Choosing the Water

Little Birds At War
TJ Berg                   

Chapter 1.    Choosing the Water

            When the legs of the bus creaked down to deposit her at ground level, Jessica hesitated at the door.  The driver shouted back at her to move along.  The other kids on the bus laughed.  She jumped off, and the door hissed shut behind her.  She turned toward her building as the bus skated off.  The only thing that lit the street was the soft glow from the roof of the bus stop. The streetlight had burnt out again.  She glanced up past the rail of the main street, which went past their fifth floor window, and noticed that the light was not on in their front room.  It was rare that her mother was not home by the time the bus dropped Jessica off. 

            She swung her backpack off of her shoulder, wincing.  Her arm still hurt from the teacher yanking her off Villott.  Villott played the victim perfectly, as usual.  And, as usual, no one defended Jessica.  No one piped up to tell how she had been tripped, how Villott had leaned down and said, "Your mom fucked anymore animals lately?" How Molly had laughed her stupid screech-owl laugh while stepping on Jessica’s backpack straps to keep her from getting up.  How someone else, she didn’t know who, had muttered flat white

            The teacher had stepped in, lifting her by one arm as she’d swung it back for another punch.  He hauled her screaming into the air, deposited her on the curb, and told her, coldly, that her mother could expect a phone call.  Again.

            So Jessica was not really looking forward to seeing her mom tonight.  She was not looking forward to the sad eyes, the calm, the lecture on controlling her temper, the gentle examination of the sore shoulder and scratched hands, the making of tea and weak apologies for not being able to do better for her daughter. 

            But Jessica couldn’t avoid it.  Even if her mom was a little late tonight.  Jessica opened the door and stepped into the building’s poorly lit hallway.  The door clunked shut behind her, sounding unusually loud.  Inside, only one flickering bulb remained lit.  The stairwell at this level was in almost complete darkness.  It smelled like cat pee again.  Jessica began her trudge up to the fifth floor.  The lift had been broken for almost two years now, not that anyone had really trusted it enough to use it before that.

            The cat pee smell gave way to the strong odor of meat boiling on the third floor landing, and the fourth floor landing brought the smell of a curry cooking.  A pair of wet boots sat outside the door of flat 19 and it smelled, as she passed by, as if perhaps they had recently encountered dog poo.  Up the stairs again and Bia and Nuri were in their usual place.  The siblings, nine and ten years old, were busily adding to their decoration of this section of railing.  They’d found some broken bits of mirror which they were wrapping in wisps of ribbon and twine and weaving amongst the bars.  It really was quite pretty.  She suspected they would grow up to make some very beautiful art one day.  "Looking good," she said as she walked by, and they smiled.  She wound her way to the fifth floor, all the way down the hall, and to her flat. 

            Jessica pulled her keys from her pocket, but paused.  The door was unlocked and not latched all the way closed.  She pushed and it swung open.  Her mother usually locked it even when she was home.  Jessica stood in the empty hallway.  Their entryway was dark. 

            "Mom?" she called.  She shivered on their threshold.  Something moved in the entryway shadows.  She stepped back.  Tetra scuttled into view.  The little rubbish beast waved its anemone-like tendrils, pinkish with excitement.  Jessica bent down and picked it up, smoothing back the tendrils.  She had rescued it from the park a few years ago, where she’d found it feeding on half-full beer cans left by some careless picnickers.  The rubbies could eat all kinds of garbage, but you were meant to pour out beer on the ground before discarding it.  Rubbies did not react well to alcohol.  If they became addicted, they could become vicious.

            "Tetra, Mom home yet?" Jessica said in a soothing voice.  Tetra couldn’t be allowed outside anymore, not once it got a taste for alcohol.  If it was caught drinking it would be put down.  Jessica knew it was silly to have an attachment to one of the little rubbish beasts.  She thought about how much she would be teased at school if they knew.  One more year, she thought.  Then she was free.

            "Mom?" Jessica called again.  She kicked shut the door, holding Tetra close.

            The flat consisted of a bedroom, a half bedroom, a living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom.  Her mom was in none of them.  Jessica turned on lights as she went through.  Her mom’s bag wasn’t open on the chair at the kitchen table.  There was no smell of coffee, no music playing, no cheerful, "Hello, honey!"  She put Tetra down on the counter, and he nosed about for any rubbish.  He waved his pretty tendrils, tips turning green. 

            "She must be late from work," Jessica said.  Her mother left first in the morning, which meant that if she wasn’t home yet, Jessica had not pulled the door shut when she left for school.  She had never done anything like that before.  Perhaps her mother had come home then rushed out again for some reason.  She glanced around once more for any sign her mother had been there.  Clearly she’d come and gone in a hurry for something.  That was the only explanation.  She would surely be back soon. 

            Jessica set about making her mom her evening coffee.  Usually, when Jessica got home, they would sit down together over a coffee and a tea, share a couple of biscuits, and go over their day.  Then they would take their walk over to Hamid’s corner market.  They had a tiny refrigerator in the flat, but it worked only just well enough to keep vegetables a little fresher.  Her mom didn’t trust it with meat and milk, so their nightly routine included the ten minute walk through the park and the little cemetery to pick up the night’s dinner needs and some fresh milk to put out for the fairies.

            Jessica expected her mom would be home in time for their nightly walk, so she drank her tea and ate her biscuit and chattered to Tetra.  Now that her mom wasn’t around, she realized it would have been better if she’d just been able to come home and tell all right away, rather than deal with this suspense.  She finished her tea.  Her mom’s coffee stopped steaming and grew cold. 

            "Clearly a work emergency," Jessica said.  She scattered a few crumbs on the table and let Tetra clean them up.  "She must have just walked in and gotten the call."  Her mom was a social worker and ran a home for battered and homeless women.  She helped a lot of immigrants like herself.  Sometimes there were emergencies.  Jessica thought about ringing her mom’s work.  As much as she hated to admit it, she was feeling worried.  The unlocked door left her uneasy.  It was not like her mother. 

            Jessica picked up the phone.  The air was dead.  She hung up.  That wasn’t all that unusual.  Service in their part of town was spotty.  Still, Jessica’s hand lingered on the phone.  How long had it been out?  What if her mother hadn’t been called away?  What if someone had taken her right from their doorstep, as she unlocked the door?  What if it had been the fairies?  They’d taken her father when she was only a baby.  Because he was so beautiful, and they covet beautiful things, her mother had told her.  Her mother was one of the most beautiful people that Jessica had ever seen.  Why wouldn’t they take her away?                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

            It was a terrible thought, but once it crept in, Jessica had a hard time letting it go.  "What happened, Tetra?" she asked.  The little rubbish beast had nothing to say, of course.  "Listen," she said.  "I’m going to walk over to Hamid’s.  I’ll leave a note for mom, so don’t eat it, eh?"  She ruffled his tendrils. 

            She scratched off a quick note and tacked it up to a cabinet, then donned her jacket.  She grabbed a canvas bag, locked up, and headed down the stairs again.  It was almost six.  A centipede train screeched by overhead as she crossed the packed dirt of the pedestrian way.  In nice areas it was grassy.  Here it was dirt, broken glass, chunks of old pavement.  It was a dangerous mess when it rained. 

            There was an entrance to the park just across from her building.  The streetlight that lit the first few feet was burnt out, making it impossible to see around the bend in the path.  Her mom didn’t like her going into the park alone after dark, though she’d been once before, when her mom had been very sick.  Not too sick, however, to deliver a strict lecture.  Never stray off the path, no matter what you see.  Don’t talk to anyone.  Don’t go if the lights have burnt out. Well, it was just one lamp, and it was right at the beginning of the path.  She could at least look and see whether the other lamps were still burning.  If they were, surely it would be fine.

            The path entering the park was red brick.  It turned a bend, crossed the River Wend, then ran alongside it.  A rickety fence separated the path from the steep bank.   About five feet below, the river burbled along.  Jessica stepped up to the darkness at the head of the trail.  She’d walked this path every day for years with her mom.  There was no reason to be scared.  But she was.  She could feel herself flushing.  She leaned out over the river to see the rest of the trail.  All of the rest of the lights in view were still lit.  It was just one burnt out bulb.  Jessica headed down the path.

            To her left a brick wall rose up to about twice her height.  It was crusted with climbing vines, some dangling off like reaching arms in the shadow.  Jessica stayed to the center of the path.  A few more steps and she’d be in the halo of light from the next streetlamp. 

            Something splashed in the river.  She jittered left, toward the wall, heard a rustling above then veered right again.  And then she was in the light.  She glanced back toward the darkened path.  All seemed still.  Feeling more confident in the light, Jessica straightened her shoulders and strode along the trail.  She heard another splash.  They’d had a lot of rain and the water was running high.  She glanced down where it foamed white over some rocks.  Rubbish littered the edge.  A shopping cart had lodged midstream.  She passed the rapids and came to a section that was still and black.  It rippled.  Bubbles rose to the surface, and a large round helmet emerged.  Light glittered off water cascading down the sides, the glass face plate black against the tarnished rivets.  Jessica gasped.

            "Where’s your mother, girl?" a harsh, metallic voice echoed out of the diving helmet.  Jessica ran.  She bolted down the stretch of path along the river, over the second bridge, then finally into the open area of the park. 

            She paused, gasping for breath.  The large field laid out in front of her was hazy with a low mist, but the path, splitting left and right, was clearly lit with street lamps.  Jessica looked over her shoulder.  The path along the river was empty.  She hurried right.  Far out in the misty field, she could see shadowy forms, indistinct.  A dog out with his owner?  Her breath calmed. 

            Swift strides took her to the gate leading into the last part of the park she needed to walk through.  Above her, a metal arch gave the name of the park--or it had once.  Now the letters had fallen out, rusted away, or been stolen, so that only the letter K remained.  The only other entrance, on the other side, had lost all of its letters, so everyone now just called this K park.  She walked under the arch.  To her left was a picnic area, poorly lit with only one light scattered in the thickening mist.  She could hear voices talking and laughing in there.  To the right was an overgrown lawn bowling pitch, now in total darkness.  She passed these, then to her right, the small hill.  Large stones were interspersed among overgrown shrubs, holly and catpine.  Once it had probably been quite pretty.  Now it was untrimmed, mounded with litter, and overgrown with weeds, including stinging bristlewort.  She passed by, ignoring the rustling in the bushes. 

            Then she came to the part of the park she really did like: a large pond.  The path circled it, and the pond was divided down the middle by a small, arched bridge with stone balustrades.  Clusters of cattail grew along the edges, and several weeping willows dropped their wispy branches into the water.  The pond was surrounded by a low fence.  Despite excessive litter, two swans made their home in the pond, and their large, white bodies drifted gracefully through the still, black waters.  The path itself was overhung with flowering cherry trees which rained blossoms every spring.

            With winter drawing in, the trees were barren, dark grey branches painted against a pallet of lighter greys amidst the growing mist.  Jessica hurried down the path.  Benches nestled against its edges.  From one, nearly hidden beneath the branches of a willow, she heard grunts and panting.  A solitary figure sat at another bench, drinking something.  He coughed as she passed by.  Heart pounding, somewhat wishing she’d just stayed home, Jessica scrambled the last stretch of path and then out the gates of the park.  One block down the pedestrian walk and then she cut through the cemetery.  There were plenty of other people walking there, coming and going from the big bus stop.  Jessica felt a little calmer.  Out of the little cemetery, she walked up a short street and there was Hamid’s corner shop.  She ran to the door and burst in, startling Jamile at the counter. 

            "Hello, Jessica," he said.  He glanced past her as the door fell shut.  "Are you all right?  Where is your mother?"

            Jessica nodded.  "I’m fine.  She didn’t come home from work, so I came to pick up dinner."

            Jamile’s face pinched in concern.  He was Hamid’s grandson and was always on duty when Jessica and her mother came.  "You walked over here alone at night?"

            "Come on, it’s only a ten minute walk."

            "Even your mother doesn’t come alone at night.  It is always best to travel with a companion after dark."

            "Och, Jamile, lay off.  My mom has said it was fine before," Jessica lied.

            Jamile made a skeptical expression that pinched his eyes.  "Let me call Grandfather in and I’ll walk you home."

            Jessica busied herself collecting a few items to make dinner.  "Really, Jamile," she said, dropping some fresh pitas in her bag.  "It’s fine.  She’ll probably be home when I get there." She picked up a small bottle of milk, some yoghurt and a cucumber, a container of Hamid’s great hummus, some cubed lamb. Her mom would probably be home by the time she got back, but if not, Jessica figured having something nice cooking would put her in a more positive mood.  Jamile tallied her order and wrote it in his book.  Her mom paid weekly, so Jessica didn’t need to worry about having cash.   

            Jamile sat with the book open, his finger tapping the entry.  "I’d feel much better if--" But Jessica didn’t let him finish.  She waved and ran out the door. 

            She hadn’t been inside long, but the chill outside felt deeper, and the air had thickened with damp.  She shouldered her grocery bag.  Above her, a taxi skid along the rails with noisy squeals.  Jessica really hoped her mom would be home soon.  She considered taking the longer route instead of going through the park, but that over doubled the time to get home, and if her mom did get back, she might worry.  But now that she was standing outside again, the image of that helmet coming out of the water and the guttural voice asking about her mother kept repeating in her brain.  Jessica scolded herself.  She strode onward.  It was obviously some joker.  And what was he going to do, anyway?  Climb out of the water and chase her down in that clunky suit?

            Glossed with that varnish of bravado, Jessica walked through the cemetery.  The path through it was a main shortcut to a big bus stop, so it was generally busy with people.  A cluster of pigeons perched atop a streetlight.  Wide open and well lit, Jessica never felt nervous walking through, even with the heavy mist winding around the gravestones. It was peaceful.   

            The park was dark by comparison. There were lights, but not so many as in the cemetery, and the trees painted much of the path with shadows.  Jessica hesitated a moment at the archway leading in, again considering going back and taking the long way home.  A man walking a dog exited the park, giving her a curious glance.  Jessica walked under the arch.

            In the park, the mist stroked the ground, trees, and lights.  The pond vanished under the grey haze.  Jessica walked down the center of the wide path.   She clutched her canvas bag, pulling the strap so it cut into her shoulder.  She felt certain something shadowy and dark walked inside the fog, tracking her.  Birds erupted in a cacophony of chirping to her left.  Something stirred, willow branches parting, a man stepped out, only a few feet ahead, facing her.  She kept walking, trying to by-pass him.  He stepped in her way, nodded, and someone wrapped their arms around her from behind.

            She screamed, grabbed his arms and dropped her weight, then stomped on his foot.  The first man came toward her, holding something in his hand--a syringe?  She kicked the man that was holding her in his groin.  He grunted, grip loosening.  She ducked out of it.  The first lesson she’d learned in the self-defense courses her mom had insisted she take was avoidance.  So she ran.  She flung the bag from her shoulder as she felt it grabbed and tugged.  She ran harder, heard the pound of feet behind her.  Don’t leave the path, her mom had told her.  But she knew she couldn’t outrun them. 

            She leapt the short fence surrounding the pond, bolted across the stretch of grass toward the edge, then veered into the hedges.  The fog was thicker, but they could certainly hear her clambering through the undergrowth.  Should she hide or keep running?  She scrambled over a rock, dropped down and crawled under a hedge, then found a reedy patch at the edge of the water.  Quietly as she could, she crawled into the muck at the edge of the pond and crouched among the reeds, cold mud seeping into her shoes, up her pants.   

            She caught her breath.  She could elude them here a while, but for how long?  And what did they want?  Her heart was hammering away in her chest.  She tried to breath and calm herself.  She could hear them coming closer through the hedges.  Then, noise from the far side of the pond.  Someone running through the weedy growth.  Something cracked a few feet away, to her right.  A man swore.  "She’s throwing rocks."

            "Over there." Another voice.  The men were barely two feet away.  She could see their dark silhouettes in the mist.  They passed her.  She sat still, shivering with adrenaline and cold.  The mud smelled sulphury, rotten.  A used condom was caught in the reeds, only a few inches from her face. 

            She couldn’t decide what to do next.  They would find her eventually.  Could she sneak past them, perhaps get back to Hamid’s?  If they were smart, they would just wait at either entrance, as the park was surrounded by a tall fence and dense hedges.  That is, if they were really after Jessica specifically.  Maybe they were just a couple guys out to grab some girl on her own.  If that was the case, they’d just give up, right?  Why would someone be after her?

            The muddy water around her legs stirred and eddied, rushed away then surged up.  The helmeted head from before rose out of the water and crept toward her.  An arm extended out.  Jessica kicked, thrust herself backward, tried crab walking away, out of the mud, but it sucked and pulled at her.  The hand, wrapped in some heavy material, drew back, raised one finger, then held it to where a mouth would be if the helmet were someone’s head.  She heard footsteps coming back her way.  The diver reached out with the other arm and extended something to her.  It looked like a tank.  He gestured with his free hand, a sign for diving down, hand out flat, palm to the water, slipping it through the air. 

            Then the frightening, blank face turned toward the sound of the men.  The diver threw a large rock.  One of the men cursed and she heard the trample of feet.  Then a gout of water shot up from the pond, a ferocious stream, aimed in the direction that the men had gone after the rock.  The men swore and she heard one shout about burning and damning the bristlewort. 

            "Just get on the talkie and make sure they’re watching the gates.  And tell them to send in a few more guys."

            Whoever this diver was, it seemed he’d just done her a favor, but it wasn’t going to be much help if she couldn’t get out of the park. The danger I know or the mystery? she thought.

            Jessica reached out and took the tank.  It was attached by a tube to a mask that would cover her whole face.  The tank was about the length of her forearm.  She tried to picture divers and thought those tanks were usually bigger.  This little tank had a strap that looked like it would go around her waist.  She hooked it on, the tank pressing against her back, the tube coming over her shoulder.  She fitted the mask to her face.  Then she hesitated.  The diver gestured her to follow.  It suddenly seemed a very bad idea.  Then, not far away, she heard, "Search the edge of the water."  It was whispered.

            Jessica rolled over, crawled through the mud, and followed the diver.

 


Next Chapter: Chapter 2: Under The City