Descending Road - CLAWING AT EACH OTHER by Dana W. Paxson

CLAWING AT EACH OTHER

1563 4D

“It’s tied up here, go ahead,” Grendel called. One by one the children went up the knotted rope. To Andrew they seemed to flow one after another, as quick as spiders, carrying their junk on their backs or tied to their waists and arms. Even loaded down, they moved so quietly that Andrew could muffle the sound of their climbing with his own breath. The little girl he called Jan wriggled next to last up the rope.

Seven toddlers remained with Mama Bones. Ezzar, Martin and Andrew made two trips each in the blackness, the bone-cap girl coming up last with the tiniest boy clutching her neck.

“You got us out,” she said. “All but Steels.” They stood in a large room with an arched ceiling, illuminated only by a soft blue glow from what seemed to be a hallway or narrow understreet. The room contained only scattered rubble. “We needed Steels. You killed him.” She pointed at Martin. “Jaybee, you take man do Steels.” And a six-year-old boy standing next to Martin spun and drove a seven-inch iron spike up into his heart.

Martin stood up on his toes, his arms rigid at his sides, his fingers shaking, his mouth open; then his head jerked to the left and he collapsed.

Andrew stared in shock and horror, then threw himself on his brother’s body, fumbling for a heartbeat, listening for a movement. Nothing. He couldn’t stop his family dying; it was as if Arlen reached out into every piece of his life and destroyed it. “How could you? He found the way out,” he sputtered, staring up at the girl.

“Now we need a home,” Mama Bones said, “and we don’t have Steels to find it. Come on, babies, come wit Mama.” The children swirl silently past Andrew, after the girl with the finger-bone cap, out into the dim blue light. Her voice came back, “You big people leave us alone now.”

Andrew finally broke through his shock and started after them, pulling out his beam gun, but Grendel and Ezzar took his arms. Grendel said, “Let them go. I’ll go out and make sure they’re gone.” Grendel shouldered the large beam gun, peered out into the light, and limped through, leaving Andrew and Ezzar alone with Martin‘s body.

“He’s dead,” Andrew said, “And my family’s dead, except maybe Engel.” He looked at the body, then at Ezzar, feeling rage and loss clawing at each other.

She said, reading him, “Yeah, now you’re like me, but you’re still too soft. Look, all I want from you is for you to make it. You’ve been through too much to stop now. You won’t make it if you stop.”

“No, you’re right.” He looked away. “Later, maybe I’ll stop. I don’t remember how, not right now.” Leaning against the stone wall, he kept reaching down inside for some wisp of grief that eluded him like a slippery fish, down in darkness that weighed on him like tons of night-dark sea.

“That’s better.” Ezzar‘s slim, strong arm reached around him, and her warmth reached him. For a while, neither spoke. They let go and stood quietly, staring at Martin‘s body.

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PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	CLAWING AT EACH OTHER 1563 4D “It’s tied up here, go ahead,” Grendel called. One by one the children went up the knotted rope. To Andrew they seemed to flow one after another, as quick as spiders, carrying their junk on their backs or tied to their waists and arms. Even loaded down, they moved so quietly that Andrew could muffle the sound of their climbing with his own breath. The little girl he called Jan wriggled next to last up the rope. Seven toddlers remained with Mama Bones. Ezzar, Martin and Andrew made two trips each in the blackness, the bone-cap girl coming up last with the tiniest boy clutching her neck. “You got us out,” she said. “All but Steels.” They stood in a large room with an arched ceiling, illuminated only by a soft blue glow from what seemed to be a hallway or narrow understreet. The room contained only scattered rubble. “We needed Steels. You killed him.” She pointed at Martin. “Jaybee, you take man do Steels.” And a six-year-old boy standing next to Martin spun and drove a seven-inch iron spike up into his heart. Martin stood up on his toes, his arms rigid at his sides, his fingers shaking, his mouth open; then his head jerked to the left and he collapsed. Andrew stared in shock and horror, then threw himself on his brother’s body, fumbling for a heartbeat, listening for a movement. Nothing. He couldn’t stop his family dying; it was as if Arlen reached out into every piece of his life and destroyed it. “How could you? He found the way out,” he sputtered, staring up at the girl. “Now we need a home,” Mama Bones said, “and we don’t have Steels to find it. Come on, babies, come wit Mama.” The children swirl silently past Andrew, after the girl with the finger-bone cap, out into the dim blue light. Her voice came back, “You big people leave us alone now.” Andrew finally broke through his shock and started after them, pulling out his beam gun, but Grendel and Ezzar took his arms. Grendel said, “Let them go. I’ll go out and make sure they’re gone.” Grendel shouldered the large beam gun, peered out into the light, and limped through, leaving Andrew and Ezzar alone with Martin‘s body. “He’s dead,” Andrew said, “And my family’s dead, except maybe Engel.” He looked at the body, then at Ezzar, feeling rage and loss clawing at each other. She said, reading him, “Yeah, now you’re like me, but you’re still too soft. Look, all I want from you is for you to make it. You’ve been through too much to stop now. You won’t make it if you stop.” “No, you’re right.” He looked away. “Later, maybe I’ll stop. I don’t remember how, not right now.” Leaning against the stone wall, he kept reaching down inside for some wisp of grief that eluded him like a slippery fish, down in darkness that weighed on him like tons of night-dark sea. “That’s better.” Ezzar‘s slim, strong arm reached around him, and her warmth reached him. For a while, neither spoke. They let go and stood quietly, staring at Martin‘s body.