouched bodies but passed by without a glance. A stocky young man dashed across the street, starting and stopping a couple of times, as if he were dodging traffic. A short, elderly lady shuffled into a bookstore, vanishing just as she passed over the threshold.

  Shiloh straightened and took in a deep breath. She stayed on her knees for a moment before lifting her hand. Bonnie stood and helped Shiloh to her feet. “You okay now?”

  Shiloh kept her hand pressed against her stomach. “Just a twinge left. I’ll be fine.”

  “Did you see that lady?” Bonnie asked. “She disappeared when she went in the bookstore.”

  Shiloh rubbed her hands across the shirt Bonnie had lent her, smoothing out the wrinkles. “I didn’t see her, but they just go poof like that all the time, and it’s usually at a doorway. But there’s another door that’s completely different. A lot of them end up going through that one.”

  “Where is it?”

  Shiloh gestured with her head. “C’mon. I’ll show you.” She marched quickly down the road, finally slowing when she reached a teenaged boy carrying a bouquet of flowers in his arms. Shiloh followed him, keeping in s
tep with the boy’s careful gait. “I call him Frankie. He’s one of my favorites ’cause he always seems so happy. He’ll lead us to the main door.”

  “Don’t you know where it is by now?”

  Shiloh hooked her arm around Frankie’s elbow, but he didn’t seem to notice. “The main door is in a different building every day, so I never really know until they find it for me.” Frankie took a sudden turn, pulling away from Shiloh’s arm, and headed for the walkway. “Looks like he’s going to the feed store,” she said. “It hasn’t been there in quite a while.”

  Frankie stepped up to a narrow building and paused, cradling the flowers in one arm while digging into his pocket for something. A sign dangled at the roofline, a single rope attached to a corner of a rectangular board that read, “From Bud to Cud Feed Store.” Bonnie grimaced. “I wonder who came up with these horrible store names!”

  “I know what you mean,” Shiloh said, raising her eyebrows. “I’m not even going to tell you the name of the fertilizer store on the other side of town.”

  Frankie pulled a silver dollar from his pocket and gripped it in his fist, smiling. Light from inside the feed store’s doorway spilled onto the grimy porch and out to the street, covering the young man’s shoes. He tromped up three steps and marched across the threshold, his body passing through what appeared to be a barrier of liquid light. It seemed to envelop him, raising sparks that fell like fiery beads on the porch. They rolled around, fuming and spitting until they evaporated in puffs of vapor.

  Shiloh turned to Bonnie, her eyebrows raised. “Groovy, huh?”

  Bonnie lowered her chin and tried to swallow. “Yes. . . . Groovy.”

  Shiloh waved her hand and laughed. “Don’t worry. Frankie’s okay. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

  Bonnie took a step closer to the door, eyeing the bright field of energy in the opening. “Have you ever tried to go through?”

  Shiloh grabbed Bonnie’s wrist and pulled her back. “I wouldn’t try it if I were you.”