Crown Phoenix: Night Watchman Express

by Alison DeLuca

2. In the Devil’s Kitchen

  n the other side of the door was a small, sanded yard, surrounded by four heavy, tall brick walls. The dirt underfoot was the damp, gritty sort that instantly gets into one’s socks and causes dull, grinding discomfort. The bricks in the walls were stained an ugly dark brown, either from the smoke in the factory itself or from the dirty air in the alleyway.

  “Where is Simon?” Miriam looked around her. The prisoners and the guard who carried Simon’s limp body had disappeared, probably through one of the heavy, iron doors that lined the walls.

  The Headmistress ignored her and put a whistle that hung around her neck on a silver string to her lips. She blew it once, a long, loud, piercing blast that echoed around the yard. Miriam shut her eyes and tried to cover her ears. The sound was horribly familiar.

  One of the doors opened, and a man, as tall and thin as the Headmistress appeared. The Headmistress turned to Miriam and addressed her directly for the first time. “This is the Headmaster,” she said. “You will do everything we tell you to do. Without argument.”

  “How many arrived today?” The Headmaster spoke to the woman and ignored Miriam.

  “Four men from the prisons and two children. The boy has been taken to the Infirmary. This one needs a uniform and a cell.”

  The Headmaster nodded. “We’ll put her in the one on the West Side. It’s been vacant since the girl from the main island had to be evacuated.”

  The Headmistress nodded. “That will be fine. Do it now.”

  The Headmaster gripped Miriam and dragged her towards another set of the doors. He inserted a large key into a lock on one and opened it. Miriam stumbled as he thrust her into a narrow hallway that was lit by two insignificant lanterns that left plenty of shadows and dark corners. By their light, however, Miriam could just discern a steep staircase that descended into the dark.

  His fingers felt like damp chicken bones as he pushed her down the flight of stairs. “You don’t have to squeeze me,” she said, exasperated, and she tried to shake his hand off. “I saw what your goons do to us if we don’t obey you.” The only response was a tighter grip.

  At the bottom of the stairs, the Headmaster steered her to the left, down another narrow, dark passage. Drips ran down the walls, and she could hear a metallic clanking sound, rather muffled by the thick walls. The air was cooler down here but smelled stale.

  The Headmaster suddenly stopped her and made her turn to face another door. Taking out another key, he opened it and said, “In here.”

  Miriam squinted her eyes, as the tiny room was well lit compared to the dark hall. The Headmaster took out a whistle like the Headmistress’ and blew two long blasts and one short one. Instantly, a woman appeared from a door in the opposite wall. Miriam, her hopes rising, saw that she had the same brown skin as Mana, the same dark hair, and the same black eyes. The eyes of the woman, however, were dull and listless. When she saw the Headmaster, she dropped her head and began to nod in a strange, rhythmic way.

  “Clean her,” he said. “Take her to Tache’s old cell.” He turned and walked out of the room.

  Miriam started forward and asked, “Are you from the Island? Oh, you must be! Do you know Mana?”

  The woman looked up for a moment, but she shielded her eyes. “Oh no,” she said. “Oh no.” She continued to nod and repeat those words to herself as she turned to an old desk in one corner and removed a large pair of shears.

  “What is your name? My name is Miriam,” she told her, speaking slower. “Look, I’m not supposed to be here. You were probably kidnapped too, weren’t you? Maybe we could help each other.”

  The woman merely beckoned. Miriam followed her through the door in the opposite wall, still hoping to break through. “Do you know of a way out of here? Are there any other stairways to the outside?”

  “Oh, no.” The woman waved the shears. Miriam went with her into a larger room where more women, all with white skins, bustled about in silent, meaningless tasks. One was counting a mass of folded, gray shirts on some shelves. Another poured a stream of water into a tin bath.

  The woman said nothing but pushed Miriam forward and pointed to the bath. “What?!” Miriam said, her voice rising. “I’m not going to undress here – oy, stop that!” Two of the women had come forward and seized her. Her pinafore was pulled over her head, her dress unbuttoned, and her shoes and stockings were pulled off. Before she could protest, Miriam was popped into the bath. The woman from the island disappeared, leaving Miriam with the other workers.

  One seized a cake of soap and Miriam’s arm. “Hey!” she protested, as she was scrubbed with a stiff brush.

  The other worker spoke for the first time. “Keep your mouth shut, or yizz’ll be eating soap.” She snickered.

  “Look what she’s got here.” A woman in the corner shook out Miriam’s pinafore and pulled out Mana’s wooden comb.

  Miriam stretched out her hand, covered with greasy suds from the heavy soap. “Let me have that – please!”

  “Oooh, must be precious,” the woman said. “What should I do with it, Mrs. Siddons?”

  The woman who scrubbed Miriam’s back spoke up, her voice jerking as she plied the brush. “Throw it out. Headmistress’ll have our hides if she sees such a thing.”

  Another one sniffed in a disapproving manner. “Looks dead heathenish to me.”

  “No, wait, please! I’ll hide it, and I won’t let the Headmistress find it, I promise.” Miriam said, twisting to look at Mrs. Siddons. “It was a present from – from a friend. It’s all I have. Please?”

  Mrs. Siddons shook her head. “Oh, give her the silly thing, Dora, do. You kept your Samuel’s picture for the longest time in your own cell, until they moved you. Now, you, girl. Shut your mouth as you were told, and mind you share your rations with me when I tell you, since I’ve let you keep your precious comb.”

  She jerked Miriam’s face around, considered her for a moment, and added, “Pity to lose them curls. Hand me those shears, would you?” Taking the scissors in one hand and Miriam’s hair in the other, she cut it off with two short, rapid strokes.

  Miriam was hauled out of the tub and dried with a stiff towel that looked more like a piece of an old oats bag. One of the shapeless gray garments was slipped over her head; it was rough, but at least it was clean. Miriam thrust the comb down the front of the dress.

  The dark-skinned woman reappeared. “Oh no. Oh, no.” She pointed at the hallway.

  “It’s Oh No again.” Mrs. Siddons gave Miriam’s garment one last, sharp tug. “Take her along with you, Oh No.”

  Miriam was guided out of the room. She and Oh No made another left turn to more steps that went straight down. Miriam, who had been trying to construct a map of the factory in her head, realized that she was now hopelessly lost.

  The passage opened into a wide chamber, constructed with the same greasy, stained bricks that appeared throughout the place. More doors lined the walls, each one with a grille and a small opening on the bottom. They looked like a row of prison cells.

  Oh No brought her to the only open door and pointed inside. Miriam turned to her. “Look, we can help each other, really! I could make sure that you get make to Lampala, with your family.”

  The woman looked up at that, but there was a screech from one of the neighboring cells. “Save your breath, dearie! That one’s flying with the dragon!” This was followed by a burst of maniacal laughter.

  “Oh no, oh no.” The woman shook her head.

  Giving it up as a bad job, Miriam walked into the cell and the door was closed on her. An instant later, the key grated in the lock.

  There was a cot in one corner of the room, and Miriam plopped onto it. Mana’s comb skittered to the floor, and she picked it up. She felt the shorn hair at the back of her neck; it seemed to be terribly jagged and prickly. Suddenly it all seemed too much – the train ride, Mana’s disappearance, the cut hair, the disgusting cell she was in. With the comb in her hand, Miriam lay down, stuffed her face into
the thin, hard pillow and felt scalding tears burn her eyes.

  “Mana!” she sobbed. “Mana – where are you?