Gene Wolfe - The Best of Gene Wolfe

Nothing on the stairs coming up.

You go back to your room, turn off your flashlight, and get into bed. When you are almost sleeping there is the scrabbling sound of hard claws on the floorboards and a rough tongue touching your fingertips. “Don’t be afraid, Master; it is only Bruno.” And you feel him, warm with his own warm and smelling of his own smell, lying beside your bed.

Then it is morning. The bedroom is cold, and there is no one in it but yourself. You go into the bathroom where there is a thing like a fan but with hot electric wires to dress.

Downstairs Mother is up already with a cloth thing tied over her hair, and so are Aunt May and Aunt Julie, sitting at the table with coffee and milk and big slices of fried ham. Aunt Julie says, “Hello, Tackie,” and Mother smiles at you. There is a plate out for you already and you have ham and toast.

All day the three women are cleaning and putting up decorations—red and gold paper masks Aunt Julie made to hang on the wall, and funny lights that change color and go around—and you try to stay out of the way, and bring in wood for a fire in the big fireplace that almost never gets used. Jason comes, and Aunt May and Aunt Julie don’t like him, but he helps some and goes into town in his car for things he forgot to buy before. He won’t take you, this time. The wind comes in around the window, but they let you alone in your room and it’s even quiet up there because they’re all downstairs.

Ransom looked at the enigmatic girl incredulously.

“You do not believe me,” she said. It was a simple statement of fact, without anger or accusation.

“You’ll have to admit it’s pretty hard to believe,” he temporized. “A city older than civilization, buried in the jungle here on this little island.”

Talar said tonelessly, “When you were as he”—she pointed at the dog-man—“is now, Lemuria was queen of this sea. All that is gone, except my city. Is not that enough to satisfy even Time?”

Bruno plucked at Ransom’s sleeve. “Do not go, Master! Beast-men go sometimes, beast-men Dr. Death does not want; few come back. They are very evil at that place.”

“You see?” A slight smile played about Talar’s ripe lips. “Even your slave testifies for me. My city exists.”

“How far?” Ransom asked curtly.

“Perhaps half a day’s travel through the jungle.” The girl paused, as though afraid to say more.

“What is it?” Ransom asked.

“You will lead us against Dr. Death? We wish to cleanse this island which is our home.”

“Sure. I don’t like him any more than your people do. Maybe less.”

“Even if you do not like my people you will lead them?”

“If they’ll have me. But you’re hiding something. What is it?”

“You see me, and I might be a woman of your own people. Is that not so?” They were moving through the jungle again now, the dog-man reluctantly acting as rear guard.

“Very few girls of my people are as beautiful as you are, but otherwise yes.”

“And for that reason I am high priestess to my people, for in me the ancient blood runs pure and sweet. But it is not so with all.” Her voice sunk to a whisper. “When a tree is very old, and yet still lives, sometimes the limbs are strangely twisted. Do you understand?”

“Tackie? Tackie are you in there?”

“Uh-huh.” You put the book inside your sweater.

“Well, come and open this door. Little boys ought not to lock their doors. Don’t you want to see the company?” You open, and Aunt May’s a gypsy with long hair that isn’t hers around her face and a mask that is only at her eyes.

Downstairs cars are stopping in front of the house and Mother is standing at the door dressed in Day-Glo robes that open way down the front but cover her arms almost to the ends of her fingers. She is talking to everyone as they come in, and you see her eyes are bright and strange the way they are sometimes when she dances by herself and talks when no one is listening.

A woman with a fish for a head and a shiny, silver dress is Aunt Julie. A doctor with a doctor’s coat and listening things and a shiny thing on his head to look through is Dr. Black, and a soldier in a black uniform with a pirate thing on his hat and a whip is Jason. The big table has a punch bowl and cakes and little sandwiches and hot bean dip. You pull away when the gypsy is talking to someone and take some cakes and sit under the table watching legs.

There is music and some of the legs dance, and you stay under there a long time.

Then a man’s and a girl’s legs dance close to the table and there is suddenly a laughing face in front of you—Captain Ransom’s. “What are you doing under there, Tack? Come out and join the party.” And you crawl out, feeling very small instead of older, but older when you stand up. Captain Ransom is dressed like a castaway in a ragged shirt and pants torn off at the knees, but all clean and starched. His love beads are seeds and seashells, and he has his arm around a girl with no clothes at all, just jewelry.

“Tack, this is Talar of the Long Eyes.”

You smile and bow and kiss her hand, and are nearly as tall as she. All around people are dancing or talking, and no one seems to notice you. With Captain Ransom on one side of Talar and you on the other you thread your way through the room, avoiding the dancers and the little groups of people with drinks. In the room you and Mother use as a living room when there’s no company, two men and two girls are making love with the television on, and in the little room past that a girl is sitting on the floor with her back to the wall, and men are standing in the corners. “Hello,” the girl says. “Hello to you all.” She is the first one to have noticed you, and you stop.

“Hello.”

“I’m going to pretend you’re real. Do you mind?”

“No.” You look around for Ransom and Talar, but they are gone and you think that they are probably in the living room, kissing with the others.

“This is my third trip. Not a good trip, but not a bad trip. But I should have had a monitor—you know, someone to stay with me. Who are those men?”

The men in the corners stir, and you can hear the clinking of their armor and see light glinting on it and you look away. “I think they’re from the City. They probably came to watch out for Talar,” and somehow you know that this is the truth.

“Make them come out where I can see them.”

Before you can answer, Dr. Death says, “I don’t really think you would want to,” and you turn and find him standing just behind you wearing full evening dress and a cloak. He takes your arm. “Come on, Tackie; there’s something I think you should see.” You follow him to the back stairs and then up, and along the hall to the door of Mother’s room.

Mother is inside on the bed, and Dr. Black is standing over her filling a hypodermic. As you watch, he pushes up her sleeve so that all the other injection marks show ugly and red on her arm, and all you can think of is Dr. Death bending over Talar on the operating table. You run downstairs looking for Ransom, but he is gone and there is nobody at the party at all except the real people and, in the cold shadows of the back stoop, Dr. Death’s assistant Golo, who will not speak, but only stares at you in the moonlight with pale eyes.

The next house down the beach belongs to a woman you have seen sometimes cutting down the dry fall remnant of her asparagus or hilling up her roses while you played. You pound at her door and try to explain, and after a while she calls the police.

. . . across the sky. The flames were licking at the roof timbers now. Ransom made a megaphone of his hands and shouted, “Give up! You’ll all be burned to death if you stay in there!” but the only reply was a shot and he was not certain they had heard him. The Lemurian bowmen discharged another flight of arrows at the windows.