by Seven Steps
“What isn’t there?”
“War.”
“War between whom?”
Marshall looked from her to the rest of the group. “What do you mean war between whom?” He gestured to Nic. “Hey. You fought in the war?”
“No.”
“You?” he asked Roland.
“No.”
He turned to Joanna, began to ask something, then stopped himself. He turned and faced the whole group.
“How long have you been in America? How do you not know about the war going on?” They looked at him, bewildered. “The North and the South? The Union and the Confederates?” They looked at him blankly.
“The north and the south what?” Joanna asked.
Marshall suppressed a laugh and shook his head. “The northern states and the southern states.”
“Why are they fighting?” Joanna asked.
“Because the South left the Union.”
“Why did the South leave the Union?”
“Because the South wanted slavery, but the North didn’t.”
“Did you fight?” she asked.
“Yeah. I fought. Me and my brother fought in the 140th New York.” His lower lip began to tremble. “But they killed him. Those rebels killed my brother on a hill in Pennsylvania. I’ll never forget it. Little Round Top is what they called it. They killed him right in front of me.” His face scrunched up with the pain of his loss, and his voice went up several octaves before he wiped his tears on his dirty sleeve and walked on. “That’s when my mind started going. It does that when you see someone’s brains come out the back of their head. But those rebels ain’t gonna take my mind. I’m gonna fight for it. You hear me!” he screamed out into the openness of the road. “You ain’t gonna take my mind cause I ain’t gonna let you!”
The companions stopped for a second, and Terra felt Nic’s hand once again on her shoulder. She looked at Joanna, who looked back at her.
“Terra, are you sure that we should be following this man?” Joanna whispered. “He’s crazy!”
“We’re just going with him as far as the city. After that, we can go our own way.”
“How long do we plan on staying here?”
“We just got here. You want to leave so soon?”
“At least to a more advanced time. Judging by the smell of him, they don’t even have running showers.”
Terra scrunched her nose. “Well, we can’t make a decision for three more days. The ship’s battery will be recharged by then.”
“And after that?”
“Then we’ll decide if we want to be on our way, or not.”
“Three days,” Joanna said, half to herself. “Just three more days.”
CHAPTER 22
The nearly blackened, cobblestone streets of New York City stretched for miles in every direction. Atop the cobblestones, rows and rows of brown buildings ran as far as the eye could see. They weren’t high—five stories at the most. Above the doorways, wooden planks announced, Grocery, Whiskey, or, Butcher in bold, black lettering. One particularly tall building had the words, The Tribune, painted at the very top of it, with several other lines of words running between floors.
Men and women of all races filled the streets, intermingling and passing each other with both a heightened awareness, and a general disinterest—a common New York peculiarity.
Screams of anger and joy happened often. Mixed in with the screams were the sounds of loud talking, cursing, laughing, and ramblings. There was a sweet concoction of different accents, most of which the travelers could not understand. Even the walls of the buildings seemed to murmur with their own conversations. Somewhere, a piano played a lively tune in high notes while people sung and hummed along.
The smell of cooking food mixed in with the scent of lye as someone, somewhere, did laundry in the early evening. Shirts, dresses, socks, and underwear hung on wires that ran between the tall buildings.
People hurried to their destinations, all sharing the same air of irritation.
“What are you; blind?”
“Out of the way.”
“Hey. I’m walkin’ here!”
Women and men sat on crumbling steps, laughing and jeering as the Venians walked by.
“Has the circus come to town?”
“They must be Chinese. No Irishmen would be caught dead dressed like that!”
“Can’t be Chinese. Those are niggers with ‘em!”
“The South must really be losin’. They got to dress themselves up in tin foil.”
“Maybe they’re trying to attract lightning!”
“I know! They’re reflecting the sunlight to give them boys a tan!”
The travelers cringed, painfully aware of how different they were here. They walked closer to Marshall.
There was no doubt about it. The city was a live, pulsating beast, and they had become a part of its heartbeat.
The hot day left them dripping with sweat, tired, and out of temper. Especially the children.
“I want to take a bath!” Deanna kept demanding.
“In time, sweetheart,” Terra would reply.
“Is it always this hot here?” Joanna asked, futilely fanning herself with one hand.
Marshall pulled his shirt collar with his index finger. “I don’t remember it ever being this hot.”
“Is the thermostat broken?” Deanna asked.
“What?” Marshall asked.
“One time, the cooling system malfunctioned and the whole sector was hot, and we had to stay in our houses until they fixed it again. Mommy made us drink a lot of water, and our servants had to fan us with a big sheet. It was fun.”
Marshall looked at the little girl blankly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I do know that when the sun shines, it gets hot, and when it don’t shine, sometimes it still gets hot. Depends on the season. Don’t they have seasons in India?”
Joanna laughed nervously, trying to distract Marshall.
“Yes. Yes; we do. You know, children say the most interesting things sometimes.”
Irritation crossed his sweaty face and he looked away from Joanna, continuing down the street.
Bars opened. Lights flickered in windowsills. Across the street, a butcher shop owner screamed at a dark skinned woman standing with her hands on her hips in front of his store.
“The sign says we close at seven thirty!” he bellowed. “It’s seven thirty five. Can’t you tell time?”
“I just want a piece of beef. Why can’t you make an exception? My kid’s gotta eat too you know!”
“Go to Billy Poe down the street. He’s open until ten. I’m getting out of here.”
“You can’t cut a few slices of meat? It’ll take two seconds!”
“Look. What did I say? What did I say, huh?” He ran toward her threateningly, butcher knife in hand, his fat belly bouncing beneath his apron. The woman screamed and ran down the street.
“He’s crazy! He’s crazy! I ain’t never coming back here again. You hear me? Never!”
“Don’t come back here, nigger!” the butcher cried at her. “If I see you around here again, I’ll bust your skull!” He spit on the ground next to him, and went back into his shop, slamming the door behind him.
Terra shivered. She felt Nic’s reassuring hand on her shoulder and walked on.
“This seems like a rough place,” she said.
“It’s New York. That’s what we’re known for,” Marshall replied.
They continued down Third Avenue. The stem of a streetlight shook slightly as it lit, giving off a strange odor of gas from the glass encasement on top.
“This stone reminds me of home,” Joanna said.
“Yes,” Terra replied softly. “It does.”
“I want to go back, Terra. I want to see home again.”
“Three days, Joanna. Give it three days, and then we’ll discuss it.”
Joanna stopped and glared at Terra.
“Don’t talk to me that way, Terra!”
&n
bsp; “What way?” Terra asked, confusion squeezing her brows together. “What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Like I’m a child. Don’t talk to me like I’m a child.”
“Joanna, I’m not talking to you like a child.”
“Who put you in charge, anyway? If anyone should be in charge, it should be me.” She walked close to Terra and looked her in the eye. “Let’s not forget who we are, Terra. Let’s not forget who pulls rank here.”
“No one pulls rank here. We are all equal.”
Joanna smiled, a tight smile full of ill will. “You just remember that,” she said, and walked up ahead of the group.
Terra huffed. “Joanna!”
Joanna turned around, that tight smile still on her lips. “Yes, Terra,” she said sweetly.
“Just because we’re on Earth, doesn’t mean that we have to act like barbarians,” she said, eyes flashing with challenge.
“How dare you!” Joanna huffed, walking briskly toward Terra.
“No, Joanna. How dare you!”
“Girls!” Marshall barked.
They looked at him in shock.
“You’re making a scene.”
Terra and Joanna saw men staring at them with sly smiles.
“Let’s get to wherever we’re going,” Terra said. “We’ll talk about this later.”
“We sure will,” Joanna replied.
Nic and Roland put the women and children between them and continued to follow Marshall down the cobblestone.
The farther they walked down Third Avenue in the blazing heat the louder the streets became. There seemed to be a commotion nearby.
“Marshall, are you sure that we’re safe?” Joanna asked. “It’s getting dark.”
“You’re never really safe in New York,” he replied. “But that’s how we like it. It’s just a little commotion up ahead. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
The noise was clamorous, like a raging waterfall.
“We are entrusting you with our safety,” Joanna said. “And with the safety of the children.”
Marshall rolled his eyes. “Relax. Just try to blend in.”
There was the sound of men shouting, the primal screaming of souls that made Joanna’s hairs stand up.
So many men, she thought. What have we gotten ourselves into? Maybe we should have stayed on the ship. Maybe we should go back. She began to turn toward Terra then, remembering their argument, she turned back. I refuse to speak first. She’s the one who owes me an apology. Let her come crawling back to me.
They reached the fringes of the monstrous crowd. The people were shouting, their fist pumping in the air.
“No draft! No draft! No draft!”
“What’s going on?” Marshall asked one man.
“What?” the man asked.
Marshall grabbed the man’s ear and screamed into it.
“What’s going on?” Marshall repeated.
The man grabbed Marshall’s ear in the same fashion. “They just finished up the lotto. Over twelve hundred men got called.”
Another ear grab. “What lotto?”
“The government passed a law. All white Northern men are eligible for the draft now. They just called twelve-hundred of them in.”
“They gonna call more?”
“Maybe on Monday. But I think it’s just about over now.”
“Thanks, Mac!” Marshall patted the man roughly on the back and led the group along to the outskirts of the crowd.
“What’s going on?” Joanna demanded.
Marshall shook his head. “Nothing that concerns you. Come on. Let’s go find the boarding house and someplace to eat.”
Joanna narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re not being truthful.”
“Neither are you.” Marshall winked at her, and pushed his way through the crowd.
~()~()~()~()~
The Wolf House was a boarding house located three buildings away from a draft office. Five stories, tall and narrow, it resembled the spine of a closed book lodged into an overstuffed bookshelf.
They walked up into the lobby, and were immediately accosted with the smell of sweat.
“What is that smell?” Joanna demanded, covering her nose.
“What smell?” Marshall asked.
She suppressed a gag, and scowled at him.
Three days, she thought to herself. Just three more days.
Marshall walked up to the front desk.
The man behind it balanced a large cigar on the edge of his lip. His hair was plastered to his head with perspiration.
“I need a room,” Marshall said shortly.
The man squinted at them in the low light. “It’s a quarter a bed and meal.” He took a long drag of his cigar through one side of his mouth and let the smoke out through the other side. His thick lips were crimson red with splotches of brown. “Two bucks for the week.” He jerked his chin toward the group. “Are they all with you?” he asked.
Marshall looked behind him at the group, cleared his throat, and turned back to the man. “Yeah.”
“You all gonna stay in one room?”
Marshall sniffed. “Two rooms. One night.”
“Fifty cents.”
Marshall grumbled, pulled out two quarters from his pocket, and slammed them on the table.
The man directed him to sign a large book with an inky black pen.
“Rooms five and six on the second floor. You wanna eat, you can get a hot plate from the kitchen down the hall.” He pointed a thick finger toward a hazy hallway.
Marshall nodded his thanks, and led the group to the left and up a wooden staircase.
The jagged, splintering stairs creaked as they walked over them.
“I’m surprised that no one has fallen through,” Joanna remarked.
Marshall snorted. “Nah. They’re just quick about patching up holes.” He turned and winked at her again. “Watch your step, Joey bean.”
Joanna glared at the back of Marshall’s head as they continued to follow him upward.
“Joey bean,” Roland said from behind her. “I like it.”
Joanna rolled her eyes. “I don’t.”
They walked passed a woman with too much makeup, and a man who smelled like he’d recently bathed in liquor before stopping in front of room five.
Marshall turned to them.
“I’ll stay in here with Roland and Joey bean,” he said. “Nic, Terra, and the kids can stay in the next room.” He handed Nic the key. “The bathroom’s down there.” He pointed to an open door down the hallway. “I’m going to go out for a while. But here’s the key.” He handed his room key to Roland. “Whatever you do, don’t talk to anyone, okay? And don’t leave this room until I come back.”
Roland nodded, and Marshall jogged back down the stairs.
“Where do you think he’s going?” Roland asked.
“I don’t know,” Joanna replied. She placed a hand over her rumbling belly. She was torn between wanting him to never come back and hoping he’d bring them back some food.
Roland put the key into the brass lock and turned it. The door gave an audible click. He turned the warm, brass knob and pushed the door open.
Two beds, one on each side of the room, were each covered in yellow sheets and dingy, white, flat pillows. A single window bathed the room in pale moonlight. A small wooden table and chair were the only other comforts they were afforded.
Roland closed the door behind them, and stood behind Joanna in the moonlight.
“What are we doing here?” Joanna whispered.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what are we doing in some filthy room, with thread bare sheets and no color scheme?”
“This is Earth. We made it.”
“Is this what you envisioned for us? Abject poverty?”
“I envisioned us together. And here we are.” He walked around her to look her in the eye. “We’re free. We can do anything we want.”
“Anything?” Joann
a asked.
“Anything.”
He took her hand in his, and put her fingers to his heart. He had that look in his eye. The sad, longing look he'd given her a million times before on Venus. Only, it seemed different now. Maybe it was how the moonlight lit him from behind, making him look like some sort of holy creature. Perhaps it was the homesickness that gripped her heart. Or maybe it was the warmth of his hands on hers. Whatever the feeling was, it snaked down her spine, making her hands shake. She looked deep into his eyes.
Had they always been so beautiful?
Scandalized shame coursed through her and she looked away from him, focusing on the fat, pearl colored moon instead.
This place is definitely getting to me.
“Then I want to go home,” she said.
He dropped her hand in disappointment.
I wish he'd hold it again.
Her cheeks reddened at the thought, and she walked to the window, squeezing her hand to the splintery, wood frame.
What is wrong with me? Why am I thinking about such strange things? It’s just Roland. Why does he seem so different now?
Forcing herself to think of something other than the warmth of Roland's hand, she looked down into the streets below.
The crowd had dispersed. She could see them walking back to their homes, still electric with the energy of the day. She put her hand out of the window and let the night breeze flow over it.
In a few days, this will all be over. Then, we can go back home to…
Suddenly, her mind went blank.
What's it called?
She had just been thinking about it a minute ago, and now she couldn’t remember.
That’s impossible. How can I forget home? How can I forget the name of my home? She looked at Roland, who was sitting on the bed, still cradling his head.
“Roland,” she said.
“Yes,” he replied, his eyes filling with hope. Hope for her. Hope for them.
His yearning gaze made her heart beat a little faster. She turned back to the window and took a calming breath.
“Never mind.”
This place is getting to me. I have to be brave; to be strong. Home is...
The name still escaped her. She warred with her lazy mind, trying to conjure up an image of it.
It was orange. That much I remember. With cobblestone streets and land pods. I had a home there, a beautiful house with checkerboard floors and red walls. What is it called? How could I forget the name of my home world? What's wrong with my mind?