Claudia Casper - The Mercy Journals

I reached the old highway and needed a rest. I lay down in the middle of the road and looked up at the sky, listening to the off-key tinkling of the bells we made for the goats out of tin cans, wire, and stones. I was filled with wonder at the strange world I was in. White fluffy seeds floated everywhere, like warm snow, but even lighter, softer and airier. The goats stared at the fluff for a while, then put their heads back down to eat. A new kind of tree must have migrated north. I got up and continued to the field.

It was a sea of yellow weed flowers, opening in the light. I stood and gazed at the beauty until one of the goats lowered its head — and there she was, on the south edge, stone still except for her head turning slowly toward me. Even at that distance — thirty metres — the intentness of her gaze raised the hair on my arms. She didn’t move. Nor did I.

All the problems at the cabin faded away. The sun broke through the clouds. She threw her head back, yawned, and vanished. The white seed pods twirled. In a hundred years some of them will be trees and she and I part of the earth that feeds them. That’s how she goes, and nobody knows, nobody knows, how cold my toes, my toes are growing.

I felt dizzier then and vomited, begrudging the waste of food. I sat under a tree and leaned against its trunk. It also had white petals floating down to the earth, shaken free with each breeze. I must’ve dozed because the next thing I heard was Griffin’s whistle. The sun was at its zenith behind the clouds.

I struggled to stand up, worried about the cougar — irrationally, because all the goats were fine. Griffin ambled up the hillside, nose still swollen, black eye turning yellow, looking happy.

These are amazing, he gestured up at the floating seeds.

Where’s Parker? I asked anxiously. Another wave of dizziness hit me and I put my hand back to steady myself. A bulb of sap grabbed stickily at my palm.

Resting. Don’t worry, she’s barricaded in. He came back briefly but went out again. You were late. We were getting worried.

The cougar’s here, I said. I saw her, only her, no cubs. Then I fell asleep. The goats are all here, right? Maybe she did kill that goat. Don’t tell Leo. He’s hunting her. He’s obsessed with that thing.

Griffin gave me a quizzical look. You don’t look good, Uncle Allen.

Griffin herded the goats back to the shed, and I went to bed. He came in to check on me, and I pulled him close and whispered, We need to get the pistol tonight. We have to act before I lose all my strength. I can’t assume I’ll get better.

I slept for the rest of the afternoon and into the night, feeling the cougar with me, following my thoughts. I was deep in a disaster dream trying to protect her when Griffin put his hand on my leg. I oriented myself, got dressed, slipped my knife in the holder, and we tiptoed upstairs. The wind was blowing hard enough to give us sound cover. I was shivering. I put my hand on Leo’s doorknob.

I knew I was crossing a line, that if Leo woke it would be a fight brothers should never have, but he had already crossed so many lines. I didn’t worry about being able to handle him, even being sick. He was a thrasher and I’d be in too close before he could get the pistol pointed let alone loaded.

I turned the knob and pushed.

The door opened a few centimetres and clunked into something. He’d pushed the dresser against the door. Clearly Leo didn’t feel safe either. I felt like the hunter.

Wha’? Leo’s voice called, half-asleep. Who’s that?

I don’t like lying.

I heard the cougar, I said. Out near the shed.

Shit. Hang on.

Leo moved the dresser. He was buttoning up his shirt. The pistol was shoved into the waist of his pants. I just took it and asked, Does it have a cartridge? Like we were in the same unit and we were going out to face the enemy.

In my pocket. He put his hand in his pocket to feel it.

In the kitchen I said, we should load it here, and held out my hand sideways, pretending to bend over and pick something up so we wouldn’t be eye to eye.

Yeah, we should. Give me the gun and I’ll do it.

I had the gun. I didn’t need the cartridge.

Actually, Leo, I’m keeping it.

Leo looked from me to Griffin, who had moved close, hand on knife hilt. As he understood the betrayal, rage spread through him.

This is fucking war, he yelled and stormed back upstairs.

I put the pistol down my underwear. Griffin offered to take it, but I don’t want Leo going after him. I collapsed back into bed.

You must kill him. If you don’t, he’ll kill you. Then we’ll be here alone with him. Your brother is not a good man.

I woke, shivering and covered in sweat. The light hurts, I can’t move my head. I dragged my covers into the living room where there’s less light and collapsed on the couch. Our father watched from the end of the living room, then ducked back into the kitchen.

They brought me more blankets.

It was late afternoon and the sun was elongating the shadows of the tops of the conifers over the grass. Wild daisies, buttercups, clover, and dandelions were open in the heat. Ruby, naked, walked up to me and took my clothes off and spread them on the grass to make a blanket, then pulled me down beside her. She didn’t speak a word. The bees were visiting the wildflowers around our head, as well as little orangey-brown moths, and above, blue and green dragonflies dipped and cleaned up mosquitoes.

She touched the wounds from the cougar attack and pressed her lips on them. I swooned with happiness and desire and joy. Nothing else mattered and everything else mattered. I heard the rush of wings over my head as a flock of small birds swooped and rollercoastered over the tree tops. A raven clicked from the edge of the clearing. Ruby’s eyes were filled with light as she looked at me with a love unlike any I’d ever received. We were going to rollercoaster like those birds to wild and beautiful places.

I woke to silence. White seeds floating in the house. Someone must have left the door open. Something entered the kitchen. I groped for the 9mm, but it wasn’t there anymore. The cougar jumped up onto the kitchen counter. She was hungry now. If I called out for help she might attack. I stared at her.

When I next woke she was cradling my head in her paw, her rose-coloured tongue licking my face, her leg rubbing my thigh. She smiled — a Cheshire cat — teeth showing. I almost swooned with pleasure. The claw marks on my cheek sang and crackled. My mind shunted back, her tongue lifting traces of brain from my cheek and my sweat running like rain across bodies tinged blue, diluting their dried blood till it ran watery red to the ground.

Something fell clear in my mind, like a coin in a slot.

The seed pods floated down and covered everything with gossamer. I blinked, and the white down stuck to my eyelashes. The earth was covering herself with down.

I woke with this riddle in my mind. It had an aura of significance, like the feeling epileptics report just before a seizure.

I open wide

No teeth to hide

My dear, they’ve long since crumbled!

I take all comers

Not fussy I

But neither am I humbled

With open thighs

To girls and guys

I’m really quite a slut

Who resists

When I insist

A tryst upon my crust

A selfish mother

like no other

Your curfew’s come around

Lay a wreath

And leave your teeth

Before you come to Mama

Who am I?

The cougar is gone. The seed pods are gone. The fever has abated somewhat, but my head pounds. I hurt, I am weak. Griffin came in with soup, his hands shaking. Leo’s got the pistol, he said.

I felt under me.

He saw the cougar. Out by the field. He’s gone looking for it.