Rebirth (11 page)

“What is it you believe then? Is it fate, destiny?”

“I believe; that is enough.”

“Do you believe everything that will ever be has already been determined?” I still had a hard time buying this theory. How could any sort of God or higher power have orchestrated the destruction of all it had created?

“There are many different paths, but ultimately, only one can play itself out. For that, we are all responsible.”

“So choice - free will, that exists?”

“Yes, of course, this would all be little more than a dress rehearsal otherwise. For every path a script will be followed, but the path is a choice made by us all.”

“What choice did we all have in the Reaper’s decision?” I asked, challenging the old woman’s theories.

“I only speak the wisdom of the Etruscans. That the path is written is how seers have seen. That is how I am able to see.”

“You see the future?”

“Not in so many words. Destiny reveals itself to me through my practices. The Etruscans believed that among us exists an immutable course of divine will. They were devoted to the question and interpretation of destiny.”

“Are you a psychic?”

“No. I admit, I am able to see auras, which is the energy emitted from an individual, but my abilities to read events and chart people’s destinies are granted through the ancient practices passed down by the Etruscans.”

“Who are the Etruscans?”

“An ancient people that were conquered and integrated into the Roman empire over two thousand years ago. They were wise in their ability to read the signs in nature by asking questions to Tages, their profit seer.”

“How does it work?”

“You are curious, Sara. That’s good; we have much to teach you.” She lifted her stick and continued. “I use my staff to draw out an invisible frame to the sky and horizon.” Her staff was a twisted branch maybe five feet in length and very thin. “Then I ask a question. The answer is interpreted in nature’s reaction. It is a complex science. Perhaps more of an art.”

My initial interest in this complete stranger’s religion had grown into something more. What if she could tell me what would happen next? What if she could guide me and my son to safety? As crazy as it all sounded, the last year of my life demanded I approach this woman with an open mind.

“How can you be so sure it works?”

“I have seen it work, Sara. I have counseled dozens of people in my life through these means. When the Grimm Reaper was first mentioned in the news I drew my box and I watched the sky. I asked the question; ‘What might this threat bring about to the world?’ Within two minutes I had my answer. A raven flew into my magical field, and upon entering it dropped out of the sky. Dead.”

My skin crawled; was it the story or the story teller? Either way, this woman both unsettled and reassured me. What if she could help me make sense of this chaos?

“The dead bird was nature’s answer…” I trailed off.

“Yes, an obvious interpretation of what would come to pass.”

“And so did you try to stop it?”

“As powerful as one person’s actions can be, I knew that any warning on my part would fall on deaf ears. The powers that be would not succumb to the Reaper’s demands. We all knew that. And when five billion people share a common idea, it is impossible to change that path.”

“So you holed up in here? Waiting?”

“I did. I waited, I prepared. I told only those I thought could help.”

A sense of destiny suddenly overcame me, not for myself so much as for my son.

“I invite you to stay here, until we have your baby healthy and strong. His destiny will be realized to you in time, and in between that time and now there is here. ”

The offer to stay was very appealing. I was lucky to have crossed their path, I knew that. She obviously noticed Leif’s small size and weakened state. She understood I had been having trouble latching him to my nipple. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I would very much appreciate that. Staying I mean. You’re kind to take us in.”

“Of course we would, Sara.”

“I-I need to feed him. Have you any milk?”

“He’s having difficulties at your breast.”

“Yes. He’ll eventually latch on, but not without a fight, and even then, it’s not much.”

“We will help you.” She opened a cupboard and revealed several tins of powdered baby formula. She turned to see the surprised look on my face. “We have prepared for your arrival.”

Chapter Twenty Four

The women were living in a cold war bomb shelter built by my hostess’ father in the Sixties. Her name was Bethany. She was a pale and wrinkled woman who’d spent her whole life in her father’s house. When he died twenty years before, she’d taken over the household, and with no brothers or sisters, no husband and a mother incapable of looking after herself, there she remained. Her father had revealed the underground structure to her when she was just a little girl. She had never been allowed to enter the space while he was alive. When she had returned home from his funeral, she finally entered it for the first time. There she found a stash of forty year old food tins and provisions long forgotten since the threat of nuclear war had vanished from conscious awareness.

But after having read the future promised to the world with her magic, she had the bomb shelter retro-fitted. That happened just one year before the end came. The smokeless fireplace, the kitchen, toilets and dry storage, all of it was improved and expanded upon. Bethany had spent her life savings on the project: she was so certain of our end.

The storage of food looked barely touched though the four women had lived in the shelter since before the bombs fell. As I became more at home with the women, I found chores to do to earn my keep. Leif had become quite a bit chubbier after only a week underground. The fact that Beth had a massive supply of baby formula convinced me of her ability to see the future.

“It wasn’t so much that I saw the future, or that I saw you and little Leif showing up at my door,” Beth explained as she shook another bottle of the milk and handed it to me. “I did, however, see the baby.”

“How do you mean?” I asked.

“Like I said, I can see a person’s aura. Yours is quite beautiful by the way, Sara. Bluish orange.” I blushed. “But your son’s….” She chuckled ironically. “Your son’s aura is a fire. You might say I saw his aura. One night, as I pondered the concept of the Yin and Yang, I realized that if someone were to plunge the world into despair, that another would rise to pull us out. So, I drew my magic frame on the horizon, first to the north, then the west, the east and finally the south asking the same question, ‘From where will our savior approach?’ Then a great light shimmered in my magical envelope and I knew – I knew the direction you’d come to find us. I knew it would be an aura I would see. I suspect his father’s aura would have been quite something to see as well.”

“He was the leader of our group.”

“Yes, I imagine he was. He must have been a good boy. You are a good girl, Sara, and Leif will command the respect of men as his father did, with compassion and with love.”

“Yes,” I trailed off a moment, remembering Joel. “He was a very kind man. It’s just…”

“Never mind what has been.” She waved her hands wildly. “Leif is here now. He is yours and his father’s prodigy. You are his rock. Speak only highly of his father and remember that you are his teacher, his guardian, his everything.”

Leif pushed his stomach out, arching his back as he sucked at the bottle, moving against my arm. I smiled down at him, my heart filled with a love I hadn’t imagined.

“It was Leif’s aura I saw.” She panned the south-west wall with her outstretched arm. “Coming from the direction you said you’d come from, the same day you said he’d been born. His aura was like a light haze on the horizon, where no such light had occurred prior to putting the question to Tages.”

Beth walked to her bed, which was positioned alongside the others. She sat at the edge and removed her shoes. “Tages is great,” she said, and laid down to sleep.

“Thank you so much for taking us in.” Tears welled up in my eyes.

“You are very welcome dear. You are a messenger of hope, in a time of great sorrow.”

Chapter Twenty Five

Occasionally we would venture outside. Jenny, the woman who read horoscopes, insisted that the baby spend quality time outdoors, when the sun was out. Jenny was a heavier woman; I thought it quite likely she was morbidly obese in life the way the skin hung from her neck and arms. Her face was kind, with not many lines for her age, which she said was sixty-seven. She, Leif and I would take walks around the burnt frame that once housed Bethany and her parents.

“It must have been a beautiful home,” I commented.

“It was in Beth’s family for generations. They were farmers. Beth made the decision to burn the house in an effort to keep would-be squatters and groups seeking shelter a comfortable distance away from our hiding place.”

“Smart. And you? Did you live nearby?”

“No, I lived in the city. Beth and I knew each other from the Expo circuit, Beth offering her aura readings and predictions and me with my horoscopes.” She shifted her heavy rifle from one shoulder to the other.

“Do you still read horoscopes?”

“I have read your son’s according to my star charts and am currently putting it together. We can discuss it another time.”

“I’d love that.” Completing our umpteenth circle we headed back into the tunnel as the sun set in the west.

*****

We spent our time listening to music, baking, cleaning, maintaining equipment and appliances, and entertaining Leif. I felt very safe underground. The seals on the shafts that opened up to the rest of the world were military grade. They locked like a submarine, virtually airtight. Air was circulated through grates that could pass as sewer covers to anyone the least bit interested, but they could never open them. It seemed the perfect hiding place from the world at large.

Leif was gaining weight at a surprising rate after two weeks with an unlimited supply of food. The women were very understanding over his quirks and late night feedings. They helped when I asked and offered when I didn’t. It was like having four midwives at my service 24/7. I wouldn’t have had it this good in life. My thoughts often turned to my own parents when I looked at Leif. They would have been so proud, perhaps not that their 19-year old daughter had given birth before entering college, but that they were grandparents. I tried not to think too much about my family. All that accomplished was to make me angry, and sad, and I needed to stay as happy as possible for Leif’s sake.

Sally was another of the four women sharing her space with Leif and I. She was around forty years old and very thin, even more so than Beth. I worried for her. She never seemed to be eating, and when I thought I saw her chewing it was on that damn rope of hers.

“It keeps me from overeating,” she would tell me.

I would fight her on her logic. “You barely eat as it is, Sally. There’s not much left of you.”

“Never mind Sally,” Beth would say. “She’s a vain one! Waiting on her Prince Charming to arrive and take her away from all of this.”

“It could happen!” she shouted.

“How many times do you need to shuffle that deck of yours before you believe that it isn’t?” Sally was a Tarot card reader and, as I found out, also a friend from the Expo circuit.

“What sort of Expos did you ladies attend exactly?” The question had been on my mind since Jenny had mentioned it.

“Psychic fairs, and things of that nature,” Jenny piped in while busily loading the ten disc CD player. “Sally was a whiz with those cards. You should let her read your cards, Sara.”

“Actually, Tarot cards scare me. Like Ouija boards. I’ve always steered clear of them. No offence, Sally.”

“None taken. I dislike the Ouija board too. Evil contraption!” I noted a sarcastic tone in her voice.

“I think we can all agree the Ouija board is a powerful portal that should only be handled by a professional.” Beth had a playful look on her face.

“A professional?” I asked. “What do you call a professional Ouija board user?”

“A medium.” Carol spoke up from her corner. She rarely spoke at all, never mind to me. She slipped out of her dark corner where she spent most of her time reading and re-reading a giant volume of some kind. She kept a comfortable chair, a side table and lamp that looked as though it were pilfered from a Psychic expo. She was the creepy one of the four.

“The Ouija is a portal, and yes, it should only be accessed by a medium. Someone with a higher understanding of what you’re letting into the waking world.” As she moved past me, her long black hair brushed my face and smelled of olive oil.

“I used one once, with my friends when we were fourteen,” I said. “There were four of us: two boys and two girls. My friend said we should pair up, boy-girl because it worked better that way.”