Where the Dead Talk (31 page)

His brother’s eyes shone silver, his face twisted into a grimace as he pushed through the water. Thomas felt his bladder let go even as he wanted to run to him – to tell him that they needed to leave, that daddy and uncle Joseph were gone, that they were all that they had left so they needed to run away, run from West Bradhill so that they could at least take care of each other, that Thomas didn't want to be all alone. He started to pull away from Nashoonon but the Major grabbed him. Jonathon kept coming.

"I see you, Carolyn," he said, "and you’re all I can see."

Carolyn yelled as he reached for her.

"We’ll make a family together so I can crawl inside you. You’ll see, and Thomas will see, and we can all huddle together in the water and the mud, and never need to be warm again."

He lunged at Carolyn. Pomeroy threw himself between them, pushing back on the cold and wet clothing.

"I don’t bloody think so," he said. His hand slipped off the clammy flesh and Jonathon shot his own hands up, grabbing him by the throat. He picked Pomeroy up, lifting him up from the water. Pomeroy tried to peel the cold fingers off, but they wouldn’t budge. Jonathon spat stinging black liquid into his eyes and face. Carolyn was suddenly next to him, clawing at Jonathon’s eyes, trying to get him to drop Pomeroy, who was quickly on the verge of blacking out. His legs kicked furiously at the water.

"Drop him, drop him, let him go," she screamed.

"The sleep will come," Jonathon hissed.

The lake shuddered and the light flared.

"He’s killing him!" Carolyn yelled. Pomeroy’s face had gone dark and his kicks were subsiding. Her feet slid out from under her and she fell forward, her head against Jonathon’s stomach. Jonathon turned his face down to her –

- and the top of it blew off, shattered by the ball that hit it at close range. They eyes went dark. Pomeroy dropped to the water with a gasp that was nearly a scream. Jonathon’s body slumped backwards into the water and sunk below the frantic surface in a swirl of filthy clothes and pale flesh. Carolyn turned. Thomas was staring at the water, his arm outstretched, a twirl of grey smoke rising from the pistol he held. His eyes were wide and running with tears. Nashoonon yanked him, turned him to look up into his face. The pistol dropped from Thomas’s hand, into the water.

"Now," Nashoonon yelled, "push, now!"

Thomas took a last look at the shape of his brother, then he closed his eyes and cried out. Nashoonon gave his hand a squeeze and Thomas knew what to do. He shoved it all forward, all of this energy, every bit, every bit of pain that was tearing his heart into pieces. All of it. They both did, with every bit of strength they could muster.

Thomas screamed.

The night and the lake exploded in their faces. Sparks and streaks of light spilled out from the shadows and the form of the thing that had come into their world. The light traveled up and shot along the underside of the darkness that had hung like a low ceiling over the lake and the valley that it lay in. Trees on all sides blew backwards, cracking, tearing, and falling. The ground shook as though a giant hammer was smashing down on it, making the lake water itself jump up in the air. The screams of the Cursed Sachems rose in a choir of agony behind them, echoing out over the water. Their gaunt corpses and the bodies of the dead all suddenly fell, dropping into the water, collapsing on the shore, eyes extinguished.

Nashoonon’s hand went limp and suddenly Thomas felt and saw the power leave them. Nashoonon started to drop. Pomeroy and Carolyn struggled to hold him up, but he slipped down between them, dead weight. A huge wind suddenly roared – not coming from the center of the lake, but from all around it, heading in to the center. Thomas could barely stand – he had to reach over to Pomeroy and grab onto his arm. The water was moving, too. Suddenly, it was like standing waist deep in a fast moving river.

They had to get out of the lake.

Pomeroy grabbed his arm just after everything blew apart. The water was rushing, yanking at his legs, trying to pull him off his feet. Darkness fell across the lake as though a lantern had been blown out. They turned to fight their way back to shore. He moved, but the stomach-high water was rushing too hard to the lake's center, just as the screaming wind was. Thomas suddenly slipped from the Major’s grip.

Pomeroy spun around, then lost his footing and was swept out after him. Bodies floated around them in the black water. He frantically swung his arms around and tried to get some footing on the lake floor. He spun forward and reached his arm out, catching Thomas by the shoulder. He locked his fingers – he wasn’t going to let anyone slip away again. Panicking, Thomas flailed, not finding any footing at all. Pomeroy found something, barely. The water was up to his neck. Thomas struggled, trying to swim against the torrent, choking on water. Pomeroy pulled him in close, his arms around his neck. Thomas panicked more.

Pomeroy reached up and hit Thomas across the top of his head, a sharp snap. Somehow, Thomas understood and stopped pulling so hard. He was nearly strangling him he was being held so tightly. On the shore, the men gathered. Carolyn was waist-deep, straining to hold up the Indian. Some of the men were working their way out to them, linking arms and forming a human chain. Soon, others joined in and they began moving forward.

Thomas looked up at Pomeroy.

"Hold on, boy. Just a little swim. We’ll be out in a minute," Pomeroy said.

A sudden rush nearly knocked him loose again – they struggled to stay above the water. A hand grabbed Pomeroy’s ponytail, then his shoulder. It was the tavernkeep. Thomas kicked his feet, helping as much as he could. The water was rushing around his legs, pulling at his breeches, his jacket, his shoes. They inched back towards the shore. Beneath his feet, the bottom of the lake shifted, rocking. Beside them, Nashoonon was swept out.

"No!" Thomas shouted.

Thomas saw his head and arms spinning off into the darkness of the deeper water. The soldiers began pulling at them. Thomas lost sight of Nashoonon, then he spotted him, a speck. He’d been dragged out and was still moving. Then he disappeared into the darkness.

The men pulled hard, fighting the massive current. Soon, the shore. Thomas felt little more than a shivering sack as they reached the water’s edge – which was now a good fifteen yards in from where it had been just minutes before. They stood in silt and mud and slimy rocks, still shining with the water. A huge roar came from behind them. He could barely stand. Carolyn came up next to him as they reached the original shore.

"Where’s is he?" she yelled.

He shook his head. Carolyn stopped and turned, heading down along the slick rocks. Pomeroy reached back and grabbed her arm above the elbow.

"We have to leave," he said.

The roar from out in the lake was rising in volume, starting to drown out even the wind around them.

"But what if he’s –"

"He’s not."

He began pulling her out. She resisted at first, then began moving. The soldiers were lining the edge of the original shore, staring out into the howling darkness. Bodies lined the ground while others were carried off in the rushing water. There was a deep, muffled CRACK from behind them. All the water was draining away. All of it. A handful of men were running along the former lake edge towards them. Their faces were dark with powder and their hair slick with sweat. Morrill was at their head.

"He alright – the boy alright?" he yelled, out of breath.

Pomeroy nodded, raised his hand and motioned toward the woods lined with fallen trees.

"Go!" he yelled. "Run as fast as you can!"

The men didn’t need to hear it twice. Pomeroy kept one hand on Carolyn and the other on Thomas. The wind screamed and another rumble shook the ground. They ran. There was no easy way through the fallen trees and burned corpses that littered the ground. The soldiers scrambled over them as best they could, cursing and yelling, branches breaking beneath them. Thomas followed, and had to be lifted more than once. Only the first few layers of trees had fallen. Some of those behind had large branches hanging down, but were still standing. Once through the worst of the tangles and obstacles, they were able to run more quickly. The sky was beginning to lighten, bringing the woods into a faint blue-gray focus. A pair of deer went leaping past, fleeing the confusion.

Thomas was empty. The strange power that had coursed through him was gone. Now he just ran, often dragged by Pomeroy. It became a blur to him, a haze of exhaustion. At some point they reached the path, and that made the going easier. The ground quieted beneath their feet the farther they went from the lake, the pine and spruce undisturbed. The soldiers were all scattered now. Thomas could only see one or two of them, running on ahead. Pomeroy wasn’t able to run as fast since his leg was hurt – but he didn’t let go of Thomas, either.

The path finally opened out into a clearing. The sky to the east faded from black to a deep indigo that lined the horizon through the trees around them. There was dew and mist across the grassy clearing. Carolyn tumbled to the grass, landing on her knees. She fell in a heap and shook with sobs. Tears flooded down her face and off her nose. Though he couldn’t hear her, he could see that she was howling and saying No over and over. Pomeroy jumped down to his knees next to her and put his arms around her. She tried to beat him away, landing several fists onto his face, but he held on, pulling her in to him. He buried his face in her hair and pulled her into his chest. They rocked back and forth.

Thomas didn’t know what to do. He watched them, and then turned back to the woods the way they’d come. A strange gray ash covered the tops of the trees. There were no birds in the sky. It felt like a giant graveyard, no life. All of the soldiers had gone on. The sky lightened even more, the stars beginning to fade out the east, then into the dark blue of the west. Something jabbed his leg. He reached into the soaked pocket of his breeches and pulled out one of the keys from the broken fife – it had twisted and was poking him. He let it fall to the ground.

"We have to go," he said.

Pomeroy looked up at him. His eyes were red and he had snot running from his nose. He nodded, then stood up. Gently – as though she were badly injured – he helped Carolyn to her feet. He said a few words to her that Thomas didn’t quite catch, and then started off away from the lake again.

Every muscle in Pomeroy’s body yelled at him to slow down and sleep and stop the beatings, but they weren’t done yet. Carolyn hadn’t said a word since she’d gotten up, eyes somewhere else. The boy led the way. He was drenched and shivering, just as Pomeroy was himself. A whistle cut through the silence – loud and clear. Up ahead, a figure stood at the end of the path. Pomeroy hurried them forward, still holding Carolyn by the hand. It was Jude, waving for them. They came out onto the road.

"Thought I’d have to go back and find you," Jude said.

"I’d hate to imposition you like that," he said.

"Too late, Major. You already impositioned me plenty," Jude said, "But you didn't do too bad, for a lobster-back."

"We have our uses," Pomeroy said.

Jude nodded. Pomeroy looked around. The surviving men gathered next to the road, looking around nervously.

"How are we –" Pomeroy started to say.

"With us," came a voice.

He turned and saw Elizabeth coming towards them on the wagon, spare horse in tow. Elizabeth climbed down and rushed over to Jude.

"I had to come back," she said, "I couldn’t lose any more – and I don’t care who knows it or not, or where we go, or how we’re together. As long as we are."

The tavernkeep pulled her tight into a hug. Pomeroy looked around. The soldiers watched them embracing, and all were silent. Thomas watched them too, occasionally looking back into the woods where they’d come from. Pomeroy looked at Jude once he looked up from Elizabeth, then Morrill. He pushed his hair out of his eyes.

"Now – can we finally leave?" he said.

They rode off down the road. Pomeroy looked around at them in the back of the wagon. Thomas stared at his feet. No one spoke. They climbed the hill and then started down the other side. The soldiers followed behind them, on foot. Most were having quiet, animated conversations. They hadn’t seen everything those in the wagon had seen – nor lost what those in the wagon had. The sun broke the horizon. Around them, the mist began to burn off. Plowed fields became clear in the distance. After a time, Pomeroy looked back and couldn't see West Bradhill – none of its land, nothing. They’d made it out, after all. Carolyn looked over at him, fixing him with a hard stare.

"Is it possible to lose everything?" she said.

Pomeroy almost said something flip, but stopped himself.

"Yes. I suppose it is," he said.

The morning air grew warm as the sun climbed.

Other Mornings of the World

He opened his eyes. A river whispered nearby and the air was cool and fragrant. The aches of his body were gone. All around, untouched forest full of life stretched out, sun rising through the trees, slicing the mist. He stood up and breathed deeply. O’otah stood nearby, watching at him. Nashoonon took a few steps towards the river. Pannalancet was there, his white hair neat and his eyes bright.

"Uncle?" Nashoonon said.

Pannalancet nodded. An eagle circled high above.

"We’re here," he said. He motioned with his arm across the river. People stood watching. His uncle walked over to him and took his arm.

"Our people," Pannalancet said.

They began walking down to the river.

"We're the last," Nashoonon said. "We're gone."

Pannalancet nodded.

"And we did what we needed to. We all did, for many, many years. We paid the cost, paid it in blood – and that’s usually the way of it. We’ve had our watch, now others will have theirs. Come, nephew," he said, "there are other mornings of the world."

Nashoonon looked across the river, and followed.

Shades of the Dead