Kzine Issue 18 Read online

  Of course, what she really wanted to do was climb the steps to that portico. Touch those pillars. Enter that building. She sighed silently. She’d need weeks—maybe months—of observation to learn enough to mimic the clothing and ways of these people. Perhaps longer still to learn their language, assuming speaking would be necessary to enter.

  The people before her whispered to each other. No one seemed too concerned with those they were not with. She witnessed no exchanges of greetings. No one stopping to talk to anyone outside their current company.

  A loud wail rolled from the building. She jumped. Heartbeat raced. She stumbled back, deeper into the shadows.

  The wailing grew louder. Cymbals crashed. Drums thumped. Screams and cries of agony filled the air. A wave of people spilled from the building. Candles cradled in their hands illuminated faces of skeletons with burning eyes.

  She gasped aloud, pivoted, and fled into the forest. Demons! Monsters! This world was full of otherworldly creatures. Racing through the trees, she paid little heed to where she headed. Downwards was the only direction she knew to matter.

  The wave of agony followed her. The keens and wails overwhelmed her. She clamped her hands over her ears. Something struck her from behind. She screamed as she fell.

  A wave of people trod over her. Or hit her as they passed. Screaming, she covered her head with her hands and pulled herself into a tiny ball.

  The blows stopped falling. Trembling, she slid her hands down the side of her head as she raised it. She was alone again with the swirling mists. She rolled herself up to sitting. Okay. She was okay. Wasn’t she?

  With shaky, unsteady hands, she felt along her arms and legs. She moved her limbs carefully. Nothing protested. Her entire body felt bruised, but exploration found no especial tenderness anywhere. She rolled slowly to her feet, but froze in a crouch.

  A girl about her age watched her from a few feet away. She wore a long gown of some dark color. Her black hair hung unadorned to her waist.

  “Hello,” Kaya offered her greeting tentatively.

  The girl watched her, expressionless. “You shouldn’t have left the path.”

  She grimaced. Great. First contact with her new people was because she’d broken a taboo.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll go back to it now.”

  She rose all the way and cautiously stepped past the girl, through the trees. “Is it this way?”

  The girl watched and followed, but said nothing. The hairs on the back of Kaya’s neck and arms stood at attention. She rubbed them vigorously as she walked. Glanced back in hopes of direction from the stranger every few feet.

  “I’m Kaya. What’s your name?”

  For a few steps, she thought the girl wasn’t going to answer. Finally a soft “Berengere” drifted towards her.

  “That’s a lovely name,” she said. The girl continued to stare without blinking.

  Kaya swerved around one of the clumps of goblin undergrowth and, to the right of an immense tree, found the trail. The girl picked her way to the edge of the trees.

  “I’m sorry for intruding where I didn’t belong. I’m going to go home now. I’m sorry.” She offered an uncertain smile. She did not receive one in return.

  Resolute, she turned her back and walked away. Home. That was all that mattered right now. She would go home and it would all be okay.

  Silence hummed between her ears. She reached the pyramid of skulls sooner than she expected. Tall black-robed beings softly chanted inside the clearing. The sound made her whimper.

  Fear knocked her back into the woods. She dared not be noticed by those creatures. Heart thumping madly she circled the clearing inside the tree line.

  She found the track. She ran.

  And ran. And ran.

  The shimmering speck of the portal home did not materialize. She staggered to a halt. This was right way. She should have found it by now. In her panic, she must have run right past it. She pivoted and came face to face with the black-haired girl.

  “I’m leaving. I swear. I’m sorry I intruded. I’m just a bit lost.” She couldn’t ask for help. Couldn’t allow this girl to know the secrets of her people. To see or find the way between worlds.

  “You left the path.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Your people scared me.” The way Berengere loomed before her scared her. She didn’t want to admit that though. “I promise. I’m leaving. I just need to find—”

  “You left the path.”

  “I know. I understand that was wrong. I’m going home.”

  The girl shook her head. “You’re not.”

  Her mouth grew dry. “No, I am. I’m just a little lost.” She shoved past Berengere and ran. It should be here. Somewhere close. But not the slightest hint of light reached her. Nothing to mark a portal home. She reached the skulls again. Recognized the one with the red flowers. The pink butterfly. This was the right trail. Fists clenched she turned around. And found Berengere. Again.

  “I’m lost. That’s all. I’m going. I swear.”

  She ran back the direction she’d come. Slowed her pace. Did she remember that tree? What about that clump of undergrowth? She crept slowly forward, squinting to peer through the mist. She followed a loop to the left and stopped dead at a small structure lit with incense and candles.

  Her eyes burned. Too far. She’d come too far. She’d missed the portal. Again. She pivoted. Berengere.

  “I’m trying. I’m a little lost. Give me a minute.”

  “You left the path.”

  “I know that.”

  “No.” The girl touched her arm. “You left the path. I left the path. There is no going home now. This is home.”

  Kaya wretched her arm free. She backed into the structure behind her. Noticed her body stood halfway inside the tiny shrine. Oh, no. No.

  She jumped away. Arms rigid at her side. The structure wasn’t there. Couldn’t be. It was insubstantial. Not her. She was fine. Lost, but fine. Backing away, she shook her head at Berengere.

  A completely new world and they happened to speak the same language? No.

  How could she not have noticed how wrong that—no. This wasn’t how her scouting was supposed to go.

  A different world. Anything was possible. But not this. No.

  “I have to go home.”

  “You left the path.”

  TIME TO GO

  by Maureen Bowden

  Dorothy called to her niece, “I’m going for a walk in Sefton Park. See you later.”

  Her niece called back, “Don’t be long. We’ll probably hit traffic on the way to the airport and you don’t want to miss your flight.”

  “Pick me up when it’s time to go. I’ll be on the bench by the lake.”

  It was a special place. She and her sisters used to sit there and knock the world into shape when they were little girls. Then the world went its own way and they were carried along with it. She knew they’d turn up today, to meet her. There are some things you just know.

  When she reached the bench Evelyn was already there. There were tears in her eyes. “I’ve missed you, Dolly,” she said.

  “Well, I’m here now. Are the others coming?”

  “We’ve arrived. Budge up.” It was Alice’s voice. Dorothy and Evelyn moved along to make room for her and Renee. They sat down.

  Renee nudged Dorothy, “Hello stranger. To what do we owe the honour? You doin’ a bit of slummin’?”

  “It’s a long way from New York. I can’t nip over the Atlantic Ocean to Liverpool whenever the mood takes me.”

  “You still with the Yank?”

  Alice said, “Get a grip. She gave him the elbow years ago. Married a Greek with a chain of garages, didn’t ya, Doll?

  Renee said, “What was wrong with the Yank? I liked him. He had a great set of teeth.”

  Dorothy said, “He started showing his fists. Then there were the girlfriends, and the boyfriends.”

  “What? He was a shirt lifter?”

  “H
e lifted anything that wasn’t nailed down.”

  Evelyn wiped her eyes on a grubby handkerchief. “Are you here for something special, Dolly?”

  “Yes. I came home for Renee’s funeral.”

  Renee said, “Am I dead?”

  Alice said, “Of course you are. We’re all dead except Dolly, and she’s on the slippery side of seventy so it won’t be long now.”

  “I wondered why my cough had stopped.”

  Evelyn stopped biting her nails and giggled, “Remember, Mam used to say it’s not the cough that carries you off, it’s the coffin they carry you off in?”

  Alice said, “Well, it was the cough in Renee’s case. Too many ciggies did it.”

  “All right, Al,” Renee said. “Don’t rub it in.”

  “You wouldn’t listen. That was always your trouble. You’d still be alive if you’d listened.”

  “I’m not bothered. I lived long enough.”

  Evelyn was crying again. “You both lived long enough, but I didn’t. I was the youngest except for Dolly. Why did I have to die first? It’s not fair.”

  Alice said, “Flamin’ Nora, Evelyn. Stop whingeing and pull yourself together.”

  “You see?” Evelyn said. “That’s all I ever got. Pull yourself together, Evelyn. Well, I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.”

  Dorothy said, “Don’t be too hard on her, Al. Nobody understood it then, but I think she was bipolar.”

  Renee said, “What’s that when it’s at home?”

  “It’s a mental illness. It means she was all up and down. People can get treatment for it now.”

  “Why couldn’t I get treatment?” Evelyn said.

  “Because bi…whatsit hadn’t been invented then, you daft cow,” Renee said.

  “Another thing,” Evelyn said, “the rest of you were good looking. I wasn’t. That wasn’t fair, either.”

  “You should have taken better care of your teeth.”

  “I got false ones, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah. You looked like Red Rum.”

  “Who?”

  “Forget it. He was after your time.”

  Alice said, “Shut up, Renee. You’re not helping.” She turned to Evelyn. “I know you were unhappy a lot of the time, Ev, but we all had our problems. I lost two baby boys but I couldn’t spend my life moping. I had to get on with it.”

  Renee interrupted. “Al’s right, and what about me? My feller knocked seven kinds of shit out of me every Saturday night after he got chucked out of the alehouse. What kind of a life was that?”

  Evelyn said “You shouldn’t have married him, then. Everyone told you not to. That’s something else Al’s right about. It was the same as with the ciggies, you wouldn’t bloody listen. Anyway, Dolly had the same problem and she buggered off and found another feller. Why didn’t you?”

  “I’ll tell you why. I had the twins. That’s why. If Dolly’s feller had a chain of garages he could afford to take her kids too. Who would have taken mine?”

  Alice’s voice was no more than a whisper. “At least your twins lived. Mine didn’t.”

  Dolly said, “You had a good husband, Al, and your daughters did okay.”

  “They gave me plenty to worry about, though. You have a lot of sleepless nights when you raise three girls.”

  The sisters reached for each other’s hands. They were sitting in silence when the angel appeared. He wore stretch stonewash jeans, a Lyle & Scott polo shirt, and sunglasses. His head was shaved and ‘Heaven Can’t Wait’ was tattooed on his left forearm. He said, “Sorry to break up the reunion but you ladies are clogging up the system.” He turned to Dorothy. “I’m not concerned with you yet, but your sisters are supposed to be in Heaven.”

  Renee said, “Lead on, kiddo. Ready when you are.”

  Evelyn wailed, “I don’t want to go to heaven. I want a proper life. I never had one.”

  Alice said, “We can’t leave her, Renee. Look at the state of her? This is why I’ve stayed with her all these years.”

  The angel knelt in front of Evelyn and patted her knee. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ve made special arrangements for you. We’re fast-tracking your reincarnation.”

  “Oi,” Renee said, “we didn’t go to college. Can we have that in proper words, please?”

  He grinned, and his teeth flashed whiter than Dorothy’s Yank’s. “Right. We’re giving Evelyn another spin on The Wheel. We do it sometimes for lives that have been cut short, like murdered children and war casualties, for instance. We arrange for them to be born again without going through the proper procedure.”

  Evelyn said, “Who’s going to be my mam?”

  “Dorothy’s granddaughter.”

  “My Alexia?” Dorothy said. “She didn’t tell me she was pregnant.”

  “She doesn’t know yet. It’s only just happened. There’s a little cluster of cells clinging to the side of her womb, waiting for a soul.”

  Dorothy laughed, “I’m going to be a great granny.”

  Evelyn gave a sob, “You’re going to be my great granny.”

  Renee said, “Oh, for pity’s sake. Don’t start howling again. Go with m’laddo and get born. You’ll be a Yank so you should have good teeth.”

  Alice said, “Me and Renee are going to Heaven?”

  “Yes,” the angel said.

  “What’s it like?”

  “Whatever you want it to be like. It’s your Heaven, your choice.”

  “For how long?”

  “Until you’ve had enough of it. It will then be time for some rumination on lessons learned and lessons still to be learned.”

  “Then we’re back on The Wheel to learn more lessons?”

  “Spot on. Now, say goodbye to Dorothy and let’s be on our way.”

  There were no words left to say. Dorothy hugged them and they faded away in her arms. Only the angel was left. “Have you done your stints on The Wheel?” she said.

  “Not me. I’m just a messenger: tidings of comfort and joy, or a lot of aggravation. Delete as appropriate.”

  “Take care of my sisters.”

  He nodded. “You take care of yourself. Safe journey home.” He vanished.

  She was sitting alone on the bench when her niece, Alice’s youngest daughter, arrived. “Time to go, Auntie Doll.”

  She smiled. “Yes, love. Time to go.”

  FOR THE FAMILY

  by Aaron Perry

  Rain sluiced off Cedric’s umbrella, spattering his trousers every time he turned to look over his shoulder. He’d been standing in the apartment courtyard since dawn, too aware of each moment he wasted in the midmorning downpour. There’d be kneecappers at his door in five hours, and he was appropriately unhinged.

  Across the courtyard Mercedes’ door opened, and she strode out without a care for the rain. Her gaze slid right past him. “Mercedes.”

  She stopped. Brought a hand up to shield her eyes. “Cedric? What are you doing here?”

  Cedric drew closer, and Mercedes stepped under his umbrella. She looked like hell, eyes bloodshot, blonde hair in ropy snarls. Cedric had never known someone who looked so awful hung over yet remained so functional.

  “I need a favor,” he said.

  “And I need a cigarette.”

  Cedric removed a case from his pocket and jogged one loose. Mercedes hung it on her lip, then without a blush reached down and lit a match off his fly.

  “Nice,” Cedric said.

  She smirked. “What kind of favor?”

  “Do you know a good pawn shop?”

  All her interest evaporated. “God, Cedric, if this is the start of a bad joke I’m going to kill you.”

  Cedric paused. Mercedes fenced all the assets for the Family. That had sounded like the start of a joke.

  “No,” he said. “I’m serious.”

  Mercedes’ eyes dropped to the box under his arm. She held out her hand. “Give it. I’ll find someplace for it before tomorrow.”

  “No. I need it by noon.”

  She f
rowned, and for the first time she really looked at him. He couldn’t hold her gaze.

  “Is this about your sister’s hospice bill?”

  “Yeah.” Mercedes’ features softened. Cedric didn’t tell her his sister had died the night before – that he wished she had died sooner. The thought plunged him back into guilt he’d barely crawled out of over the past month, but it was true. It would have been better had she died the night he found her. Better had Cedric not been stupid enough to think she might come out of it. “What is it?” Mercedes asked, nodding toward the box.

  “Tea set.”

  Mercedes snorted. She knew as well as Cedric that fine porcelain wouldn’t sell for shit in Spicer Ward. She sighed and closed her eyes, massaged her no-doubt aching temples. “There’s a shop on Seventh Street in Old Money that’s still independent. Cousin to the governor or something, the Family up there won’t touch it.”

  Cedric hated Old Money, and Mercedes knew it. “Nowhere else?”

  “Look, it’s not ideal, but if selling that by noon is your only option, then that’s all I’ve got. Need anything else? Because I’m supposed to be at the Abbey in an hour, and with this hangover I’ll have to vomit at least twice along the way.”

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “See you later, then,” she said, brushing past him. “And straighten your tie. You look like hell.”

  Cedric watched her go, disappearing into the morning mist and rain. She wouldn’t see him later, or ever. He hadn’t had the heart to tell her.

  * * *

  Cedric navigated the crowds of Old Money, a constant tingle trilling up his spine. He hated coming here among the rich and powerful and those good enough to fake it, policemen on every street corner. His instincts told him to run.

  He turned onto Seventh Street and found the pawn shop tucked between many other storefronts around a fountain square. Cedric closed his umbrella and shouldered the door open, and the man behind the counter looked up. He stared at Cedric blankly, and for good reason. Cedric stuck out like a crow in a dovecote.

  “Hello,” the man said. “What can I do for you?”

  Cedric hefted the package onto the counter. “I would like to sell a tea set.”