South of Delphi, Eganene

“Fetch the pot and an onion, Kat,” Tonelle called, stepping up into the cabin. “There’s a clearing over to the left where we can build the fire. Lenold, Jaks, you two get some wood. Ceril and Bekka, with me.”

Bekka was still sitting on the bunk.

The large woman noticed, closed the distance and backhanded her across the face.

Bekka staggered to the floor, fat drops of blood spattering the back of her palm. Her split lip had reopened.

What the hell? Bekka thought.

She crouched where she had fallen, her eyes on the blood. It wasn’t a strong blow, but it still hurt. This was the second person to hurt her in as many days.

No one spoke. Bekka could hear the woman breathing heavily. Finally, the door to the cabin swung closed and the screeching hinges broke the silence.

“I didn’t know…” Bekka began.

“That’s no excuse,” Tonelle cut her off, retying the knot in the cord around her waist. “Mark me now, girl, and make sure you learn quick.” She swung her heavy bosom to point at the wall where the other children studied their shoes.

“When we stop, you will stand there. You will be dressed with your shoes on. You will not be socializing or spending my time.” She paused, “Do you hear me?”

Bekka nodded.

Tonelle pointed, “You will be waiting against the wall for me to open the door. When I tell you to do something, you will be quick about your task. As long as you do that, you’ll get some outdoor time and a bite to eat. If you can’t follow directions, you stay in here, hungry.”

Bekka nodded again.

“We’re clear on my expectations?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bekka said meeting her eyes.

The woman spun, her braid swinging into Bekka’s face, and stalked out of the wagon. The other children followed her like ducklings. Bekka was not far behind.

The shoes Kat had given her were too big and it made walking awkward. There was no one to give her a hand from the wagon so Bekka sat on the edge and lowered herself into the snow. She had stockings, but the snow was high and she sank. The gaps in her shoes filled with white powder.

For a moment, she just stood there, blinking at the light. Without clouds, the sun poured from the sky across the unbroken white of the surrounding fields. Bekka surveyed the forest line, searching for some sign of civilization.

She was alone out here. The realization hit hard. Except for the wagons, there was nothing. No cars, no buildings and no people. The endless rural landscape was dead and alien.

Where was everything? She should have been able to see the interstate, billboard advertisements, stores and homes. Her shoulders curled inward. No one knew that these crazy people had taken her outside the city. What if her grandmother thought Bekka died in the explosion?

She wrapped her arms around herself. She couldn’t be that far outside of Philadelphia. The wagon didn’t move that fast. She couldn’t see the skyline, but so what? There were lots of mountains in Pennsylvania and plenty of state parks.

The snow was trampled around her, but elsewhere it rose to her knees. She needed supplies or someone, somewhere to run to.

Ceril and Tonelle were at the front of the painted wagon. Wide bands of yellow, red and orange encircled its lower frame. The upper portion was decorated with a garish image of a man holding chains. Was that what they made Jaks paint?

She shuddered, looking at Tonelle. The woman stood beside the huge horses. Steam rose from their bodies and with legs wider than the woman’s waist, they were five feet taller than Tonelle. Long, dark manes covered their necks and shaggy, black hair ringed their ankles. Their tails were the same color. The horses flicked them as they searched for grass beneath the snow.

Another wagon led the caravan. It was smaller and pulled by just two horses, both lithe. Black as coal, they had high arched necks. Someone had braided their manes with tiny, red ribbons. They did not lower themselves to dig for their food, but stood majestically, watching the busy people. Bekka thought they were beautiful.

Beneath the covered driver’s bench, two small children were huddled under a blanket. With the air as cold as it was, she couldn’t blame them. A coat or blanket would have made her feel better, too.

“Bekka! Over here,” Tonelle called.

Bekka didn’t hesitate. Putting her feet carefully in the tracks of others, she worked her way towards the front of the carriage. The snow along her path was dotted with red. Was Tonelle bleeding?

Bekka ran the last few yards. If Tonelle needed a hospital, then they’d have to head back into town!

“Well, that’s much better,” Tonelle approved.

Bekka choked, horrified.

“Oh, don’t be a tuli,” the woman chided, her lips turning down. “You’re not afraid of rabbits are you?”

Tonelle was holding three animals. Each was white, except where blood had stained it. Tonelle held them by their long ears. The soft patter of blood on the snow made Bekka cringe. Ceril stood beside, her eyes on the ground.

“By the time you and Ceril have these cleaned, Kat should have the pot boiling. We’re lucky Franc’s such a fine shot. No sooner had the horses scared them up, than he had them on the ground.” She smiled as though she had been the one to provide their supper. Bekka tried not to shudder.

“Here,” the woman said, holding them out. Their small bodies swung slowly, steam rising.

Bekka gasped, shaking her head, “I can’t. I...” She’d never eaten rabbit in her life. Or cleaned an animal, for that matter. She didn’t know which thought was worse.

Tonelle’s expression darkened, “Come on, now, girl. You’ll take them, skin them and gut them. And you will do it, now. I’ve had just about enough of you today.”

Pushing the rabbits towards her, she said, “You’re not special. Everyone works.”

Bekka took a step back and looked at Ceril. The tall girl was standing with her hands clasped together, her eyes on the snow. Bekka would get no help there.

She knew she should do what Tonelle asked, but the idea made her stomach flip. And skinning them, how was she supposed to do that?

Again, she had no idea the blow was coming until she was on the ground. The rabbits were on the snow beside her, and Tonelle stood over her, eclipsing the sun.

Bekka wiped at her face, her fingers coming away tacky with blood.

“Tuli,” the woman spat. Her chest heaved in a falling landscape of freckled hills.

“You have fur in your mouth?” Tonelle taunted. “Nothing to say?”

Bekka said nothing. She didn’t want to get hit again.

Tonelle took a deep breath, exhaling a big puff of steam. Grabbing Bekka’s arm, she pulled her to her feet. She was smiling again. “You skin and gut those rabbits like I told you. We’re only here for a bit and you’ll not waste my time. I won’t stomach misbehaving children and I don’t abide nonsense.”

She turned and swept back towards the lead wagon, her hips rolling rhythmically. Bekka watched her go, stunned beyond words. After all she had been through over the last few days, she shouldn’t have been shocked.

She looked to Ceril for an explanation, but the girl said nothing, picking up the animals by their ears and holding them out.

Bekka took them. Their ears were soft against her palm.

Ceril’s brown eyes showed no emotion. Bekka wondered if the girl even cared that she’d been hit. Following Ceril to where Kat had set-up the cook pot, Bekka selected a knife. It was a rudimentary instrument, a dull blade attached to the stone handle with coarse rope. She sat down beside Ceril on a nearby rock.

Copying the other girl's motions, Bekka struggled to cut through the animal’s skin. To make the first incision, she had to stab the animal several times. When she failed to get the point of her knife inside, she was force to rip the flesh.

Bekka bit her lip and tried not to breathe, but she could still smell the musty, earthiness of its fur. Closing her eyes, she pushed her fingers through the small hole and, trying not to gag, used her leg to brace the body. She pulled the opening wider. It didn’t rip so much as pull apart, like a velvety cloth. When the hole was big enough, she stuck her hand inside.

Ceril had a pile of red lumps at her feet.

Within the wet warmness, things slipped and slid as Bekka tried to grab them. The smell grew stronger, becoming a hot, humid, fleshy rankness that surrounded her in a palpable cloud. She did her best not to throw up. When it was done, she grabbed the last animal and repeated her actions. It went a little faster the second time.

Ceril watched without speaking and Bekka felt a stubborn sense of pride. I’m not helpless, she told herself. I can learn how to do this.

Ceril held out her own hollowed corpse and then proceeded to use the edge of her knife to separate the skin and fur from the muscle of the breast, painstakingly removing the hide in one piece. Ceril finished two before she was done with one.

Bekka let out a long breath, not sure what she should do next. She was covered in blood.

Disgusted, she tried not to breathe. She didn’t want to smell the meat and entrails.

Thankfully, Ceril wasted no time. She left their dinner on the ruined snow and walked to a fresh snowdrift.

Bekka followed and they rubbed ice between their hands, rinsing away the blood the best they could. There were no bathrooms and no showers. If she wanted to get the blood off, she was going to have to do it here.

Bekka’s hands grew numb, but she ignored them and kept scrubbing. They ended up red and raw. She could still see the blood beneath her fingernails. She thought it looked like evidence. While Ceril picked up the knives and cleaned them in the snow, Bekka looked around.

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How far could she travel in this, five miles, maybe ten? She certainly wasn’t dressed for the weather, not in her ill-fitting clogs and her dress. She didn’t have any choice. It would have been different if she was a Scout or had some training, but she had never even been camping. She didn’t know how to build a fire or how to make shelter. She didn’t know which plants were poisonous and which she could eat. If she left now and was caught, they wouldn’t give her the chance to run again.

And how was she going to find her way back to Philly? Without a map, she didn’t have a prayer. She couldn’t follow the path of the sleigh. If she did that, they’d find her for sure. If she ran into the woods, they’d just follow her footprints.

Ceril collected their things and left for the front of the caravan. Bekka followed, examining the red under her fingernails. She smelled the fire before she saw it, even though the wind was blowing in the opposite direction. It burned brightly. A big, iron cook pot resting on a metal rod suspended above the flames. The kids had cleared the snow to the ground, not bothering with stones or a circle.

“Good,” Kat said when she saw them, taking the rabbits from Ceril’s hand. “See to your business. Lunch will be ready in twenty minutes. Tonelle said she doesn’t need help with the horses. Jaks and Franc already took care of it and the woods are safe.”

It was the most Bekka had heard her talk. She had a weird accent, like Tonelle and Martin, so Bekka didn’t think she from anywhere on the eastern seaboard. It occurred to her that Kat might be from a different country. Foreigners might be easier to kidnap than American citizens.

Ceril nodded and walked towards the woods. Again, Bekka followed her. She didn’t have anything better to do and it was better to be around her than Kat.

Ceril must have heard her, but she said nothing. If she was going to relieve herself, Bekka prayed there was toilet paper hidden in one of the pockets of her dress.

The trees were a mix of pine and something that had lost its leaves. She hoped that being out the wind would have warmed her, but it didn’t. The forest floor had a dark blanket of shadow. The air was cooler, seeming to draw the warmth out of Bekka’s skin. Ceril stepped behind one of the first trees and squatted.

So much for modesty, Bekka thought, finding her own tree. No toilet paper, no problem, she could do this. When she turned around, the girl was already gone, headed back towards the wagon. Bekka was alone.

Her heart stuttered.

Should she run? She looked around frantically.

There was nothing but trees, nothing but snow. Which direction was Philly? Which way had the light been shining? Hadn’t it been coming from her side of the wagon? That meant they were headed south, so if she…

“Bekka?” It was Tonelle. She was standing at the edge of the woods. “Time to eat. Come on.”

Bekka walked towards her. It wasn’t the right time. She couldn’t run, not yet. Not without supplies.

The bigger woman draped one of her arms over Bekka’s shoulders. “Let’s get you good and fed. You’re nothing but skin and bones.”

Bekka tried not to respond, but her shoulders jerked. This woman had just hit her with a dead rabbit and now she was holding her kindly. This was nuts, totally, freaking nuts.

“Ah, you’re so cold,” the woman crooned. “You need to sit by the fire a bit. Some warm food will help. It is a long road to Orlenia.”

“Where’s Orlenia?” Bekka asked, unable to keep the attitude from her voice.

Tonelle’s arm tightened, the muscles twitching. “South of here. You don’t need to worry. Martin and I have been up and down this road for a few years now. We’ll get us there in good time.”

Bekka stopped. “I can’t go there, really, I can’t. You have to understand that.”

Tonelle dropped her arm and grabbed Bekka by the shoulders, her fingers digging into the soft spots between her muscles. Her eyes looked like chips of blue ice, completely at odds with her soft and gentle voice. “I think it may be hard on you girl. You’re such a little thing, but you’re not very quick.”

The woman bent down closer. “You need to understand this. Pay attention. These are my carriages; this is my business. You are my property. The sooner you realize that, the happier you’re going to, be. You need to do as you are told and accept what is. Trust me girl, you want me as your friend.”

Bekka bit her lip and choked back her response. Her shoulders felt like Tonelle was gouging them through. The woman’s fingers were solid, lead spikes that she was trying to push straight out of Bekka’s back.

She said nothing. She couldn’t reason with a lunatic. No, her best bet was to do what Tonelle said and escape when she could. There would be a chance, there had to be. They would come close to a town, a farm or someone’s house. Then, she would run.

At the fire, Kat was serving Martin and Franc bowls of rabbit soup. They each took two bowls and headed back to the smaller carriage, probably to feed the little children. Tonelle took two bowls and Ceril did too, following Martin and Franc. Bekka wondered how many children were in there.

Kat served herself and squatted close the fire. She used a wooden spoon and ate with quick, concentrated bites. Jaks and Lenold served themselves next. They all did as Kat did. No one spoke and they ate with purpose. The stew smelled delicious, but Bekka only took two pieces of bread from the straw bowl beside the fire.

She didn’t squat with the others, figuring that she’d probably fall over if she tried. The bread was hard, but delicious, different than what Billy had given her. Was that the last thing she had eaten? How long ago had that been?

Her stomach growled and she thought about taking another piece of bread, but Kat had the bowl in her hand and was making her way through the snow towards the small carriage. Jaks was scraping the remaining drippings out of the pot into Ceril’s bowl. Bekka watched him use two thick pads to pull the pot off its rod and heave it into the snow. He tossed snow inside and wiped the pot clean with a rag.

Lenold and Franc returned carrying the rest of the bowls in their hands. Bekka turned and met Franc’s eyes, curious to see if he would speak to her. He came directly to her.

“Good soup,” he said to none one in particular, handing her all the bowls at once. They weren’t heavy, but each carved piece was a different size and they didn’t fit well with one another.

“You got them?” he asked, stabilizing the tower with his two, broad hands.

“I think so.”

“Good. Tonelle says to get them cleaned up and bring them back to the wagon.”

“Ok...” she started, but before she could get another word out he turned away, the muscles in his broad back straining against his coat.

“Crap,” she muttered, carrying the bowls over to a clean patch of snow. She dropped them and knelt down.

Her turn to do the dishes? Tonelle was putting her in her place. Bekka grabbed a handful of snow, tossed it in the bowl and rubbed it with her frozen fingers. It was too cold so she ended up using the end of her dress. When they were as clean as they were going to get, she carried them back to Kat.

“Back to the carriage, then,” the yellow-eyed girl said, not meeting her eyes. “Take the bowls.”

“Sure, but…”

“Go.”

“I thought maybe…”

“Go.”

Fine. If Kat didn’t want to talk to her, she would try one of the other kids. “OK, well thanks for that,” Bekka growled, stalking off.

The door was closed, but she found it unlocked. She didn’t know where the bowls went so she stacked them as best she could by the door and climbed inside. Kicking off her shoes, she climbed into her cot and under her meager blanket. She was shaking.

The other children were not far behind. They each paused at the door and slammed their shoes against the step, dislodging the snow. Inside, they stacked their shoes on a small rug beneath their cots. Bekka felt their disapproving eyes. Her own shoes were tossed haphazardly against the wall, large circles of wetness shining beneath them. “I didn’t know,” she muttered to no one in particular. “It’s just water.”

Lenold seemed to give her a sympathetic nod, but said nothing.

Huddled on her cot, Bekka fought the urge to cry and pushed her feet further beneath the blankets. Someone closed the door and plunged them into darkness. Soon a sharp whistle rang out and the wagon rocked forward. Bekka turned on her side and let herself sway to the movement. Periodically, she could hear the neigh of a horse, but otherwise the cabin was silent.

When she stopped shuddering, she pulled her head out from under the covers. The other kids were in bed.

She might as well rest. It didn’t matter that the mattress was lumpy and uncomfortable, she’d eaten and she was tired. It felt good to lie down. The carriage’s rocking was rhythmic and relaxing. It wasn’t long before she fell asleep.

It was a dream, a memory, actually, but one she always saw clearly when she was dreaming. She was on the street in Philly and the air was crisp with the smell of fall. She was on her way home, her feet scuffing against the sidewalk. The people in front of her were slowing, crowding together as their bodies all turned at once.

Curious, she made her way over. The brisk air made the papers at her feet skitter. A diminutive man with dark skin sat at the subway stair’s entrance. He’d set up a small folding table and two chairs made of gray plastic. He held court beneath an immense skyscraper, the grey shadow covering everything. His white hair was flecked with dust and he wore a sharp, brown suit and matching vest. A handsome yellow bow tie sat snugly beneath his chin. His eyes were black and intelligent.

Fuzz and dust covered his shoulders, but he seemed not to notice. His arms were outstretched and wide. “Come one and all,” he called in the booming voice of a larger man. “Place your coin and watch it disappear. Be the man to outwit me and I’ll give you a five for your effort. This man,” he continued pointing at a nearby businessman, “tried his luck and failed.”

A sullen man in a black suit got up and pushed his way through the spectators. The cards man waved his deck in the air, triumphant. “You see these. Choose one and I’ll know your choice. Here, girl,” he said, pointing behind Bekka, “come try your hand.”

She turned to find the lucky contestant, but saw only the endless tide of commuters. Confused, she looked back.

“No, no, you girl. Yes, darling, I’m talking to you. Step up here and let’s show the folks what you can do.”

Excited, she pushed forward into the empty chair and plucked a quarter from her pocket.

The man seemed to bob in place. “No money needed, this is an exhibition darlin’. Come now, pick a card,” he said shuffling the deck and holding them out towards her. They weren’t generic cards, the kind available at the local drug store. The backs were decorated with several different sized black and yellow circles, the rings intersecting one another haphazardly across a white field. He held them face down and Bekka picked one.

“All right,” the man continued, his voice echoing out across the sidewalk. “I’ll close my eyes and place my head on the table. You show the ladies and gentlemen your card and then put it into your pocket.”

The man put his forehead on the plastic tabletop and closed his eyes. His hair was tight against his head and his tiny curls were strung with grey. His ears were cauliflowered like a wrestler’s. Bekka could see a thin scar ran that across the back of his head. It was old and fine, but no hair grew on the pink skin.

Taking a quick peek at her card, she discovered she had drawn the nine of spades. Holding it above her head, she turned slowly to allow the people behind her to see what she had chosen, then, stuffed it into her pocket. The man still had his head on the table, his arm draped over his ears.

Bekka reached down and gently tapped him on the shoulder. As she was leaning forward, she saw he had a heavy, silver chain beneath his coat. The links were almost the size of dimes. With that kind of jewelry, she thought, he had to be pretty good.

Lifting his face, he came close to Bekka and winked. White whiskers carpeted his cheeks and he smelled like fresh coffee. “And so, the moment of truth,” he boomed, adjusting his bright bowtie. “Did you all see the card?” Murmurs of ascent greeted him along with a few shouts of “What’s he talking about?” from those who had just arrived.

“Your name girl?”

“Bekka.”

“Ok, Bekka, if you will be so kind as to place your hand in the pocket where you have the card, but do not draw it out.”

“Sure.”

When he finished his directions, the man climbed onto his chair and closed his eyes. He swayed dramatically. Bekka thought that she could hear him humming below the noise of the excited crowd. Shooting his arms into the air, he said, “Your card is the Queen of Spades.”

Bekka was disappointed. She’d hoped he was real deal. “No,” she replied sadly. “It wasn’t.”

“It was,” he said happily, retaking his seat. “If you will be so kind as show our friends.”

“Wasn’t the Queen,” she heard someone say behind her.

“Fake,” she heard from another.

Bekka reached into her pocket and pulled out the card. It was slightly bent from when she’d jammed it into her jeans, but it was not torn.

“Turn it over please,” the man requested placing his hands palm-down on the table.

Bekka did as he asked, turning the card over slowly. The sun chose that moment to peek out from the cloud overhead. Its rays caught the card’s glazing. Leaning forward, it took her a second to see the picture. She inhaled sharply. Beneath her fingers was the Queen of Spades, her royal staff held high.

“It is!” she shouted.

The crowd surged forward to get a better look. Bekka held the card high above her head. Applause erupted, shouts of “He was right!” and “I’ll be!” drowning out the steady roar of midday traffic.

The man adjusted his sleeves, carefully pulling the white cuffs from under his jacket. Then, he raised his hands for quiet. “Bekka, if you would be so kind as to check your other pocket please.”

There wouldn’t be anything there, but she checked anyway. She felt something immediately. Grabbing a hold of the edges, she drew it out and placed it on the table. Exclamations of surprise erupted throughout the crowd. Under Bekka’s fingertips were the other three Queens, the backs of the cards decorated with yellow and black circles.

The man smiled broadly, his white teeth glistening in the sunlight, “A round of applause for our beautiful, young assistant!”

People clapped and she felt them pressing closer. A young girl in a red dress ran by happily, her childish voice singing, “He did it, he did it” over and over again.

“I’ll give it a shot,” she heard someone behind her call. As the man pushed forward, Bekka got up from the chair and seconds later was shuffled from her position. Just before she lost sight of the cards man, she thought she heard him say, “Goodbye, my Queen.”

The door to the cabin slammed open and Bekka woke, instantly aware that she was still in the carriage, still living her nightmare. For a moment it had been so real. That street, that moment, it had been so right. Like she had been back in Philly and not… wherever this was.

“You better hurry up,” said the voice.

Her eyes went to her shoes. Bekka didn’t hesitate, but jumped up and threw herself toward the corner.

“Hurry!”

The kids were already lined up, their shoes on and their faces carefully neutral. She stuffed her feet into the clogs and jumped into place at the end of the line.

Not a moment too soon. Above Lenold’s red hair, she could see Tonelle enter the carriage. It had to be close to sunset, the light outside was less bright, the low rays entering through trees.

Tonelle was smiling.