Midnight Robber

by Nalo Hopkinson

  “Morning, sir, morning, ma’am, howdy lizard pickney. Oonuh keeping well this fine hot day? The maggots growing good in the shit? Eh? It have plenty lizards climbing in your food? Good. I glad.” She waited. Some of them went back into their homes, others found other reasons to be busy. They dispersed. The rhetorical words had stirred the Robber Queen deep in Tan-Tan, quelled the Bad Tan-Tan voice a little. Nobody else stared at her for the rest of the climb down, except one or two irrepressible pickney. She didn’t know how the douens got word to one another to leave her alone and she didn’t care. The Robber Queen had triumphed.

  The climb down was a good half an hour of skinned-up knees and blistered hands before she reached the forest floor again. Legs and arms trembling with the effort she’d made, she fumbled in the dark for her lantern. She spilled much of the oil, but finally managed to get it lit. She stepped out from between the buttress roots into the womb-close dark.

  It had a jumbie bush right in front of her. She edged round the sharp poison thorns. The thorns caught light her lantern threw on the bush, created a warning glow of fuzz on the underside of each leaf. And there, not far off, was jumbie dumb cane. The forest was thick all round her; between foliage and the dark she could scarcely see more than a few metres in any direction. The sombre bush swallowed her lantern’s weak light. She just hoped it was enough light to keep away mako jumbies, yes.

  A straggly passion fruit vine hugged on tight-tight to a dead tree, using it as a ladder up to the sun. So much Earth-type flora the exiles had invaded this world with already.

  She could see a path leading off into the distance, but that would be douen-made. She didn’t want to see any of them right now. She went in the opposite direction. She heard a crackling noise like feet scuffling the dead leaves on the forest floor. She froze, peering round her into the darkness. Is two trees that, growing close together? Or is the legs of a mako jumbie? No, must be trees, she could see the leaves on them. And is what the hell just moved at the corner of her eyesight? Oh. A manicou rat humping along a low branch. Tan-Tan relaxed a little at the sight of the small, familiar animal. It looked plump and nice. She wished she knew how to trap. Roast manicou was some of the sweetest meat in the world.

  It happened too fast for her to calculate. A step forward, onto one end of a long piece of dead wood hidden under leaf mould. The other end levered up from the forest floor. Yapping, a ground puppy leapt out from under it: two handfuls of dirty yellow bristle hair; teeth imbedded in it. Red maw, ring of fangs all round it. Tan-Tan screamed, flailed away. The ground puppy bounced off her knee, slashing briefly at her thigh as it went. It ran off into the darkness on all twelve legs.

  “Shit. Is what the rass ever make my people name that thing a ‘puppy,’ eh? Blasted thing look like a hair ball with teeth.” Jittery with fright, Tan-Tan knelt to inspect the bite it had given her. A circle of tooth marks in her knee was bleeding slightly. Ground puppy bites could fester. She would ask Chichibud for something to put on it.

  This close to the ground, she could see other things scuttling out from where she’d disturbed the piece of dead wood. A handful of red crablike insects. Something else that favoured a bright green leaf with a million tiny legs running, running, running under it. The way its body undulated made Tan-Tan’s stomach writhe in sympathetic motion. It ran up a tall, thin tree, turned sideways, and slid its body under an edge of bark.

  She just wanted to be somewhere safe, somewhere familiar, where people looked and spoke like her and she could stand to eat the food. She crouched on the ground like that for a while, breathing, remembering when she was a girl-pickney and she’d had a home.

  Her belly growled. Memories weren’t going to fill it. She stood. Balancing on one foot at a time, she took off her alpagat slippers and shook them out: she didn’t feel to have no red-crab thing or million-leg leaf-thing clambering about in her footwear, oui? What had made her think she could come down here wearing only canvas rope slippers? Stupid bitch, said her internal voice. Maybe Chichibud and Benta could bring her back some hiking boots next time they went into a prison colony to trade.

  She found a long stick to probe the forest floor with as she walked. She’d learned her lesson, she took her time, only putting her feet down once she was sure there was nothing dangerous where she wanted to step. She found some nice big mushrooms and put them in her carry pouch. Little farther on she spied a weedy halwa tree, small and struggling in the shade of the daddy tree. Her mouth sprung water at the thought of the sweet gizada-smelling fruit. In two-twos she was up in the tree. Nanny was finally smiling on her; there were two small but ripe fruit. On the ground again she cleared a space in the leaf mould. It went down calf-deep and she didn’t want to think about the disgusting things she flushed from it. One of them had looked like a dried sack of bones, oui. She used fallen twigs to build a fire and roasted the halwa fruit. She ate until her belly swelled, baked the mushrooms over the remaining coals. She would have them and the remaining halwa fruit for dinner.

  Time to climb back up the daddy tree.

  She couldn’t find it. In the engulfing darkness she couldn’t make out any of its trunks. Is which way she had come from? She couldn’t remember. Maybe from over there so? She took a few steps that way, dead leaves crackling underfoot. She tripped over a log. It hadn’t been there before, she was certain. Is not this way she had come from. She turned a next way, peering into the dark in front of her. She walked one hundred paces, two hundred. Still no daddy tree trunk.

  “Chichibud,” she whispered. That twist-up vine looping from one jumbie bush to the next; had she passed that before? She couldn’t remember. That hollowed-out trunk? That waist-high fan of glowing purple fungus? Her head was completely turned round. She didn’t know is which way she’d come from or which way to go. She couldn’t stop the whimpering sound coming from her throat. She stumbled off to the left, poking the stick into the ground in front of her as she went. Still nothing didn’t look right. She ducked at a rustling sound in the leaves above her head. She looked up. A dead leaf was falling, falling slowly to the ground to add itself to the mulch on the forest floor. A big leaf. A red leaf. A juicy leaf. The whimper almost managed to turn itself into a little laugh.

  “Cho. I too fool-fool. Ain’t is daddy tree branches right there above me so?” The daddy tree was wide as a village and she’d been under it all the time.

  She held the lantern high, studied the pattern of the daddy tree branches above her head, the way they rayed inwards. Where the branches met, she’d find one of the daddy tree trunks. It was so simple. She headed in the direction that the branches pointed. When she saw the buttress roots of the main trunk looming out of the darkness she nearly laughed out loud with relief.

  Chichibud was there! Lying along one of the buttress roots, hind claws digging into the daddy tree wood, waiting for her. Tan-Tan called out joyfully to her friend.

  “I name Kret,” he said. “Tallpeople could never tell we apart.”

  Kret. The one who disapproved of her being there. So he could speak creole. Tan-Tan stayed where she was. Kret’s muzzle hung open, sharp douen fangs gleaming in the half-light. He jumped down and came towards her. Tan-Tan grasped her stick firmly in her hand, ready to defend herself.

  “Girl, you making enough noise to give the dirt and all headache,” he said. “Is what you doing down here?”

  Tan-Tan held out her carry pouch for him to see.

  “Is what you have in there?” he asked.

  She wasn’t mookoomslav enough to get close to show him. “Mushrooms.”

  He tasted the air. “And roast halwa. Like you too good for the blessings of the daddy tree. You coulda find those things growing up there.”

  She could have. It wouldn’t have suited, she’d wanted to be by herself. And right now her business was how to get past Kret.

  “Benta bring me down here,” she lied. She pointed off somewhere into the blackness. “She over there. She tell me to come here and wait for she.”
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  Kret looked where she was pointing. He twitched his snout up in a strange way, like a dog would if it were barking. But he was making no noise.

  “Liard pickney,” he said. How did he know?

  He jumped back onto the buttress root. “Cho. Me ain’t business with disrespectful tallpeople. Play down here if you want, me wouldn’t bawl if mako jumbie take you.” Smoothly as a snake he headed back up to the light.

  When she couldn’t see him any longer, she began the climb up herself.

  • • •

  *Poison,* Benta declared when she’d seen what Tan-Tan proposed to eat for dinner. With her beak she flipped the mushrooms out of one of the window holes. Poison.

  “Shit.” Tan-Tan blew cool air on her hands where the climb had rubbed the skin off. She could still feel the trembling in her thighs from the ascent back up to the nest. “I can’t eat the way allyou does eat, I can’t move about the daddy tree the way allyou does do it, I can’t even take a piss without it causing somebody some botheration!”

  Chichibud said, “We don’t mind. You is guest. You need to give your body and your mind time to heal after what Antonio do to you.”

  No, not that. Talk about something else. “But none of the other douen want me here.”

  “Old Res say you could stay, so none of them go do nothing, no matter how much them chat. Don’t worry your head about that. The pickney-them just mischievous. Them will tease you, but don’t pay them no mind.”

  “And what I go do for food? I sorry too bad, Chichibud, but I can’t eat all the raw egg and live centipede allyou does eat.”

  Of all the things to do, Chichibud laughed. “I know. Tallpeople does remove all the life from all their food before they eat it, but them still ain’t satisfy with that. Them have to burn it too, and make it deader than dead. None of we douen understand how allyou could taste anything what you eat after allyou done burning everything to coal. I sorry, darling, but we have to be careful about fire in the daddy tree. We don’t cook plenty up here.”

  Benta warbled, *You could go down with Abitefa.*

  “How you mean?” Tan-Tan strained to understand the warbling patwa.

  *Is Abitefa alone time, last season and this next two. She leave she friends and she testing sheself every day in the bush. Go with she. The climbing go be good practice for you, and spending time with tallpeople is good practice for she for when she become a packbird. The two of allyou find and cook food while you down there. Abitefa go take care of you. So you go be spending time away from the douen-them who ain’t easy with having you here. Understand?*

  It could work, maybe. “Yes, Benta; I understand. That sound good.”

  But when Abitefa came for supper and Benta repeated the plan, the young hinte made a growling sound. Benta hissed something back; Abitefa spat out her reply in whistles sharp like glass. Benta screeched, stamping one foot on the ground. Her wings filled out one time. She beat them through the air, knocking one of Tan-Tan’s halwa fruit off the table. It broke open on the floor, spraying Tan-Tan’s ankles-them with the brown jelly inside.

  “Chichibud, what them saying?” Tan-Tan asked.

  “Not to worry. Abitefa go do what we tell she.”

  Chichibud spoke to Benta and Abitefa slowly, calmly. Abitefa continued to protest. Chichibud and Benta cut her off. Benta cawed out once more. It sounded like a command.

  “That settle that,” Chichibud said. “Abitefa go take you down in the bush whenever she go.”

  Abitefa was making quiet skirling noises. It was clear she wasn’t looking forward to playing babysitter.

  That night Tan-Tan filled up her belly on salad and leftover roast halwa fruit. Come time to sleep, she banded up her head again with the cloth Benta had give her. She curled up on the pallet and stared into the dark, praying for a peaceful sleep.

  Prayers didn’t do no good, oui. Antonio chased her all night.

  • • •

  Abitefa jumped from the lowest branch of the daddy tree, about six metres up. She fell like a bullet, dipping her backwards-knees to land silently on the forest floor. She hadn’t even self jiggled the two kerosene lamps she was carrying. Tan-Tan clambered down to a buttress root, tried to balance along its top, lost her balance and slid the rest of the way. She landed braps on the ground, leaves tangling up in her hair. Abitefa barely even threw a glance her way. The hinte lit the two lamps-them, pushed one at Tan-Tan, then just turned her back and strode off into the bush. Her step was quiet like breeze passing. Tan-Tan struggled to her feet and rushed to follow Abitefa, crunching loud-loud through dead leaves with each step.

  “Cho!” she muttered to herself. “You would think say me is the one with the foot big like shovel.” Somehow she managed to get her lamp lit as she scurried. She caught up with Abitefa standing by the passion fruit vine Tan-Tan had noticed the day before. The vine was heavy with ripe fruit, filling the air with their sweet, tart smell. Yesterday it hadn’t even had blossoms.

  “What a way things does grow fast here,” she remarked to Abitefa. The hinte didn’t reply. Tan-Tan put down her lantern to free her hands. She picked all the ripe passion fruit she could reach. With her teeth she broke the smooth yellow rind of the last one. She sucked out the fragrant, tangy juice and swallowed the tiny black seeds. She thought of Toussaint.

  She opened her eyes. Abitefa was gone. She couldn’t see her in the swallowing gloom, couldn’t hear her. She called her name. No answer.

  She wandered round in the dark, peering through the circle of light from the lantern, calling for Abitefa, trying to bite back the panic that was fighting in her throat, threatening to spill out her mouth in a scream.

  Calm down, Tan-Tan, she said to herself.

  Stupid, said Bad Tan-Tan. You go dead from stupid one day. Cool down, girl. Remember what Chichibud tell you, your first day on New Half-Way Tree. How you does survive in the bush?

  She stopped and stood still, calling back to mind Chichibud’s lessons. You have to learn to use all your senses; is that what he say.

  Tan-Tan looked all round her, turning in a complete circle. No Abitefa. All she could hear was the rustling of the beasts and insects in the bush, going their own quiet ways. Nothing to taste that might help her, nothing to touch. Feeling like an idiot, she put her nose in the air and sniffed. And is what that you doing now? jeered Bad Tan-Tan. A chop-head chicken would have more sense. Nothing to smell but clean air. And the passion fruit juice on her hands. Huh. Maybe smell could work after all. Tan-Tan closed her eyes and drew in another long, deep breath. She smelled the salve that Benta had put on her bites and bruises this morning—like pine and mint. A heavy-sweet smell wafted through the air from over to her right, where the halwa tree was dropping its overripe fruit. Yesterday they were just ripening. The slight breeze was bringing her stories. She let out the breath, sucked in another. So, so faint, the odour of decay. She looked to where it was coming from. A thick clump of browny-pink fungus was growing, perhaps feeding on the body of a small dead beast.

  And then she caught a thin thread of scent that didn’t quite belong in the bush. Is what that? She could almost recognise it . . .

  Tan-Tan walked towards where the scent was coming from. It got a little stronger. What, what? Some kinda chemical. Ah. She smiled. She blew out her lantern, tiptoed as quietly as she could towards the smell. Just a few more metres, and round that big rockstone with the blue moss shining on it . . .

  Abitefa was sitting on the ground, back against the big rockstone, using her teeth and wingfingertips to weave something out of vine. She barely glanced up when Tan-Tan stepped round the boulderstone. She’d probably heard Tan-Tan coming through the bush. Tan-Tan played it cool. She sat down beside Abitefa and pulled off one shoe. She shook a million-leg leaf-thing out of it and said, “Your lantern go out just now, ain’t? I smell the matches when you strike them.”

  Abitefa’s shoulders shook with laughter. What the rass . . . ? Oh, so is game she think it is? Tan-Tan coulda get eat by mako jumb
ie out there by herself in the dark, and this ugly ratbat think say is funny! Furious, Tan-Tan shoved Abitefa’s shoulder: “Bitch! You think is joke! Eh?”

  One time, Abitefa rolled to her feet and crouched to face Tan-Tan, stretching out her nearly-wingflaps in a fighting stance, flexing her sharp claw tips-them. Abitefa made a threatening noise in her throat. But Bad, heedless Tan-Tan had come to the fore. She leapt at Abitefa, dragging her to the ground. The two of them crashed round in the leaf mould, each one trying to land a good blow. Tan-Tan boxed Abitefa in her ugly mouth; Abitefa bit Tan-Tan’s hand. Tan-Tan felt the skin tear, but rage flared higher than caution. She trapped one of Abitefa’s wingflap arms under one knee and slapped her face again. Abitefa screeched and drew back one of her big bird foot-them. She kicked Tan-Tan solid in her chest, sending her flying to land up against the big rockstone.

  The blow made Tan-Tan dizzy. She tried to get up to go after Abitefa again, but her legs were wobbly beneath her. She felt her body inclining down, down to the ground. Is like it took forever till she was stretched out on the forest floor. Her head touched the leaf mould bed, soft like dreams.

  • • •

  Water trickled into Tan-Tan’s mouth, slightly acidic; daddy tree leaf juice. Before she came good into her senses a pungent smell jumped into her nose. She coughed and tried to sit up. Too-long fingers were touching her face. She grabbed at Abitefa’s arm and pushed it away. “Rahtid, woman; is what that you put under my nose?”

  Dangling from Abitefa’s claw tip it had a crushed million-leg leaf-thing.

  “Cho,” Tan-Tan said. “I never like them things from first I see one. What a stench! Is a smelling-salts bottle on legs, oui?”

  Abitefa warbled something at her and moved back in close. Tan-Tan looked at her warily in the juddering lamplight. Slowly Abitefa reached towards her, put gentle hands on the back of her head. She was checking Tan-Tan’s head where she’d bucked up on the rockstone.