Asunder Chapter 12

Chapter 3.2 (12)

Earlier Life

The Travelers

“She will stretch forth her scales and sweep the nest with her wings, for her eggs are a majesty and a wonder. She will slay the wicked who embrace eagerness to rid her of her kind. She will rescue the tarnished and humble.” - Song of the Sparrow 1:11-12, Book of Shepherds.

- 12 years earlier-

- The year 2284 -

The rustling of twigs awoke young Jane from a disturbed slumber of fiery red lights and cold, long shadows. She reached for her brother beside her. His chest rose and dropped with heavy, deep breaths.

Alive.

We’re alive.

The rustling returned, this time slightly closer than before. Jane and her brother had been traveling for two weeks now, and yet she was still not used to the spurious sounds in the woods at night.

After their escape and subsequent arrival at the rendezvous site, they waited for days in hopes others would arrive. No one came. The rendezvous site remained empty. They were the sole survivors of the attack. No Judge to save them—to care for them as he promised. She held back tears at the thought. She would have waited longer, but the glow of red lights in the sky, with their ominous thunderings, urged her to seek shelter elsewhere. Staying in a place too long would have put them in danger. They had to move. They had to stay alive.

The rustling resounded again. A deer, possibly. The creatures tended to graze at night, but rarely at this altitude, she thought. She considered the machines, but they were not the type to sneak, it seemed. They came like terrors in the night. Burning and destroying everything in their path—deadly bulls in a world of china shops. But even with this assumption, she gripped her rifle tight, ready for anything.

In escaping from the machines, she and her brother had made their way west, hoping they would stumble upon another valley of people. They currently took refuge in a thicket of trees and an outcropping of rock on the hillside, enough to block the light of their fire. The warm embers of their fire painted the surrounding grass eerily orange. The pitch-black of the forest beyond at night settled around them like a deep, comforting blanket. The trees were doing their part in hiding them.

She sat up on her elbows and surveyed her surroundings. Suddenly, a twig snapped. She gripped the cold wood and metal of her rifle, easing her finger toward the trigger and slipping the barrel from her sleeping bag. Suddenly, whispers penetrated the darkness. Human whispers. Not the whispers of machines. Still, being far from home and alone, anyone, even humans, could be dangerous. Rather than wait for the intruders to make the first move, she pulled the bolt back on the rifle, making a loud ratcheting, and created an unmistakable sound of a chambering bullet. She pointed it toward where the whispers had come from.

“I know you’re there.” She said in a confident tone.

The whispers stopped. Jane’s heart returned to a heavy, rapid beat.

Who was out there?

Ishmael began stirring, aroused by her voice. After an unsettling long pause, a scratchy voice emerged from the woods.

“We mean no harm, children.”

She gripped the barrel of the rifle, aiming it higher toward the voice.

“We saw da light of you fire and came to check it out. Pretty startled when we see two sleeping children.” More twigs cracked as the body of the voice stepped out from behind the trees into the light. An old, wrinkled face, worn by years of toil and the elements, flashed in the orange glow of the embers—the face of a woman. An ornately gold and red patterned scarf wrapped her neck. A thick wool headband, matching the colors and patterns of her scarf, wrapped her stark white hair. She wore a thick blue wool overcoat, which fell to her knees. Thick fur-lined leather boots peeked out from beneath the coat, half buried in the snow.

Jane’s heart slowed along with her breathing. Then, another figure stepped out behind the woman—a smiling older man with a just as weathered and wrinkled face. His eyes were thin almonds, almost imperceivable within his enormous smile. He wore a floppy hat wrapped with a red and gold silk ribbon. A thick fur-collared maroon overcoat flanked his shoulders. Multiple red and gold scarfs billowed out from atop his front buttons, and he wore tall and dark leather boots. The woman reached back without looking at him and patted his hands.

“Who are you?” Jane blurted out without compunction.

The woman reached into one of her coat pockets, pulled out a handkerchief, and handed it to the man, who appeared to realize his nose was running suddenly. He happily took the rag and wiped his nose with it. The woman smiled, revealing pearly white teeth, the same thin slit almond eyes, and almond skin as the man hid her dark irises.

“I’m Niviatsiak Amaruq, and dis here, my husband, Tulugaak Amaruq.” The woman pointed to the man. “But you can call me Nivi, and him Tulu.”

The man coughed and then smiled, lifting a hand in greeting.

“What bring you all da way out here? And all alone? Where are you parents?” She questioned in her thick accent.

Jane could not hold back her tears with the question. As if the entire last few days had just rained down on her, and as if this were the first time she could process the events, Jane began to sob uncontrollably. Her shoulders heaved as she wailed. The events started to spill out of her mouth like an unplugged dam.

“They came… and… they destroyed everything… I jumped, but I broke my ankle, and then Papa carried me… oh papa… he went back… why did he go back… and then… and then… they must’ve taken him… we ran with Momma, but they got momma… they killed her… they killed momma… then the Judge found us… and… and…”

“Oh, poor child,” the woman eased closer, placing her arms around Jane and embracing her.

Ishmael finally awoke to the chatter. With his eyes wide, he stared in horror at his sister, crying and being held by a stranger. He jumped to his feet to run into the woods and didn’t see Tulu in the process, who caught and held him kicking and screaming. The abrupt excitement and horror experienced by her brother quickly shook Jane from her misery, and she called to Ishmael.

“Oh, buddy! It’s okay! These people are nice.”

She ran over, grabbed his arm, and, kneeling in front of him, looked into his terrified eyes. She consoled him, reassuring him everything was fine and they were safe.

“You poor boy. You were probably so scared,” she spoke in her best motherly voice. Jane hugged him tightly, and his panic seemed to melt away. He fell into Jane’s arms.

After a long silence, Jane finally composed herself and looked to their new guests.

“I’m sorry, we’ve just been through so much the past few weeks.” Jane carried herself as though she were an adult now.

“Oh, you no apologize for dat, my dear. I can see you tired and hungry. Let me get you something to eat.” The woman motioned for her husband to sit by the fire, and she did so herself. After a brief moment of searching her satchel, the woman revealed a loaf of bread. Setting it on a wooden board she retrieved from the pack her husband carried, she split it in two and gave a half to each child.

“Thank you!” Jane could barely hold back her excitement. The two children devoured the bread as the older couple watched with smiles.

“Where are y’all from?” Jane asked the aged couple with a muffled mouth full of bread. The bread’s starch immediately eased the hunger pains and fatigue, as neither she nor her brother had eaten in days.

“From da mountains very north of here. A place called Tsar. You heard of Tsar?” The woman asked hopefully. She assembled a metal teapot-like contraption as she spoke.

“We’ve never heard of Tsar,” Jane replied.

She looked at Ishmael questioningly, who shook his head in agreement. His mouth appeared stuffed with bread as well. He was clearly experiencing the same relief she had felt, having only filled his belly with roots and berries since their departure.

“Oh, it's a beautiful place. Da lake der is so blue.” Nivi spoke.

Jane noticed the man named Tulu hadn’t said a word since their arrival. He continued to sit, glancing between the fire and the children, just smiling. Nivi opened a hide skin water bag and poured it into the pot she had prepared, then shimmied it into the hot coals of the fire. The metal spurt crackled as the heat met the wetness of the pot.

“What brings you all the way down here?” Jane questioned.

The woman cleared her throat, dusted her hands of the snow, and cupped them next to the fire to warm them. She glanced at Tulu, who appeared not to have heard Jane’s question and instead sat with his eyes closed now, humming, all with a warm smile. The woman looked back at Jane and noticed the contorted face Jane had apparently been making as Jane realized Tulu was not only NOT answering but was also NOT listening to the conversation. Nivi smiled and went back to pulling out two small cloth packets.

An ember exploded in the fire, sending sparks flying in all directions and deafening their ears. The explosion caused nearly everyone to jump back. Jane, while holding onto Ishmael, quickly assessed their surroundings. She had thought a machine had fired something at them, but there was no evidence of a machine anywhere. Laughing, Nivi scooted back into position and pointed at the fire.

“Sorry, my teapot made da wood pop.”

Jane’s heart settled down to an average pace, and she examined her surroundings one last time, just in case. No one appeared to be injured. Ishmael remained huddled with his face tucked behind her shoulder and was unharmed. Looking back at the man and woman, she realized even though everyone jumped at the sound, Tulu never moved a muscle. He continued humming with his eyes closed. The woman eyed Jane again and nodded.

“He can’t hear. He deaf.”

Nivi then nudged the man, awakening him from his trance, and motioned to him using intricate hand movements. His eyes brightened at the gestures, and he began rummaging through his bags. Nivi turned back to the fire and stirred the coals. Tulu retrieved a cloth-wrapped piece of honeycomb and gave it to the woman.

Ishmael leaned over to Jane and whispered. Fear filled his voice. “That guy is dead?”

Surprised by the question, Jane leaned in further. “What? What do you mean?”

Ishmael whispered, quieter now, “That lady says that guy is dead…”

The realization struck Jane, and she burst out laughing. “Haha, oh no, buddy. She said he is ‘deaf’. Like he can’t hear things like we can.”

She continued chuckling as Ishmael squished his face in misunderstanding.

“You know, like Ol’ Johnny, Salah’s grandpa?” she continued her explanation.

The young boy seemed to suddenly understand and nodded, still slightly weirded out by the fact he thought Tulu was essentially a zombie just moments before.

The act of laughter somehow breathed new life into her bones.

Jane took another bite of bread and turned to the woman, “What was that thing you did with your hands?”

Nivi took the kettle from the embers, which rumbled with boiling water. “We call it handspeak. It how my husband communicates.”

She motioned to him again with her hands, this time in a different combination of movements and poses. He then rummaged through his bag again and revealed two tin cups. She placed one of the small cloth bags into each cup and slowly poured the hot water into each cup.

“And dis I’m making here is called WarmHeart Tea. It makes you whole body feel warm. Good for sleep, too.”

She smiled, steeped one of the cups for a moment, then broke a small piece of the honeycomb off and dropped it in the cup. Passing it to Jane with two hands, she motioned for Jane to drink. The aroma was intoxicating. Jane breathed in the mixture of cinnamon, chamomile, and a familiar herb.

“What is in it? It smells so good?” Jane asked. She passed the cup to Ishmael to warm his hands until the tea cooled.

Nivi grinned, “Cinnamon, sagebrush, and…”

Jane accidentally interrupted the woman, “Sagebrush! I knew I recognized the smell!”

She leaned over to Ishmael’s cup and sniffed again. The recent laughter and current aroma warmed her heart, just as the tea was so aptly named. She turned to the woman. “Thank you so much… I can’t tell you how grateful I am you found us. We’ve been waiting for days for others from our Valley to join us, but no one has come yet.”

“Oh dear…” the woman replied in a distant voice.

Nivi handed her cup to Tulu. He took it and began blowing on the tea. Starting into more hand movements, she motioned to her husband. Tulu nodded. She turned to the children, “I’m afraid to tell you, my darling. Dose people were not far from here two days ago. But dey got caught. Da Takers found dem and took dem. A good twenty of dem.”

Jane’s heart sank at the news.

We were so close. She thought. She wondered if her other siblings were among them. She looked down at the ground.

“I’m so sorry, my dear…” Nivi whispered. The woman took the cup from Tulu and sipped the tea.

In a moment of brashness due to the previously unanswered question and the sudden sadness and self-defense she so often fell into, especially in light of the spurious visitors, she seethed a sardonic question from between her teeth.

“Why did you say you were down here so far from your home?”

The woman, sensing she may have triggered an unwelcome sense of fear and anger in the girl, quickly responded in an honest and not round-about way.

“We lost our son. We heard he was down here in dese valleys.” The woman sipped the tea and stared into the fire, lost in thought.

Jane recomposed herself. She quickly realized her reaction was offhand and unwarranted. The sure knowledge and subsequent sadness of losing everyone seemed to overcome her. Embarrassed, she did the same as her visitor. She sipped the tea and stared into the fire.

Tulu, meanwhile, had collected out of his bag an arrangement of carved wooden figurines and animals. He set them up in a row atop one of the warming stones. Smiling, he pointed to Ishmael, who was already eyeing them eagerly, and then clapped his hands and opened them wide, spreading them across the figurines as though presenting the finest jewelry to a king. The older man motioned for Ishmael to examine them and put up two fingers, indicating Ishmael could choose two of them.

Ishmael looked up at Jane, who, though still recovering from her outburst, nodded, validating his inquiry. Ishmael, apparently no longer scared of the possibility of Tulu being a zombie, hopped up and hurried around the fire to the figurines. On his hands and knees, the boy scoured the collection. Presented before him were a stoic wolf, a fearsome mountain lion, a lazy bear, a delicate fawn, a majestic elk, a curious otter, a focused falcon, a playful mouse, and a coiled snake. Ishmael’s eyes gleamed, the figures dancing around his eyes with the flow and wisps of the fire. The detail of the figurines was impeccable. If Tulu had carved them himself, then he was a master of the art.

Ishmael held up two fingers to Tulu, questioning whether he could take two. Tulu nodded, smiled, and held up two fingers in return. Ishmael picked up the wolf and examined it. He ran his fingers over the delicately carved furrowed coat along the wolf’s shoulders, then carefully set it back down. Scanning the figures, Ishmael touched each one and attempted to weigh its value in his mind. Jane knew at least one he would choose. Wolves were his favorite. He loved to watch them stalk the border of their property. For days after each sighting, they would find him pretending to be a wolf, growling at his siblings, prowling the porch, and lapping water from a bowl on the ground her mother provided for him.

After much deliberation, he selected the wolf, as she had expected, and the elk. He thanked Tulu, who smiled and gave the boy two thumbs up, indicating he approved the choices. Ishmael sat next to the fire, rolling them over in his hands like an explorer who had just discovered an ancient artifact. He crawled back over to Jane and snuggled under the blanket again.

“Here, Janey,” he reached over and sat the Elk on Jane’s lap.

“I knowed you like ‘em 'cause Papa liked ‘em.”

Her heart melted. Tears welled in her eyes, and she grabbed the little boy and hugged him tight, her tears streaming onto the top of his head.

“Thanks, buddy, this means a lot.” She whispered, choked up by the sentimentality and selflessness of the little boy.

She looked back at Tulu, who also had tears streaming from the corners of his eyes.

“Thank you,” Jane mouthed to Tulu.

He smiled and nodded, pressing his hands together prayerfully, and bowed his head.

That night, the older couple stayed with the children. All four of them huddled by the fire. Jane awoke many times in the night to find Tulu rekindling the fire and adjusting everyone’s coverings so they stayed warm. She felt terrible for they way she had treated them, but was grateful they quickly forgave her and stayed.

The following day, they all woke to a siren from a Watcher off in the distance. Quickly smothering the fire, they gathered their things, setting off deeper into the woods. Nivi and Tulu knew of another free colony a few days journey west, so the group set off to find their new home. Nivi suggested they may find others who had escaped and, possibly, their family. But in her heart, Jane knew neither her mother nor her father would be there, and to give weight to hope like this would break her. So she tucked it deep away.