I pass Aimée, who is bent over her tea table, stirring an empty cup. She looks up at me with an ashen face and gives me the same vague smile she offers every girl who comes to the palace. I find Marianne, the elusive favorite, sitting and embroidering in a dark corner. A little arc of light flashes with each sweep of her golden needle. When I get close to her, I realize that she is covering another dress in yellow roses. A new dress. I want to ask her who it is for.
“If you wish to speak to the countess, you must understand that she cannot be disturbed,” Marianne says without looking up at me.
I ignore her, pressing on, before coming to a complete halt. Where does a harvester go after sleeping in a royal bed?
I remember my past and begin heading for the fields where I grew up.
On my way down from the palace, I have to cross the Pollen Camp.
oo00oo
Outside the world is white. Snow covers everything, and I am wearing nothing but my torn dress. I fly past the sentries who stand as still as statues. I bump into one, and he falls over, weightless, nothing more than bones beneath his armor. I push another and another and get barely a grunt from any of them. They are all as desiccated as the flowers in the fields, slowly turning to dust.
The camp is empty, save for my sister, who is pale and exhausted.
“Where are all the others?” I ask her.
But she does not answer. Instead she asks, “How is the count's health? Did you succeed?”
I realize that Sera is studying my belly. She wants me to make her rich. She herself is starving. “There is no count,” I tell her.
Sera falls to her knees. The truth settles over her face like a death mask.
oo00oo
I find the countess in the fields near my home. She wears the dress of a farm girl, a homespun dress the shade of wheat, but I recognize her regal features. She is not surprised to see me.
“You will be cold in that dress. And you have no shoes,” she says.
The countess is gathering all the dead flowers and placing them in a crude little basket. It is the lowliest kind of work, performed in the bitter cold, usually reserved as a punishment.
She is right, I am cold, but my head is clearing. In the distance I see my parents emerge from our house and squint at me. I think I can see my sister's ghostly face staring at me from the window of the bedroom we always shared.
I know that my poor parents are hoping to see a fat belly rising out of my skirts.
“What happens now?” I ask the countess.
“It is best if you freeze first. After you die, I will bury you. But something will grow. It always does, when the golden sun returns. Then there will be another harvest.”
“And if I return to the palace?” I ask, calculating my chances, knowing that she will not answer.
“You have done very well,” she tells me. “But you are like all the others. There have been so many of you. There will be more.”
I understand now what we should have done with the fires we built at the Pollen Camp, the fires we used for cooking, or for the comfort of warmth. A simple fire could obliterate all of this, from the stickiest stamen to the dustiest residue. I could burn these fields, kill all the seeds, set the dampness smoking, then move on to the hill, and after that to the camp. I could climb to the palace and torch all the ladies. I could free my people, what's left of us.
The countess stands and stares into my face, as she has with every mistress since the first harvest. We are each determined to destroy the other.
I don't have any fire. I don't have a sword or a whip. I have only my hands. I look at the countess's hands, which are white and weak, and then I look at mine, the strong hands of a harvester. I understand, finally, what they can do.
About Jan Stinchcomb
Jan Stinchcomb's work has appeared in Rose Red Review, Luna Station Quarterly, darker, The Red Penny Papers, the other room, and PANK online, among other places. Her novella, Find the Girl, is forthcoming from Main Street Rag Press in 2014. A recent transplant from Austin, she lives in Santa Monica with her husband and daughters. Visit her at www.janstinchcomb.com.
Thirst
by Andrew Patch
Astrid examined the plastic sheet as the slight breeze that wrapped around the mouth of the cave forced it to protest within its wooden frame. Though Astrid doubted it would work she had to do something before she left, give the rest of the gang something to focus upon. She looked east to see the morning sunshine cresting the ridge of the valley. Fingers crossed, later today beads of condensation would begin to form on the plastic. Once more she realigned the bucket and various tin cans she had laid out underneath doubting that any would be full later that day.
She was sick of this. It had been over three months of journeying, fourteen weeks of thirst, hunger and hardship. Following the tantalising rumour that the old trader had shared with them that night they had bartered for water. Over the orange glow of the campfire he had told them of this settlement he had heard of, where water flowed and fruit grew. They had laughed at him, dismissing him as just another madman in the wasteland. Irritated he had pulled a yellowed piece of paper out of his jacket pocket; a roughly scribbled map was upon it, he claimed that the map showed the route south to the place he called The Citadel. That had quietened their cynicism, yet the trader wouldn't agree to barter anything for the map, and it was quickly concealed back in his pocket.
Astrid suspected it was just a story to tell around the fire, something to make the old man feel important to this disparate group of kids that had banded together through circumstance and coincidence. However, that night Max became obsessed with finding the place, talking into the early hours, persuading the nine of them that they had to find this settlement. The very next day they headed south, full of wild anticipation of splashing in fountains that spurted jets of water high in the air, and drinking cold fresh water till they felt they would burst.
Now there were just six of them left. Their quest ground to a halt in this dank cave system that had been home for the past two weeks. When they had first discovered the caves it seemed they had found a potential sanctuary. A place to rest, to hide from the wasteland gangs who had killed first Django then Little Pete. Mother's scans had even detected a potential source of water, deep within the twisting maze of the cave system. So they explored, their lit torches weakly pushing back the darkness.
The AI's scans proved to be true, for they found water; sadly it wasn't a fresh underground stream rather a sad shallow pool of muddy liquid. Their disappointment was compounded, when Ruan tripped on the way back, breaking his ankle.
Ruan, ruin, ruined.
Everything was ruined.
Astrid ran her dry tongue over cracked lips, desperate for a drink, but reluctant to start on her ration of dirty water this early in the day. She pulled a smooth black pebble out from the pocket of her jeans and popped it in her mouth. She had found that the illusion of the pebble quelling her thirst had long stopped working, but still she couldn't quite give up the habit.
She picked StepMom up off the dusty floor from beside her backpack and strapped the small green box, its perspex screen scratched and marked with age, to the top of her left arm. Testing to make sure the AI was secure, she hit the [on] button. The AI squealed into life, the screen flickering yellow. Before the AI could start talking, as Steps was inclined to do, Astrid hit the [mute] button. Then she grabbed her backpack, checking her provisions for the hike a final time. It wasn't much, a small bottle of brown cave water and a few tins, whose lack of labels meant their contents were a mystery, but it was all they had spare. She double-checked that the In-Viz cloak was also within the backpack. Astrid had insisted that Max take it on his expedition, but he had refused, citing the cloak would be unable to conceal both himself and O. She was thankful that he had left it behind now.
She shouldered her backpack and stood looking down into the valley. She would follow the creek, which flowed no longer with water, but dry stone and baked
earth, southwards. Following Max and O's route that they hoped would lead them to someone willing to trade their assorted relics and objects for water and medicine. They had said they would journey for a maximum of three days, on the fourth they would turn back, whether they had found anyone or not, and come home.
This morning was the eighth day since they had left.
“So, ye really goin after them then Ast?”
Lizzie walked out from the darkness of the cave, her outfit a chaotic mix of rags and gaffer tape.
“They've been gone too long Liz, and Ruan's ankle isn't getting any better. Max and O should have returned by now. I'll follow their trail and meet them at some point, see if I can gee them along a bit.”
“You could wait one more day Ast, they'll be here soon...” Liz took Astrid's hand, her fingers felt warm against the coolness of hers. She squeezed and ran her other fingers across Liz's face, tucking the forever-rebellious brown hair behind Liz's ear.
“Its not that I want to go Liz, Ru is in an awful way, you've seen the infection.”
“I know, I'm being selfish, I just ... I just don't fancy being alone tonight.”
“I'll be back soon, Max and O are probably just beyond the valley,” Astrid kissed Liz then stepped back, tightening the straps of her backpack. It was time to go, delaying leaving was not going to help her or the gang.
“Make Ru comfortable as best you can Liz, get some of the others to recheck the pool in the cave, there might be a little bit of moisture we missed. Just make sure no one else breaks anything in there. Oh and your on sheet duty.”
“Fab, thanks captain,” Liz threw what appeared to be a salute, “be careful Ast, yeah?”
Astrid walked over and gave Liz a hug then left, tracing the creek bed down into the valley. She paused midway down the creek, turning back to see that Liz was still watching her from the mouth of the cave, Astrid waved farewell and Liz responded before retreating back inside. The plastic sheet now still, sunlight playing across its surface.
Astrid depressed StepMom's [mute] button, re-activating the AI. A squeal of feedback indicated that the unit was kicking into life.
“Morning Steps, can you start scanning for breadcrumbs and any signals from Mother.” StepMom began to twitter and whine, complaining about the fact that her batteries had not been recharged correctly. Astrid had to stop herself from automatically hitting the [mute] button, much as StepMom was a pain Astrid needed the AI to find Max's trail.
So she set off whilst StepMom belittled her lack of pace and that searching for the trail was beneath her capabilities.
It was going to be a long walk.
oo00oo
The first breadcrumb that StepMom led Astrid to was hidden within the root system of a dead tree that marked the edge of a forest. Astrid peered into the depths between the other burnt sentinels, naked without leaf, undergrowth or birds. The forest seemed to consume the landscape, spreading as far and wide as she could see.
The sun bleached everything turning the world into a mosaic of monochrome shadows and sinister shapes. She hated how the woods made her feel scared, that each tree just reminded her that nothing grew anymore since the war. Astrid replaced the breadcrumb, a small silver nano-cube that would enable her, Max and O to retrace their steps when she had finally found where they had gotten too. The one thing she didn't want to do was go into the woods, yet the AI was insistent that the next nano lay in that direction. Knowing the answer already, she re-checked with the AI for what must have been the fifteenth time.
“Steps, are you absolutely sure?”
“Of course I am! Your Brother located the next breadcrumb 3.4km directly south of our position. I strongly recommend that we proceed.”
“Alright, just ... oh, hold on.”
Astrid pulled out the In-Viz cloak from the depths of her backpack. As she covered herself, Stepmom and her backpack, she tried to ignore the claustrophobic anxiety that she always felt as the thin nano-plastic enfolded her. From inside the cloak there was little difference to the world but Astrid knew that the cloak's nano-tech was already bending the light, making her nearly invisible. Though she detested wearing the thing because it normally made her sweat, the one thing navigating the wasteland taught you was that you were never alone for long.
As she ventured into the shadows of the dead trees, the dry branches underneath each step cracked like gunshots. She chided herself for her stupidity, what was the point in being invisible if you were then going to make such a racket? She forced herself to focus, watching each step, navigating through the ranks of this wooden graveyard that once would have blocked out the sun with a canopy of green. Now the sky pressed down, without leaf or cloud to break up the glare of the sun. She tried to imagine the forest before the war, a living organism full of emerald shapes and bickering life. How the rain would feel, how it would sound, and taste as it dropped through the leaves. Pattering on the ground underfoot. It wasn't long before she had to stop her imagination, forced to sip some of her precious dirty water, tormented by thirst.
After what felt like an eternity she found the next breadcrumb. Max had concealed it deep within the rotting remains of a fallen tree. Astrid nervously prodded at the hole with a stick, convinced that something would bite her hand if she reached in. But there was nothing, just another cube followed by StepMom's impatient demand that they continue southwards, for she had already located the next crumb, five kilometres south of their position. Though it would be nice, the AI admonished, if Astrid could be bothered to note her efficiency once in a while.
Not for the first time Astrid wished that Max hadn't taken Mother on his expedition. Mother was nice, comforting, supportive. StepMom was just a bitch.
Before long the light began to fail and as reticent as Astrid was to stop she knew, thankfully, a nearby tree had enough space within its roots to accommodate her. Fearful again of what might be living in the depths, Astrid activated StepMom, bathing the interior in a yellow glow. There seemed to be nothing untoward within, no bugs or nasties to eat her alive during the night. Lying on the dry earth, Astrid used her backpack as a pillow and pulled the viz up over her face. There was no sound outside of the tree, just the odd branch falling to earth. Telling StepMom to awaken her if she detected anything approaching her hideout, Astrid allowed her eyes to close and fell asleep within seconds.
The next morning, after a breakfast of brown water and what turned out to be a tin that contained butter beans, Astrid set off towards the next breadcrumb. The woods, like her journey seemed to drag on forever. At least the treasure hunt for the trail was alleviating her bad mood this morning. One crumb was hidden in a small hole waist high in a tree, the next concealed within a few stones stacked together. After that, she tired of the trail, fed up with StepMom's incessant complaints at her lack of pace and how her AI system was designed for more glamorous tasks.
Finally the trees began to thin out, she was nearing the edge of the forest, and before long, Astrid was walking across the dry dust of what, she assumed, was once a field. Normally she hated the sun, but after two days in the oppressive wood, she felt relief at the sense of space and freedom. She followed the contours of the land, pleasantly undulating for a while, but soon it began to climb upwards towards a clump of hills. StepMom’s scans detected that the next crumb would be on the other side of the rise, at the base of a valley. The climb up was tiring, the dirt earth sagging under her feet, but soon Astrid had reached the summit. Glad to have a place to rest, Astrid took shelter in the shade of a large stone that seemed to have grown out of the top of the hill, sipping at some of her warm cave water.
From her vantage point she could see a small dwelling down on the other side of the valley below. Through the scratched lens of her binoculars she could make out the smashed windows, assorted graffiti and the front door hanging off of hinges, indicating that the house had been abandoned long ago and probably ransacked several times over.
She double-checked StepMom, but the AI was firm, Ast
rid had to go to the house.
For the breadcrumb was, without question, somewhere within it.
What was Max thinking? The one rule they had was to steer clear of such places, to give them a wide berth. Astrid scanned the surrounding landscape, but saw nothing aside from the odd dead tree and the undulating brown earth that stretched outward forever. If this was a trap then whoever had set it was waiting within. Yet she knew she had no choice, and Max must have had a reason to go in there. Maybe he had left a note or supplies.
With butterflies rising in her stomach, Astrid began the descent towards the building.
oo00oo
The breadcrumb had been hidden in what was once a bedroom. There was no bed anymore, just a floor covered in tin cans, dirty clothing and small crushed vials that would have once held pure water. Astrid found the breadcrumb hidden within a small hole in the floor. No note, nothing. Not even supplies.
“Steps can you trace the next breadcrumb.”
The AI screen flickered, “There are no other crumbs within ten kilometres of our current position.”
“Can you double check?”
“Why of course, I mean why would you believe that I could make such calculations like I have every other time? No, no, just wait.” The AI went silent, the screen flickering yellow, “Right, there are no other signals aside from those we have already found.”
So where were Max and O? No note, no markers, nothing to tell her where they had gone from here. Astrid slumped to the floor, dejected. She couldn't return empty handed, yet where could she go, who could she find to help?
She left the bedroom, heading down the haphazard wooden steps to the ground floor. The wall had once held photographs, but now just rows of empty pins studded the surface. The stench of something rotting from the kitchen didn't alleviate her mood. The floor was mercifully clear of rubbish, but most of the appliances and cupboards were gone. All that was left was a table with three chairs and an ancient looking cooker with an even older looking metal kettle resting at an angle on its hob.
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