Descending Road - LET SLEEP IN by Dana W. Paxson

LET SLEEP IN

1563 4D

Andrew said, “Up one.” The liftcar door closed, its light came on, and it shot upward. Blinded, Andrew shook his head. The little girl rubbed her eyes. The door opened. Another corridor, with light again. “Onnashak,” she said again.

“Onnashak?”

The girl made chewing motions with her mouth. “Gro onnashak. Gro onnashak ets Grendo.” She shook her head.

Was this thing called Onnashak? It was after Grendel? He took her hand and stepped out into the corridor, where he sat down on the stone floor and took a deep breath. Everything lay as silent, empty and dim as on the floor they had left. The little girl stood next to him and looked at him expectantly. What might she remember? His daughter Maiji used to carry her everywhere when they were little. “Janny? You know Maiji?”

“Maijeee?” Her eyes widened and sparkled briefly.

“Maiji, carry Janny, rock you, sing you song.”

“Maijee, Maijee, Maijee,” The girl hugged herself, swaying back and forth, and stared away into the stone wall for a moment. “Maijee di bye-bye.”

Andrew wondered. Did Jan remember what happened? Why hadn’t she died in the fire? If she hadn’t died, what had happened to the rest? If Maiji had been alive too… his head whirled. He held out his arms, tears starting up in his eyes. “Come to Daddy,” he said, “Come to Daddy, Janny.” She cocked her head at him and jumped into his arms where he sat.

Silently he cursed Arlen. The remembered torture of his body haunted him constantly, but the torment of not knowing which of his family still lived was worse. Lacking words or ways to say them to this little girl, he rocked her to ease away his pain and doubt. Nuzzling, clutching, she nestled closer to him. Nothing else mattered now.

A rumble from an explosion not far away made them both jump. She drowsed, as if here in his arms she could let sleep in, to heal her; he cuddled and rocked her faster, his nose in her jutting hair. He would find them all, if he had to go back down to Babiar to get them. The ratty tails dangled from her neck; from her tiny body, heated by the warmth he gave her, rose the smell of sweat and urine and decay.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	LET SLEEP IN 1563 4D Andrew said, “Up one.” The liftcar door closed, its light came on, and it shot upward. Blinded, Andrew shook his head. The little girl rubbed her eyes. The door opened. Another corridor, with light again. “Onnashak,” she said again. “Onnashak?” The girl made chewing motions with her mouth. “Gro onnashak. Gro onnashak ets Grendo.” She shook her head. Was this thing called Onnashak? It was after Grendel? He took her hand and stepped out into the corridor, where he sat down on the stone floor and took a deep breath. Everything lay as silent, empty and dim as on the floor they had left. The little girl stood next to him and looked at him expectantly. What might she remember? His daughter Maiji used to carry her everywhere when they were little. “Janny? You know Maiji?” “Maijeee?” Her eyes widened and sparkled briefly. “Maiji, carry Janny, rock you, sing you song.” “Maijee, Maijee, Maijee,” The girl hugged herself, swaying back and forth, and stared away into the stone wall for a moment. “Maijee di bye-bye.” Andrew wondered. Did Jan remember what happened? Why hadn’t she died in the fire? If she hadn’t died, what had happened to the rest? If Maiji had been alive too… his head whirled. He held out his arms, tears starting up in his eyes. “Come to Daddy,” he said, “Come to Daddy, Janny.” She cocked her head at him and jumped into his arms where he sat. Silently he cursed Arlen. The remembered torture of his body haunted him constantly, but the torment of not knowing which of his family still lived was worse. Lacking words or ways to say them to this little girl, he rocked her to ease away his pain and doubt. Nuzzling, clutching, she nestled closer to him. Nothing else mattered now. A rumble from an explosion not far away made them both jump. She drowsed, as if here in his arms she could let sleep in, to heal her; he cuddled and rocked her faster, his nose in her jutting hair. He would find them all, if he had to go back down to Babiar to get them. The ratty tails dangled from her neck; from her tiny body, heated by the warmth he gave her, rose the smell of sweat and urine and decay.