A Catch in Time Page 28

  “He’s fine. He and his friends are at The Hill.” Mohammed pointed at a low distant hill to the northwest, the closest high ground, “preparing for the Festival of Stars. They will return soon.” He beckoned toward the house. “Come inside. Please.”

  Kate introduced herself and Josiah while Laura wandered through her childhood home, touching everything—walls, pictures, furniture, even unknown items. She toured rooms and hallways, heard again the familiar creak of the stairs as she climbed to the second floor, inhaled the familiar smell of the old house.

  Her bedroom was the same. Her stuffed animals and baby dolls were still on the dresser. She thought of Lily and knew she would take these treasures to her. And as many family photos as she could. Conrad could go with them when they left. They’d be a family again.

  Mohammed placed food and drink on the table and they all talked nonstop throughout the meal. Having heard of Free Thinkers, but never having met any, they were intrigued by Mohammed’s description of the community.

  When Mohammed briefly left the table, they had a whispered exchange about Lily’s birth date, and, after some quick calculations, they established a pre-blackout birthday for Lily that wouldn’t be inadvertently contradicted by Conrad. No one had mentioned Lily or the Shaitan. It didn’t occur to them that the town’s minimal contact with the outside world left their knowledge of Shaitan to be based on little more than inaccurate myth.

  Mohammed had never connected these mythical stories of Shaitan with Mack. He’d lived so close to Mack in those weeks after the blackout, feared him so intensely, that Mack could never be a myth. He and Conrad had never once mentioned Mack’s name after their escape and Mohammed didn’t know Conrad still woke to terrifying nightmares, sweating and shaking.

  The townspeople used solar- and wind-powered energy but avoided all communication technology, such as radio and television, to be free of all the contamination endemic in pre-blackout times. Media ranked as a major contaminant.

  Among the many oddities adopted by his neighbors, this was one that both perplexed and amused Mohammed; having lived in a closed society during his early years, he remembered his tribe’s hunger for news whenever they had camped near towns.

  Conrad had explained it to him. According to Conrad, televisions, radios, newspapers, and magazines had submerged society in fads and ads and trends that falsely shaped thinking and opinion, and molded the public into chaotic clay. In this way, wealth had been funneled to the already wealthy and made debtors of the poor.

  When Mohammed rejoined them, Josiah asked for news of the rest of the world. Reno had given them little that wasn’t distorted by the Brotherhood’s agenda.

  But Mohammed didn’t have much to offer and, seeing Josiah’s disappointment, explained the ban on radios and TV. “They don’t want to be consumers and line the pockets of the wealthy. It seems they can only accomplish this by not listening at all.”

  Kate laughed. “They’re sounding loonier by the minute. Oh, well, at least they aren’t religious.”

  “But they are,” Mohammed said.

  “One of the first things I asked was if there was any church stuff going on here and you said no.”

  “You asked about preachers, God, and prophets. These people do not pray to God or Jesus, but they do worship. The earth mother, Nature, is their God.”

  “Well, shit, that’s all right. It’s not a death cult, like Christianity.”

  “Death cult?”

  “Yeah. Worshiping the dead, like Christians do with Jesus Christ. He’s been dead for over two thousand years, for cryin’ out loud. Death cult.”

  Mohammed averted his eyes. He knew about Jesus, the prophet. Like the prophet Mohammed, Jesus had relayed the words of Allah, but instead of being given the respect that his own people accorded to the prophet Mohammed, some Christians worshiped Jesus Christ as if he were Allah.

  Kate was one who not only rejected the prophet Jesus but went to the extreme of disrespecting him. He glanced at Laura and Josiah. Were they as dismissive of the prophets as was their companion? With some regret, he decided he would be cautious of his new guests.

  Laura’s heart raced as, through the kitchen window, she watched Conrad and his wife approach the house. She flung the door open and screamed, “Conrad.” He froze, then mouthed her name as she flew down the stairs, into his arms.

  Their words collided as they hugged, overwhelmed after so many years of separation. He cupped her face with his hands; she stroked his hair; they hugged, broke apart, and hugged again.

  Conrad introduced his wife, Fawn, and Laura introduced Conrad to her friends; then they went into the house they’d played in as children and began the slow process of reconstructing interrupted lives.

  Mohammed, Josiah, Kate, and Fawn sat on the large porch and talked. Fawn was a slim young woman with brown hair that framed her pale face. As Josiah questioned her about the community, it became clear their interests were basic: farming, preserving food, and harnessing nonpolluting energy.

  Kate ventured a question about their beliefs.

  “The life-force is all around us,” Fawn said. “We try to stay in balance with it.”

  “Are there special …” Josiah chose a word carefully. “… things you do?”

  Fawn nodded. “You guys should join us tonight at the Festival of Stars. It’s awesome. We create energy among us, tap into the Mother-energy.” She waved a slim arm. “It’s all around us and it’s … focused, see? It’s got direction.”

  Mohammed, hearing the familiar words, remembered his excitement when he’d first gained rudimentary understanding of his neighbors’ beliefs, thinking they mirrored his own secret knowledge. When that burgeoning hope was crushed, so was he. The force they talked about sprang from the earth. Furthermore, they ascribed good and bad to it, and they splintered it into characteristics they then assigned to trees and rocks and whatever else caught their fancy.

  “We’ve found the way to ride it. It’s complicated to explain …”

  “I’ll bet it is,” muttered Kate.

  Not so complicated, Mohammed thought. Once the fermented drink kicks in.

  “Because we’re part of it,” Fawn went on, unfazed. “See, if we just stayed with the part that’s in us, we couldn’t flow with the part that comes from the source, and provides.”

  “Sounds schizophrenic,” Kate joked.

  “You have to let go of the part, to find the whole,”

  Fawn said seriously.

  Josiah placed a hand on Kate’s knee with warning pressure. “Can anybody do it?” he asked.

  “Oh, sure!” Fawn responded with enthusiasm. “Would you like to try?”

  “No, thanks,” Kate said, ignoring Josiah’s lightly pressing fingers.

  “We’ve had a pretty long day,” said Josiah. “Some pretty rough weeks, actually. We need to leave early tomorrow.”

  Kate stood, stretched, yawned loudly, and glanced at the house. “Laura and Conrad must in memoryville. Hey, Ali.” She turned to the youth. “Why don’t you show me around? My ass aches from sitting.”

  Mohammed pushed himself away from the post. “Certainly,” he said. He went down the porch steps and into the yard. He’d noted the sarcasm beneath Kate’s comments to Fawn, despite her earlier dismissal of the local community’s beliefs as harmless.

  Kate followed him. “Why is everyone in the conversion business?” she complained.

  “What means ‘conversion’?” Mohammed asked, walking.

  “Trying to get people to think the same way you do.”

  Mohammed nodded. “Each follows his own fate.” He shrugged. “Allah will judge.”

  Kate glanced sidelong at him. “Allah, huh?”

  “Yes.” His smile was a flash of white teeth in dimpled parentheses. “But don’t worry, I won’t seek to—”

  “Convert?”

  “Yes. Convert. Your fate is your own.”

  Kate blew a sigh. “Fair enough.” She glimpsed movement in a pasture beyond. �
��Horses!”

  Mohammed told her about the herd, his beloved charges, while they moved toward the pasture, his delight melting his reserve as he explained the characteristics of each horse. His sudden boyishness reminded Kate of John Thomas, which made her happy.

  By the time they returned to the house, plans were under way. Conrad and Fawn, who’d left to attend the festival, would accompany them home. Conrad wanted to meet his niece, Lily, and spend more time with Laura.

  Excitedly, Laura had suggested building Conrad and Fawn a home near the main house. But Conrad had adamantly refused to leave his own community, so she’d urged him to at least visit. He’d suggested that they all relocate to the ranch and join the Free Thinkers. Laura rejected the offer, knowing that if her group ever moved, it would be toward technology, not to more isolation.

  Conrad agreed to a visit but left the final decision to Fawn. Fawn was enthusiastic at the idea that Conrad—and she—had a niece and surprised Laura with her decisiveness; she announced plans to negotiate for one of the community’s vehicles and some of their hoarded gasoline. Fawn was hardly passive, as Laura’s first impression had indicated.

  When Kate and Mohammed returned, Laura excitedly told Kate about Conrad’s decision to visit.

  “Conrad is leaving?” Mohammed asked.

  “To visit our home and meet my daughter,” explained Laura.

  “Ali should come along,” Kate said. “Wouldn’t Catherine get a kick out of him?” She turned to Mohammed. “Catherine’s an older lady who lives with us, Ali. She’d love to meet you and hear all your stories.”

  “She is an elder?” Mohammed asked.

  “Yes, she’s an elder,” Josiah said.

  “This village is awaiting an elder,” said Mohammed.

  “Why?” Josiah inquired.

  “They are strange. My people revered elders for the knowing that comes with much seeing, yes? Elders were sought out by those who wished guidance. These people wait for an old one to find them.”

  “Maybe Catherine’s exactly what they need.” Kate laughed. “She’d blow out their mumbo jumbo in no time flat. They’d be begging her to leave.”

  Mohammed smiled despite himself. Surely one should not speak of an elder this way, but Kate’s irreverence seemed playful, like a child.

  “This elder, she is truly wise?” said Mohammed.

  “Truly.” Laura giggled.

  “Then,” Mohammed announced, “I, too, will go. I have important questions for your elder.”

  During dinner Laura, absorbed in thoughts of Lily and Conrad, imagined their meeting. Josiah, his leg throbbing, ate quietly. Kate, wanting an early start, fretted over whether Conrad and Fawn would be punctual.

  Mohammed wondered about the elder, Catherine. Did she remember Allah’s gift to them of the ability to create and design their very existence? This was not written in the Koran, yet it was true. He didn’t know why the knowledge had been given to him, only that it was incomplete. And fate was leading him to the elder, Catherine.

  Mohammed, mindful of his duties as host, asked Laura politely, “How old is your daughter?”

  “Seven.”

  “Ah. She was born then, before the blackout.”

  “Of course she was,” Kate jumped in. “She’s not Shaitan.”

  Mohammed looked puzzled. “Why do you say this?”

  “Because she was born before the blackout.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Ali,” Josiah said, carefully, “don’t the people here know about Shaitan?”

  “There are stories, but they are just stories.”

  Laura leaned toward him. “Are there babies in the village?”

  Mohammed smiled and nodded. “Oh, yes, many babies, many children.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Kate said.

  “Oh, fuck,” Josiah said.

  Mohammed was confused. Did the unwell ones bother them? Not all children had infirmities; many were well-formed. At first, Mohammed had thought Allah was showing displeasure at the community’s infidels, but as village hunters went farther, and brought back tales of strange creatures, it became apparent change was widespread. Perhaps the soulworld was straining to create a new life-form, one with the ability to rejoin the otherworld and show the rest of them the way.

  “In my land,” he said, “children are a blessing. In this village, also.”

  Laura shook her head. “Almost everywhere else, they’re being killed. The children being born now are not normal. Most people try not to have them.”

  Mohammed’s eyes were wide. “This is not right. It is very fucking bad! There is but one God, Allah, from Whom all blessings flow.” He shoved his chair violently back and sprang to his feet. “What you say is an abomination.”

  They listened to his footsteps pound up the stairs, the slam of a door.

  “And I thought he was the only normal one in this bunch,” Kate remarked.

  Josiah shook his head. “Poor guy. Stuck in a foreign country, isolated from everyone else, so he has to figure everything out himself. He must have been what— twelve? —when the blackout hit?”

  “At least he didn’t end up in Reno,” said Kate. Laura was astounded. “They’re having babies. I wonder how many there are.”

  “Enough to start a Shaitan daycare center,” quipped Kate.

  “We have to warn these people,” Laura started.

  Josiah interrupted. “It won’t do any good. I heard enough from Fawn to tell you exactly what they’ll say: ‘We must celebrate difference, for it comes from the Source, yada-yada.’”

  “I wonder if Ali’ll change his mind about coming,” Kate said.

  “Conrad and Fawn have got to live with us,” Laura said, worried.

  Josiah nodded. “Don’t say anything until we’re home.”

  “What if Fawn’s already pregnant?” Kate asked. “What if Ali says something about baby killers? Somebody better go talk to him.” She stared at Josiah.

  Josiah went slowly up the stairs using his crutches, having removed his prosthesis before sitting down to dinner. In the upper hallway, he leaned against a wall and wiped sweat from his brow, then continued to Mohammed’s room and knocked.

  Mohammed opened the door, his expression impassive.

  “Can I come in? I need to sit down.”

  Mohammed hesitated, then nodded and swung the door wider.

  “Thanks.” Josiah eased himself into a chair. “This one-legged business is hard. Gets tiring.”

  “Yes,” Mohammed said. He sat on the bed facing Josiah.

  “It’s like this, Ali,” Josiah said. “We can talk straight, man to man, or we can talk circles, player to player. What’ll it be?”

  “How we talk,” replied Mohammed, “will be determined by the subject, yes?”

  Josiah’s eyebrows rose. “Kate’s right. Catherine will like you,” he said. “If you haven’t changed your mind.”

  “I wish to go, yes. I am very eager to speak with your elder. But, I also do not wish to go if people beyond this place are killing children. There is no hope in that.” He raised his chin. “I was wrong about this village. It is true they do not speak Allah’s name, but at least they revere His gifts. Perhaps my fate lies here, after all.”

  “If it’s your fate to meet Catherine, you should go with us. Otherwise, you’ll have to make the trip alone, later.” He paused. “If your fate lies here, your return is assured.”

  After several moments, Mohammed nodded solemnly. “I will go with you,” he said, and added firmly, “then I will return.”

  “Good. Now can we talk about this other thing? This thing that’s wrong with the babies?”

  “No,” Mohammed said decisively.

  “Why?”

  “Tomorrow we will begin a journey together. It is good to start in agreement, yes?”

  Josiah laughed. “Okay.” With his crutches, he rose awkwardly. “One more thing. If we’re not going to talk about it now, let’s wait until we get to my home.”
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br />   Mohammed tilted his head questioningly.

  “I don’t want you talking about it to Conrad or his wife until you and I talk.” He saw wariness in Mohammed’s eyes and shook his head. “Ali, it’s simple. Laura wants to spend time with her brother. She hasn’t seen him in years. She doesn’t want anything to mess up his visit. Understand?”

  He waited for Mohammed’s nod, then nodded back. “Good.”

  It took them two days to get home. They kept to the roads as much as possible and detoured around the larger towns. Much of the land was eerily empty of people, and they were halfway home when they came upon a series of small, one-street towns that looked suspended in time, modern Pompeiis, layered with overgrown vegetation rather than lava and ash.

  They drove slowly along the main street of the first town, full of lonely images: A bench smothered in weeds and the skeletal remains of a body; a dilapidated storefront, screen door propped open by stacked boxes; an old grime-covered car drawn up to the single pump of the town’s only gas station, the fuel nozzle still in the car’s intake. Skeletons sprawled amongst thriving weeds.

  The second town was nearly the same. Stray gusts raised dust, flapped rags, and ruffled leaves, leaving nothing changed in their wake. Tangles of vegetation were the only life, no birds in the trees, no mice scurrying along cracked foundations. Only untended gardens and undisturbed skeletons.

  It seemed the area had been infected by some virulent organism. Miles later, they saw their first bird. They traveled for hours before they felt safe enough to stop and make camp for the evening. Gathering close to the campfire, they spoke in hushed voices of the eerie scenes they’d passed.

  The strong resemblance of Conrad and Laura was noticeable to Josiah. Strikingly similar in appearance, they also shared many gestures and expressions. Even their questions shared a breathless quality, one he found appealing in Laura but not in Conrad. Conrad, he decided, lacked Laura’s sincerity. Conrad was a small-time player.

  Josiah began to realize there would never be a child whose fingers could be compared to his own, whose eyes would be as green as his, or whose voice would sound similar. He felt a tug of sadness. He’d never thought of having children; that he should do so now, when it was no longer possible, was unlike him. For years he’d called others fools for replicating themselves, and now he was regretting his own lost opportunity.