by Meg Elison
I intend to write through most of the night. I couldn’t sleep with this hanging over me, anyway.
CHAPTER 3
OMMUN
Alma was pregnant again.
This should not have been a surprise to anyone. Alma was continually pregnant, even as she was still nursing her triplets, born less than a year ago. She made the announcement with one of them suckling at her nipple, the rounded little face obscuring her pink areola with the fullness of her breast clear on all sides.
But the people of Nowhere who had refugeed to Ommun after the fall of Estiel had hardly seen any such thing. There had been one or two children born per year in Nowhere, and only in a good year. Mothers had been venerated all their lives for having borne a living child. Midwives had been trained for this, but many had only ever seen a handful of births.
Everyone out of Estiel was ragged and displaced. Nowhere was gone, burned to the ground by the late Lion of Estiel. Only a few had survived. Eddy had taken along the women and catamites of the city along with his own people. They had all suffered the same. Those who had lived in the Lion’s harem had been driven back over the bumpy, broken roads and open fields only to discover there was no city where they were told they would be safe.
When the bus pulled up and they had all piled out, Flora hadn’t known what to expect. There was nothing around, no sign of a city. Eddy had thrown off Kelda, his deerskin-clad companion from the fallen city of Womanhattan, and wouldn’t even look at Flora. He had tried to shoot Flora’s eye out only an hour before; Flora was not inclined to push. She waited. They all waited. There was nothing here, but nothing was better than where they had been.
Flora had seen Eddy take himself off and put on Etta. There were changes in the body: the slumping of shoulders, the dropping of chin. She watched Eddy drain out and Etta flow in like a change in the tide. She didn’t know why this moment called for Etta and not Eddy, but she accepted it. Neither Etta nor Eddy welcomed questions about this aspect of themselves.
Etta had stomped around for a minute, then tapped on a hollow-sounding place in the ground and a hole had opened up. In small groups, they had been ferried deep below, to the strange subterranean metal halls of Ommun, secret city beneath the plains.
Alma, the Prophet and leader of the underground people of Ommun, had welcomed them all, ordered hot baths and hot meals, made sure everyone had a clean bed and a beeswax candle. Alice and Sylvia the Midwife had immediately begun to care for others, though they themselves were just as hurt, as sick, as tired. Alma’s rabbity helper-man, Neum, had recruited assistance from others and worked long into the night, bandaging wounds and dispensing the precious few drugs they had salvaged. Alice had nothing left of her own fantastic inventory, and the waste of it made her swear in frustration.
Ommun welcomed the catamites of Estiel, sharp-tongued feminine boys who did not understand what to do when separated from their city with its electric lights and powerful, demanding men. They settled uneasily in twos and threes.
It welcomed too the refugees who had hid in the tunnels beneath Nowhere. Tommy the bather had sounded the alarm first, saving most of the other bathers and his friends. The guards in the towers had been shot; only a dozen men had made it out of a city of over a hundred. Tommy’s blond hair was full of dirt.
When that first, terrible night had come to an end, Flora had put a hand on the back of Alice’s neck.
“Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed.”
Alice had nodded to Sylvia. “You, too.” Sylvia had been almost too tired to hold up her head.
Etta had gone to sleep with Kelda early on that first night in Ommun. Etta’s elderly mother, Ina, had sought out a solitary refuge, pushing a chair beneath the handle of her steel door before she had been able to relax and drift away. Sylvia knocked at a door and smiled weakly when Rob from Nowhere answered, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in.
Flora and Alice took a room near the heart of Ommun, moving in as quietly as they knew how. Neum heard them nonetheless, and he appeared unobtrusively with hot water in a wide, flat basin, and clean clothes. These he dropped off with scarcely a word. Alma’s directive had been very clear: no one was to ask anything of these people until she said otherwise.
When at last all had been quiet, slips of paper had begun to whisper beneath Alma’s door. One of Alma’s ladies collected them from her chair as she kept watch. The count came in: thirteen men, five women, six catamites, no children. Each with a number corresponding to what room they had taken in the vast, labyrinthine warren that was Ommun, each with the name of the person or persons with whom they shared that room.
Alma sat up in bed, knowing everything there was to know, passing what she knew on to the daughter who clung to her breast. The one she had named after Etta.
On the night that Alma welcomed them all and counted their official numbers, the room had been packed with refugees out of Nowhere, Estiel, and Jamestown. Their combined body heat and breath warmed the room, but the fireplace still blazed. Etta the elder stood with her back to the wall, knowing that the women of Nowhere were watching with their mouths agape, feeling what she had first felt when she had stumbled into the nursery in Ommun. Despite the horror of their recent days, they would see the magic that Alma housed in her body.
In their midst, she looked nothing less than magic. They all shared the haunted look of people who had recently seen the worst life had to offer, dark circles beneath their eyes, arms crossed or hanging listlessly at their sides. Sparks in their eyes, here and there, but otherwise indistinguishable from the recently dead.
Alma glowed like a candle in the center of the room. Her red-gold hair was loose tonight, cascading over her shoulders and falling in shining ripples to her feet. Her skin was rosy pink, flushed with good health and early pregnancy. Her bare feet were soft and peeped from beneath her clean white gown blamelessly, her toenails clipped and neat with the help of her attendants.
Her face was absolutely serene, green-blue eyes wide and untroubled as she spoke to them.
“I am so glad you are with us, Sisters and Brothers. I know that your journey has been perilous, and that you left the house of the Lion cast down in your wake. I gather that we have Etta to thank for that. Etta, whose arrival here was prophesied and came to pass. You’ll all recall that I was given sight of these things before they came to be. That I sent Etta with the mish, that I knew she would bring great victory.”
The people of Ommun clapped a little, but the air was solemn and they kept their hands quietly cupped.
Etta did not stir when her name was mentioned.
“Let us all go forth in one accord,” Alma said as the child slackened at her breast, milk-drunk and asleep. She handed the baby off and tucked herself back into her clothes. “We have been given much, and so we must give. We have food storage and room enough for everyone who has come to us. We are blessed to add so many to our number, and we hope your bloodlines will strengthen and seed our own, until we are one people.”
A few people shifted where they sat. Mother Ina’s mouth compressed to a line.
Alma looked down, blinking in wonder. She looked up at them. “May Heavenly Mother guide me in my leadership so that I may unite us, build new families, and see to the births of many more living children.”
Ina rose in front of her chair, looking around at the people from Nowhere. She seemed to seek their assent, one set of eyes to the next. She found that she had it, and turned back to Alma.
“Alma,” she began.
The Prophet blanched. She was not accustomed to being addressed so informally. However, her brow uncreased as she smiled at the older woman.
“Alma, we are all thankful to be here, and we appreciate the safe place, the food, and the care we’ve been given. But I don’t know that we’re all planning to stay here and become a part of your city.”
“But Heavenly Mother—”
Ina interrupted her so smoothly and so gently that those listening almost did
n’t notice. Alma did, and her eyes blazed quietly.
“I don’t know that we all need you to speak over our destiny just now. Each of us must make her own choice. As a leader, I’m sure you know that.”
“Of course I do,” Alma said. “I just wanted you all to know that you’re welcome here. Ommun has always welcomed refugees, as long as they bring loving hearts and contrite spirits. We know that many newcomers may not share our faith, but I believe that the seed of faith is in you. I know you don’t bring a spirit of contention.” Her eyes sharpened a little and she all but stared Ina down.
Ina nodded her head once, sinking into her chair. Alma’s eyes did not leave her for a long moment.
“For today, I wish to dispense callings, for those who will accept them, and ask Ommun to stain those who will serve.”
Silence greeted her.
“Alice, will you found a drugmaking center here in our city, and train at least one apprentice in your way?”
Alice nodded, smoothing her hair, ducking her head.
“Sylvia, will you consult with the Midwives of Ommun, to help them in their chronicling?”
Sylvia looked around, her blue eyes huge, searching the room. Lucy and a few others raised their hands to her.
“Sure . . . uh, sure.” She nodded her head.
“Ina, will you work in the nursery? We have so very many babies this year, we could use another hand with them.” Alma smiled sweetly, obviously thinking this the greatest of favors.
Ina sat silent for a moment. “I’ll think about it.”
Alma’s smile faltered for a moment, but she picked it right back up. “Etta, will you join the mish and help bring more people to safety?”
Etta began to shake her head at once. “I decide where I go, and I go alone. I’m not interested in being sent or being part of a group.”
The temperature in the big room was boiling with so many bodies crammed in next to one another. No one was turning on the big fans to ventilate it; they would clear the hot air after the meeting had ended. Even still, everything seemed to go cold.
“You’re refusing your calling?”
Etta shrugged with the shoulder that was not pressed against the wall. “I don’t believe you have any authority to call me to anything.”
Alma’s face went white and her eyes darkened. “Very well,” she said flatly. “Sisters and Brothers, please stain these callings by raising your arm to the square.”
Around the room, the people of Ommun made a swift gesture of raising their right hands, elbows sharply bent. Folks from elsewhere merely watched, bewildered.
A few people stepped forward to speak with the Prophet as the meeting broke up, but she swept from the room, her attendants in tow, carrying her babies.
Flora walked up to Etta, approaching her carefully. “She didn’t call me to anything.”
Etta snorted. “Good. Better that you don’t fall into her hands.” She sighed and ran her fingers over the short curls of her hair. “I know. I know she saved us. I know that we’re lucky to be here. But I can’t handle this at all. Fuck her for trying to tell anyone what to do right now. It’s too soon.”
“But—”
“What was that shit about adding to their bloodline? Does she have any idea . . .” Etta trailed off, watching the mish boys pair off and disappear. Some of the catamites cast lingering glances in their directions, but none of the local boys seemed to notice.
“Is that why she ignores me? Because she knows I’m not a breeder?” Flora spoke in a low, nervous tone. She glanced over her shoulder. She did not know if there were any women like her in this city underground, but she doubted it.
I hate feeling this way. I hate dreading people figuring me out, dreading what they’ll say or do. I am exactly what I am and there is nothing wrong with me. So why am I worried that Alma knows what I’ve got between my legs? Why do I care what she makes of that?
Etta flinched a little at the word breeder. She raised a hand as if to lay it on Flora’s shoulder, then flinched again and let it fall. “I’m sure that’s not it. She called my mother to some bullshit, and Ina’s clearly past breeding.”
Flora watched the room empty out. She felt the air begin to lighten up as the fans stirred to life again. “I guess so.”
Alice appeared, laying her hand in the small of Flora’s back. “I’m done with today,” she said. “And I have work to do tomorrow, it seems. You ready for bed?”
Flora nodded, looking to Etta’s face for some trace of softness—some absolution or friendly farewell. There was none. Flora thought about the first time Eddy had put his hands on her and knew what she was, about the moment Etta had held a gun on her in the harem. She was never going to see acceptance in those dark-brown eyes again.
Maybe Eddy hates me for what I am. Maybe for what I did. Maybe because Alice still loves me.
Flora stared at Etta’s back, trying to read her in the lines of her body. As always, the body was written in a language she couldn’t read.
Etta’s eyes had turned back to Alma’s empty chair. She stared hard at the void there between the arms.
Disappointed, Flora walked away, holding Alice’s hand.
CHAPTER 4
The Book of Flora
Ommun
Fall
Year 104, Nowhere Codex
It seems as though a place as safe as this should feel better.
Nobody has threatened me with a gun since we came here. No one has hurt me or told me how they’d like to hurt me. Nobody has used my body as though I weren’t in it, or looked at me as though I were nothing at all.
We are free of the terrible stink of men and cats. We are out of the harem and away from that smelting city. Ommun might as well be another world.
But we are not free.
I don’t know what it is. I know I could leave and nobody would stop me. But I’d have to go alone, because Alice isn’t ready and Eddy wouldn’t have me. Can you ever really be free if you need somebody?
And I need somebody. I always have. I can’t sleep alone anymore. My own little house in Jeff City was one thing, though even then I found someone to be with at least once a week. But these days I’m all nightmares and even my breath seems to have a cost.
Ommun has soft beds and hot food, and women who act like they’re everybody’s Mother. They open their arms and let us inside, so what does that cost? Why does Eddy look at Alma like that? What does he know that I don’t?
If Eddy’s not free then I’m not free. If we’re not free, then we’re not really safe.
Ommun’s strange words come stranger to me than ever, but they’re not really new.
The Leaf: the young boys who do most of the manual labor, the ones who are too young to form the mish.
The mish: the older boys and young men who go out into the world to bring people back, or to raid like Eddy does. No girls leave Ommun.
Stain: to support people in their calling, and to show obedience to Alma and the order here in some larger sense (?).
Calling: whatever their job is. I remember in Jeff City, we all knew that what we did was important and that we all depended on each other, but there’s nothing like feeling that you get your work in life decreed by God. Calling is like job + destiny = your whole life, as the Midwife might say.
The scripture (sometimes the triple): the book of stories they base their religion on. I’ve read some of it. It’s much older than the Midwife’s book, and a lot of it is fanciful. Things that couldn’t have happened. They’ve also got one with a bunch of songs in it, this is also “scripture.”
Spake: Alma uses this all the time when she just means “said.” It’s used all over their scripture book, I think she just phrases things that way to add weight to her words.
Heavenly Mother: their god. The book mostly says Heavenly Father. It’s very old world. Fathers are everywhere; Mothers are special. I don’t know when the switch happened, but Alma never refers to God as a man. I’ve seen religion in many forms in my t
ravels, but living underground and focusing on a god who left you strict instructions on how to live makes it more intense here, I think. Everything the people of Ommun do is about this god, this tradition, this book.
They’re very into books here in Ommun. Mostly old ones, but they have a good library and it keeps getting better. All the kids learn to read while they’re still small, boys and girls alike.
Not much got out of Nowhere, but one thing that did is the Midwife’s diaries. Someone cleaned out the shrine in time, got everything they could into the tunnels before it all burned. Ina’s holding them now. I have Eddy’s old copy, but it’s not the complete book. Since I have no calling and nobody seems to need me, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to read her story until I know what she would have done. She was built to survive. Like me.
I remember reading in the very beginning that she assessed the world, after the Dying, to decide what her purpose was. She wasn’t a breeder. As much as she was a Midwife, she couldn’t do that work for years of her life. I’m a silk thrower, but without a tree full of worms, that means nothing. I have been a slave more than I have been anything else. That is not my purpose. But I don’t know what is.
Tomorrow, I go back to the beginning. To her beginning, to mine. Under the earth, I crack like a seed. Let’s see what I can grow into, see how long it takes me to reach the light.
CHAPTER 5
OMMUN
Kelda, the last survivor of Womanhattan, wearing the deer-leather clothes she had made herself ten summers ago, slept with Etta every night that Etta would have her. Since their first night together, Kelda had practically worshipped her. They had found each other, saved each other, and Kelda was as attached to her as any person could be.
Kelda woke to the sound of Etta washing her face. She stretched her tanned, scarred hunter’s arms and pulled her deerskin vest back on, began to lace it. The room smelled sour.