Dilemma.
“Do you sleep up there?” I dove right into option ‘B’. “In those cocoons?”
The creature cocked her head to one side.
“No,” she said.
And her answer seemed to have nothing left to it.
“Come,” she urged taking my hand. “I’ll take you to the tree.”
I followed hesitantly, looking back at Tsaeb once with that be-right-back expression. I hoped it would prove to be an accurate expression.
“I’ll just wait here,” Tsaeb shouted disdainfully. “I don’t like your stupid forest anyway!”
In minutes, we came upon an enormous hollowed-out tree, the entrance descending underground into darkness. Fireflies dotted the blackness out ahead, lazily floating amid the cool air. Strange insects with shiny backs and sharp pincers slithered, crawled, and slinked through the soil and the maze-like roots buried in the ground and along the walls.
We turned one thin corner and stepped into a room. The dirt walls were lined all around by rickety wooden shelves, stuffed with junk: a lantern with a cracked globe, a box of crayons, a pair of sneakers, books, glass trinkets, a violin, neatly folded clothes, jewelry, a hair brush full of matted blond hair. The shelf on the left had a few chocolate bars, small bags of potato chips and mini cookie packets, cans of soda and a stack of old newspapers.
“Where’d all this stuff come from?”
“Travelers,” she answered. “Travelers like you that pass through—Trade an item for an item.”
Curious, I went first to the shelf with the newspapers. 1954. 1961. 1987. New York. Chicago. Boston. London.
“That’s odd....”
My interest grew as a tiny box of coins caught my eye, hundreds of them with unique uneven cuts and distinct Roman art. I wondered what other ancient treasures this room contained, but knew that priceless history would probably not help me on this journey. I needed survival items.
“You may trade for anything you see in this room.”
I rummaged through the first shelf and then turned to her holding up a lighter.
“Any particular method for trade?” Shaking the lighter near my ear, I tested the amount of fluid it contained. “Do I have to trade something small for something small, or—”
“Whatever trade you wish,” she said. “One thing for another.”
The grinding snap of the lighter was brief, like the flame it produced. I snuffed it out quickly to keep from wasting any of the fluid.
I slipped the lighter in the pocket of my slacks and took off my tie as trade. I traded my suit jacket for a pocketknife, my belt for a box of cheese crackers. Digging deep in my pockets I found a few worthless things, but one thing for another here knew no sense of fair price. A paperclip for an old, ragged backpack. A quarter for a used tube of antibiotic ointment. A cough drop wrapper for a stick of beef jerky. An old pink Post-It note that had been through the wash dozens of times, for a tiny can of fruit punch juice. A newspaper clipping of the employment section, where I circled an office job at a real estate agency, for one of the cookie packets. Then I found the note given to me by the woman in the alley. I didn’t care to read it again, so I tossed it on a shelf and traded it for a pair of hedge clippers.
I placed all of my new things in the ragged backpack and pitched it over my shoulder. Looking down at my fancy watch, I contemplated. It still worked; the minute hand still ticked and went round and round. I wondered if time was the same here.
“And what will you trade that for?” she said so sweetly.
Looking back at the shelves, I scanned over the same things again just to be sure. I had inadequate food, but food nonetheless. I had drinkable liquid, tools and fire.
“I think I’ll just keep the watch.”
The creature’s mysterious smile abandoned her.
“So then you have all you need?”
“Well, I...Yes, I guess I do.” I was unsure because of the subtle, enigmatic quality of her questions. “I appreciate your help.”
She nodded.
“It’s about damn time,” said Tsaeb as we made our way back.
“You sure have a foul mouth for a kid,” I said. “If you were my kid, you’d be grounded for life.”
“Well, I’m not exactly a kid.”
“I know, and maybe you’ll humor me sometime with the truth.” I turned back to the creature. “Thanks again.”
“You are most welcome,” she said, extending her awkwardly long arm and pointing. “The carriage will come from the south. Be ready, for it will not stop if it does not see you, and will not wait if you take your time.”
“Noted.”
And just like that, she slinked away through the forest.
In a way, I hated to see her go and knew that if not for Tsaeb she might have been inclined to hang around longer, maybe to help give me some idea about why I was here. I watched until her form glided into a slither of darkness, but my pondering about her was quickly interrupted.
“The truth?” said Tsaeb. “I never told you I was a kid, you just assumed.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“Well then what are you?”
I set my backpack against a tree and then joined it, stretching my legs out in front of me, feet crossed below. A crow cawed somewhere in the distance.
“I’m a demon of Greed.”
That certainly caught my attention.
“Yeah, a demon, but wasn’t it obvious?”
“No,” I admitted. “I thought maybe you sold your soul or something, but....”
Tsaeb laughed.
“I did, well sort of.”
I waited straight-faced, because nothing about selling one’s soul was funny.
“Let’s just say I lost my soul and now here I am.” Tsaeb smiled a huge, toothy smile.
He moved toward my bag then. “Watcha got?” He reached out, but I covered the backpack with my arm.
“Hands off,” I demanded. “I have absolutely no reason to trust you.”
“Awww, come on, Norman. I need you to help me. I’m not going to do anything that will keep you from doing your job.”
“We’ll see.”
~~~
The squeaking of carriage wheels and the clatter of unknown objects woke me from my dreamless sleep. The heat was high; the elusive ball of fire at its most powerful, somewhere in the sky. I wondered how I could have slept so long, outside with my head against a lumpy backpack and roots jabbing my ribs. I couldn’t recall once waking up to roll over or to complain about the discomfort. Only now, as I stood to make the carriage on time, did I feel the pain in my muscles and bones. Tsaeb was already awake, lingering at the border of the field, the sun’s rays beaming down upon his golden hair.
“It’s here,” said Tsaeb, waving toward the carriage approaching from the south.
Holding my back with one hand, I bent over and took up my backpack with the other, moaning under my breath with the effort.
The carriage drew near, bumbling on its big wooden wheels and with the familiar sound of horse’s hooves trotting against the earth. An old cackling voice said, “Move along, move along!”
In moments, the decrepit black carriage drawn by two white horses came to a stop. The driver wore a tattered black robe, the hood resting against his back. The passenger area was covered and the only way inside was through a single rickety door. I realized that pots and swords, lanterns and other various things dangling from rusty nails and hooks were what had made the clanking noises I heard on its approach.
“Headin’ to Fiedel City?”
“I’m not sure,” I said, stepping up. “Where does this carriage go?”
“Fiedel City, you coot. All roads go to Fiedel City.”
The carriage driver coughed a hacking, sickly cough and failed to cover his mouth. I drew back, my face stretching with disgust.
“Then why did you ask if that’s where we’re going?” I said.
“You’s need a lift, or not?”
Tsae
b stepped forward, one hand in his pocket.
“Yeah, we’d appreciate a ride,” he said, and then went to open the rickety door.
“You backards, boy?” said the carriage driver. “Gotsta have good payment or trade to get on this carriage.”
I rummaged through my backpack and my pockets. Money. I still had the money from the cash box. Better yet, five one hundred dollar bills the Devil gave me, which I got the feeling was completely useless now.
“Will this do?” I said, holding one out to him.
The carriage driver took the bill, examined it, sniffed it, licked it and even put it to his ear.
“Are you deef?” he said, handing it back. “I said good payment or trade, not some paper junks.”
The driver shook his head and went to snap the reins.
“Wait!”
I took off my watch. “What about this?”
Unimpressed laughter rippled through the air.
Tsaeb literally pushed me to the side; I felt one of his fingers jab between my ribs. “Look, old man,” he growled. “We need a ride through that fucking field. So what kind of payment or trade do you need exactly?”
I could practically hear his teeth grinding behind his lips.
The driver sneered, loosening the reins some. He turned sideways on the box seat to face Tsaeb, looking down over a long, crooked nose. The horses snorted and jerked their dingy-white tails about.
“You got some grit, boy, but it ain’t gonna get you nowhere’s with Gorg.” He sucked on his front tooth and pulled away, sitting upright. “Gorg likes eyes and fingers, toes and teeth. You gots em’ to give then Gorg gots a ride to offer.”
Dangling from the carriage driver’s neck was a string of shriveled fingers and a few human teeth. Hanging from the roof of the carriage were other grotesque trinkets: a foot, a string of eyes and two human skulls. The carriage driver noticed my gaze passing over his things and he hacked and coughed again before he could speak.
“Wut? You thinkin’ I’s a flesh-eater or sumthin’? I ain’t nuthin’ of the sorts.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Tsaeb grumbled.
“Well, I’m pretty fond of my body parts and would like to keep them,” I said. “Anything else we can offer?”
“Nope.”
And that was that. But just when I thought I wasn’t getting that carriage ride, the strange creature with the fiery red hair emerged from the forest.
“I will pay their passage,” she said with velvet-smooth words. “But you must promise to get Norman safely across the field—no body part is to be touched.”
The driver gawked at her nakedness, licking his lips.
“We can hop in the carriage for a few, bump some uglies,” the driver said. He jumped down from the box seat, the sound of his old bones rattling under his robe. Opening the door on the carriage, he gestured inside with his free hand. “My word—safely across the field,” he said crossing his finger over his heart.
“Sir,” she said, “Do you not remember who or what I am? Has it been that long already?”
The driver furrowed his bushy brows in thought. “I’s do remember!” He smacked his dirty hands together and suddenly the greedy expression on his face matched Tsaeb’s.
“Oh yes,” he added, “You gots my word.”
“Good,” she said.
I turned to her. “Thank you, again.”
The driver moved toward her, stepping over the threshold and into the forest. I wondered what was going on.
Tsaeb took the opportunity to snoop around the carriage. The horses appeared agitated, breathing heavily with bothersome grunts and snorts. Their tails whipped about fiercely, their masculine heads bobbing and baring their teeth.
A pair of thin, transparent wings unfurled from the skin on her back and stretched out behind her. She brought her arms up, grabbed hold of her wings and ripped them from her flesh.
My hand instinctively flew over my mouth.
Gorg took the wings carefully and moved back to the carriage with caution, making sure not to trip and ruin the wings that were surely going to set him up for several years.
I was intoxicated suddenly, trapped in some cruel euphoria, the scent stronger than ever now.
I snapped out of it.
“Wh-why did you do that?” I said, hardly able to get the words out.
She buried her chin in one shoulder. “They will grow back.”
“But...” I moved behind her, looking at the bloody stubs where her wings had been. “Doesn’t that hurt?”
“Who cares?” said Tsaeb from the door of the carriage. He stepped up and inside, his head peeking around the doorframe. “Let’s go!”
I ignored him.
Touching the skin around her wound lightly, I cringed.
“It is painful,” she answered, “but a small price to pay.”
“To pay for what?”
“Will you come on before this dimp decides to start charging by the hour!”
The creature and I shared a quiet moment, but she never answered.
“Safe journeys,” she said, waving.
Reluctantly, I climbed into the carriage, hardly ever taking my eyes off her.
“Sometimes, one must accept unacceptable circumstances.”
--
SNAPPING THE REINS, THE carriage wheels squeaked and turned. We took the outskirts route, keeping near the edge of the forest and savoring what shade it gave us while it existed.
There was little discussion between any of us. Tsaeb was too busy looking through Gorg’s things, adamant about finding something of value. I sat as if a child punished in a corner, not wanting to accidentally touch anything, or be hit in the face by any number of grotesque swinging objects. A shrunken head looped through one nostril swayed back and forth near my shoulder. When the carriage hit a bump, the head jerked close enough that I could feel the straw-like hair prickle the side of my face.
I could see Gorg through a small window, guarding those wings as though worth more than his life. He had wrapped them carefully and tied them to the seat underneath his legs. I thought about the wings—could I have traded something for them? The creature did say that I could trade for ‘anything’ I saw in the giant hollowed-out tree. It was strange, the way in which she urged me, the enigmatic smile, almost as if trying to influence my decision. Felt like déjà vu all over again with the woman from the alley.
“We’s bout to enter the field!” Gorg shouted.
Dodging the swinging head, I moved to the window and pushed aside the dingy and torn makeshift curtain.
“Duncha wanna see?” said Gorg. “Come on out! The forest ends jus’ up ahead!”
I peered through the window and over the front of the carriage.
“Let me see.” Tsaeb squeezed his way up, pressing his blond head through the opening.
I pushed open the carriage door, leaving Tsaeb to the window and stepped out onto a thin rail, carefully moving to the front to sit next to Gorg. Just as we passed the last wedge of trees, my eyes grew wide with awe. It looked like the end of the world, the horizon layered by red-tinted clouds hovering over a dreary and lifeless landscape. Still no sign of a rock, a tree, or even a vulture circling overhead waiting to pick the bones of some unfortunate traveler.
“Six days across,” said Gorg looking over.
I was horrified.
“Yep, six days of nuthin’ but...” Gorg laughed, “...well, nuthin’!”
“And you travel this field often?” I could find no reason acceptable. Only a crazy person would brave this treacherous route more than once in his lifetime, but then Gorg hardly seemed sane.
“Been doin’ it for nine hundred years, three months, twelve days and some hours tossed in. Thur’s six of us drivers, but I promise you and the ruffian got the best one.”
“Why are you the best?” The question was an absent one; Gorg’s age held my thoughts the most.
“Well, the old man Milton stinks worse than my horse’s shit.” Gorg looked ov
er at me once. “And he’s been known to toss travelers out in the field on their bee-hinds—yep, he has; I’s no storyteller. And Davis, he’s crazy as a loon, he is.”
“And the others?”
Gorg snapped the reins and the horses picked up speed. I held onto the wooden box seat tighter as the carriage pulled and jolted.
“Well, they’s dead. Nuthin’ but bones and tooths under their robes.”
Tsaeb snickered from behind, his head peeking through the window. “Sounds like they’d be more interesting.”
“Bah!” said Gorg. “They dun’t even talk. They jus’ stare atcha with big hollow eye sockets.”
Another hour passed. The forest had long since disappeared on the horizon and the heat was unbearable. My dress shirt was in my lap. Sweat dripped from every pore and it was getting harder to breathe. Flies fluttered drunkenly around me, only adding to the discomfort. I longed for the night to come, dreamt about when finally the moon would replace the godforsaken sun. I dreamt of a freshwater stream and of a breeze and cool, dry clothing. I was tired, utterly exhausted by the heat, but I could not sleep. I leaned against the carriage and managed careful breaths until eventually the sun did fall and the darkness brought with it some relief.
I basked in the comfort of the night, treasuring the cool wind on my face and through my hair. Five more days of this—I didn’t want to think about it.
“What’s that?” Tsaeb pointed out into the field.
It was the first thing other than miles of dried grass that we had seen. And it mattered little to me that I had yet to know exactly what it was. I was just glad to see anything at all.
Dirty Eden Page 4