Pakwa sprinkled water then what appeared to be cornmeal on them. Once she was done, she began to chant. “Aha-ay-hay. Aha-ay-hay. Ha-oh, ha-o-oh.”
Emma knelt beside the boy. Pausing, she sought to gain her bearings before touching the child, trying to determine the best point of entry. A fluttery awareness whispered through her, as if other spirits were present. They seemed to offer a buffer, to surround and insulate her. Her attention returned to the boy.
For a time, she sat as the chanting reverberated through her body. She felt carried away into the ground itself and didn’t know how much time passed. Her surroundings fell away, and she found herself inside a tunnel.
She took another deep breath and reached gently for the boy’s hand.
Birds! Fluttering, confusion, wings, screeching.
Gasping, she released him.
She was still in the tunnel.
“Emma?” Nathan’s voice sounded far away.
She placed her hand on the boy’s chest.
Sparrows, everywhere. Blue sky, green trees, a nearby river. Happiness. Freedom. The birds are free.
Emma pulled away her hand. She didn’t understand, but sensed the boy’s heart protected the true cause of the illness. Instinctively, she knew she needed to access him through another channel. She needed to find a different tunnel.
Expecting more chaos, she prepared herself. She placed her hand on his forehead and spun wildly through a pitch black corridor. When she regained her bearings, all that existed was darkness—an empty void, nothing. She strained to see, but she was in a land devoid of all shape, light, and texture. Panic began to well up inside.
Was this hell?
Flailing her arms outward, she fought for a way out but touched nothing. A sound echoed around her and she stopped, frozen in place. Then she fell, swirling, and felt sucked downward as if in a whirlpool.
As the darkness receded, ever so slightly, her eyes saw the horror and she fled in terror.
* * *
“What’s wrong with her?” Nathan demanded, taking Emma’s convulsing body into his arms, her lungs gasping for breath. “Jesus! Emma! Can you hear me?” He elevated her upper body so she wouldn’t choke.
Her body writhed as if in pain and an inhuman cry came from deep inside her body. Terrified, Nathan struggled to hold onto her.
“What the hell did you do to her?” Nathan yelled to Pakwa.
The old woman spoke quickly.
“It was a snare, a trap,” said Masito, fear on his face.
“What does that mean?”
Masito translated further. “In the other worlds, there are those who seek to entrap those that would walk there.”
Angry, Nathan knew he couldn’t argue with them. It wasted precious time. “Then what do we do?”
Masito spoke with Pakwa before answering. “Na’i will try to find her.”
* * *
Na’i lay down beside Emma and closed his eyes. Pakwa began drumming and Emma’s body seemed to relax, so Nathan released her onto the ground beside the Indian but still held her hand. Instinct guided him to hold onto her, somehow. For a long time, they waited. Nathan wondered at the strangeness of it all, of the ridiculous faith these people put into superstitious beliefs. And yet, why hadn’t Emma awakened? What had she seen? Where had she gone?
Something clearly occurred, and he felt helpless as Na’i appeared to enter a trance.
After a time, Na’i opened his eyes and slowly sat upright. He spoke in his language, shaking his head. Nathan already knew the answer when Masito translated.
“He say he could not find her. He look in all the hiding places. He asked the spirits to find her spirit, but they could not.”
“So where is she?” Nathan asked.
“She could be lost, or maybe she went somewhere to hide.”
“What can we do to help her?”
“A stronger priest is needed.”
“Is there one here?” Nathan knew these questions were useless.
Masito shook his head. “Pakwa and Na’i have some skills, but not enough to help Loloma. That is why they thought Emma could help. They do not have the right spirit help to recover the boy and Emma.”
“Will she recover on her own?”
“Maybe. We will wait and watch.”
Filled with frustration, Nathan held his tongue. Yelling or demanding wouldn’t help.
“The boy has lived for some time like this,” Masito added, a solemn tone to his voice.
“That’s not very encouraging,” Nathan said grimly.
* * *
Nathan carried Emma’s body back to the lean-to they shared the previous night. He made her as comfortable as he could, giving her several drops of water every few hours. He stayed with her throughout the day, eating food brought to him by the women in the group, resting beside Emma’s slumbering form. It was as if she were in a deep sleep, or maybe a coma.
In the late afternoon, feeling tired and unfocused, he fell asleep beside her. He dreamed of Emma in a dark place and undergoing a hideous transformation. Feathers sprang from her arms, claws from her legs, and a bird’s beak from the top of her head. She made deep squawking sounds, and seemed to fight the process overtaking her. In a panic, he reached for her, tried to tell her he would help, but his words were drowned out by the frenzy of her conversion.
He awoke with a start. Night had fallen. He pushed to an elbow and looked over at her. She still lay motionless. Shaken by the dream, he lay back down and reached for her hand, his heart pounding.
What did the images mean? Were they real? Or was he buying into the creepy atmosphere the Hopi believed in, that some evil entity had overtaken Loloma and now possibly held Emma captive?
Just wake up, Emma. He felt the desire fill his body and a flash of heat filled him, dissipating through his head. He turned onto his side and faced her, then moved closer to feel her against him. Sometime later, he slept again.
* * *
A loud gasp awoke him. It was Emma and her eyes were open. He moved to help her sit upright.
“It’s alright,” he said as she struggled to gain her bearings. “You’re alright, Em.” He rubbed his hand up and down her back.
“How long was I gone?” she asked.
“A day and a night. What happened?”
She shook her head. “We have to leave. I want to go back to the river.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I’m not sure what happened to you.”
“They tricked me, that’s what happened.” She pushed his hand away. “I want to go back to the river.”
“I don’t think you have the stamina for it.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“What happened when you touched the boy?” he asked.
She cradled her head in her hands and mumbled something to herself, her hair hanging in disarray, shielding her from him. She pushed the strands behind her ears and tears streaked her face. She closed her eyes and whispered, “There were monsters everywhere.” She began to sob.
He pulled her to him and held her.
“They didn’t warn me. I didn’t know what to do,” she cried. “I had to run, had to hide. I didn’t know where I was. And then the sparrow came to me, and I thought he was my friend, but he jumped inside me and I didn’t want him to. I tried to stop it, but it was so painful.”
She spoke so quickly, sobbing the entire time, that Nathan almost missed the reference to the bird. He froze. It was just like his dream.
“It’s alright now, Emma. You’re safe.”
“Please. Let’s leave.”
Finally, he relented.
In the pre-dawn light, they sneaked out of camp and headed back down the trail to the river. Emma hadn’t wanted contact with any of them, so Nathan reluctantly agreed. He didn’t feel she was up to a long hike back into the canyon, but she insisted. It seemed important for her to put physical distance between her and the boy and this group of Hopi people.
Chapter Thirteen
It took several hours to traverse the well-worn trail that wound its way to the bottom of the canyon and the Little Colorado River.
Emma wasn’t sure how she did it, stumbling in a stupor during most of the descent. Her body beyond exhaustion, her legs kept moving as if she were a puppet on a string. But when she lost her footing, Nathan was always there to catch her.
Her memories of the previous day were jumbled, and her thoughts shied from thinking about it much. The physical activity helped keep her mind from it, and after a time it became like a bad dream.
She yearned to get back to the river, as if it were a safe haven, a protection from the inner journey she’d undertaken to a place of terror. That thought—that feeling—carried her feet down the path, carried her through the aching muscles in her legs and the loss of fluid from all the sweat that soaked her clothing.
They stopped once to rest as the hot sun beat down on them. As Emma readjusted her hat, Nathan handed her a piece of flat cornmeal bread and several pieces of dried jackrabbit meat, as well as a flask of water.
“Where did you get this?” she asked, surprised.
“I didn’t think you’d do well without food or water, so I acquired it. How do you feel?”
“I'll manage.”
She wiped water from her mouth with her sleeve. Drenched with sweat, she decided it must be aiding the cleansing of her body, because she was starting to feel more herself the closer they got to the river.
“You scared the hell out of me last night,” he murmured, watching her.
“Thank you for staying with me.”
“Will you tell me what happened?”
She knew he asked for more than just an explanation. He was asking for her trust.
She nodded. “I’ll try. Later.”
“It’s not much farther.” He looked down the trail. “Are you ready?”
Taking a deep breath, she stood. “Yes.”
Nathan followed her as they approached the tributary that would lead them, hopefully, back to the boat. This was sacred ground to the Hopi, location of their sipapu, the place where all Hopi emerged into this world from the one below.
Where had she been when the monsters came? In the world below? Perhaps this world, the one she and Nathan walked in now, was the best one, despite the confinement of the body. All she knew was that she was heartily glad to be back in it, walking with Nathan, feeling the sun in all its intense heat warm her through and through, fending off the chill of fear that sat on the fringes of her awareness.
* * *
Nathan felt relief once he had Emma back on the boat. Thankfully, it still sat on shore, exactly where they left it. As he rowed the wooden dory out onto the wide expanse of water where the Colorado swallowed the Little Colorado, he felt an ache in his shoulders ease. As they glided out onto the water, he had a sense of coming home.
Emma’s flushed cheeks caught his attention.
“Why don’t you rest.” He pulled a blanket from one of the duffle bags and made a pillow for her on one of the benches. She complied and sat on the bottom of the boat, leaning her arms and head on the cushion.
“Thank you.” She quickly fell into a peaceful slumber.
Nathan watched her as he rowed. The water remained calm as the setting sun cast shadows in the rocky gorge, and the walls grew as the scenery became layered in its depth. They were deeper now, the view more inspiring. It was as if they were being swallowed by a snake in the canyon, resting in its belly. Nathan noticed that their chances of getting out easily had suddenly become more remote, but it didn’t concern him as much as he would've thought.
Despite everything that had happened, he liked being on the river, he liked not knowing the destination, but mostly, he liked being with Emma.
* * *
Emma awoke with a start. No dreams. A blessing.
“We’ll make camp here.” Nathan jumped from the boat and dragged it onto the sandy shoreline.
Emma stepped to the ground.
“Sit down,” Nathan commanded gently. “I’ll set up camp.”
She allowed him to lead her to a large boulder where she sat while he unpacked various supplies, gathered driftwood for a fire, and made something to eat.
After a cup of coffee, her head finally started to clear from the recent events. Looking at Nathan across the orange glow of the fire, she waited for him to begin questioning her. But he remained quiet, tending the fire with an occasional glance in her direction.
“I’m not sure how to explain it,” she said quietly, aware that she would need to tell him the complete truth about herself. It wasn’t something she’d ever really done before.
“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”
Drawing a blanket around her, she drew her knees up to rest her arms on them, her hair in disarray around her shoulders. “I should probably start with me first,” she began slowly. “One evening, when I was about fourteen years old, I had a vision of a little girl’s whereabouts. She was missing in the city somewhere. I saw her picture in the newspaper while my aunt, my sister Mary, and I were having dinner. With a jolt, the knowledge of where she was just hit me. She was the daughter of a prominent lawyer, and had been missing for three days. I knew where she was, and I knew who’d taken her.”
Nathan’s face was impassive in the firelight as he watched her. “What did you do?” he asked.
“At first, nothing.” She paused and considered her reluctance to believe in the vision. “The truth was, it wasn’t the first time I’d had visions. It was just the first time one had been so clear. Or rather, that one had pressed upon me with such…I don’t know, obligation. I needed to do something. But my aunt and Mary didn’t know about my ability to know things, I’d never told them. So I knew I couldn’t share this revelation.”
“Why?”
“What I was…what I am…went against my aunt’s religious beliefs. After a day of considering what I should do, I decided to leave an anonymous tip at the police station.”
“Did they find her?”
“Yes. And they caught the man who did it.”
“And the authorities never knew it was you?”
She shook her head.
“So what happened?”
“I continued to have visions, and they plagued me. I struggled with how to handle the information. That was when I had a run-in with the Baxter brothers. They lived down the street with their aunt. Her name was Maeve Baxter. She rescued me, and soon sensed my gift. She offered to help me. The Baxters, by the way, were the ones chasing me at Lee’s Ferry.”
“Why?”
“I have something they want. When I told Maeve about my visions, she offered to share the information anonymously with the police so that my identity would remain unknown. It seemed like a gracious gift and I was so glad to know her, to have her help me help others. But then, one day, I came to her home and found a ledger. I couldn’t believe it, but she’d been making money off me by selling the details I gave her to the victim’s families. What was worse, though, was that in the ledger she recorded several abductions that her nephews—Reggie, Hersch, and Abner—had committed themselves. She was setting up crimes so that she could solve them. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t suspected, but she never let me solve those crimes, or at least never brought them to my attention as she did with others. So, I grabbed the book and ran.”
“And came here?”
She nodded. “I packed my bags and left San Francisco.”
“But you told your aunt where you were going.”
“Yes, I left her a note. I didn’t expect anyone to follow me. My aunt certainly didn’t have the faculties to do so, and Mary is gone, living with her husband. It may sound stupid now, but I wanted her to know where I’d gone, so in case I didn’t make it back then at least someone in the world would know of Emma Hart’s crazy desire to make a mark in the world of adventure. Maybe they would look for me. Maybe they would find my writings.”
“What’s it like to have a vision?”
>
“I receive impressions and feelings, and sometimes random images. They just pop up into my head, into my body.”
“How do you know what’s coming from the outside and not from within yourself?”
“For a long time, I didn’t. Now, I can recognize the difference. A vision is a stronger, cleaner image. Sometimes it sucker-punches me. If it’s hazy and not clear, then usually it’s just my mind wavering on a thought, dwelling on something. It’s more likely wishful thinking.”
“Did you have a vision before coming here?”
The fire cracked and popped, the burning embers a contained world of violent heat and consumption. Emma stared at the destructive beauty of it. Fire devours and destroys, leaving only ash in its wake. Sometimes to begin anew, the old must be stripped away, completely.
She was changing. And thanks to the Hopi, she was now afraid of what her abilities could do to her, what they could expose her to. Ignorance always led to trouble. Maeve had said it often enough. But Maeve was a liar and a criminal.
“I saw a place to make myself invisible,” Emma said.
“Tell me why you thought you could help that Indian boy,” Nathan said.
Emma took a deep breath in an effort to face what occurred the previous night. “For too long, I’ve suppressed my abilities. It was simply me taking a chance, I guess. Me trying to believe that there was a reason I was here, in this place, faced with the situation of that boy. Plus, I’d already seen him in a vision, earlier when we were on the river. Maybe it was fate.”
“He was the one you saw with the dead sparrows?”
She nodded.
“Was he the same boy?” Nathan asked.
She nodded again.
“But you’re not a healer.” Nathan stated it as a fact.
“I don’t know what I am anymore,” she replied, withdrawing into herself as she faced what her link with the boy had wrought.
“What happened when you touched him?”
She stared into the fire, not wanting to remember. Unease filled her stomach, and she wanted suddenly to run away from it all. “Sometimes, when I touch people, I sense things about them. Some people are open, easy to read, emotions spilling all over the place. Some people are harder.” Her eyes met his and she knew he understood she spoke of him now. “They’re closed, as if their life was contained behind an impassable wall. But with the boy, there was nothing.”
The Sparrow Page 11