Being in here forever, I know a sick kid when I see one. And Jimmie isn’t right. When I touch her arm, she’s all wet and cold and hot all at the same time. She won’t look at me. Her eyes blink long and slow, and her toes feel like someone has dunked her in a plastic shell pool full of ice blocks. There’s a cut on her arm too, all full of pus and swollen and red. “What happened to your arm?”
Jimmie just shrugs. “S’nothing,” she says, all thick and hard to hear, and the breath she pulls in is slow, like it’s hard just to breathe. “Just a little cut from the ladder.”
“Did you clean that cut?” I ask quietly. I don’t tell her about the germs in case it worries her. But that cut, it doesn’t look clean to me. And Jimmie, she’s getting hotter and hotter.
“I gotta go,” she says. When I ask her if her dad is home, she looks all confused and then vomits into the dirt. “He’ll be back soon. Two. Only two days,” she says. “But don’t worry, Subhi. Jonah will bring back a chocolate bar.” She half smiles when she says it.
Jimmie starts toward the squeezeway, and I follow her to the fence. We count out the steps together.
“Jimmie? Are you sure you’re okay?”
Jimmie nods and says, “Those crocodiles wouldn’t bother me. I’m too small.” If it’s a joke, I don’t get it at all.
I hold up the wire for Jimmie and she pulls herself through. Then she stands and her whole body shakes with a shiver. From out of her pocket falls her mum’s book, splatted onto the dirt. For a moment I’m stuck there, looking at it flapping in the sand like a fish. Jimmie should be picking it up. Jimmie wouldn’t ever leave the book there like that. But I know without looking that Jimmie hasn’t stopped. That Jimmie hasn’t even noticed.
I reckon I could have spent a long time looking at that fish-flapping book and trying not to think. And by the time my body switches off my brain and pulls up the fence so I can reach the book, Jimmie has already slipped under the perimeter fence and disappeared into the dark. All I can hear are her uneven footsteps, way out of beat and losing time.
Jimmie can’t remember. Her body walks and trips and falls and gets up again and walks and walks. Nothing seems to really matter anymore. Every step she takes seems to make the ground spin and shake. “Like a giant,” she says. The word giant plays over and over in her head, louder each time until she holds her hands over her ears to make it stop.
Suddenly Jimmie is scared. Really scared. She’s back home, but the door is locked. The phone is inside. Dad and Jonah…she needs to phone them. She needs Dad back to stop her feeling so bad. Dad would make her warm again. “I need help,” she whispers, and no one answers. Jimmie knows that things are bad now.
Where is the key? The window is too high suddenly to jiggle open like normal. The whole house seems bigger, higher, farther away. Her legs won’t jump, and her arms won’t pull her up, and her arm is aching so, so badly that she’s crying with the pain.
Maybe, Jimmie thinks, if she just lies down for a bit. Maybe if she just lets herself sleep, just for a little bit, then she’ll have enough energy. She blinks and her lids scratch like sandpaper on her eyes.
Jimmie tries to remember if she saw Subhi. If that was real or not. Did he read a story? Her brain moves and mashes things up and the thinking is so hard that it hurts all over.
Jimmie knows what it is to be sick now. To be so sick that nothing in the world seems real. She thinks of her mum, and the Bone Sparrow, and how she never did find out what happened. She wonders where her book is. She needs her book.
Her hand is a flashlight. No, she’s holding a flashlight. And she needs help. Two long flashes. That means help. Two long flashes. Someone taught her that, but she can’t think who. Jimmie concentrates all her energy on pushing the button. On. Wait. Off. On. Wait. Off. She does the signal three more times before the flashlight rolls from her fingers.
There are no flashes calling back to her. Just dark.
Jimmie doesn’t know how long she has been lying there for. How long she has been wishing for water, for Jonah, for Dad, for Mum, for Subhi.
Her eyes close and open, and new stars shine in the dark. She wonders if someone has died.
Jimmie closes her eyes.
She’ll come back for it. The book. As soon as she sees that she’s dropped it. I keep telling myself over and over that I just have to wait, is all, and be patient and stop with my worrying because of course she’ll be back.
Then there’s that other voice. The one nibbling at the very back of my brain. The one asking me, what if she doesn’t? What if she can’t? What if she can’t, not ever?
I sit down at the fence and finger through the book. All the lists and directions and phone numbers. I try not to think. About anything. I try just to SHUT UP, like Queeny always says. That’s when I find it, squished down under a recipe for an egg-free banana bread. The rest of the story. There’s enough light coming in from the security lamp to make out the words. My eyes suck them in, and everything else, all the buzzing, all the zapping, all the rest of the world quiets. I read.
If it hadn’t been for Anka’s cooking, she was certain that death would have come quickly for both her and her child.
The soldiers were not interested in children, nor in women who could not work. But life was not pleasant for the soldiers either. Food was low and their meager, tasteless rations did nothing to lift their spirits.
But Anka could change that. She rose one morning, her newborn child strapped to her back and clicked her way toward the soldiers. They watched her curiously, this woman who could see without eyes. They watched as Anka went about cultivating a meal that looked more delicious than anything the soldiers could remember having eaten before. As she cooked, she sang a song so full of sadness, it left the men weeping on the ground before her. “Now eat,” she said, and her food filled the men with warmth and hope and a longing for their families left behind.
After many such meals, the soldiers could no longer stand the daily anguish that awaited them. And so it was that the soldiers released Anka and the rest of their prisoners at a harbor town and became the first army troop in all of history to desert the army over a bowl of soup.
They were going home to their families.
To thank Anka, they got her a job as a cook on a boat headed to a new land, where they hoped she would be happy and safe, and where they would nevermore have to listen to her songs. Anka accepted, knowing as she did so that she would never set foot on her homeland again. She just hoped that her songs made it back to Oto’s ears. She just hoped that he could follow her songs to find her.
As for Oto, it took many months of working before he could afford to pay for a ticket to a country far enough away to boast peace. Now, finally, as he pushed his way farther into the boat, he felt overcome by a crushing sense of desperation. He had allowed the Bone Sparrow to guide him this far. But leaving the country where his love remained could surely not be right. Perhaps when the Bone Sparrow lost its coin, it lost its luck and protection as well.
As the boat left the shore, he felt the hope that had carried him this far vanish into a pit of dread. He would never find Anka. He would never set eyes upon his child. He could not cheat fate.
And then he heard it. The soft mewl of a baby, and a song filled with utter love. Oto pushed his way toward the song, and without being able to see him coming, Anka felt an enormous surge of happiness before being embraced by her husband.
Oto kissed his son and his wife again and again, making up for every lost kiss and stolen embrace. He had never felt happier.
Oto looked down at his son and took the Bone Sparrow necklace from around his own neck. “May your wings keep you safe and free,” he whispered.
Now I know that I can’t wait. That I don’t have any choice. That this is something that Jimmie needs to know. She has to know that Oto found Anka, that they are together and okay. That someday, maybe fate can be cheated, just like Mirka said. That Oto did have the Bone Sparrow’s luck, and that now she has its
luck, hanging right there around her neck. Because maybe you have to believe in the luck for it to work. Luck is like that. You have to know it is coming to see it when it does. All I’ve got to do is read her that last bit, and then she’ll know and then she’ll be right.
I stand up and I look out into that dark, and there it is.
Two long flashes of a light, all the way up near the top of the hill.
Two long flashes mean help.
I don’t have time to think. I don’t have time to do anything but run. Jimmie is calling for me. Jimmie needs help.
Another light flashes, and this one is much closer. This one is inside Family and making its way out of the Jackets’ Rec Room.
Maybe if I go now—if I’m fast enough.
But I’m not. I’m stuck at that fence, frozen up like I’ve been standing in that snow where Eli’s family went. There isn’t just one flashlight now. There are four. One of them is moving along the fence line, coming straight toward me.
“Move, will you?” the duck squeaks from my pocket, and I move. I run back in between the tents and have just about got back to Family Three when the lights come on. The big, huge searchlights that bright up the whole camp like it’s the middle of the day. And I’m caught standing outside the tent with all the lights shining down on me.
All I can think of is that light flashing up on the hill.
I should have gone when I had the chance. I should have been faster. I should never have stopped. If I’d just gone then, Jimmie would be all right. But I didn’t, and she isn’t, and she’s up there on that hill needing me and I can’t do a single thing about it.
It’s morning now, but those searchlights are still on. Someone forgot to turn them off. Now I bet they’ll blow the electricity, which will mean no fans and no fridges for the kitchen and no lights, and pretty soon it will mean the toilets stop working and we’ll end up with a river of crap running down between the tents like last time the power went out.
And there’s no way to get through that fence. No way to get to Jimmie.
It wasn’t because of me that those lights came on last night. It was because of the men in Alpha. It was because of Eli.
When those Jackets came out to do their bed check, they saw that Eli and some of the others had used their beds and blankets and pillows and everything they’d got to shove up against the gates and block themselves in. To block the Jackets out. Now, all of everything in Alpha is piled up against those gates, and the Jackets are patrolling up and down along the fences and not letting any of us near.
About half the men in Alpha are on hunger strike now. Only half. But even so, the Jackets won’t let any food or water in. They lay it out right next to the fence, so everyone in there can see the water and food but can’t reach out to it.
I keep trying to edge my way to the spiky shrub, to the sixteen steps, to Jimmie, but those Jackets are everywhere. They’ve brought in more Jackets than even before, and all my edging got me was a bruise the shape of a boot on my back and an ear that won’t stop ringing.
Queeny is jumpy and fizzing too, except instead of it making her angrier, she talks to me like she used to, back when I was little. She even said sorry for destroying my pictures and promised me she’d get me a new pad of fresh paper.
I don’t care though. About paper or pictures or any of it. The whole world has turned upside down and I’m stuck here with everything happening and me not doing a thing to put it right. I don’t know how.
I walk the fences, Queeny a step behind me. The two of us walking up and down and up and down, and each time I get close enough, I check to see if I can make it through those fences to Jimmie. But those Jackets are like a swarm of bees, buzzing about all over the place.
We’re back in front of Family Three when we see the door to Supply is open. There’s a big long line of Jackets snaking into the container. And when the first one comes out, Queeny’s grip on my arm gets tight and she pulls me back, away from the Jackets. They’re all dressed in their riot gear now. They’ve got their shields and their helmets and their guns with the rubber bullets that don’t kill you but hurt so much that you can’t move after.
Even though I don’t want to let her pull me, I do. Because Queeny looking out for me starts a soft in my stomach, and I get the feeling that I can shut my eyes and it will all be a dream.
The Jackets in their gear are lining themselves up outside Alpha. Just seeing them coming made a whole bunch of the kids start crying and screaming. I guess for some of these kids, seeing those men all dressed like that brings back memories that are too hard to think about. Sometimes it’s good not having memories from Outside.
The fizzing in my body is so loud I can hardly hear anything else now. All I can think is that it’s been hours since Jimmie called for help. Hours and hours. And I can’t get to her. I can’t help. And the Jackets. And Eli. And…
Queeny turns to me and her eyes are thin and angry, like all that sorry was just pretend. “You need to get in the tent and stay there. The Jackets with their gear on? They aren’t playing anymore, Subhi. You need to stay away. You hear me? Just promise me. No matter what you see. No matter what you hear. No matter what happens, you stay in the tent, you got it?”
She’s not asking now. She’s back to old Queeny, bossing and demanding and not listening to what anyone has to say or think or feel. I can’t believe that for a minute there, she made me turn soft with just a couple of words and no-good promises.
I think again of Jimmie all hot and sick and calling for help. When Queeny shakes me and tells me again that I’d better listen or else, I only hear my brain screaming, “What do you care? You’ve never cared! All you ever do is think about yourself.”
I see the look on her face, like she’s been slapped the way Beaver slapped one of the mums that time, right in front of everyone, and everyone just turned away, even Harvey. And I realize I’m not just screaming inside my head. I’m screaming right out loud at Queeny, right to her face so she hears every word. And I don’t even care.
Then Harvey is there, rubbing my back and telling me to hush now. He gathers all of us up and waves us into our tents telling us to stay there. Queeny smiles at me like she’s won.
Harvey gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t worry about a thing, kiddo. We’ll sort it. It’ll all be over in no time.” Then he reaches into his pocket. “I almost forgot. Here, I got you something.” He pulls out a book. One Thousand and One Arabian Nights. “I thought you could read it. To the others in your tent. Might help keep your minds off this, hey?” He gives my arm another squeeze and herds us all in together.
Any other day I’d love a book from Harvey.
The new boy, the one who took Nasir’s bed, he’s sitting on his bed, looking at me and that book. “Can you read?” I ask him. He nods. “Here you go then. It’s for you.” He doesn’t smile, but he takes the book and holds it in his hands, just the way I do with my ba’s treasures sent on the Night Sea.
But Queeny hasn’t won. Because Jimmie needs me. Maybe those Jackets getting their riot gear is a kind of help. It’s all everyone in here is talking about. No one is noticing me at all. Like I’ve up and turned invisible just like Queeny always said I was. Like she’d said we all were. Not even Queeny is looking at what I’m doing. Not since she saw Harvey give me the book. I reckon she thinks all I care about are stories. She doesn’t know me at all.
I toe my way to the flap. Harvey is outside talking to one of the other Jackets, but he’s not facing my way. It looks like just about all the Jackets are over in the one spot now. There isn’t any swarming all over anymore. I turn back into the tent to make sure I haven’t been spotted, and I see Maá’s eyes staring right at me. I wish I could go back and give her a kiss and tell her everything will be all right. But I need to go now. Before someone sees me and stops me. I need to get to Jimmie.
So instead I wave and blow Maá a kiss on my hand. She doesn’t even blink.
I leave Family Three and hunch-run along t
he squeezeways, waiting for a rubber bullet to sting me down. But the Jackets are all outside Alpha. Everyone is watching them strutting up and down that fence in their black boots and black vests and shields and helmets and guns. Everyone is watching the men in Alpha jig from foot to foot waiting on what’s happening. Everyone is watching Eli, standing still as can be, right in the middle, and not showing his scared to anyone.
Then I dodge around the last corner and there isn’t a Jacket in sight. I’m at the spiky shrub and that wire is just waiting.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen steps.
I can feel the wire go soft under my hand. I’m holding Jimmie’s book so tight that I reckon I might be leaving my fingerprints on its cover. And no one yells at me to stop. No one shoots at me. No one sees me as I push that wire up and squeeze my way through. Then I’m there. In the Space. And still no one has seen me. All the little rats who are too scared to go in the Space watch me, their noses quivering to see what happens next. I tell them that when I get back, I’ll tickle their stomachs for them, each and every one, and give them chocolate every chance I get. I tell them I’m sorry for their baby.
I don’t run. I walk. Just like Jimmie did. Straight ahead to the perimeter fence. The perimeter fence is higher and has meaner-looking cutting wire on the top, but down here next to the dirt, the wire is looser even than the first fence.
Then I’m under and those rats are cheering and clapping their paws together and some are even whistling out their congratulations. Then I’m out. I’m Outside. Now I run.
The Bone Sparrow Page 13