Nineveh's Child

by Gerhard Gehrke

  She got the bonus questions correct, of course, as well as the rest of the quiz. She dawdled as the other students pained over the exam and shot her furtive glances in hopes of some clue. Stevie had arrived late to class. He scribbled aimlessly on his test sheet until Dr. Hel took it from him, held it up, and showed the class a drawing of a fish, or maybe it was a dog or a horse. Whatever it was, Stevie appeared pleased with the results. Shannon and the other girls giggled.

  “Time’s up,” Dr. Hel said. “Perhaps if you arrive on time your performance might improve.”

  She reviewed the tests while the students sat and watched.

  “Well, the test scores can range from a possible zero to one hundred points. Today this class’s scores range from one hundred points down to twenty, if we prune Stevie’s test from the results. The curve won’t help most of you, unfortunately.”

  ***

  “Smart ass,” Stevie called Dinah before the first blow landed. He hit her in the stomach, knocking the breath out of her. Relative to her other beatings, this would evolve into mostly a pushing exercise, but she had been on that rare plateau that morning and the fall felt further.

  Shannon and Alena pushed at her from both sides. Her feet caught on themselves, and she found the floor. Dr. Hel was standing out of sight range just inside the classroom, speaking with another student. The thud of Dinah’s fall would get the teacher’s attention, but her schoolmates knew this. They dispersed in an instant, each dropping a parting epithet that made little sense but burned in the remembering.

  Dinah heard the gaggle’s echoes as they slipped down the hallway, a trio of demons wallowing in the fresh memory of their petty torture.

  “Get up, Dinah,” Dr. Hel said.

  Dinah got up, straightened out her jumpsuit, and picked up her tablet.

  “I’m fine,” she said, but Dr. Hel hadn’t asked. Dinah didn’t look at her. She had seen the expression on her teacher’s face before, the pity masked as compassion. Dinah’s eyes started to burn, and she walked as fast as possible back to her room, where she locked the door behind her and flopped on her bed, her mind on nothing but the meager pleasure afforded by solitude.

  Something softly thumped in the bathroom. She trusted her senses. She wiped her face and got up. Was one of the other kids in her bathroom and up to some sort of mischief? They could practice their torments outside in the hallways, but in her room she would defend herself.

  “Who’s there?”

  She slid the bathroom door open and touched the light sensor. The white lights blinked on and a shape burst toward her. It hit the space between her and the pocket door and exploded out into her room. It had made it to the center of the floor before she saw it was one of the redoubt’s cats. Pest control. Mean things. The half-feral roamers of the darker recesses killed rats and swiped hands with equal vigor. Dinah steered clear of them.

  This one was called the Beast. He had one yellow eye, the other eye milky. This he usually kept shut. One of his ears was torn, perhaps caused by a fellow cat, perhaps the result of a showdown with some aboveground monstrosity, with the Beast being the victor. Maybe he had absorbed enough mutation-causing superbugs and now cruised the redoubt in search of isolated girls to maul and murder. Maybe rats had become passé.

  The Beast saw he had no way out, and a moment later he went berserk. He sprang toward one wall like a scraggly cannonball, bounced as if gravity no longer held him, and smashed into her nightstand, sending her tablet, water cup, and pills spilling everywhere. He climbed her lamp and kicked off it, and it crashed to the floor. The Beast rocketed toward her. She couldn’t move in time. Her hands rose to protect her face. She awkwardly tried to kick at him to keep him away and fell backward. He came at one of her feet, a weird yowl erupting from his throat. His mouth opened wide, baring his long needle fangs. Before he could bite, she caught him in the face with a foot, sending him sliding back into the bathroom. She slammed the door shut.

  Thump! Thump! Thump!

  “Knock it off.”

  She pounded the door with a fist and took a moment to catch her breath. How had the Beast gotten into her room in the first place? Past two closed doors, and one of them locked? The vents in both the bedroom and bathroom were small and the grates fixed. She would double check, but for now she had to assume that his getting in was no accident.

  It’s not like cats can walk through walls.

  Thump!

  “Pipe down.”

  She slapped the door with the palm of her hand. A moment of silence passed, and then the thumping resumed with an accompanying clatter that could only be her hairbrush, her rack of clips, ribbons, and barrettes, and her tooth-cleaning kit from the vanity. The cat was destroying her things.

  She rose and pulled open the front door. Then she slid the bathroom door open and stepped clear.

  “Get out.”

  When nothing happened, she peered in. The Beast sat on the edge of the sink, poised to jump. But he didn’t move. His one bad eye made it seem as if he were caught mid-wink.

  “Go! Shoo! Scram!” Her accompanying gestures were ignored.

  She had scratches on her that she wanted to wash, so she left her room wide open and went down toward the school wing to find another bathroom with less demon cat inside.

  When she returned, the Beast was perched on her bed. Specifically, her pillow. He rested with his head erect and both eyes closed, a supercilious expression of victory over a minor foe. Dinah left again to get a broom. By the time she got back, he was gone.

  ***

  The next evening after dinner, the Beast was back. He had stealthed up behind her as she opened her door and in an instant he’d pushed past her feet.

  “No! Not again! Get out of my room!”

  He scurried under her bed, but not before she noticed he was carrying something brown in his mouth. She got low to the floor and looked for him. His yellow eye glowed back at her. He wasn’t moving and seemed content to stare from the shadows. She couldn’t see what he had brought with him, but it couldn’t be good.

  From the hallway, she heard voices. Her door was still open, but even when it was closed the vents made excellent sound conductors. She could clearly hear Stevie and his girl crew, no doubt out for a stroll or heading her way for an after-dinner visit.

  She shut and locked the door, and not a moment too soon. A few fists thumped on the wood as the kids walked past. Laughter. Stevie’s voice came echoing through the vents. But they kept walking. Stevie’s room was on another floor for boys, but Alena, one of his cronies, shared a wall with Dinah. The voices came louder as they entered Alena’s room. Full sentences were hard to make out, but Dinah soon heard a few words like “deal” and “hit me” and “crap cards.” Stevie would soon be accusing his posse of cheating if they didn’t let him win. Even the simple principles of Mau proved beyond his grasp, but this was the current favorite card game the older class played, so he would play Mau too.

  They would probably have their door open, so Dinah would need to be extra quiet to avoid their attention. She didn’t dare open the door so the Beast could leave. She did her bathroom business and almost leaped into bed to avoid an expected claw swipe, but one never came. She would let him out later.

  Sleep surprised her. She thought she would be lying awake all night, but the morning chime woke her. She would have an hour before her first class to shower and go get breakfast. She jumped out of bed and checked on her guest.

  The Beast’s one good eye was still there watching her, but she couldn’t be sure about the rest of him. Something down there smelled rank like sour sweat.

  “You’re a filthy beast, aren’t you?”

  He couldn’t stay there all day. The smell would only get worse. Whatever he had carried in would molder, and he wasn’t a terrarium flower either. She left the door ajar while she washed up, and by the time she was finished he was gone. She didn’t notice the dead mouse on her pillow until she was dressed.

  ***

  Din
ah ditched evening study hall. Going to movie night didn’t appeal either. Stevie was in full swing the past few days, and she was on his radar. Trying to sit near him and his crew for two hours in a dark theater would be inviting trouble. As much as she wanted to see a movie about a time machine, it wasn’t worth the pain. Besides, she had read the book.

  She walked around the perimeter of the gym a few times, and even took one of the basketballs and tossed it at the high hoop. She missed a lot, but she liked the way the sound bounced around the large space when no one else was there. When the clock above one of the doors read eight, she knew the movie would be starting. She went by the library, but a few other kids lingered and she didn’t want any company. She returned to her room, where she had her tablet and a door that could lock.

  As she approached the door, the Beast swung in behind her like a second shadow. She stomped her foot at him. He flinched but otherwise didn’t retreat.

  “Scram!”

  He just looked up at her. There was a long green bug in his mouth. He sat down. The smelly feline wanted to spend the night again.

  “Hell no. Go away.”

  But he didn’t. Dinah waited. He continued to stare. Then he dropped the bug at her feet.

  “What do you want me to do with that?”

  The Beast just sat and his eye went half shut. Dinah tapped the bug with her foot. It didn’t move. She kicked it toward the cat. He ignored it. Whatever business transaction he thought he had performed was finished, Dinah’s satisfaction notwithstanding.

  She unlocked her door. Once the bolt clicked, the Beast was up and at her ankles. She nudged him back, and he hissed and swatted, but she managed to slip inside without him getting in. Hurray for minor victories.

  The Beast returned the next few nights, even though Dinah went to her room at different times. He would appear out of nowhere, emerging from a shadow or around a corner as if he had her on a tracker. She never let him in. Sometimes she would purposely take a circuitous route, going up and down different stairways and walking random halls to see if she could lose him, but he would still show up.

  One night she took a corner seat in the library and read some of the books printed on actual paper. These provided a tactile pleasure that her plastic electronic tablet could never match. The books smelled like comfort. She nodded off with a large tome open to illustrations of the interior of the human cell.

  She woke at midnight. She thought she was alone, but she started when she saw that the cat was sitting an arm’s length away from her. This time he had a giant rat in his teeth. He dropped it and watched her as if to gauge her reaction.

  “That’s disgusting! I don’t want that.”

  He turned and walked away, leaving the dead rodent behind. Dinah took the time to go to a janitor’s closet. She picked the rat up with a plastic garbage bag and threw it away, and then went to her room and to bed. The Beast didn’t appear.

  ***

  The next day Dinah ate breakfast in the cafeteria, a bowl of the usual heated cereal food in front of her. She was squeezed in by some schoolmates who carried on various conversations that she wasn’t involved with. They were louder than they needed to be, but she was used to turning the audio of her cafeteria experiences down as low as possible.

  Something pushed against her foot. She thought it was someone else getting into her limited personal space, and she adjusted herself in her seat and drew her feet under her chair. The nudge came again. She absentmindedly reached down and was met with a sharp pain.

  “Ouch!”

  She withdrew her hand and saw three bright red scratches drawn across the meat of her thumb.

  “Eww, it’s the Beast!” one of the girls shrieked.

  Other kids pushed back from the table. The Beast made a circle and hissed. He started to dart away, but Stevie stomped his foot, startling the cat. He tried several other directions, but other kids joined in, kicking at him every time he tried to run out from under the table. Soon he was at Dinah’s feet, as she was the only one who hadn’t budged.

  “Looks like Dinah finally has a friend.”

  “More like the Beast has one. Dinah doesn’t have any friends.”

  She’d had mornings that started better. Her jaw jutted, and she sat there, a cold calm washing over her as she ignored it all. She spooned some lukewarm oatmeal into her mouth and focused on chewing and swallowing, chewing and swallowing, waiting for it all to end.

  Eventually, the five-minute chime sounded. Class would start soon. The kids dispersed. She put her spoon down and just sat there alone.

  Something rubbed at her shins. And she heard an odd vibrating rattle that sounded like a broken fan interspersed with the random clicks of a machine past its prime. It was the Beast, and he remained at her feet until she got up to go to school.

  Part Two: Ruins

  12. Captured

  Dinah could feel Karl’s shoulder biting into her stomach as he marched down the hill and across the broken field, all the while effortlessly carrying her like a sack of grain. Each of his footsteps crunched. Her head felt like it was packed with cotton, and her ears felt like they needed to pop as if she had been swimming under water. Keeping her eyes open was impossible. She put all her efforts into breathing, as she was afraid she would pass out.

  The truck approached. The vehicle’s engine had a high-pitched whine that made it sound like a giant vacuum cleaner. It stopped next to Karl. Even if she could open her eyes she wouldn’t see anything, as her face was now being pressed against Karl’s coat. None of her muscles worked. Whatever he had put into the water had done the trick of rendering her helpless.

  “You got her!” Revulsion replaced much of her fear. She recognized the voice. It was one of the men who had been at Uma’s, the braying man who had burned the cookbook. The hunter cackled. “You got her, you got her, you got her!”

  “Back off,” Karl said.

  She heard doors open and the sound of more boots on the dirt. Her heart was hammering. She wanted to push Karl away and run, but her body just hung there, like in the worst of dreams. Someone poked her leg and Karl turned.

  “Final warning, hunter,” Karl said. “Back away.”

  “Or what?” the braying man said. “Who do you think you are, giving me orders? You haven’t been looking for her for weeks like we have.”

  A hand grabbed her chin and held up her head. The fingers felt calloused. She couldn’t even scream.

  “She’s alive.” His breath was close to her ear, and she could smell a rottenness from his mouth.

  Karl maneuvered her away again. “She’s in good health.”

  “I very much doubt that.” This came from the old man. The truck door slammed. A slow shuffle-walk brought him closer. “She’s been away from Nineveh for years. Having survived doesn’t mean she’s in ‘good health.’”

  “She’s not sick,” Karl said. “We cared for her.”

  “We’ll see how well you did. Put her in back.”

  Karl did as he was told. Through fluttering eyes, Dinah caught a few glimpses of her surroundings inside the enclosed rear of the truck. Soft artificial light illuminated the cargo space. A metal cage door was closed behind her. Two of the men waited for Karl to exit and then got in back with her and shut the truck’s rear gate. The vehicle hummed to life, and soon it was bouncing over the rough ground.

  “Dinah, are you okay?” she heard Michelle ask. She was in the cage with her.

  Although Dinah couldn’t see her or move to turn in her direction, she felt relief knowing Michelle was still alive. But she had no way to answer. Her tongue was thick and her mouth wouldn’t work.

  A boot struck the cage door. “No talking.”

  Every bump sent the floor of the cage up to smack her face. She was getting clobbered. Michelle wiggled close to her. Her companion’s hands must have been bound because it took her a few tries, but she finally rolled Dinah onto her back with her feet. She even managed to get one of her legs under Dinah’s head. It wasn�
��t comfortable, but at least she wasn’t getting knocked silly.

  Michelle whispered something that got lost in the truck noise. Dinah couldn’t tell if she said, “It will be okay,” or “Tell me it will be okay.” Dinah could say neither.

  It might have been thirty minutes, it might have been two hours, but eventually they stopped. Her head swam. She couldn’t tell if she had passed out, but her mind had fogged, and the discomfort of the ride persisted even into her vague semiconscious dreams.

  Both guards exited the back of the vehicle but left the gate open. She heard them making their dry mouth sounds, acknowledging orders someone was giving them over their coms. A high whine signaled a second truck approaching.

  “Dinah, can you move? Can you speak?”

  With effort, Dinah worked her jaw. She opened her eyes and gave a nod. Her fingers could bend partway. That was a start.

  What did he give me?

  She felt thirsty, her mouth and throat pasty. The rest of her extremities started to thaw, sending tingling pain up each limb.

  Several people got out of the second vehicle. Doors opened and closed. Other voices joined those of their two guards. The braying laugh reached a new peak. Then another man spoke, louder than the rest, greeting the others as “brothers” and “sisters.”

  Dinah saw Michelle’s eyes go wide and she struggled to sit up. The last voice belonged to the man who had introduced himself as Gregory back at the spring. The man who had murdered Mike.