Light in the Darkness

by CJ Brightley

  I wish now that I had thought to write my adviser at Cornell, or my colleagues there, back when we were first arrested. Maybe they could have raised a stink, put some pressure on the government. Too late for that now.

  Has there been any more gunfire? Casualties?

  I’m waiting until sundown to send Sumi. I worry about someone from the State Security Service noticing her comings and goings.

  Stay safe.

  Your loving daughter,

  Kaya

  (From the W— State Security Service’s files on the insurgency: email records)

  From: Lt. Den

  Subject: Tasan Bay transcript

  Date: October 3

  To: Lt. Sana

  Here’s the transcript of Tema Baii’s interview with Suta Sen, the fisherman who found those bits of paper with Prisoner 118’s name on them. Prosperity Television agreed not to broadcast it. Did you say Capt. Aran’s got the paper scraps?

  Baii: Some unusual and rather unsettling detritus has washed up in a small fishing village on the edge of Tasan Bay—slips of paper inscribed with a mountain name: Ramiratam. It happens to be the name of the separatist executed earlier this week for crimes against the state. Suta Sen is the fisherman who first noticed the slips of paper. Tell us how you found these papers, Mr. Sen.

  Sen: Tide was just about all the way in. The waves were at their highest, lapping right up to here, see? Right about here. And one big wave came in and left these white wrinkled strips way up on the sand, just above the high tide line. Looked like white ribbons, maybe. I noticed there seemed to be marks on them, so I picked one up, and I saw it had a name on it—the name of that fella that got executed the other day. The mountain separatist. And the next one did, too, and the next. They all did.

  Baii: What do you make of it?

  Sen: Well, it has to be the Lady of Currents, don’t it. Guess she wants us to think on him. Guess maybe probably she’s not happy about the execution.

  Baii: That’s the Lady of Currents, an ocean deity still revered in some coastal villages. Mr. Sen, can you explain to younger viewers in Palem and the inland villages, who may not be familiar with the Lady of Currents, why she might champion a self-confessed criminal and threat to the nation’s stability?

  Sen: Ah. Well. Well now ... It’s a hard question to answer as you’ve asked it. Of course the government’s working for the best for all of us, but even the wisest folk can make a mistake sometimes. The Lady of Currents’ only sister, who stokes the fires beneath the mountains, she’s fond of them little dark mountain folk. If I remember rightly, this separatist and them others that were arrested, they claimed they done what they done for the Lady of the Ruby Lake. That puts them in her hands, y’see? They’re hers. You don’t want to kill folks like that—it’s stealing. The Lady of the Ruby Lake’s going to take offense, and the Lady of Currents’ll take offense in sympathy. And where’s that leave all of us? Right in the middle, between the angry sea and the angry mountains.

  Baii: So you think the government should give in to the separatists’ demands?

  Sen: I don’t know about that. I’m not a politician. We’ve gotta stay strong as a nation. And from what I understand, them folk up in the mountains are pretty backward; they need guidance. They’d likely run themselves to ruin on their own. But the government’s gotta be careful, that’s all. The waves brought us a warning.

  Sen was taken into custody and released after Lt. Vell gave him a good talking to. I think he understands the importance of not spreading the story around any further, and I’m sure he’ll urge others to let it drop too. As for Baii, what with the suppression of the story and her awareness of being under observation, she’s not likely to risk breaking it on her own.

  (From the W— State Security Service’s files on the insurgency: email records)

  From: Lt. Sana

  Subject: Re: Tasan Bay transcript

  Date: October 3

  To: Lt. Den

  Yeah, Capt. Aran has the slips of paper. I saw them. They can’t have been in the water long—the ink Prisoner 118’s name was written in was hardly blurred. I’ll tell you what it means: the insurgents have operatives or agents on the coast. We should bring in any migrant workers for questioning.

  What a lot of garbage from that old fart Baii interviewed. You expect idiocy from the primitives in the mountains but I keep forgetting that some of our own people are just about as backward. You grow up, wanting to be proud of your country, wanting to help make it **be** something on the world stage, and meanwhile there are old granddads like that out there. And now this damn insurgency. I’m going to recommend that Capt. Aran press for relocating Prisoner 116 and moving along with the purge. Setting her up in that temple was a big mistake: you give those people the slightest encouragement and they walk all over you. We have to assert authority. Aran didn’t want a police action, but frankly, I’d prefer that to all the pussyfooting that’s gone on up to now.

  11

  Open Hands

  October 1 (Jiminy to Em)

  Dear Em,

  How are you? I hope your good. I heard from Ma that you and Tammy went home to help rebuild. Pretty nice save Mermaids Hands pulled off for itself. Maybe the Seafathers good for something besides storms, ha ha. Sorry just teasing. I do think its cool. Good for you helping out too though maybe its a sight better then being stuck with Aunt Brenda.

  Ma made a stink about me being in danger and so I got transferred to a different unit here so I never see Ace. Thanks for telling her. Thanks for taking my phone calls at Aunt Brendas and thanks for trying to come see me. Your a great sister. It really makes a difference knowing that people are looking out for you.

  I’m doing three classes now, GED Preparation, Responsability Responsibility and Good Choices, and Dynamics of Addiction. If I keep out of trouble and the teachers say I’m working hard, then I might get reccommended for a work release program.

  I dont think I ever wrote so much at one time. If you write me, I’ll try to write back soon. Say hi to Gran and Tammy and Dad if hes done hating me.

  Love from your brother,

  Jiminy

  October 3 (Em’s diary)

  Dad gave me the key to the mailbox. He said I could be in charge of checking it, and today there was a letter from Jiminy! He wrote a whole letter. He said I was great!

  But that ain’t true, not really. I didn’t make it all the way to see him, and I’ve written more letters to Kaya than to him. But I’m going to make a promise here:

  I PROMISE I WILL WRITE JIMINY AT LEAST ONCE A WEEK

  A great sister would write every week. If I write every week, maybe I’ll deserve to be called great.

  Jiminy’s letter made me wonder some things though.

  1. He said maybe the Seafather was good for something besides storms, but then he said “just kidding.” What does he mean? What is he just kidding about?

  People say “just kidding” sometimes when really they’re dead serious. I can’t tell: does he believe in the Seafather, or not? Does he hate the Seafather? Is Dad right that Jiminy hates Mermaid’s Hands?

  I guess I can ask him in a letter.

  Please let him not hate Mermaid’s Hands.

  2. “Dynamics of Addiction”? Why is he taking that class?

  I guess I know why. I guess I just don’t like the reason.

  I guess I was stupid to think he just one day up and decided to steal stuff. I guess there had to be other things going on. I’ve been sticking up for the Jiminy I remember, but can I stick up for this Jiminy, too?

  I have to, because how else can he ever want to come home? But if he’s so different, do I want him to come home? I do want him to come home. No matter what stuff he did while he was gone.

  I do want him to come home.

  I do want him to come home.

  I do want him to come home.

  There, magic. It’s true now.

  3. Dad. Should I show Dad the letter? I can’t decide.

 
October 3 (Em’s diary, second entry)

  I showed the letter to Gran and she up and called out, “Trace, you come see this letter your son wrote!” Bunches of other people clustered round listening as Gran read it out—Mrs. Ovey and Uncle Near and Auntie Chicoree and Cody and Jenya and Clara—it seemed like everybody, and I could see Dad clench his jaw, and I felt a little jaw-clenchy myself, I have to admit, a bit of hot shame, especially when I saw Cody looking all serious and frowning. I just about wanted to strangle Gran at that moment.

  But when Gran stopped, Mrs. Ovey said, “You’ll bring him home yet Minnow Em,” and Uncle Near patted Dad on the back and said, “That’s a hopeful sign.” And then Small Bill reminded me that it was time for him and me to take over from Lindie and Fairchance thatching the roof on the Oveys’ house, and Mrs. Tiptoe called up from outside that supper would be ready by sunset in the Tiptoes’ house.

  Houses that are done now:

  Winterhulls’

  Tiptoes’

  Oveys’ (almost)

  Fearings’ (partway)

  Ikahos’ (partway)

  Ours and Uncle Near and Aunt Chicoree’s are up next.

  October 4 (Em’s diary)

  Getting this down quick before we have to leave for school. This morning my eyes opened, and I was just staring at the roof of the Winterhulls’ house without really noticing I was awake. On one side of me I could hear Tammy’s slow breathing. On the other was a rumpled quilt, so that meant Gran was already up. Next to that was Auntie Chicoree. I couldn’t really see her in the dim gray, but I could hear the little sighs and swallowing noises of baby Dawn-day nursing. The sea sounded way far away, so it was probably low tide. Uncle Near’s voice came floating in from outside, not loud, but when it’s quiet and you’re awake, you can hear things.

  “Setting that out for Jiminy? ‘sgood. Everybody been wondering when you’d bend toward the poor boy.”

  I sat up. It had to be Dad Uncle Near was talking to, but I didn’t catch Dad’s reply. I wriggled out from under Tammy’s left leg, which she’d flung across me in her sleep. She murmured, but didn’t wake up. I tiptoed past Auntie Chicoree and Dawn-day. Wade was on Auntie Chicoree’s other side, not asleep either, and when I went by he whispered, “We don’t have to get up yet.” My nod and my shrug meant I know, but—. I slipped into the kitchen. Gran and Silent Soriya and Pearlheart’s granny, Granny Blessing, were flaking yesterday’s redfish and beating eggs for breakfast, no one talking.

  “I’m going out,” I mouthed to Gran, and stepped out the front door and off the veranda onto the mud. Uncle Near and Dad and Mr. Winterhull were tying sacks of oysters to the side of the house. There’s more places to dig for them at low tide, so you get up early if you have to.

  “Did you see Brett, Jenya, and Cody had a good haul, too,” Uncle Near was saying, and then he caught sight of me. “You’re up early. Feel like staying home from school and helping shuck oysters?” he asked, but Dad said, “She’s gotta go to school. Gotta have some kids showing their faces there every day to keep all the dry-landers happy.”

  “Sooner they all forget about us again, the better,” Uncle Near said, making a face, adding something quickly about being grateful and all.

  “Tomorrow’s Saturday. I can help all day long, tomorrow,” I offered, and Uncle Near smiled. Sizzling sounds and good smells were coming from the kitchen, and Anna Winterhull appeared in the kitchen door and said “Daddy!” real loud, and Mr. Winterhull hopped onto the veranda and lifted her up and set her on his shoulders. Uncle Near went in too, and that left me and Dad alone by the sacks of oysters.

  I glanced at our grounded dinghy—which made it through the hurricane, even though our house didn’t (Dad found it near the gas station in Sandy Neck and patched it up). There was a Mason jar there, full of water, just waiting for the sun to rise. I hugged Dad tight.

  “Sun’ll be up soon,” I said.

  Dad smiled a pained smile, opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, then opened it again—and closed it. Then we both giggled.

  “Talking with the catch again?” I asked.

  “Practicing for best fish-out-of-water impression,” he said. Then, eyes to the horizon, he added, “It’s starlight I was catching, actually. All those stars, pouring straight down into the Gulf each night … I’ll leave the jar out, though. I reckon this is strong water and can carry starlight and fresh risen sunlight together.”

  I never heard of anyone making a charm with starlight in water before. “What’ll the starlight bring Jiminy?” I asked.

  Dad hesitated. “Starlight’s for your mother,” he said, after a moment. “She’s so set against the ordinary charms, I thought something different, something real fine, real rare, real … real beautiful might …”

  So he didn’t set the water out for Jiminy at all. Jiminy’s an afterthought. It was for Ma. He wants her back so bad he’s trying to invent new magic to do it with. Star water. Whoever heard of it? But maybe it’ll work.

  “Come on in and get breakfast, you two. Em, you got school to get ready for.” It was Gran, standing in the doorway. Dad tapped the top of the Mason jar with his hand, and I knew his wish was going from his heart down his arm and out his fingertips. I touched the jar too. Be strong, water. Hold sunlight for Jiminy as well as starlight for Ma.

  Water is strong. I know it is. It holds all the fish, and the whales and the dolphins, and the kelp forests. It can hold both sunlight and starlight.

  October 4 (Em to Jiminy)

  Dear Jiminy,

  Thanks for your letter! I will write to you lots! I’m glad you’re not in the same part of the prison as that other guy, Ace. I’d say I hope you flatten anyone else who tries to bother you, but I guess probably you’re supposed to do stuff like walking away and counting to ten instead, huh?

  If you can get into a work release program, does it have to be in Louisiana, or can you get one closer? I wish you could be some place that was easy to visit.

  Dad ain’t mad at you no more. He collected the first light of day for you, the other day, for luck. And I showed Gran your letter, and—please don’t get steamed, you know how Gran is—she read it out, and everyone is pulling for you.

  Dad said something, though, when he was bringing us back here. He said you were sour on Mermaid’s Hands.

  Are you?

  I hope you’re not.

  There’s so much to do here now. Mr. Tiptoe had the idea of adding windmills to our houses. Think about it! We’d never have to be stingy running the generators. We could have power whenever we want. Sounds only fair, right? Wind battered us down, so wind can serve us to make up for it. The parents and grandparents are arguing about whether we should take help from the Minorities Mobilize people when it comes to designing them or just do it ourselves. I told Dad we could probably find directions on the computer in the library, once it reopens. He looked pretty doubtful about the idea, but the library’s where I learned more about Kaya’s country, and Kaya’s the one that got the Minorities Mobilize people to save Mermaid’s Hands.

  I should tell you about Kaya. She’s in prison too, only she didn’t do anything wrong. only it’s because of religion and not having any rights. She’s all alone in her prison, and it’s over a volcano. Pretty bad, huh. You said it helps just knowing there are people looking out for you. I’ve written Kaya a lot of letters, so maybe that counts as looking out for her? She hasn’t answered recently.

  Tammy wants to add something here. Tomorrow I promised Uncle Near I’d help with oyster shucking, but I’ll go into the post office early and mail this.

  Hi Jiminy this is Tammy writing. I miss you. Thank you for writing a letter. You remember my bottle cap collection? Its all gone now but there’s all kinds of stuff coming in with the tide these days. Wade found a mirror that’s a regular mirror on one side and a magnafine mirror on the other side, and I found a lisince plate. I’ll show you when you come home. Em says that may still take a while but dint you say in your letter about
work release? Now Em is talking to me and trying to explain and I can’t consintra concintr think about what I’m writing you. Love Tammy.

  And love from me, too. Write again soon, please!

  Em

  October 5 (Em’s diary)

  Mailed the letter to Jiminy. I wonder if it counts as lying, what I said about Dad collecting the first light of day. I don’t feel like it’s lying, but it don’t quite feel like the truth, either.

  Last night all the grown-ups got together at the Tiptoes’ for a talk-it-out about people coming and staying in Mermaid’s Hands, I think because of the Minorities Mobilize woman who’s been spending so much time with Tomtale Ikaho and staying at the Ikahos’ house. Marcela, her name is. No kids are allowed at a talk-it-out, and not Marcela or even Cody, because he ain’t yet been sung into a genealogy. A lot of the older kids hung around in the water listening, though, three and four of us to a dinghy. I wasn’t going to go at first; I was going to stay with Tammy, who’d been having breathing problems all day and was resting, but after I made her some of Mrs. Ovey’s tea, she shooed me off.

  “I’m minding Dawn-day. She won’t stay asleep without a body to snuggle up to, Auntie Chicoree said, and this way Auntie Chicoree can go to the talk-it-out.”

  She looked so proud. Ma always says no whenever Auntie Chicoree or Mrs. Tiptoe offer to watch over Tammy on her bad days because, Ma says, “They’ll just put her to work chasing the littles, and the child needs rest.” But lying down with Dawn-day is a job you can do resting.

  “I’m helping out,” Tammy said, letting Dawn-day suck on her pinky finger, and it was true. She was helping.