by Arthur C.
Beatrice reached over with her other hand and wiped the tears off Johann’s cheek. “Dear, dear Johann,” she said with a weary smile. Then she took a deep breath and spoke again.
“I want you also to promise to tell Maria about God. That will be more difficult for you. I don’t expect you to change what you believe, but I beg you to try to tell her as much as you can about her mother’s religion, how it affected the way I lived, and what an integral part of my life it was. Teach her about prayer also, Johann.” Beatrice leaned toward him with a great effort, her eyes full of passion. “Please, please, tell her what I felt and believed about Christ and St. Michael, and how important they were to me.”
She put her head back against the pillows and closed her eyes for several seconds. She had started to bleed from the other nostril now. Johann wiped away the blood mechanically. He was speechless, overpowered by the intensity of his feelings.
Beatrice pulled herself up again and then lifted the necklace with the carved amulet over her head. “One more thing,” she said, handing the necklace to Johann. “Please put this around Maria’s neck now,” she said. “When she is old enough, explain to her what it means.”
She fell asleep immediately. Johann continued to sit beside her, his silent suffering unabated. He absentmindedly shifted the amulet from hand to hand. Occasionally he mopped her brow and cleaned up the blood on her face. He regularly checked her breathing and her pulse.
He noticed again how pale and gaunt she was. Suddenly, from deep inside him, a terrible cry burst forth. Tears flooded his eyes. “No, no, no,” Johann heard himself say. He put his bead against Beatrice’s chest. “I promise,” he said in a low voice.
Johann stayed beside Beatrice as long as he could bear it. There was no change in her condition. When he finally rose, he picked up the knife that he had used the night before. He walked outside the cave and sat on one of the large rocks in front of the fire.
He looked at the amulet. Carved on the wooden front was an image of a young man with curly hair, his arms raised to the heavens, standing on steps in front of a gigantic fire. Johann turned the amulet over. The back was empty. He took the knife and cut the word “Maria” into the wood.
The infant girl awakened a few minutes later and began to cry. Johann lifted her out of the confining backpack and tried to give her some water. She spat it out. Johann laid her down gently on a nearby mat and slid the necklace with the amulet over her head. The wooden carving rested against the front of her diaper.
“It’s too big right now, Maria,” he said. “But someday it will fit you perfectly.”
Johann changed Maria’s diaper while her wailing increased. He knew that she was hungry. He carried Maria into the cave where Beatrice was sleeping. Fluid was still flowing from both nostrils. This blood was even lighter in color than before.
“Darling,” he said, touching her softly on the shoulder. “I’m sorry to bother you, but Maria’s hungry.”
Beatrice awakened quickly. Although she was paler than ever, she managed to smile. “I have seen angels. Johann,” she said while she cradled the nursing Maria against her breasts. “And I have heard them sing… Their voices are so beautiful, Johann, you would not believe it.”
“I have heard an angel sing,” Johann replied. “And I have seen one as well.”
Beatrice cocked her head slightly sideways and gave Johann a curious look. Then a smile spread across her face. “Please kiss me, Johann,” she said softly. “I would like to feel your lips upon mine one last time.”
He leaned down and kissed her, being careful not to disturb Maria. While they were kissing, grief overpowered Johann. His body shook and he began to sob uncontrollably. The baby began to cry also. Beatrice tried to console them both. “There, there,” she said. “Everything is going to be all right.”
Johann stood up. He dried his eyes and blew his nose. Beatrice coughed twice, a light red fluid coming out of her mouth with the second cough. Johann sat down to wipe up the new blood on the front of her robe. She is going to die, he thought. He felt a hollow emptiness that was beyond sorrow.
20
Beatrice died before the daylight was gone. Johann was beside her, holding her hand. When he was certain she was dead, he wrapped three large pieces of material completely around her body. Then he covered her face. He could not bear to look at her, it caused him too much pain.
Johann did not have time to dwell on his grief. There was an infant to care for. Maria cried throughout the last moments of her mother’s life. She was clearly hungry and Johann was already terrified that he would not be able to figure out how to feed her.
Johann hurriedly squeezed juice out of three different kinds of fruit. He tried to think of some way he could make a nipple that would allow her to obtain the juice by sucking, but there were no materials similar to rubber in the storehouse cave.
At first Johann held Maria in his arms and patiently let each kind of juice fall, drop by drop, upon her lips. She wouldn’t take the juice into her mouth. Sometimes Maria would open her mouth wide enough that a drop would actually fall inside, but always she would push it out with her tongue and cry more heartily.
For over an hour he tried unsuccessfully to coax the infant girl to swallow some juice. He stopped for a few minutes, to settle his nerves, and then tried using a tiny spoon, as well as a little more force, to get Maria to drink the liquid. She fought him frantically, eventually falling asleep exhausted and still hungry.
Johann was beside himself with both frustration and grief. He left Maria sleeping peacefully on a mat and raced down to the beach. The moment his feet touched the sand, he began to yell. He shouted as loud as he possibly could, yelling nothing but noise with as much energy as he could manage, for almost a full minute. Then, after pausing to draw a few breaths, Johann gazed at the dark ceiling above his head.
“Can you hear me up there, aliens, or God, or whoever is in charge of this place?” he said. “I hope so, because I have a few things to say. And you’d damn well better listen.
“I promised Beatrice, my angel whom you stole from me, that I would care for her daughter, Maria. I intend to fulfill my promise. But there’s one serious problem, one insurmountable obstacle that I can’t overcome. Infant humans need breast milk, provided by their mothers. The males of our species, like me, are not supplied with any of this milk that can nurture an infant… Are you following this? Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Johann stopped a moment to gather his thoughts. He was shaking. “I have nothing to feed her,” he yelled. “I have no way of making anything that is like breast milk. If Maria does not eat, then she, too, will die.
“So what am I supposed to do? Watch her die a painful death from starvation? I will not do it. I know how terrible it is to be starving, and I will not subject an innocent infant to that horror. If you want us to keep living, then you must help us now. Otherwise, I will have no choice except to kill us both. I will not let Maria starve to death.”
Nothing changed in the dark ceiling above him. Nevertheless, Johann had the distinct feeling that someone or something was listening to him.
“And one more thing, while I have your attention,” he shouted. “Just what the hell is going on here anyway? What is this place all about? If there is some grand plan or purpose in all this, why can’t I know something about it?”
Johann remained on the beach, still staring at the ceiling, for five minutes. Then he heard Maria crying. He dashed back to the cave area, arriving just as the ribbon of light departed. He picked up Maria and tried to comfort her.
“Did that ribbon scare you?” he said in a soft voice. “Don’t worry, Uncle Johann is here to protect you.”
He walked completely around the plaza, trying to determine if anything had changed. Then Johann went into the storehouse cave. There was nothing new there either.
Johann’s excitement at seeing the ribbon had begun to fade when he returned to the front of the cave he had shared with Beatrice. He d
ebated about whether or not he should go in; he knew even seeing the outline of Beatrice’s body would trigger another bout of grief. Nevertheless, he cautiously entered the cave.
Over against the far wall, illuminated by the flickering firelight, was an object Johann had never seen before. As he drew closer he saw that it looked like a woman’s brassiere, white in color with two red circles surrounding tiny nipples at the end of the breast cups. Johann picked it up. The object was surprisingly heavy. He shook it. There was something inside the breast cups.
Johann temporarily placed the crying Maria on a mat beside her dead mother and pulled the strange red-and-white object over his head. It fit perfectly. He crossed the cave and picked up Maria. Rubbing one of the little nipples against her lips, as he had seen Beatrice do soon after Maria’s birth, Johann induced the baby girl to put her mouth around it. A few seconds later she was sucking contentedly.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, smiling at the bizarre scene taking place in his hands. He took his eyes off Maria and glanced at the top of the cave. “Thanks again,” Johann said, “whoever you are.”
When Maria fell asleep after her meal, Johann went to the storehouse cave and retrieved a large shovel. Out in the flat area where Beatrice and he had farmed their grains, he began to dig a deep hole. It was already very late in the night, but Johann wanted to bury Beatrice before daylight.
Once the grave was large enough, he returned to the cave and hoisted Beatrice’s body, still completely wrapped in material, over his shoulder. He noticed that two more of the red-and-white, brassiere-shaped objects were now lying against the cave wall. Johann smiled to himself briefly and then carried Beatrice’s body to the grave site.
Johann thought it was important for Maria to be present at her mother’s burial, even though he knew that she would never remember it. He set Beatrice’s body down beside the hole and returned for the child. When he awakened Maria, she began to cry from hunger. He picked up one of the new nursing brassieres and carried it with him to the grave site.
He sat down on the ground, leaning against the trunk of a small nearby tree, and fed Maria. While she was eating, Johann held her tiny hand and she uttered her first soft coos.
Before Maria was finished, two ribbons of light came over the mountain on Johann’s right, stopping to hover five meters or so above the empty grave. They frightened the little girl. She temporarily stopped nursing, but Johann was able to reassure her with his voice while he changed her from one nipple to the other. Soon Maria was busily suckling again, oblivious to the bright ribbons of light in the sky above them.
She fell asleep while she was nursing on the second breast. Johann laid her down gently on the ground and stood up. For a long time he stared at the pair of ribbons, following individual, dancing particles as they sparkled inside the illuminated structure. As they had years before in the Tiergarten in Berlin, the particles floated until they reached the side of the formation, where some unseen force inverted their momentum and sent them back toward the center of the structure.
Johann’s heart grew heavy as he approached Beatrice’s body. He felt the waves of grief beginning again. He fell to the ground beside her.
“I loved you so much, Beatrice,” he said out loud. “I don’t know how I’m going to live without you.”
Johann put his head down against the material surrounding her body and began to cry. He had been in that position no more than fifteen seconds when he heard a sound that caused his hair to stand on end and goose bumps to form immediately on both arms.
“No more talk of darkness… Forget these wide-eyed fears… I’m here, nothing can harm you… My love will warm and calm you.”
It was her voice! There was no question about it. Johann bolted upright, terrified, and started looking around him. He glanced up in the air, where the song seemed to be originating, and saw that the two ribbons had coalesced and changed their shape. They had formed into a perfect image of Beatrice’s face, and it was her mouth that was singing the song.
“Say you’ll love me, every waking moment…”
Johann listened, dazzled and transfixed, tears streaming down his face. The sound was perfect, unbelievable, miraculous.
“Love me, that’s all I ask of you,” the vision of Beatrice sang the final words of the song. A few seconds later her face was gone and the two ribbons were again hovering over the grave site.
“Thank you,” Johann said, waving at the ribbons. “That was wonderful.”
He picked up Beatrice’s body and dropped it into the grave. Johann shoveled in a little dirt, then some more. Soon her body was completely covered. At that point he turned around and noticed that Maria was awake. The child wasn’t crying. She was simply staring at the ribbons.
Johann remembered his promise to Beatrice and realized that he had not said a prayer over her body. He picked up Maria and held her up closer to the ribbons.
“Some people believe,” he said to Maria, “that if you’ve been a good person in this life, then when you die you join God and all the other good people in a place called heaven. Your mother believed that. And she was a very, very good person, so she may be in heaven with God right now.
“It’s customary, when someone dies who is a Christian like your mother, for a prayer to be said at the time of their burial. This prayer usually asks God to receive into heaven the soul of the person who has just died. Now your uncle Johann is not very experienced at this prayer business, but I’m going to give it a try.”
Johann took a deep breath and kissed Maria, who was still staring at the ribbons, on the forehead. “Dear God,” he began. Then he stopped. He didn’t know what to say, and he was certain that as soon as he mentioned Beatrice’s name, he was going to burst into tears again.
At that moment the two bright ribbons suddenly merged, rapidly forming themselves into a huge sphere. The sphere was white everywhere except for a pair of shaded bands around the equator, two shaded circles that looked like eyes in the northern hemisphere, and a shaded hood on the top. The sparkling particles had become an unmistakable representation of the spacecraft in which Johann and Maria were living.
While the sphere was forming, a dozen more long, bright ribbons zoomed into view, coming from all directions and filling the sky with light. They temporarily arranged themselves in two neat rows just to the right of the sphere.
Johann and Maria both squinted, protecting their eyes from the profusion of light. What was surprising was that the child did not cry. She seemed fascinated by the light show above her.
The new ribbons broke their array after a minute or so and changed into a set of concentric circles, like a target, with a large bright light at the center, and tiny, twinkling lights moving in orbits around the circles. The sphere that resembled their spacecraft shrank rapidly, becoming a tiny twinkling light itself before moving into the target and occupying a position very close to the light fourth in distance from the center.
The formation remained static for over a minute. The twinkling lights moved slowly in their orbits. Awestruck, Johann suddenly recognized what he was seeing.
The tiny twinkle representing their spacecraft moved slowly away from Mars. It drifted out past the orbits of Jupiter and Saturn. Then, suddenly, its velocity away from the central source increased markedly. The entire target pattern in the sky above Johann and Maria shrank until it was only a pinpoint of light. Other stars showed up in the sky above them as their tiny twinkle left the solar system behind.
Johann glanced at Maria in his arms. “I might not be understanding this properly,” he said to her, “but I think we’re being told that we’re going to be interstellar explorers.” His mind was already asking a thousand questions. Johann turned his eyes back to the display above him just as their tiny twinkle approached a new light source, one rapidly growing larger and brighter.
The target pattern around this second star contained fourteen orbiting planets. The twinkle representing their spherical spaceship headed directly fo
r the light fourth nearest to the new sun. This special planet grew in size until it was by far the most dominant object in the sky above Johann and Maria. When their twinkle appeared to land on its surface, the sparkling particles created a huge new panoramic scene out of light and shade. Among the patterns Johann thought he could see the waves of an ocean crashing on a beach, a forest of trees whose leaves were being blown by a strong wind, and tall, snowcapped mountains. Two majestic full moons shone in the planet’s dark sky.
“That must be where we are going,” the amazed Johann said to the child in his arms.
Her face reflected the changing lights in the sky. When he turned around, all the particles and ribbons had again formed into a sphere that resembled their spacecraft, except this time the brilliant sphere was enormous, and looked as if it were solid. It filled almost the entire sky above the island. As the sphere moved slowly closer to Johann and Maria, its equatorial bands parted and a long, white, helical ramp descended, touching the ground only a few meters from where they were. At the top of the ramp, in the dark gap between the hemispheres, a glowing white figure stood. Johann nearly fainted when he recognized Beatrice in her robe and headpiece.
“A-ve Ma-ri-i-a,” the vision of Beatrice sang. The magnificent voice was unquestionably hers. It was joined after a few bars by a chorus of other, equally astonishing voices, coming from everywhere in the sky. The sound was beautiful, divine. Johann was enraptured.
When the song was over, Beatrice took three steps down the ramp. “Come with us, Brother Johann,” he heard her voice say. “We will help you take care of Maria.”
Johann was trembling so much he was afraid he would drop the child. Every part of his body was experiencing an extraordinary, intense tingle.
“Come up the ramp, Brother Johann,” the voice said. “We are waiting for you.”
Johann looked up at the vision of Beatrice, standing above him with a radiant smile and outstretched arms, and felt a peace unlike any he had ever known. He walked over to the bottom of the ramp. Maria cried softly, and he comforted her.