Someone Comes to Town, Someone Leaves TownDoctorow, Cory
Science
Someone Comes to Town, Someone Leaves Town
Doctorow, Cory
Internet -- Fiction; Science fiction; Toronto (Ont.) -- Fiction
Benny was gone. Craig was gone. Ed, Frankie, and George were gone. Even
Davey was gone. All the parts of the cave that made it home were gone,
except for my mother, who was rusted and sat askew on the uneven
floor. One of her feet had rusted through, and her generator had run
dry, and she was silent and dry, with a humus-paste of leaves and guano
and gunk sliming her basket.
I went down to the cave where my father spoke to us, and I found that I
-- I --
I found that I couldn't see in the dark anymore. I'd never had a
moment's pause in the halls of my father, but now I walked falteringly,
the sounds of my footsteps not like the steps of a son of the mountain
at all. I heard them echo back and they sounded like an outsider, and I
fell twice and hurt my head, here --
(he touched the goose egg he'd raised on his forehead)
and I got dizzy, and then I was in the pool, but it didn't sound right
and I couldn't hear it right, and I got my clothes off and then I stood
there with them in my arms --
(his hand came back bloody and he wiped it absently on the grass and
Mimi took hold of it)
Because. If I put them down. It was dark. And I'd never find them
again. So I bundled them all up and carried them over my head and I
waded in and the water had never been so cold and had never felt so oily
and there was a smell to it, a stagnant smell.
I waded out and I stood and I shivered and I whispered, "Father?" and I
listened.
I heard the sound of the water I'd disturbed, lapping around my ears and
up on the shore. I smelled the sewage and oil smell, but none of the
habitual smells of my father: Clean water, coalface, sulfur, grass, and
lime.
I picked my way out of the water again and I walked to the shore, and it
was too dark to put on my clothes, so I carried them under one arm and
felt my way back to the summer cave and leaned against my mother and
waited to drip dry. I'd stepped in something soft that squished and
smelled between my mother and my father, and I didn't want to put on my
socks until I'd wiped it off, but I couldn't bring myself to wipe it on
the cave floor.
Marci's eye sockets looked up at the ceiling. She'd been laid out with
so much care, I couldn't believe that Davey had had anything to do with
it. I thought that Benny must be around somewhere, looking in, taking
care.
I closed my eyes so that I wasn't looking into the terrible,
recriminating stare, and I leaned my head up against my mother, and I
breathed until the stink got to me and then I pried myself upright and
walked out of the cave. I stopped and stood in the mouth of the cave and
listened as hard as I could, but my father wasn't speaking. And the
smell was getting to me.
#
She got him dressed and she fed him sips of water and she got him
standing and walked him in circles around the little paddock he'd
collapsed in.
"I need to get Georgie out of the car," he said. "I'm going to leave him
in the cave. It's right."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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