Nameless, p.24
Nameless, page 24
They didn’t even consider her human. Just an animal to be disposed of.
She lifted her eyes. Away from the dead in the pit to the city’s skyline. The dawn was washing the buildings with pure gold. It hadn’t reached the streets yet but soon would and when it did it would pick up their gloom and carry it high, high, skyscraper high, and release it from the night. Because no one could take the sun’s light. Not the Invader or his Pack or the crows. They couldn’t shoot it from the sky. They couldn’t seize it in their hands or beaks and pluck out its heart and discard it in a pit. It would always remain. Light to dispel the darkness. Light to reach towards when death pressed its muzzle against your head.
The gun fired and she jerked hard and whimpered and waited to topple to join the dead. There was no pain. No blackness. Only the sun crawling towards her across the pit. Crawling then gone as the crows rose from the bodies, startled by the gunshot, a mass of black with a thousand beating wings and screaming throats, their meal forgotten in their startled flight to safety.
Caw. Caw. Caw.
Beat. Beat. Beat.
They rose like smoke from a chimney and flew away from the sun and towards where she still waited to fall. To die. Flew like a hundred unguided missiles indifferent to their trajectory or what was in their way.
Caw. Caw. Caw.
Beat. Beat. Beat.
The soldiers swore and crouched and covered their heads with their arms and a finger squeezed on a cocked trigger and fired into the trees. Increasing the mass of black panic.
She fell face down on the dirt. Felt it in her mouth and nose. Felt the breath of the wings above her and heard their heartbeat. Heard her own heartbeat. Her own breath. She reached her hand to the back of her head and found it intact and spent a moment in astonished gladness. Then crawled beneath the living throng and into the sun.
‘There was only one place to hide where they wouldn’t look for me, so that’s where I went. Into the pit. I lay beneath the little girl with the doll and held her hand and was certain I’d be found, because where else could I be? And sure enough, once the crows had gone they started looking for me. But they must have been idiots because they didn’t even search the pit. Maybe because the crows came back.’
She frowned as she remembered her day with the dead. Remembered how bad the smell was and how cold the hand she held and how the doll’s eyes kept staring right at her. Remembered the revulsion and fear. Then she remembered the peace.
These people’s spirits had fled to a better place and now they were just shells that couldn’t hurt her. Shells, yet shrines to who they had once been.
The crows left her alone. She supposed with so many uncomplaining meals they weren’t interested in a protesting one. Or they simply preferred the flesh of the dead.
Or maybe they’d done it to save her.
Maybe they, like her, loved their country and wanted to protect their own. Defend them against the invaders.
Maybe those crows carried the spirits of her people in their bellies. Taking them to heaven. That’s what she liked to think.
And that’s why she called herself Crow.
‘Don’t you see, Moon, that even when you feel like there’s no hope, no chance of escape, no point in even living, that you can be wrong. I wasn’t ready to die but I didn’t think I had a choice, because when a gun’s pressed against your head and the trigger cocked it’s pretty obvious it’s all over.
‘Then came the crows and saved me.
‘And now this Crow is here to do the same for you.
‘You just have to take my hand.’
The glow was steady. The pool’s surface still, a black mirror that reflected nothing, for the life force of the woman beneath consumed all else.
‘Please, Moon, come back to me. You’ve done it once and I know you can do it again. Take my hand and I’ll pull you out. For there is hope. There’s always hope. Take my hand and you’ll see that life is not done with. While your heart beats and air fills your lungs there is hope. Even when it all seems impossible and death is a certainty there’s still hope.’
If I leave they’ll catch me and it will begin again. You shouldn’t hope. It’s futile.
‘They won’t catch you. I’ll protect you. Your mother will protect you.’
They’re strong. I can hear them. They surround the pool and bite and growl and taunt. They drag me down again and again. They take my hope.
‘They can’t take your hope unless you relinquish it. They can’t drag you down if you fight. Don’t let them win, Moon. Reach for my hand.’
You were always the strong one. I wasn’t. Surely you know that. You saw. You saw how easily I gave up.
‘You should have died after what they did to you,’ Crow hissed, suddenly angry. ‘You should have died. Your injuries were severe. Yet you lived. You lived. You are here.’
It was you who kept me alive. You who saved me.
She shook her head with vehemence. ‘I provided only pain relief. It was you who fought your way back from death. You. Do it again. Fight, Moon, fight. I know you can. Take my hand.’
I couldn’t have killed Madam.
She smiled then. Every remembering would bring her satisfaction. ‘Yes, you could have. Hadn’t you already done it once? On the day of invasion? Killed a dozen of them, you said. If I’d given you a weapon you could have killed Madam. I would have stood at your side and cheered. I am at your side now.’
The moon was silent. Her glow flickering slightly.
Was it our fault? If we’d fought harder…
‘Do not say that, Moon, do not think it. We were powerless. They killed us if we fought…killed us if we looked at them the wrong way. If we cried. We had no choice. They had a choice, yet they chose to hurt us because we were powerless. They were the ones at fault, not us.’
Yes. Yes. We couldn’t have stopped them.
‘We couldn’t have stopped them. But we escaped, Moon. Both of us. We escaped. Take my hand and choose to live.’
Together we are strong.
‘Yes, yes, together we are strong. Take my hand.’
You, me, Mother. Together.
She glanced over her shoulder and beckoned and Teller ran across the frozen ground from where she waited on the rocky, icy path. Not caring about the snow or the menace in the trees. Running to her daughter.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘We are both here. Me and Mother. Reach out your hands and we’ll free you.’
Mother?
‘I’m here, my darling,’ said Teller, crouching on the rock. ‘We are both here. Together we will save you. Together we are strong. Remember the dogs.’
‘Reach, Moon, stretch, free your hands then kick your feet. Kick those fucking bastards in the head. They don’t know you. They don’t realise how strong you are.’
Silence. Stillness. A frantic heartbeat. The faintest of ripples on the dark pool, with its radiant heart.
Then like fragile petals of the whitest flowers, fingers broke the surface. More, as a second hand joined it.
And she and Teller reached for the moon. Grasping, holding, squeezing tight..
‘That’s it, that’s it,’ she said. ‘Hold fast to us, Moon. Push up. We have you.’
Together they pulled on those slippery frozen hands. Pulled and heaved with all their might.
They are holding me, they are holding me, I can’t get free.
‘Kick, Moon, kick,’ she said. ‘You can do it. I know you can do it.’
Pulling, pulling, pulling, feeling as if the frail bones of Moon’s hands would shatter.
‘Come on, Eldest,’ said Teller. ‘You’re strong, you’ve always been strong.’
It’s hard, Mother, so hard. I feel like I’m being torn in two.
‘We have you, Moon, we have you. You’re safe now.’
I can see them behind you in the trees, just waiting for me, for us. It’s not safe. You should run before they get you.
‘They can’t hurt you, daughter, not with us here. Not with you here. Remember how strong you are. Remember how the Invader cowered.’
I can’t, Mother. I can’t. I’m sorry. I am too weak now…too frightened. I am not the person I was.
Her hands slipped and they struggled but the moon was slimy from so long within the pool and they couldn’t hold her and her grip unravelled from theirs and vanished beneath the water.
‘No,’ Crow screamed, scrabbling at the pool’s surface, scrabbling and almost falling, until Teller grabbed her thin body and hauled her back. For the moon had gone deep down in the dark again and if she fell in she would be lost too. Lost in her memories and the trauma that sliced at her like a dagger.
Sliced both of them.
But she struggled against Teller’s hold, hissing and swearing and gouging at her arms and face with fingernails like claws.
Because if Moon wasn’t strong enough then what hope did she have of not drowning too?
‘Let me go, let me go, Moon! Moon!’
‘She’s gone. She’s gone. We couldn’t hold her.’
‘We gave up! You gave up! She’s your daughter and you gave up! How could you?’
‘I haven’t given up, child, I haven’t.’
‘Moon! Moon!’
But it was too hard. Too late. And she slumped in Teller’s hold.
‘Moon, I need you,’ she whispered.
‘It’s not the end,’ said Teller. ‘Not yet. We’ll try again. There is time to save her. While we live we will keep trying.’
‘I will try.’
The words were his. He stood near them, gazing at the pool, its faint glow lighting his eyes. Weary eyes. Yet eyes full of a love that would never dim. Full of faith that this wasn’t the end.
Full of hope.
41
SOLDIER SAID HE had found Crow wandering in the forest not far from Sanctuary.
‘I was amazed the Pack hadn’t caught her because she made no attempt to hide herself. She was frozen, wearing only a thin linen shift, torn and filthy, and her feet were bare. I approached cautiously because I knew there were patrols about and that if she screamed they’d be upon us in a heartbeat.’
We had moved again, abandoning the old garage in the town close to the slopes of the mountains where we’d stayed three nights, more than usual because we were exhausted. Heavy snow had fallen as we travelled to the town and the garage had seemed a safe port in that freezing storm, with its doors easily locked and barred, its dirty windows of unbroken glass and heavy shutters.
We were able to light a fire and, carefully, furtively, obscuring our footprints as we went, Soldier, Crow and I scouted the empty businesses for a meal while Grandmother bolted the door and waited with Eldest. We found a grocers still with food on the shelves. Cans of vegetables and pickled meats and packets of rice and noodles. Much had gone, much had spoiled, much had been taken by the Pack and by refugees as they tried to flee; some of the latter had been caught by the former and lay dead in the aisles with their bounty clutched to their chests.
Crackers on special for two dollars. Three cans of soup for four dollars. Be quick, specials end soon.
Life ends soon. Sooner than we realise. As precarious as a boulder balanced on a matchstick.
But we were lucky. The heavy snow kept the Pack away and our meal that night was a feast that filled bellies half-starved from days of deprivation.
‘But when she saw me,’ Soldier went on, ‘she didn’t run or scream, just stared then said, “Finally. I’ve been waiting for someone to come. I’m glad it’s you.” She sighed and closed her eyes for a minute and when she opened them added, “It’s been hard. I don’t know what to do or where to go. Can you help me?” She wasn’t afraid, just sounded exhausted. And so, so young. Yet her eyes…they were old. I didn’t know then that she’d experienced more suffering in a few months than most of us do in a lifetime.’ His eyes focused on the distance. Maybe on a memory. A picture. And he whispered, ‘I didn’t know then that the woman called Moon was Eldest or I would have gone there and found her and rescued her if it cost me my life.’
Soldier and I spoke in soft voices while Crow slept at Eldest’s side, curled in on herself like a babe. So strong when awake, such a child when asleep. I realised as I watched her that I cared deeply for this girl, care perhaps built on the frame of what she had done for Eldest. But even still, even if she hadn’t, even if she’d never met my daughter, I think I would have cared for her. Certainly admired her courage and strength, her pragmatism. Felt sorrow for her and the burden she carried. A burden whose true heart I would probably never know.
Soldier took Crow to his camp, an old boathouse, half burned to the ground, half still intact, unlikely to be searched by the Pack. He wrapped her in his coat and a blanket and laid her in the boat he used as a bed while he kindled a small fire nearby to ease her shaking. She slept for two days. Sleep disturbed by dreams that made her whimper and cry out and weep. He didn’t interrupt them, didn’t hush them.
Some things can’t be released when we are awake, he said, for they are too deep, too frightening. So they must be allowed to walk free while we sleep, walk in our dreams where we are safe from their fury. Otherwise they will be trapped in our minds and hearts and souls and steal our senses.
That was what the people of his village believed, he said.
‘While she slept I found her some clothes and food and when I returned she was awake and stoking the fire. Cheerful. Hungry.’ He smiled. ‘I’ve never seen anyone eat as much as she did that day. Endless bowls of food. It was scarce but I didn’t complain. Just found more. She was so thin it was as if she hadn’t eaten properly for months.’
When she was done and warmly dressed and nursing tea in a tin cup, legs crossed before the small fire while Soldier kept watch for patrols, she began to speak. Not to him. Not to anyone, he didn’t think, although maybe there was a god or a spirit that had survived the country’s annihilation and listened with curious ears to how she’d suffered. Listened and hopefully wept for an evil that hadn’t been stopped.
‘But…’ Soldier frowned. ‘I didn’t sense despair in her. Yet she should have despaired after three months of torture and rape. But she is the most amazing child. Her resilience is remarkable. Or maybe…’
‘Maybe she just holds it all inside,’ I said.
Soldier nodded. But still he frowned. ‘Yet I didn’t sense that either. When she spoke of her mother and brother she clearly grieved. But the other, the rapes, it was as if she’d somehow distanced herself from them. Living only for the day and the future and leaving behind all that was past.’
In the silence of the forest Crow’s voice blended with the fire’s gentle smoke to whisper into the treetops and dissipate on the breeze. Releasing the words. The memories. Erasing them so they didn’t linger like demons in her mind.
Ripping, tearing, gouging.
‘She spoke of what it was like. What they did to her. She spoke of the first man who raped her and how cruel he had been and how he had laughed at her, ridiculed her face and her body, hit her again and again. She said she had wept that first time but never again. She said she wouldn’t let them see how they hurt her. They could take her body but not her spirit.’
Crow told him she’d always been strange, said it with a grimace and a smile then a laugh that had a hint of pride within it. When the first soldier mocked her it was nothing she hadn’t heard before.
‘At school the other kids used to make fun of me. They’d get angry at me because I always said what I thought. People don’t like that. They like you to pretend you’re someone else, someone nicer, to tell them what they want to hear and make them feel big, feel like they’re doing the right thing even if it’s wrong.’ Crow shrugged. ‘I told them that at least I’m not false. But they don’t care about that. They only want lies. Lies make them popular and liked but they can’t see that it’s only the lies that are liked, not the person. It’s better to be real.’
‘She slept again then,’ said Soldier. ‘Curled in the boat like the child she was. I watched her and marvelled at her courage. And her trust, for I thought she didn’t know me. But now I know she must have realised who I was. That maybe Eldest mentioned me, described me. I…I like to think she did. That what happened to Eldest hadn’t made her despise all men. Despise me.’
The large hands clasped in his lap tremored slightly as he gazed at Eldest. So still in the glow of the single wavering candle we dared to light. Occasionally her lips moved or she twitched or her eyelids fluttered. She’d woken briefly several times now, once calling me by name and holding my hand, doing the same to Crow. Eldest called her Sister. Made one blood by the bond of what they’d endured.
But Eldest’s wakings were just miniscule moments amid her unconsciousness. Perhaps you’d tell me to give up on her like Grandmother did. But I bet you couldn’t do it. I bet you couldn’t give up on your daughter or sister or mother or friend. Not when there was hope. Miniscule wakings, her voice saying my name, they were progress. They were hope.
The moon wanted to be free.
‘While Crow slept she dreamed again,’ said Soldier, ‘and I let her be. When she woke I asked her if she dreamed of what had happened in that place they kept her.’
‘No, I will not allow that filth into my dreams.’
‘Then what? What disturbs your sleep?’
Crow looked beyond Soldier. Across the lake whose surface reflected the grey of dusk. Breathing deeply the smoke that tinged the air. Releasing it. A look of calm crossed her face, peace, almost contentment.
‘I hear them,’ she murmured. ‘The dead from the pit. They speak to me in my dreams. The girl with the doll…she comes the most and asks me to play with her. Sometimes…sometimes my brother is there and we all play together and my mother buys us donuts and the lady in the green coat reads a book and looks up now and then and smiles and the man in the coat hurries past with his briefcase. I hear them and they tell me they are at peace. That they’re waiting for me. When my time comes.’ She met Soldier’s eyes. ‘I’m not afraid of death now. For I know they are there. I know my family is there.’
