Delphi, Eganene
The basement door opened in an explosion of frozen wind and white light.
I’m out! she thought. Oh, thank god, I’m out.
Herded by the woman and her husband, Bekka stumbled. The sunlight on the snow was stunning, like a thousand floodlights aimed at her face. She tried to shade her eyes.
“Go on, now,” the woman chided from behind.
Bekka put her arm up to block the brightness. The cold air shook her sleeve and tangled the folds of her dress. The material seemed thick, but it felt like the wind cut right through it. It sliced across her stomach and the inside of thighs.
Snow covered the ground, at least a foot deep, pristine and unplowed. Bekka took a step and the crusty skin broke. Her naked foot plunged into powder.
“Up there,” Martin said. “Those steps. You’ll ride in that one.”
A hand pressed against her back and she staggered, her knee driving into the snow. Injured and exhausted, her body was struggling to keep her upright. The whole world was too much after the dark stillness of her cell.
She felt hands on her arms and someone hauled her to her feet, Tonelle or Martin, she didn’t look back. In front of her was an enormous, wooden wagon. Wider than a tractor-trailer, its sloped roof was curved and clear of snow. A team of twelve horses was harnessed, three abreast, at its front.
They were the biggest horses she’d ever seen. Each one was twice again her height. Their coats were brown with wide white patches. They were lashed together with leather bands, thick yokes and blinders. Their shaggy coats steamed.
It was all wrong. The sun was coming from the east, glaring out from between two familiar buildings and reflecting off the snow. It had to be the morning, rush hour, but besides the horse and carriage, there was no one else. The street was completely deserted.
She knew what she should have seen, any day of the week, storm or no.
Where were the people, the cars and the noise? Where were all the commuters?
There was no one, not a single person.
“Where is…” she started to ask, her voice cracking.
“Go on,” the hand pressed against her back again, insistent. They were prodding her towards the door of the carriage. Windowless, it rode on wide, sled-like wooden planks.
Too stunned to react, she lurched forward, her hands catching the wooden step. She tried to get her balance, to turn, but it was too late. Someone pushed her again. Her feet slipped on the wet wood. She dropped forward into the recess of the cabin.
Bekka would never have gotten her arms under herself in time, but strong hands caught and righted her, gently lifting her so that she could stand.
Disoriented by the cabin’s darkness, she twisted, her hands out wide, trying to find something to hold on to. Who had helped her? Where had they…
And then she saw them, children, well, maybe not children, but they were younger than her. Not siblings, but both of her helpers were about the same height. Slightly taller than Bekka, the tops of their heads brushed the wooden beams of the wagon and the wide studs that supported the curving ceiling. The girl was tan with high cheekbones, while the boy’s face was flatter and his skin lighter.
Their expressions were serious, their eyes flicking away from her face to look at the open doorway. She wanted to say something, to thank them, to ask them for help, but “I…” was all she managed before she was pushed again. Tonelle entered behind her.
It all happened too fast. Or maybe she was just too slow to process it.
The light from the doorway disappeared. One moment there was a blinding white rectangle and the next a dark wall. It left behind a fake glow in her mind, a ghost door that shimmered where the exit had been.
“Wait! I can’t!” Panic gripped her and she turned in a circle, trying to see everything at once. Her eyes hadn’t adjusted and the ghost door trailed her vision, wavering in the edge of her sight like a firework that wouldn’t fade.
No, no, no. I can’t be in here, she thought. I need to get home.
A loud whistle split the silence. The whole carriage lurched, sending her for the nearest support. It was a bed, its wooden frame suspended from the ceiling and built into the wall.
A bunk bed, she thought, wrapping her arms around it gratefully. Why are there bunk beds in a carriage?
She held on for all she was worth. The erratic swaying smoothed and settled into a soft swing. She could hear Tonelle at the door and looked up.
There were old-fashioned lanterns fastened to the bedposts. They glowed with a yellow light, making the wood shine. Both sides of the wagon were the same with bunk beds built into the sides and storage space beneath.
There were no windows and no bars, but it felt like prison.
“No need to be so worried. It’s just a little sway, dear,” Tonelle crooned, her voice sticky. “Have you never ridden a wagon before?”
Bekka shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.
The bigger woman shrugged. “You’ll get used to it soon enough. Our girl’s a beauty. Martin and the boys spent the summer fixing her up. You wouldn’t believe what it cost, but look at her now.”
No one spoke and Bekka met the woman’s eyes, trying to think of what to say. Finally, she cleared her throat and managed, “She’s beautiful.”
It was the correct answer.
Tonelle smiled at her, showing a fairly straight row of teeth. “They did a fine job. We’ll enter Orlenia in style this season. Show those hagglers what kind of class we have up north.”
Orlenia? Bekka touched her pocket, making sure her pendant was still safe. Tonelle turned to assess the other children, her braid swinging behind her like a whip. Bekka flinched, but didn’t let go of the post she was clutching.
“Good, good,” Tonelle was saying, nodding her chin up and down. It was a perfunctory evaluation. “I see you met Jaks and Ceril.”
She patted the boy on the head once, just a little tap. Bekka saw him wince as though struck. “This one here has a decent hand at painting. Did you notice the front of the carriage?”
Bekka shook her head. She couldn’t believe this was happening.
“Well, don’t worry, you’ll see it soon enough.” Tonelle stepped closer and gestured for Bekka to sit on one of the double-stacked cots that lined the far wall. Wadded bedding covered the thin mattresses, straw or something like it poking at her as she sat.
She hadn’t screamed. They were already moving, quickly it seemed. Why hadn’t she run?
She felt her shoulders shaking, frightened now that the moment was over. She’d lost her chance. Her fingers dug into the mattress. Instead of a furnace room closet, she was now in a windowless wooden box. The candlelight lamps swung sickeningly from their iron poles. The light made the unfamiliar shadows jump and twist.
Bekka shuddered. She had to get out of here.
Her impulse was to scream and run, but Tonelle was standing there, her significant body blocking the way. Bekka imagined knocking her down and pushing by her, throwing the door open and…
What, was she going to dive out of the moving wagon? She’d fall and then what?
Probably kill herself. But even if she made it, there hadn’t been a single person on the street.
She shook her head, feeling dazed. Where were all the people? It didn’t make sense.
“Are you sure?” asked the voice. “Think.”
Tonelle bent to search the wooden crate beneath the cot near the door. Jaks and Ceril stood watching, their dark eyes hooded. They were both thin, their bodies tense and their backs straight. They looked like little nutcracker people waiting for someone to move their arms and legs. If only she could ask them what was going on, but she couldn’t risk taking her eyes off Tonelle. The woman seemed to expect Bekka to be attentive, gesturing and muttering in her direction as she searched.
“I know they’re in here somewhere,” Tonelle said, pulling out folded items and tossing them on the nearest bed. “There was that little man, what was his name? He was at that market not far from here….ah, yes, found them,” she said, holding up a pair of stockings.
They were dark and almost as thick as the socks Billy had given her. They looked like a schoolgirl’s uniform, but felt different, the material coarse and hand-made. Bekka took them eagerly. The room where Billy had kept her had been freezing and the snow she trekked in was already a pool at her feet.
Bekka returned to the bed and rolled the stockings with her hands. There was a sheet beside her and she drew it over her legs and then pulled on the stockings. She blushed when she saw the kids were staring at her, but what was she supposed to do? It was embarrassing changing in front of others. But, given the choice, she’d rather be warm than modest.
“There now, that’s better, isn’t it? Those’ll keep your feet warm.” Tonelle sounded pleased. She didn’t hold onto the rails, but stood in the aisle in the center. Her feet were apart and her hips swayed with the motion of the carriage.
She gestured at the clothes she’d tossed on the bed, “Jaks. Put these back and make sure they’re folded properly and Ceril, why don’t you see if you can’t find Bekka a pair of shoes. No, no, check her size first.”
The lanterns swung along in time to the woman’s movements revealing smiling lips before casting her back into shadow. Jaks moved quickly, folded the clothing Tonelle had discarded. Tonelle patted him absently on the back and eyed Bekka. “Do you know how to mend leather?”
“No,” Bekka replied, her eyebrows arching. Mend leather? Seriously?
Ceril knelt in front of her and peered at her feet. She was close enough that Bekka could feel the heat from her body. The girl didn’t touch her, didn’t grab her foot, but the whole thing was strangely intimate. Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, her toes curled inward.
The girl’s short locks covered her face, hiding her expression. On the back of her neck was a small tattoo. The half-moon, no larger than a quarter, was set snuggly in the recess where her hair began. Vertical striations of grey and black filled the center design, making it strangely beautiful.
Tonelle waved the girl away, “Oh, go on, now. Just pick a pair that’s close enough. She isn’t going to be doing much walking. They don’t need to be perfect.”
Ceril nodded and disappeared towards the rear of the cabin. She didn’t seem to have any trouble walking while the carriage was moving, but she did look back once. Not at Tonelle, instead, her eyes found Jaks and then flicked away.
“Once we get to Orlenia,” Tonelle said, pushing Bekka’s chin up with the tip of her finger, “I’ll have you prettied up for the auction.” She smiled, “You’re good-looking girl, but a little help won’t hurt. A fresh dress and a bath and I’ll have to get a little more of that perfume.
A red dress, I should think. I do like the color and it draws attention. We want to make sure everyone sees you before the bidding starts. Yes, definitely red. You know I always say they buy the dress as much as they buy the girl.”
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Bekka felt her mouth hang open.
“These bruises and marks…,” Tonelle continued, pressing a finger against the lump on her scalp.
Bekka twisted out from beneath her fingers, “Ouch!”
“Now, now,” Tonelle said, grasping Bekka beneath her chin. “Let me see you.” The woman’s hand was wrapped around her throat, her fingers jabbing into the soft skin beneath her jaw line.
Bekka froze. Her body twitched once, her arms and legs wanting to lash out, to kick and hurt, but she held herself steady. There was nowhere to go. The cabin was tight and small and she couldn’t run, not now. Her eyes rolled, desperate to see if the other kids were going to help her. No one moved. They just stood there watching. She didn’t blame them. Tonelle was scary.
Bekka inhaled through her nose, looking far to the left, away from the woman’s face. She just needed to deal with it for a little longer. When her chance came, she was going to get out of here. She wouldn’t miss it, not again.
Tonelle twisted Bekka’s face this way and that, sounding like someone’s aunt, “What a pretty child, you are. Truly. I think we made a good purchase. You’ll do nicely for us, especially after we get you properly trained.”
Bekka shuddered.
Tonelle smiled, “Ah, don’t worry. We’ve got time, dear, plenty of time. You’ll be all healed up when we arrive.”
Tonelle dropped Bekka’s face as she turned to Jaks, “Good. You do listen nicely, don’t you?” She put a hand on his back, stroking up and down. Bekka had seen people pet their dogs that way.
“Listening is the most important skill. You remembered that, dear.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jaks agreed, lowering his face. Bekka noticed that while his voice was agreeable, his hands had twisted into fists at his side. What had Tonelle and Martin done to these kids? How did she keep them here?
“Franc, Kat, Lenold, come on down here,” Tonelle called. “Let’s have some introductions.”
Three pairs of legs appeared from the upper cots and the children jumped down, their shoeless feet thudding onto the planks. They were all wearing the same blue and grey uniform.
Not more, she thought, feeling sad. How many kids were there?
“This is Kat,” Tonelle said, pointing at the tall, thin, dark skinned girl who was closest. “She can read some, so she’ll help you learn something. Makes a decent breakfast, too. Say hello, Kat.”
The girl shuffled her stocking feet, but said nothing. Her long eyelashes fluttered against her face. Bekka could see her eyes were gold, the darker pupils almost lost in the wide iris. She felt herself staring. Kat’s black hair was braided tightly against her scalp and the neat rows cascaded almost to her knees, the ends pleated with beads that clicked as she rang her hands together. Bekka’s guess was they were likely close in age.
“Oh, never mind,” Tonelle huffed, waving her away. “Kat isn’t the best at talking, as you can see. She knows what’s what. She just isn’t good at the small talk.”
“You know,” the Tonelle continued, “maybe you can help her find her voice. The girl needs to be able to communicate.”
Bekka nodded helplessly.
Tonelle pointed at the taller boy, “This is Franc. He works outside with Martin.”
Bekka thought he was probably older than her, a thick growth of dark beard covering his cheeks. He had muscular arms, like a construction worker’s. She noticed that he swung them heavily as he walked. He could have passed for college football player. She felt a flurry of hope.
Maybe he could help her.
If Tonelle and Martin had abducted a local quarterback, the cops would be a lot more interested. With all these missing children, someone was sure to figure it out. And they were riding in a giant sled! The police wouldn’t just let it slide down Market Street without stopping it.
There might be sirens any moment. She tilted her head, trying to hear outside the wooden walls.
“Do you like horses? Is that it?” Tonelle asked, looking at her strangely. “Do you know how to ride? Speak up if you do, it’d be nice to have another pair of hands to help with the animals.”
Bekka shook her head. This was the closest she had ever been to a horse in her life. Those animals were huge.
“Too bad,” Tonelle replied, tapping a finger against her freckled face. “Well, no matter. What can you do?”
Bekka started, trying to put her thoughts together, “I…”
How was she supposed to answer that one? Did she tell her she could cook? Did she make up skills she didn’t have? If she were useless, would the woman let her go?
“Oh, never mind,” Tonelle said, sounding impatient. “We’ll figure you out soon enough. We’ve got nothing but time for the next few weeks. And you’re transitioning, I know. All my new ones need a bit of time to get used to their situation. Martin and I will want to know what you’re good at, so think about your answers. For now, the others can fill you in on what I expect.”
“Franc,” she directed, “go on out and relieve Martin. Poor man could use a rest after that storm.”
The boy didn’t meet Bekka’s eyes, but he nodded to her. “Name’s Franc,” he said in a voice that broke.
“Yes, yes, she knows that. Go see to Martin, now.”
He gave Bekka a quick glance, his eyes warm, “All right.”
Bekka thought he seemed slow and kind. He slid by Tonelle and Bekka noticed that she didn’t move out of his way, but let him brush against her. When he got to the door, he grasped the large handle and pushed it open, the muscles in his arm flexing. Without looking back, he stepped out into the bright white light.
“Oh!” Bekka yelled, jumping up. She only made it two steps before Tonelle’s open hand hit her chest.
She stopped in place, her panicked eyes searching the older woman’s face. “He...he…he…,” she stuttered. “Is he…”
The door abruptly swung closed, the light extinguished with a thud.
“He does that for attention,” a voice said behind her, making her turn. A boy stood beside her, shorter and younger than Franc.
Bekka caught her balance on one of the rails, trying to breath. “Is he dead?” she asked, confused. “I saw him…”
“Franc’s fine, dear,” Tonelle agreed.
Bekka stood blinking stupidly. Had she just seen a kid jump out of a moving wagon? For attention?
“I’m Lenold,” the smaller boy said. He was about her age, his narrow face sprinkled with small pimples and ears a size too large. “Franc walks the cabin rails. It’s not that big of a deal. Really, it’s not. Most of us could do it if we wanted to. It’s just a matter of balance.”
Bekka stared at him, trying to process.
“Honestly. It’s not as dangerous as it seems. I can show you later, if you want.”
He’s got to be messing with me, she thought.
One minute she was locked in a lunatic’s cell, the next she was in an oversized sled pulled by freakish Clydesdales. The people who rescued her thought they were going to sell her in some town she’d never even heard of and here she was meeting a bunch of kids like she was off to camp. And to top it all off, some kid jumped out of the wagon and everyone thought it was just fine.
No big deal there. Don’t worry about it.
She looked up. They were all smiling, every one of them. It was so horribly weird. They were all watching her, waiting.
“Bekka,” she mumbled. “My name’s Bekka.”
Tonelle nodded, “Good. You all tell Bekka how it goes here and you keep her out of trouble. We’ve got about two more months and then you’ll be meeting your new homes. I don’t want anything to go wrong on the way.” Shaking a stubby finger at them she arched her back and pushed her chest forward, “Understood?”
“Yes, Tonelle,” the children answered.
Bekka started despite herself.
“And Bekka? Do you understand?”
She nodded her head in agreement. The woman’s face was heavy with displeasure, her mood mercurial.
“Good, then,” Tonelle said, her smile returning and her forehead losing its bed of wrinkles. “We’ll stop at midday for some food.” She left in the same manner as Franc, by stepping into the open air and then pulling herself onto the railings.
Bekka was too confused to even register surprise. The woman’s veneer of friendliness was bizarre, but she wasn’t fooling anybody. The kids were scared of her. She and her husband were both as crazy as Billy.
Sell her? How could they think they were going to sell her? That didn’t happen in America.
“America? This isn’t America,” said the voice
“Shut-up,” Bekka muttered, sitting on the small cot.
She struggled to put her thoughts in order. She was out of Billy’s cell and that was obviously a good thing. But now what? It felt like she’d woken up in someone else’s nightmare. People spoke, but it was all nonsense. What was she supposed to do? Sit here and wait until they stopped? Try and do what that kid Franc had done and walk the rails?
She shook her head. No matter how safe it was, there was no way she was going out the door while they were moving. If it really was that easy, the other kids would have escaped already. She watched them out of the corner of her eye. Why hadn’t they come over to talk to her?
She’d hoped that Lenold might come over. Then again, he was the one who told her that stepping out of the wagon door while they were moving wasn’t that dangerous. How was she supposed to know who to talk to? Who to trust?
Bekka watched the kids as wagon swung along. There was an odd sense of urgency about them. Most of the time they seemed to be doing something. Within the tight quarters of the wagon’s cabin, they spent their time searching through trunks, never seeming to find what they were looking for.
How long had they been in here? Did Tonelle drug them to keep them from running away? Is that why they weren’t talking to her?
What was Tonelle’s angle? She couldn’t really think she was going to sell them. The other kids had to know something. Bekka looked up, seeing Kat headed directly towards her.
The girl’s dark face was stoic. She was holding a pair of brown shoes. Bekka wondered why Ceril hadn’t been the one to bring them, but Kat hadn’t spoken to her yet and she didn’t want to make enemies. She took the shoes from the girl’s outstretched hands and whispering, “Thanks.”
The shoes weren’t in good shape. The uppers might once have been leather, but the inside was rough cloth. The outer surface was brittle against Bekka’s fingertips. She caught Kat’s gaze for a moment. The girl’s yellow eyes slid away.
Bekka had expected her to say something, a greeting or a quick word or commiseration, but she wouldn’t even make eye contact. Instead, she climbed quickly onto the cot above Bekka’s head and disappeared.
“Hello?” Bekka whispered. She waited for a few seconds.
There was nothing but silence. Apparently, Kat didn’t want to talk. Bekka grabbed the stuffed sheet that was her pillow and smacked it into a fluffier shape. She was exhausted and stressed out, her emotions frayed to ribbons.
Still, she tried one more time. “Hello? Are you awake?”
The girl didn’t respond.
Bekka ground her teeth in frustration. She didn’t know these people and she didn’t know what was going on. Maybe the girl had a reason for ignoring her. Bekka tried to imagine the horrible trauma Kat may have endured, but kept coming back to the same thought. If their roles been reversed, she would have at least offered her some kind words.
And yellow eyes? She had never seen anything like that before. She sighed and closed her own eyes, feeling the sway of the carriage. Kat was definitely strange. The weird way she held herself, not speaking, not looking people at people directly. Even Tonelle had said something about her being antisocial. Although, Tonelle was probably the reason she wasn’t talking in the first place.
She would try the girl again later. Rolling on her side, Bekka scanned the length of the cabin. Lenold was asleep, his back to the walkway. Jaks and Ceril were about as far away as they could get, facing the rear of the cabin. They were avoiding her.
Ceril looked like she was sewing and the boy was busy, too. It was hard to tell, but it looked like he was carving a piece wood. She watched him surreptitiously from her cot, imaging how she could get her hands on the weapon.
He was concentrating. His shoulders were hunched over his work, the knife in his hand steady and sure. It was a long motion, his arm sliding down gently, a fluid, continuous swipe. Whatever he was working on, he had been working on it for a while. There was a small pile of curved shavings at his feet.
Bekka wondered how and where Tonelle had found them. Franc would have had a chance in a fight, although he seemed the most complacent. In the silence of the cabin, she watched the light waver between the wood slats. Was she seeing buildings or trees?
No one spoke to her. No one spoke at all.
Maybe the other kids had tried to break free and failed. Tonelle made it sound as if they were one big happy family, but that couldn’t be true. They might be afraid of being punished again.
The carriage continued on and the hours passed, the light outside flickering along with her thoughts. At some point, she fell asleep and dreamt of her grandmother, of a sunny summer day and freshly baked cookies. She woke and the world seemed a bit different. Nothing seemed right, but nothing had changed. The wagon still slid. The kids were still in the back. She wiped at the drool on her chin, self-conscious despite the fact that no one was watching her.
Bekka hugged herself and snuggled further beneath the thin sheet, missing her grandmother’s face. Agatha would be out of her mind with worry. She didn’t have anyone else, except a few old lady friends she played cards with. What was she going to do and where was she going to stay?
Bekka frowned at the door. She needed a plan and a weapon. She wanted to look through the crates, but it would look suspicious. She needed to know more about the other kids, figure out what their motivations were.
Franc, she thought she had pegged. He was probably the leader of the group, the one who kept tabs on the others. He certainly seemed to get special treatment. He was outside in the sunshine with the boss while the rest of kids were riding in a windowless, horse-drawn coffin.
He seemed to like her, she thought. Maybe she could use that. He had to know what was going on. The more she knew, the better off she was going to be.
It could also be that Kat was their leader. Tonelle had said something about her being “talented.” She was obviously a favorite, too. That might explain why she acting so weird and why the others weren’t talking to her. If that was the case, then Bekka was going to have to figure out a way to get on her good side.
It’s like prison, she thought.
Bekka figured that Kat probably had privileges that the other kids didn’t. Maybe even access to the keys.
Did Tonelle have a cell phone? Something she used in emergencies? Bekka couldn’t ask outright, but maybe the girl would slip.
The last kid, Lenold, she was on the fence about. He seemed nice enough. She put her head in her hands, letting her hair fall in a wall. It was no protection, but in made her feel better.
For all her speculation, there was no way to tell what was real and what wasn’t. How could Tonelle and Martin have gotten a horse-drawn wagon into Philly? Even a snow emergency…
“Are you sure you don’t know?” the voice prompted.
“Shh.”
There had been a terrible storm a few years ago that had closed the city for a weekend. The snow had been higher than the cars and the city’s emergency crews hadn’t been able to cope. If they pushed the onto the sidewalks, people couldn’t open their doors. In the end, they brought in dump trucks to haul it away. It took them days.
“Dump trucks?”
“Shut up!” she hissed.
Today, the snow had only been to her knees. That much, the city should have been able to handle. Bekka sighed. For all her effort, her theories seemed wrong.
Picking at a hole in her mattress, she considered asking one of the kids.
No, there was no way she could talk to them, not yet. She would wait and watch. They probably wanted to know if she had seen them on the news, to ask her all kinds of questions. They might even be scared of her.
“You’re different.”
How am I different? she thought back, but the voice had no more to say.
Suddenly, there was a sharp whistle and then the wagon jerked to a stop. Bekka was slammed into the far wall, her arm and knee striking the wood.
The other children were putting on their shoes. Bekka found the ones Kat had given her and stuck her feet inside. Everyone was lining up by the door, standing motionless like zombies. Bekka had the eerie sensation that she was the only one actually in the room. The rest of the kids looked like life-sized wax figures, their faces devoid of emotion. Kat’s yellow eyes had a glazed, drunken expression.
“Why are we stopped?” Bekka asked no one in particular.
They didn’t even look in her direction.
“Really? You won’t even answer me?” Bekka asked, trying to keep her anger out of her voice.
She tried again, “No one? Anyone?”
She couldn’t tell if they were waiting for something good or bad. The lack of emotion left them looking flat. Bekka didn’t want to join the line, but it felt strange just sitting and watching them.
Lenold stood closest to her, his back straight. He looked so weird and frozen that Bekka couldn’t help herself. She raised her hand and waved at him. His blues eyes were unfocused like the others, but a flash of red lit up the skin beneath his pimples.
The cabin’s door opened wide.