Blue Window

by Adina Rishe Gewirtz

  “Useless?” Susan repeated, surprised.

  The girl nodded. “Of course. Espin, this is the one, isn’t it?”

  She’d indicated a boy near the back of the group. Susan saw him now. It was the boy from the shed. He pushed forward, grinning.

  “Yes, Omet,” he said. “That’s the one.”

  Susan was suddenly ashamed that she hadn’t asked his name yesterday.

  Behind the dark-haired girl, the group had gotten restless. A slim girl with red curls that extended faintly onto her cheeks slipped past Espin.

  “So how did you get out? How many others did you see?”

  It was like someone had rung the bell at recess time. The others surged forward.

  “Do you know Asto? Is she still there?”

  “What about Elta? Short? And with brown hair? Scar over her eyes?”

  “Oto, he’s got a limp — right foot’s twisted.”

  “Yand! You’d know him ’cause he squints, like this!”

  They smelled of sweat and dirt, and the noise of their questions bounced off the high ceilings and echoed across the room. Names and more names, too many to make out.

  Omet gave a great clap.

  “Ssst! Give them a minute! Not all at once!” She shoved a few kids back, and Susan took a good breath of humid air. Kate clung to her shirt, and Jean had practically climbed onto Max’s shoulders. Nell stood elbows out, trying to keep a small perimeter of space around her.

  Near Susan, two little boys danced on the balls of their feet, straining to hold back the questions.

  Omet nodded. “Now,” she said. “Slow like. Of course you’re all impatient to know who they’ve seen. They must have been there a long time, to look the way they do.”

  Susan glanced, half desperate, at Max and Nell, but they looked bewildered. Omet turned back to them.

  “So, slow like, if you don’t mind.” She bent her head, waiting.

  None of them said anything for a minute. Finally Max cleared his throat.

  “You’re talking about the workshops?”

  The girl looked up. “What else?”

  The children had begun inching in again, and Susan could feel the heat radiating from their small bodies.

  “They take you from a village?” a boy whispered.

  “Mines?”

  “Ruins?”

  “Do you know my sister? She’s got brown hair, like me!”

  Again, they were shouting. She tried to follow the rush — sisters, brothers, friends —

  Another clap from Omet.

  “Forgive us,” she said, shaking her head. “But we’ve lost a few, and they’re missed.”

  Susan looked at the ragged little group, thin faces dusted with hair and hollowed out by hunger.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “We don’t know anything. We don’t . . .” She tried to find the right word, but there were no right words, and to her dismay she blurted the ones Liyla had supplied: “We don’t remember.”

  Nell shot her a look and she cringed. The younger kids didn’t seem to register what she’d said. But some of the older ones frowned and bit their lips.

  Omet’s expression darkened. “Don’t remember? How can you go through the workshop and not remember?” Even she stepped closer now.

  “We’re not from here. We come from a different place altogether.”

  Like a balloon leaking air, the children slumped.

  “Different place?” a boy said. “What different place is there?”

  Yali shoved her way through. “You sure you didn’t see Daleli? She’s my sister. Looks a lot like me. She was only took this month.”

  Omet frowned and tugged Yali back. “All right, you all heard them. They don’t remember. So leave them be. We oughta eat, anyway. Isn’t it rally day?”

  A few of the children nodded half-heartedly. They stepped back, and suddenly the open space around the five of them felt to Susan like a slap. She watched Omet knock Modo in the shoulder. “Come on, Modo! Is that all I get? A grunt? Don’t tell me you’re not hungry?”

  The boy only hung his head. A dark-skinned girl rubbed his arm.

  “His brother got took today,” she said. “The sleepy one.”

  “Oh.” Omet said. She patted the boy on the shoulder. “Hey, Modo, we’ll save you some.”

  The boy nodded, and Omet sighed. She swiped at her jaw and looked around at all the dour faces. “Being hungry won’t make it better, will it? Go fetch the grub, Sefi. You, too, Espin.”

  Sefi was the redheaded girl who’d started the rush of questions. She and Espin ducked out of the room and returned carrying a dirty sack. When they saw it, the children brightened.

  “What’d you get?”

  “Good haul?”

  “Any cheese today? I like cheese!”

  Omet had taken charge of the food, but before she could answer, a girl rushed into the room, breathless.

  “Omet! A slasher! He nearly had me! I couldn’t shut the door in time!”

  Omet dropped the sack.

  “Where is he? In the hall?”

  She needn’t have asked. They heard the thing, whatever it was, slamming and roaring in the hallway. A door smacked against a wall, and Omet’s head came up.

  “Second room!” she shouted. From the corner, she snatched a thick stick. The older children did the same, plucking weapons from the pile Susan had taken for garbage. Modo hefted a rusty chain; Sefi grabbed a piece of broken pipe.

  Omet shoved an old fence post into Susan’s hands.

  “You little ones stay put!” she directed. “The rest of you, come!”

  They ran toward the sound, and Susan saw Max heft Liyla’s knife. Nell had armed herself with the jagged remains of a broomstick. Down the hall, whatever had gotten in was smashing itself against the walls, but the howling had stopped.

  Ahead, Omet stepped lightly into a stuffy, shadowy room. What had once been tall windows were boarded, and a few broken gaps leaked sunlight onto the floor. Beside one of these, a broad animal, its head down and its back humped, stood panting, its shoulder to the wall.

  “Ay! Slasher!” Omet shouted.

  The thing lifted its head and turned. It had the shape of a man, but it didn’t look like one. While the sleepers’ children had the faintest coat of hair on their faces, this thing peered from a thicket of it. The heavy growth spread all over its body, and its teeth, long and yellow, curved to sharp points over its blackened lips. When it saw them, it stopped panting and growled softly. Omet lifted her stick, jerking her head to the right.

  “That way,” she said to Susan. “And keep your stick up.”

  Susan raised the slab of splintering wood and moved to the right to join the others in a half circle around the beast. From the corner of her eye, she saw Nell, white-knuckled and clutching the broomstick. Max held the knife in front of him, point out.

  A low rumble from the creature; its eyes darted from child to child. Modo shook the chain, and with a snarl, the creature’s head swiveled his way. Omet and Espin edged around to the side of it.

  “Cut off all paths but the one out,” Omet said in a low voice. Yali and Sefi stepped into the hall and blocked the way.

  The thing half crouched, its arms brushing the floor, and growled softly.

  “Careful now,” Modo said. “Keep your eyes on him. He’s nearly ready.”

  “For what?” Max whispered.

  “To slash. Arms up, and try to look bigger than you are.”

  Susan squared her shoulders and raised her head. All the time, she watched the thing as it bobbed there on its matted feet.

  Suddenly, Nell gasped, and for a split second, Susan turned her head.

  “No!” Omet yelled.

  Too late, Susan realized her mistake. She wheeled back, but the creature had launched itself at her. A monster the size of a grown man, it snatched at her as she tried to jump aside, and she fell with a thud. The blow knocked the breath from her, and she struggled, gasping, as the thing lunged. A sharp
pain in her shoulder! She cried out and clawed at the creature, half suffocating from the foul stench. Her fingers closed on a stiff bristle of hair, and she yanked backward. She pulled her other arm free of the monster’s weight and shoved at its putrid face, slick with spittle.

  The others were on it by then, pounding at it with sticks and yanking at its head. They shouted and the beast screamed, losing its grip on her and scrabbling at her neck, trying to regain it. Gasping for air, Susan squirmed beneath it. Over the din, she heard Max and Nell shouting. Spots swam before her eyes and she thought her ribs would snap when suddenly the beast was off her. She looked up to see Max dragging the thing by its ears. He hauled it backward, and Modo slapped the chain around its neck. He tugged sharply and the creature flailed, falling onto its back. Susan panted and coughed, rolling onto her knees to try to find air.

  She gulped, her shoulder on fire, as Nell dropped beside her.

  “Susan! Susan! You okay?”

  She could only cough and nod and look up in time to see Omet and Modo dragging the thing across the floor as it clawed at the chain around its neck.

  Max helped her to her feet.

  “It bit you!” he cried.

  For another moment, Susan watched as the others dragged the thing to the door. Its feet scraped against the tiles, but every time it gained purchase, Omet and Modo jerked the chain and it fell back, gurgling, until they heaved it into the hall. Susan heard the thud of the outer door. She could finally breathe.

  Nell took her arm. With shaking fingers, Max touched the small hole in her shirt.

  “It’s not too bad,” she told him. “I’m okay.”

  Her brother’s face looked ashen. He didn’t say anything.

  “Really, it’s fine. Not too deep.” She tugged at her shirt and saw a vivid bruise forming there. “See? It didn’t even break the skin.”

  Max sighed shakily and stepped back. “I dropped the knife. I didn’t even stab it when I should have.”

  Susan took another long, welcome breath. “Well, that’s good. Sometimes a wounded animal’s even worse than an angry one, right?”

  Nell’s grip tightened on her arm.

  “That was no animal,” she said.

  “What? What do you mean?”

  Nell’s round face looked pasty. She eyed the small hole in Susan’s shirt.

  “I saw it. A second before it jumped you. That thing had on pieces of clothes. Whatever it is now, it used to be a man.”

  She’s right,” the redheaded girl said. Outside, Susan could hear the slasher howling and pounding the wall. “They’re people, or something like.” She tilted her head at them. “Didn’t you see them back in the workshop? Some say they get made there.”

  Susan put a hand to her bruised shoulder and shuddered.

  “Sefi, what story are you telling now?”

  Omet had returned with the others, who now collected weapons that had been tossed aside when they wrestled the beast away.

  “Only asking,” Sefi said. She kicked at a crack in one of the floor tiles. “That’s what I heard, anyway.”

  Max ran a hand through his sweaty hair, making it stand on end.

  “Is that true?” he asked, sounding a little sick. “Somebody made that thing on purpose?”

  Omet only shrugged. She hefted the rusty chain and slung it over her shoulder. Modo collected Susan’s fence post.

  “Nobody knows,” Omet said. “That’s one story, but there are others. Sleeper lost to a nightmare, I once heard; only that’s no sleeper I ever saw. Take your best guess which one’s right.”

  The slasher gave a final scrape and howl, then subsided. Omet let out a grateful breath. “Off to go after someone else’s supper,” she said. She turned and led them down the corridor, back to the room where Kate and Jean waited, huddled beside the black stove with three of the smaller children. Susan tugged at her shirt, trying to hide the torn part.

  Modo took his chain from Omet and threw it into the corner with a loud clank.

  “Guess I’m ready to eat now,” he said.

  Omet smiled faintly and retrieved the sack. The sweaty, exhausted children promptly sat down on the floor and watched as she emptied it.

  “What a haul!” Modo said. “Omet, you’re the best!”

  The half smile widened into a grin. Susan took a quick inventory to find out what a haul meant for children of sleepers: a loaf of bread, a slab of cheese, an apple, and two plums of fairly good size.

  “Somebody left a door open,” Omet said. “Almost.”

  Having eaten at Liyla’s house, Susan steeled herself for what was coming, but to her surprise, Omet broke the cheese and bread into pieces and handed the fruits to Sefi, who produced a small knife from her pocket, carved chunks of apple and plum, and passed them around.

  “We don’t wait here,” the girl said when she saw Susan looking. “Too hungry for it.”

  Gratefully, Susan accepted her share. If she’d supposed having a bite taken out of her would damp her appetite, she discovered she was wrong. Two days of nothing but peaches and bread had carved a crater inside her.

  They ate, and Max being Max, he didn’t wait long to pursue the latest topic of interest: slashers. Susan listened to him go at the subject as if he were doing field research for National Geographic: Was anyone born a slasher? What did they eat? Where did they go when they weren’t in the city?

  To his obvious disappointment, the children didn’t really know. They traded stories of slashers who’d been grabbed by soldiers, slashers who’d gone after sleepers, slashers who kept to the ruins, eating small game.

  “We used to have one that howled all night outside our village,” Yali said. “My da finally went after it with a pitchfork. He didn’t catch it, but it never came back, either.”

  Susan raised an eyebrow. This was more interesting than what slashers ate. “You used to live in a village?”

  The girl tugged at one of the knots in her hair. “Uh-huh. Till my ma went sick and died, and my da started sleeping in the square. Purity burnt our house, so we had to come.” She eyed Susan. “Anything like that happen where you come from?”

  “We’re not from here,” Nell said firmly. “We told you that.”

  Yali opened her mouth to protest when Sefi leaned over and whispered to her. Susan caught only the words “fiddled with” and “brains rearranged.” She saw Nell flush. Yali said nothing more, but after a while, she moved next to Kate, staring so long that Kate turned to look back at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  Yali flushed. “Only, I just wondered if I could touch it.”

  Kate frowned. “Touch it?”

  “Your skin. It looks so nice.”

  Beneath the dirt and ash on her face, Kate flushed scarlet. She nodded.

  Susan watched the girl put a gentle finger to Kate’s cheek, then open her whole knobby hand to run it down the side of Kate’s jaw. She sighed.

  “It is soft,” she said. “I thought it would be.”

  Susan thought of the mark she’d left on Kate’s face earlier and looked down at her hands, her own cheeks burning. She glanced back at Kate and saw that her sister had closed her eyes, her lips trembling. Yali noticed.

  “It’s all right,” she said, withdrawing her hand. “I don’t have to touch if you don’t like it.”

  Kate sniffled. “No, it’s okay,” she said. “You can.”

  Again, Yali brushed her hand down Kate’s cheek.

  “Before my da went sleepy, he told me stories of a girl like you,” she said.

  Kate turned to look at her. “Me?”

  “Well, he said she’d be me, one day, when the change went back. Showed me the painting of her in the village market. It hung there, rally days, you know.”

  “Rally days? In the village?” Jean asked. “Like today?”

  Yali’s bumpy hair bounced as she nodded. “Only it was a red cloak who spoke. We were too far out for the Genius to come.”

  “Not as good,” Espin said.
“My ma grew up in the city, and she said the village rallies were so dull they could put the Purity to sleep.”

  Sefi snorted. “No! They were good! They even brought a dog out, though he wasn’t as big as Spark.”

  “Spark?” Nell asked her.

  “The Genius’s dog. You saw him, didn’t you?”

  Sefi sighed. “I used to love rally days!”

  Susan’s face grew hot as she remembered her own excitement at the rally. Her mind suddenly seemed like a foreign country.

  “What happens there, during the rally?” she asked. “I thought . . .” She didn’t know what she thought, really. “Things seemed like they looked different,” she finished lamely.

  Max lifted his head. “They did! I thought so!”

  Omet only shrugged. “Rally change, that’s all.” She shook her head and clucked sympathetically. “You’ve lost some, no doubt about that. But maybe you’ll get it back, if you try to think real hard.”

  Nell caught Susan’s eye and shook her head.

  The late-afternoon light had begun to soften, and the sounds outside the ground-floor windows were quieter now. Susan rubbed once more at the lump in her shoulder and stood up.

  “Thank you so much,” she said to the children. “For everything you did for us. They would have taken us without you. But now we’ve got to head out. The farther we get from the city, the better we’ll be, I think.”

  Omet frowned at her. “That might be so, but you’d be a fool to go now,” she said. “Night’s coming on. Red cloaks and their dogs check the borders, and that’s not to mention the slashers looking for dinner.”

  “And the green hoods,” Modo said. “Fanatics. Don’t forget them.”

  Sefi and Yali were nodding. Omet waited. Reluctantly, Susan sank back down.

  “I guess we’ll stay the night,” she said.

  Time, the ancients had written, is a vast house. In this room a man lives, in another he dies, in this one a child is born, and in this one, he holds his grandchild. Yesterday and tomorrow are mere illusions. All thens are now.