The Dead Have No Shadows (10 page)

The guide settled into the corner, turned his back on his young charge and would say no more.

Mickey awoke feeling just as stiff and
unrested
as he had when he’d slept outside.  The straw mattress had been too thin to prevent the springs in the bed frame from poking into him and the blanket was as soft as a burlap sack.  Added to that was the fact that every time that Mickey had moved in the night the bed frame had creaked and banged, waking him up.

It had been during one of these many wakeful moments that Mickey had heard crying from the room next door.  It had been a soft, sad sound.  He had heard no words of comfort so Mickey had assumed that the tears had been shed alone and so belonged to Elena.  He wondered if the family had argued again after he’d left them for the night.

Breakfast consisted of a bland oat porridge made with warmish water.  It was a stark contrast to the hot breakfasts that Mum used to insist that Mickey ate before going to school on frosty mornings.  Mum’s porridge was hot, smooth and creamy, and served with love.  This breakfast was tepid, lumpy and tasteless, and eaten in an atmosphere of lingering acrimony.

Mickey looked across the table at Elena.  Her eyes were red rimmed with dark circles beneath them.  She looked so sad that Mickey felt his heart beginning to break.  Elena’s sadness only made her look more beautiful.  Mickey wanted to give her a hug and tell her that everything would turn out alright.  He knew that it would have been a lie though.  Elena was going to be married off to someone who won her in a contest.  She would find out who that was going to be today and become his wife tomorrow.  There would be no courtship, no romance and probably no love.  Elena would just become another piece of property – the purse of a prize fight.

The similarity between what was happening here and the relationship between his own parents wasn’t lost on Mickey.  Anger suddenly flared, and he felt his face grow hot as his expression darkened.  He felt powerless to help. 

Elena was so absorbed in her own misery that she didn’t see the look on Mickey’s face.

Olga saw Mickey’s anger rise though.  She watched him with a mixture of fear, anxiety and a small amount of hope.

When breakfast ended
Janic
ordered his daughter to clear the table and wash the pots.  Mickey immediately offered to help.

“No, no,” cried
Janic
.  “My guest does not work.  The girl will do the work.  We will sit outside my house and smoke.”

Mickey noticed that
Janic
had dropped the ‘honoured’ part of the guest label now.  What you really want to do, he thought, is parade me in front of your neighbours, just like a trophy.  You vain prick.

Then
Janic
said something that reignited Mickey’s anger.

“Tomorrow she becomes a man’s wife.  She needs to learn her place.”

Mickey felt his fist clench.  He could cheerfully have punched this odious little man down the stairs and out into the street.  That would give the neighbours something to look at.  Instead, he fought to compose himself.  Mickey smiled and clasped
Janic
on the shoulder.  He grip was firm and unwavering as he dug his fingers into the man’s skinny shoulder.

“If Elena.”  He made a deliberate point of using the girl’s name.  “If Elena is going to spend the rest of her ... time cleaning up after a husband that she doesn’t even know yet, then today, her last day as a free person, she will have my help.”

Janic
made to protest but Mickey silenced him with his stare.

The old man glanced across at the mother and daughter audience.  Both were engrossed in the exchange, as Elena whispered a translation, and he could see that both were anxious to discover how it would conclude. 
Janic
was the head of the house he had to do something to save face.

“Your ways are strange ways, Mickey Raymond.  But my house is your house.  Do as you wish.  We will smoke together later.”

Like fuck we will.  Mickey nodded and started to pile up the dishes.  Elena quickly joined in and in a few seconds the table was cleared.  Mickey noticed that
Janic
had disappeared down the stairs.  Probably gone for a sulk.

“Where do these need to go?”  Mickey reddened at the harsh tone of his words.  “Please.”  He tried to redeem the situation.

“This way,” said Elena.  She led the way down the stairs to the larder.  A separate room at the back of this served as a scullery.  Like the rest of the house it was a basic affair, with a trestle table carrying an enamel wash basin.  Outside, at the back of the building, stood a barrel of water.

“We do not use the sink anymore,” said Elena, indicating the plumbed in sink in the corner of the room.  “There is no running water.  We have to collect it from the river and store it.”

“I’ll bring some in,” said Mickey.

“No,” Elena replied.  She was smiling.  “You have embarrassed my father enough.  It would shame him more if you were seen collecting water.  I will fetch it.”

“I didn’t mean to embarrass him,” said Mickey.  “But he’s wrong the way he treats you.  It’s so ... archaic.”  Seeing that Elena didn’t understand the word he changed it to, “old fashioned.”

Elena smiled again.  “Thank you.  You are kind.”

She fetched two buckets of brackish water and they set to washing the dishes.  Elena insisted on doing the washing and let Mickey dry.  The silence that fell was companionable to begin with but Mickey began to feel awkward after a while.  He fished around for something to start a conversation with but was afraid of upsetting the girl.  Finally his curiosity got the better of him.

“How long have you been ...”

“Dead?” Elena glanced sideways at Mickey to check if that was what he meant.

Mickey nodded and took another dish from her.

“We have been over here for two years now,” Elena replied.  “A mudslide swallowed half of our village.  The sun rose after nearly one week of rain.  Before the sun set that day we had been buried and had arrived over here.”

Mickey hadn’t expected so much detail.  It shocked him.

“I’m sorry.” It was a lame thing to say but was the first thing he could think of.  “How old were you when you died?  If you don’t mind me asking.”

 “You are funny.” Elena laughed.  “I was nineteen years old.  And I am still nineteen.  For me time stopped when the mountain collapsed and buried us.  The rest of the village though, they have kept the calendar.  That is why my father has arranged this marriage now.  In his mind I have come of age and can be married.”

“That’s so wrong,” said Mickey.  “You shouldn’t be forced to marry just because of your age.  You should be able to pick your husband and marry when you’re ready.”

Elena shrugged.  “It is the way of the village.  But then I am dead.  I have no need of a husband.”

Mickey mulled over what he’d just learned.

“If you died two years ago why are you still here?  Why haven’t you all gone on to your final destination?”  He knew what had happened but not why.  The villager’s reason for staying intrigued him.  Could it be a way for him to prolong his time, albeit dead?

“We were given the choice,” said Elena.  “The village elders could not cope with the reality of their sudden deaths.  They said they were not ready to die – it was too soon.  That was a joke.  Most of the elders are ancient and would probably all have been dead by now anyway.”

“So what happened?” Mickey urged the girl to continue.

Elena blew a loose strand of hair from her face.

“As is their way, the elders called a meeting and had a vote.  They were able to persuade most people to stay here.  A few chose to leave – but most stayed.”

“Do you know if those who left reached their destinations?” stupid question Mickey realised.  Too late though, it had been asked.

“I do not know,” said Elena.  “We did not hear from them again.”

Mickey nodded.  He remembered
Pester’s
explanation that once a journey had begun then the steps could never be retraced.

“I do not think that they would have got very far though,” Elena added.

“Why not?”

“Because they were alone,” Elena replied.  “Because most of the village chose to stay here we lost our guide – even the ones who decided to leave.”

Mickey suddenly became curious.  “Did you meet you guide?”

“Yes,” Elena replied.  “His name was Pester.  He was a strange man.  He had different coloured eyes.  He was creepy.”

Mickey smiled and looked over Elena’s shoulder.  Pester made a mock show of looking hurt.

“What about you though?” Mickey changed the subject.  “If you’re against the ways of the village, why did you vote to stay?”

“I did not,” Elena spat her reply.  “I was not of age so I did not have a say and because I am female I would not have been allowed to vote anyway.”

“So you’ve accepted this as your fate then.”  Mickey said this as a statement not a question but he suspected that this wasn’t the case at all.  He thought that Elena’s reluctance about the next couple of days wasn’t just about being forced into a marriage that she didn’t want.  He used the filthy cloth in his hand to dry another plate.

“No,” Elena said.  “I will never accept that I have to stay here.  To the minds of the elders I am of age now.  I should be able to choose my own destiny.”

Mickey stifled a smile at Elena for wanting her cake and being able to eat it.  A few minutes ago she claimed that she hadn’t aged.  Now she wanted to exercise her full adult rights.

“What is the point though?” Elena sighed.  “I would have no chance of completing my journey without a guide.”  She cast Mickey a sidelong glance.

“Are things that bad?” said Mickey.  “I mean, you’ve managed two years so far.”

“And how much longer would I have to go on before our food stocks ran out?”  Elena’s anger was rising again, bringing a flush to her cheeks.  She thrust a plate into Mickey’s hand.  “You do not understand.  Being made to marry someone is bad enough.  Worse than that – I am dead.  I have been dead for two years.  I should be allowed to go on to my final destiny.  It is my right.”  Elena’s voice rose with the final sentence.  She began to tremble and tears spilled from her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” said Mickey.  “I’ve upset you.  I never meant to do that.”  He had the urge again to fold her into his arms to comfort her.  Instead he just patted her shoulder awkwardly.  He could have been patting a pet dog.

“It is not your fault,” Elena sniffed, wiping her eyes.  “I envy you.  You can walk out of here right now and go on your way.  After tomorrow you will.  Your guide will tell you it is time to go.  Is he near you now?”

“Yes he is,” Mickey answered.  “Very near.”

“What is his name?” Elena asked.

Mickey laughed.  He couldn’t help himself.

Elena looked puzzled, then realised.

“No?”

Mickey nodded.

“It is Pester?”

Mickey laughed again and nodded.  Elena remembered what she’d said about the guide and she blushed profusely.

“Don’t worry,” Mickey said through his smile.  “I think he took what you said about him quite well really.”

Still looking horrified, Elena spun around.  She whirled straight past Pester.  To her the room only contained herself and Mickey.  Finally she joined in Mickey’s laughter.  It was a sound that hadn’t been heard in
Koprno
for a long time.