Wham!

by Carol Marrs Phipps

  “Sounds like you used to know all kinds.”

  “I had my dainty pair of binoculars when I was a young miss.”

  On they pedaled, fenders rattling with the bumps.

  “There,” said Maud. “Right yonder's something else breaks my heart. See where the corn rows come out to the ditches, all along the road?”

  “On the right?”

  “You'd never know theah was a house and a garden and orchard and a big white barn and some sheep sheds and chickens and cows and flowers and grapes and guineas.

  That's where Morty and I first lived. Oh! He was my prince on a white horse.”

  “What happened?”

  “Some of the neighbors went to spraying. I know at the time I didn't see how any good farmer would ever need to. I couldn't imagine Providence being that far wrong. But the minute they did, we started losing tomatoes and peach trees. Soon the universities were telling everybody that they had to be spraying instead of ploughing if they wanted to keep from losing their shirts. And one by one the banks got the small farms. We tried to hang on and have kids, but we just kept getting sick. We went under from taxes and the bank got us.”

  At last they found themselves at the church where they dismounted in the grass.

  “Theah's not been a service here since I was a girl,” said Maud glancing up at the belfry. “How they used to sing! Vases of gladiolas on the piano. Theah are mornings, just before I open my eyes, I can still hear them.” They walked their bicycles between the stones in the graveyard until they reached the spot where Maud and Mort had planned to rest for eternity. Now it seemed that Maud would be laid there by herself since the hospital had disposed of him. “Well,” she said. “Looks like they got the date he passed away inscribed on the stone.”

  Tess put her arm about her and they both wept.

  After a time Maud let out a shaky sigh. “Goodbye Morty,” she whispered. “I'm a- coming to be by your side, by and by.” She turned to Tess with a red wrinkly eyed smile. “Let's go.”

  “Maud,” said Tess. “Do you mind if we have a walk through the cemetery before we go?”

  “Why not at all.”

  “Mom used to say that this graveyard's where our family was. I'd just like to see.”

  “You know, I don't remember ever seeing any Greenwoods. Who was your mom's family?”

  “The Rhosyns.”

  “I can show y' right where they are.”

  They did indeed find Rhosyns all over the far end of the cemetery, but after nearly an hour of walking up and down each row of stones, they found no Greenwoods whatsoever. “I reckon I'll just have to wait to find out where the Greenwoods are until I see Mom and Dad again,” said Tess.

  Maud looked at her in surprise, but said nothing. She knew that no one ever came back, but there had been enough sadness this afternoon.

  Tess and Maud ate a supper of leftover roast and Maud made her decision. “I'll be going back to my barrack at the north end, first thing in the morning,” she said.

  “I wish you'd stay,” said Tess. “You seem like family.”

  “I'd do it in a minute, deary-do. But you know Children and Family. They decide. It wouldn't surprise me to find some awful somebody moved in with Bart and me to replace Mort when I get there. And you've got the Warrens coming...”

  “Bart! I almost forgot about him. Shouldn’t he be back by now?”

  “Oh he'll show up when he's ready to,” said Maud. “Tomorrow will be a big day for both of us.”

  “Yeh. Bigger'n I want.”

  “And bigger'n I want, I'm afraid,” said Maud.

  * * *

  Nia and Sam sat beside Jill's hospital bed and waited, hoping that she would stir. The next forty-eight hours would tell. If she did not awaken from the beating she got from the two policemen by then, the doctors said that she probably never would. The police had very nearly killed her even though they only had to wait for the banker's autopsy report to find that he had not been murdered at all, but had indeed died from a heart attack, just as Jill claimed. At least she managed to take one of the coppers with her.

  Fierce, fierce little lady. Somehow she got the visor off the stinker who had yanked out a fistful of her hair and put out both his eyes. He was in a bed across the hall, still unconscious himself.

  But what would become of her if she should recover? Poor Lizbeth certainly died for less provocation. The skinweler on the stand above the bag of glucose kept Nia and Sam from saying a word, but one could easily read their faces.

  “I don't know if there's anything to this magic stuff,” thought Nia. “But if there is, I swear I'll find a way out of here to let the world know!”

  Chapter 11

  Before Nia was taken, Drake traded one of his pistol cartridges for a nice big sketch tablet and began a drawing of the love of his life. He was not far from completing it when the Children and Family police raided the Greenwood's. For days the thought of merely getting it out was more than he could bear, but this evening, when he drew it out on the kitchen table for a look, he began working on it. He managed a cup of tepid tea, but he was so very close to being done that he forgot all about supper.

  Just as he propped up the tablet against a gallon jar of pickled eggs and stood back for a look, there came a knock. “Seven twenty,” he thought, glancing at the clock. “Tess? Surely not. Maxi?” He opened the door against the chain. “Jasmine!” he said, unfastening it. “What are you doing here?”

  “Exactly what I promised last night when you left me standing outside.”

  “Oh. Oh yeh! That was supposed to be six...”

  “And I'm so important that you have total amnesia by seven whatever it is, eh?”

  “I'm afraid I got absorbed in something at about three thirty, which I was just finishing up when you knocked,” he said, stepping outside and sitting on the top step.

  “Surely you're not upset when you're late yourself. I mean, an hour and a half is enough to miss the bus.”

  “Sorry about that,” said Jasmine, sitting down beside him. “We move in at Tess's tomorrow. And Trent is a big baby when it comes to packing and he went tramping about throwing things until I practically packed all his stuff for him. He wants me to pack his shit like a grown-up so he'll look like a big man to Tess. He really likes her a lot, don't you know.”

  “Righty-o. But I don't think she likes him any more than you like packing his things.”

  “Yeh. But he thinks she'll see he's turned over a new leaf. Especially under the same roof.”

  “I wouldn't count on it.”

  “Why Drake? Do you know something we don't? Has Tess taken up with someone since she got her famous makeover? You maybe?”

  “Oh go on! Tess is like a little sister. Sister in law, if Children and Family hadn't stepped in. I can assure you that there's no boyfriend at all. And I can also tell you that Trent's pestered her to death since Gollsport High and Children and Family forced her to take her shots. She hasn't appreciated him one bit.”

  “Well she didn't mind when she fell in the hall and he helped her sweet fanny off the floor. And when everyone thought she looked like a snotty little witch on the floor, he shut them up and everything. She even thanked him.”

  “Yes,” he said with a sigh. “I heard. And she's been expecting him to jump out of the shadows and chase after her skirt ever since.”

  “Yeh?” she said with a pop of her gum. “Well he's turned over his leaf.”

  “Good for him. But I trust you'll not hold it against me if I wait and see.”

  “No more than your manners, not even offering me a drink,” she said with a wise look over her lip as she whisked at some little something on his sleeve. “And here I am, forgiving and worrying and calling 'round again and again to see how you're managing.”

  “Drink. Uh, tea?”

  “This late? You don't have something cold? You still don't keep beer, do you? Shandies in the summer heat are just plain good for you.”

  “I found a packe
t of powdered lemonade,” he said, rising to his feet and stepping into the kitchen. “If you'd like, I'll fix it.”

  Jasmine stepped by him with a flounce and propped her hands on the table before the drawing, chewing her gum.

  Drake found a pitcher and filled it with water and ice. “This is the stuff,” he said, holding up the packet.

  “Is it sour?”

  He tore off the top and took a pinch. “Nah,” he said, touching it to his tongue.

  “But you know damned well it's fatally toxic to drink every day.”

  “Everything is,” she said. “I'll take a glass.”

  Drake stirred for a bit.

  “It looks just like her, Drake,” she said as he handed her a glass. “You're damned good to make a drawing like this just from memories.”

  “I'm afraid memories are all I have left.”

  “Not all. I'll be here to help you forget.”

  “You'll forgive me, but I don't quite know how to take that. I can see that you're being thoughtful. But she is the very love of my life and I've just lost her. I know that it's best if I can get on with my life. But forget? I don't want to forget her at all.”

  “That's childish, Drake,” said Jasmine, leaning more heavily on the table. “She's a whore for the capitol and you're never going to see her again. And the sooner you face it, the sooner you'll be able to cope.”

  Drake picked up the tablet, closed its cover over the drawing of Nia and slid it onto the top of the kitchen cupboard. “You know Jasmine,” he said as he held open the kitchen door, “There were two reasons I dumped you. Nia was indeed the girl of my dreams. But the other reason was that when it came to it, you just didn't know how to behave. Now don't you ever call Nia a whore again. Good night!”

  “So she goes off to the capitol,” she said as she stepped outside, “and you treat me like dirt for trying to be your friend? And how are you going to stand up for goody-goody Tess when she's living in our house? Why should we let you in?”

  Drake closed the door in her face. At once he could hear her throwing things against the wall. He took a chair at the table and sat with his face in his hands.

  “She's right about one thing,” said the skinweler by the stove.

  “And what, pray tell would that be?” said Drake between the heels of his hands.

  “You'll have to forget Nia. It's your obligation if you expect to make a harmonious contribution to society. And you don't want to be restive. Surely you are wise enough not to undergo a remediation indoctrination.”

  * * *

  Bart flew for three days up the coast from Gollsport, through Bratin Brute until at last after dark on the third day, he reached the Jut of Niarg. The coast was almost entirely wooded when he had first come to Gollsport, but now it was mile after endless mile of alternating corn and soybean fields. When he reached the ghost city of Bratin, the air was so foul and choking that he had to fly much higher in order to breathe. From there to the Jut of Niarg everything was barren. The Jut was bordered by a twenty foot high fence carrying so much electric current that when he perched on the top wire, the field made his feathers stand away from one another. “I've seldom perched on an electric line with enough current to produce any detectable field at all,” he thought. “How could the government be that afraid of the trolls returning?” He left the wire at once and found a perch in a nearby dead elm tree and spent the night.

  He was stunned by what he saw when he awoke at the first light of day. “Is every last tree dead?” he thought, taking to the air to search for anything that might still be green. Something was green a good half mile away. He made for it at once. It was an oak, with all different sizes of leaves on the half that wasn’t dead.

  He landed on one of the lower limbs. “I have yet to hear a bird or a squirrel or anything,” he thought as he sorted through his flight feathers. “Is every last creature dead?” He was preening his tail feathers when a fist sized rock ripped through the leaves beside him. “Hey!” he shouted in the bushy red head of the troll below. “You stinking idiot!”

  The troll grabbed his ears and ran.

  Bart thought there was something right odd about how he was doing this and flew after him. “Hey!” he hollered in the troll's head. “What happened to your arm?”

  The troll squealed and ran all the harder until he tripped on a stick and fell.

  Bart flew ahead, swooped to the ground and turned into a beautiful woman with a crest of black feathers instead of hair. “I said: what happened to your arm?” she cried, planting her fists on the hips of her tight black jeans. “I've never seen a troll with fingers growing out of his shoulder.”

  The troll cast about frantically, looking for Bart in the trees.

  “I'm the crow you're looking for,” said the woman.

  “No you not be. Think I stupid?”

  “You might be, unless you've never heard of skinwalkers,” said the woman. “Look. You didn't like my talking in your head, so I changed into this.”

  “All right, all right!” said the troll, backing away from her like a crab. “But I no be sure how I likey-like she-human witch with feathers. I head-nod know no one likey-like me. My own-self fmoo take one looky-look at me when I be poop-born and shaky-head no way would ever-ever juicy-champ-eat my afterbirth. That why-be I be single-only true Dyrney in this whole only place. Maybe if you say you name, I not owl-shivers shakey- think you turn me into toad.”

  “I'm Morrigan. And I could use your help.”

  “And I be Whupp,” he said, carefully getting to his feet. “My fmoo say that be what I need. So what you need?”

  “I need to get to some woods somewhere that are green enough to have mushrooms growing in a ring. Are there any at all that you know of?”

  “Long-far side of big sparkle-water lake be green woods with big dell. The most greeny-green that I head-nod. But don't slurp-drink lake water. It make you bloody-pee and breathe like cold rock. Any-what drinks, goes to land of dead.”

  “Where are these woods from here?”

  “That way as crow flies,” he said, pointing with his good arm.

  “Thank you,” said Morrigan, “So I shall.” And with that, she immediately turned into Bart and flew away.

  Bart flew for some hours over a silent countryside of dead trees, dotted here and there with isolated green ones, struggling to live in spite of their deformed foliage. By early afternoon, most of the trees below were alive, so he landed in the crown of a cottonwood to listen for birds only to find the woods altogether silent except for the rattling in the breeze of the tree's misshapen leaves. When he took to the air again, he soon saw Jutland Lake spreading out along the horizon with a line of green just beyond. He could see that there was nothing alive in the waters of the lake as he flew over, but the trees beyond were alive with the sounds of birds. He dove below the canopy and found great blankets of moss in the leaves, scattered spiderwort, mayapple and jack-in-the- pulpit, and different sorts of puffballs and mushrooms.

  After a great deal of passionate flying about under the canopy, he came to a perfect ring of them on a swelling carpet of moss under a cathedral of red oaks atop a great rearing hogback. He landed on the moss at once and gave a two footed trot around the outside of the ring, studying it carefully. He stopped, bristled up like a pinecone and gave his feathers a thorough shake as he listened to the veeries and ovenbirds trading calls.

  Suddenly he was Morrigan, standing there in her black blouse and jeans. “Well let's see,” she said as she stepped into the ring. Her dainty boot passed right through the moss to the top step of a staircase. She made sure that she had her balance and stepped through the moss with her other boot onto the next step down. And with that, she jogged on down through the moss as it closed over her head, shutting out the light. At the bottom of the stairs she paused, quite able to see in the blackness. She had indeed found the Fairy paths.

  “Let's find Ocker and Meri Greenwood,” she said. And a path to Ocker opened up at once. “Very w
ell. Ocker the raven.” And with a deep breath of resolve, she set out at a brisk walk down the path before her in the pungent ambience of deep forest earth. She could plainly make out the path and everything about it including the endless palisade of dangling tree roots on each side, stretching into the distance before her. But each time she stopped and turned about, there was nothing behind her but the startling total blackness of an absolute void. So black and empty was it, that it was a great relief to turn forward again and find everything looking just as it had been, path, tree roots and all. She did not know what to think. She had always been able to see things behind her, any time she had been on the Fairy paths.

  At last she found herself on a stairway going up. Good. This was undoubtedly leading to Ocker, but she could not imagine why there was no indication of a path leading to Meri Greenwood for her use after she saw Ocker. Without warning, she rose up through a layer of moss into the blinding light of day and stepped out of another ring of mushrooms to find herself dressed in a black kirtle with hanging sleeves. “Ah!” she said. “Proper attire for seven centuries ago.” She could see that she was in a deep woods with a great bluff nearby, towering above the trees. She could hear far more kinds of birds singing than there were back in the Jutwoods, but look about as she might, there were no ravens like Ocker to be seen or heard.

  “Well fiddlesticks!” she said, suddenly turning into Bart. “There's nothing for it.” And with a lunge, he flew up above the treetops to see if he could find this particular raven. It was delightful, flying about in the bright sun above a forest of healthy trees in the clean, sweet smelling air. After a time, he heard the unmistakable, “Awk! Awk!” of a male raven far enough above him that he was still trying to find where he was in the sky when a female somewhere up there answered with her, “Tick-tock! Tick-tock!”

  Bart began climbing at once and quickly discovered that they were indeed quite far aloft. “Caw! Caw! Caw! Caw!” he cried.

  “Awk! Awk!” cried the male raven, as the pair of them dove into a fast spiraling descent.