by Jill Cooper
As he stopped to gaze up at the sky, the minister saw a collection of hunters flying by. He stared at them and his mouth dropped open as they transmitted information to him. His vision clouded with a blue haze and received new orders.
****
Robert stared between the shade and the window and watched the minister hurry away. “He’s gone,” he said, and Sandra breathed a sigh of relief.
“We’ve bought ourselves two more days.”
“And what happens at the end of those two days?” he asked, even though he knew life might lead him to this, but Margret he hadn’t bet on. “Can we really stay silent when Margret helped Abby sneak away?”
“She stole rations, Robert.” Sandra’s eyes narrowed. “She’s dead whether we come to her aid or not. The ministers don’t forgive people.”
“It seems wrong, anyhow, to make a liar out of her.”
“We protect Abby by any means necessary. You knew that the day we learned she could read. When we promised to protect her secret all those years ago.”
Robert remembered his perfect toddler easily making out letters and reading things only meant for the ministers, and he remembered the pains they went to in order to hide her abilities from the public. Lucky for them, by the age of four, she understood it was wrong—like a dirty secret—and never even told him, but once she started collecting books…
Ever since that day, Abby had been moving further away from them. Robert wished he had developed the courage to tell her he knew, and that it was okay, but instead, he had cowered and hid in the dark.
“The hunters will come for us,” Robert muttered, “then we won’t be able to protect her anymore.”
“Then we die in silence.” Sandra stepped up and gripped his hands in hers. “We let them do whatever it is they need to do, but we never utter a word. Do you hear me, Robert Taylor? You protect our daughter as you promised to so long ago.”
Robert nodded and kissed his wife’s cheek. “You’re far stronger than you ever gave yourself credit for.”
She laughed. “If not for this back problem, I’d run away crying, don’t be fooled into believing otherwise. Abby’s the strong one and I hope she learns what she needs to. She can’t save us, but the world…she might still be able to save the world.”
“It’s time to open the shop,” Robert said, “are you ready, dear?”
Sandra shook her head. “Not that I have any choice. You go ahead and open the doors. We have to go on for now. Everything must appear normal.” Her voice dropped down low, “For Abby.”
“For Abby.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tarnish Rose
The journey to Beantown took nearly a day. By the time we arrived, we were both exhausted from travel and switching train cars to make sure the conductors hadn’t discovered they had stowaways.
Beantown stood on the expanse of open fields and countries. These were the fields that would grow the food and crops for all of the civilized land. In essence, Beantown was the heart of everything. A gray fog appeared to hang over the city as we made our way off of the railcar. From the back of the train station, I peered out past the chain link fence and saw soiled fields and brown, dying grass.
Where were the workers? Where were the crops?
“You two? You lost?”
I glanced behind us and saw a conductor with a long mustache curving around his mouth. He scowled at us with impenetrable eyes and my mouth fell open. It had never dawned on me we’d get caught after we got off the train.
“Just needed some fresh air is all, sir.” George said, his arm closed around my shoulders.
I nodded, and my hand fell to my satchel, making sure everything inside was as safe as could be. “I felt a little sick.”
The conductor went ‘humph’ with his lips and it blew his long mustache up. “The young, thinking they can go where they please. Well, I tell you, I have supervisors and they don’t take too kindly to you ‘getting fresh air’. Come with me.” He made a big swooping motion with his arm and carried on, expecting us to follow.
If we ran across the charred plains we’d be captured before we reached the horizon. Going with him was our only choice, but I hated it. I threw a desperate glance at George, and a moment later we were following him back toward the station.
“In here, over there.” The conductor pointed us toward a line. Each line filled with desperate, tired looking people. With a sigh, we fell behind everyone.
A woman cast a glare at me. “Well, aren’t you a young little thing?”
“Recently married,” George said to her, his arm around my waist protectively. “Beantown is our new home.”
She sighed with a shake of her head that said she was done talking to us. “Good luck to them, that’s all I have to say,” she muttered to herself more than to us.
What were we getting ourselves into?
It took an hour for us to progress to the front of the line, and my feet ached so much I found little reason to care until my eyes fell on the stern conductor managing the line. “Papers? Identification.”
My stomach turned but his question wasn’t unexpected. George flustered, rushing on with an excuse. “Papers? Well, funny little thing…uh…”
I slapped him in the stomach and gave the conductor my identification and my papers. “Forgive my new husband, he gets nervous easily, as men sometimes do.” I gave the conductor a wink and a smile, turning on the charm.
He chuffed a grin, too wrapped up in my ID badge. “Forgive me, daughter of the merchant and one with the minister’s seal?”
I beamed proudly, stood straighter and gave a little shrug. “Well, you know…if we could get going, important people are waiting for us on the other side of town.” I moved forward, but the conductor raised his white-gloved hand and I walked right into it.
“Not so fast, if you’re married I need to see his identification and your marriage license.” He grinned, pulling his hands behind his back. “Wasn’t born yesterday, you know.”
“This line of questioning is most unexpected.” I stood taller and held my nose at a certain angle that only a merchant’s daughter could get away with. “Obviously we haven’t had time to get his identification. My father has the marriage license and we’ll get it from him and present it to you, soon as the situation arises.”
“It arises now, Ms. Taylor, or we’ll have to call the minister’s guard to sort out this situation personally.”
Indignantly, my eyebrows rose but inside all I felt was terror. No one had ever given me such a hard time before. I had always been able to talk my way out of situations. “If you will just give me a minute—”
“Minute’s up. Now, excuse me, but a lot of other people with the proper paperwork are waiting to enter Beantown, so if you would step over this way…” He gestured for us to move and in that instant, someone stepped up between us and threw an arm around my shoulders, and the other around George’s.
I gasped in surprise and took in the sight of his face. Young enough, with brown hair and a hardened jaw with a scar running down one cheek, he didn’t look like he was unhinged, but his crooked smile said otherwise.
“These chaps are with me, Marty. I know they don’t look like it, but these whippers are guests of my father. Let them in, okay, so they don’t get me into any more trouble with the old man.” Whoever he was, he grimaced and contorted his face. “You know how he gets when he’s been on the drink, dontcha?”
Far as I knew, the drink was illegal. My mouth fell open as the conductor swiped his hand back and forth. “Hurry it up, before I lose my job. Or before I change my mind, Rupert Rutherford!”
What kind of a horrible name was that? Who named their son something that didn’t roll off the tongue. This man’s name more or less tripped and stumbled its way out!
Rupert offered the conductor a smile and then pulled us past him, his elbows still locked around our heads as if we were hugging like old friends. “Just keep smiling,” Rupert said through a clenche
d jaw and gritted teeth.
We hurried past the turnstile and into the small farming village. The roads were dirt, and my black boots sank into the thick substance. The air had a pungent smell from the animals and the stucco houses were small with triangle roofs. So different from the homes with their brick exteriors I was used to in Rottenwood. Here in Beantown, each home was small, with a fence, and had a few animals in their yards. Goats, chickens, pigs. Off toward the fields, I smelled cows and horses—even saw a few.
We rounded around a wagon filled with hay, where a small girl stomped her feet in mud so thick her dress was stained with the color of it, but her smile was brighter than the sunshine—if there was sunshine.
Rounding around some wagons, Rupert checked behind us. “In the clear so far.” He plucked a piece of wheat growing and stuck it into the corner of his mouth.
“Who are you? And where are you taking us?” George asked. It was a good question and one I would’ve asked if given the opportunity.
A piercing whistle blew in the direction of the train station. Glancing back, I saw the charge of many boots toward us. “Taylor! Which way did you see this Taylor go!”
“Spoke to soon,” Rupert said. “Run!”
We broke apart and caught our stride, running around the bend and up the hills toward a collection of farms. Mountains were the backdrop, gray and white, cold and stark, unable to grow anything from the looks of it. We headed perpendicular to them, running through Beantown. We jumped over low fences, our boots pounding into pig slop, goat feces, and unmentionables that I couldn’t even mention.
When we came to a clothes-line he stole himself a long brown overcoat made from a material I hardly ever saw in such quality leather, and a wide brimmed hat. He placed it on his head, turned back to me and I saw he wore a smile. A smile!
He was enjoying himself!
“This way! Shortcut!”
Rupert bent down and went through a valley and we followed him. George grabbed my shoulder to tell me he was still there and I didn’t bother to look behind me. Instead, I just continued on until the valley ended and we ran through a stream. Small pebbles lined a ravine. My feet were muddy, now wet, and tired.
But our destination lay before us. A cabin sat on the stream, and behind it a tall arching mountain with peaks, valleys, its grey and forbidding nature, just out of reach as fog and mist circled above.
“Quickly, to the cabin.”
“They’ll find us there,” George argued. “That’s the only possible place we can go. They’ll know to look for us there.”
“They won’t reach it. They won’t even see it.” Rupert’s eyes twinkled as they fell onto me. “Hurry. You know what to do, don’t you, Tarnish Rose?”
“How is it you know my name?” I asked, drawing a step back.
“We all know your name and we’ve been waiting for you. Do what you’ve come to do, but make it fast or you might not get a chance to do it.”
Behind us, I heard the charge of footsteps and I studied what lay before me. A ravine, mountains surrounding low valleys. “We’re here,” I said breathlessly and gripped George’s hand. “The map. We’re here!”
“It all lies before you. Everyone’s waiting, but please if you wouldn’t mind putting a little spring into your step so we don’t all end up going to the gallows….”
“How?” George scolded. “How does she do it? I don’t see an entrance to anything.”
I didn’t either. Anxiety clustered in my gut as my hand burned. Fire had come to life in my cupped palm and a moment later the sparks spread out and hit an invisible wall in front of us. It shimmered, and the mirage of the cabin fluxed and rippled as if under water. Placing my golden palm against the opening, I stood in both places.
The wall dissolved, a shimmering cut in the fabric of reality was the only way to describe it. A prism of colors—red, blue, and gold—cut from what I knew was the world. I reached out and touched it and it floated up through my fingertips. Such joy. I laughed, never feeling so inspired, so touched by something.
When I opened my eyes, we stood on the other side of the wall, protected by the hidden mirage as the minister guard ran past us, as if we weren’t even there, but I guess they weren’t. The guard was dull, gray, void of color and as I gazed at George for the first time, I saw his eyes were blue and the belt he wore had a golden clasp.
“Your eyes are blue,” I whispered to him. I thought they were brown, just like everyone else’s.
He touched his face as I gazed around at where we stood. There was no cabin, but the small stream I thought we were standing in, fed to a giant lake and up ahead there was a flowing blue waterfall sparkling in the sunlight. The streams of light were bright on my face—hot. I tilted my head back, just to feel it. To feel everything that the characters in my books had felt, I didn’t know how I could ever give this up.
It was joy. Pure and strong, as was everything around me. The green mountains, the blue sky, and the tweeting of birds.
“Have you ever seen anything as beautiful as this?” George asked and took my hand, pulling me in closer as we walked side by side toward the shimmering lake in the distance.
“I do hope that you both can swim,” Rupert said. He leaned up against the bark of an oak tree, his foot up against it’s base. The sprig of wheat twirled in his mouth, his head bent down low, and he cackled with laughter.
Rupert lifted his head toward mine. His chin was much more angled than it had been before and he had long blond hair. A man with long hair? I had never fashioned such a thing possible. He lifted his hat to me and I saw he had pointed ears!
“What are you seems to be the more appropriate question.”
He smiled. “I can play with people’s minds. Put things in their thoughts that weren’t there before. I made you see Rupert just as I made that conductor see who he needed to, to get us out of there. Clever of me, eh?” He grinned. “Go on, it’s okay to say it!”
“Very clever of you….what do we call you?” I asked.
He bowed at the waist. “I’m nothing more than Mirror, I reflect back what people want to see, but you can call me whatever you like, Tarnish Rose. Curator. The one that will finally put me and my friends back where we belong.” He bounced his fists up and down with excitement. “Back into the books!”
George sighed. “This is all too much to take in.”
“Sorry,” Rupert held his hands up. “Sorry, I know I can get excited. I’ll dial it back.” He walked backwards. “Dialing it back, dialing it back…Welcome, friends, to Imagination. The place between the civilized and the barbaric. The place between real life and dreams where fantasy was let out of books and we suffer for it. We do, every day.”
He turned sad, uncommon for him.
“When they burned all those books, hunted those responsible for creating music and art, all that energy, well it had to go somewhere.” Mirror splayed his hands out to the landscape. “And here it is. Some of us are just thoughts and ideas, and others ripped straight from the pages. Some of us remember what it felt like to burn before we were free. Those ones you must avoid, no matter the cost.”
His face darkened and I wondered if he was such a person, but then he broke out in a wide smile and I had to think not. “A real drag, eh? But we’re all here. Now for a reason. Even if that reason is only to help you cross over to the rebels, curator.”
The rebels, my eyes widened with delight. “You can get me to them?” I asked.
He nodded. “One of them waits for you now. He meant to come to Beantown to meet you himself, but it was too dangerous for him. He, too, is wanted by the immortal ministers and their hateful claws. It’s best if it’s one of us. We’re tricky creatures. Ministers can’t catch us!” He squealed with the sound of joy and then ran off toward the mountain.
I laughed as I watched him and caught sight of George laughing, too, with a shake of his head. “He makes me forget why we’re here and how serious it is.”
I felt the same way. “Shou
ld we catch him?”
“Let’s!”
I held my robe up so I wouldn’t trip and I squealed as George quickly gained on me. By the time we reached Rupert, George had caught me and I fell into his arms, sharing a gentle kiss with him.
“Eww,” Rupert said with a scrunch of his nose. “I’m not against love, don’t get the wrong idea. Just against the sight of two humans kissing,” he shuddered as if he couldn’t control it.
I gazed up at the waterfall that stood before us and I remembered what Rupert said about us swimming. Certainly we wouldn’t have to swim to the bottom of the pool, would we? I gazed down, seeing my reflection from my dark boots all the way up to my head.
“Is the entrance down there?”
“Through the waterfall, but the rocks are slippery so please be careful. If you fall in there,” Rupert pointed down with a grimace, “man eating mermaids.”
I laughed and stopped abruptly. “I do hope you’re joking.”
Rupert shrugged. “Not sure what kind of person would joke about man eating mermaids. Have you ever seen a tornado full of sharks? Because that’s the only thing that is worse than a flock of mer-creatures, but the forecast doesn’t call for one today.”
Was he joking? He had to be, didn’t he?
He beckoned us on and with a gentle grip and steps, we felt our way around the walks, beneath the waterfall. The cold water fell upon my head and I sputtered what fell into my mouth as we stepped into the cavern beneath the falls. The air changed and it was no longer cool, but warm and humid.
The sputtering of a hot spring against the rocks misted and when I trained my eye on it, I spotted flowers growing beside them. “Flowers,” I whispered and rushed over to them. Real ones, with color—purple and white paisleys. Oh, they were so beautiful. I just wanted to smell them, touch them.
“Sssh!” Rupert hissed. “You’ll scare them.”
As I got to them the flowers pulled back, hidden inside the rocks. I froze, disappointed and behind me, Rupert cleared his throat. “There are more this way and these ones have been waiting for you. Please.”