Ellen Datlow - Tails of Wonder and Imagination

A mountain top would be a good place, nothing could fall down on me from up there and water wouldn’t reach, but there aren’t even any hills around here. I’ll head west, though I don’t know if there’s time, but out in the country will be better than the city. I’ll bring all my money and my raincoat.

I go home, eat a big last meal, pack a knapsack with cat food (it’ll do for both of us), my vitamins, and go. I bring Natty in the top part of the knapsack. He doesn’t mind. He’s glad I’m finally doing something.

I ask a taxi driver to take me twenty dollars worth towards the west. He’s nice, he takes me even farther. He doesn’t care that I sneaked a cat into his cab. I ask him to come with us. We’d like the company. Especially such a nice man and with a cab to ride in. I tell him why I was getting away. I say we should hurry before the roads get too crowded with people trying to escape. He doesn’t say so, but I don’t think he believes me. He prefers getting back to work.

So I start walking. He drove me a good ways into the suburbs. I never expected to get this far in just one day. Even though I’m still scared, this is all turning out fine. I stand still and check the bottoms of my feet again, and, yes, no doubt about it, danger, though I keep reminding myself that life is just temporary anyway and at my age even more so.

But right now I have to find someplace to spend the night. I don’t want to use up any more of my money than I have to. It has to last at least to the Rockies.

I keep walking well into the night. I was hoping to get beyond the little houses and warehouses to farm land, but no such luck. I wanted to sleep in some country place, a forest or a park. Finally I’m too worn out to go on. I drop where I stop. There isn’t a bush or a tree in sight, just warehouses, and airplanes keep coming over low. I’m so tired they don’t bother me except for waking me up early in the morning. I worried the cat would get scared and run away, but he stayed with me. I keep his leash on most of the time but I don’t attach it to anything. He’s too old to run off.

So off we go again (after sharing a cat food breakfast). How come nobody else is trying to escape? Most people, are heading into the city as if everything was just as usual. Is this a special talent of mine worthy of study just as animals predict earthquakes? Should I tell a scientist about it before whatever it is happens so that when it does happen, I’ll have predicted it? How does one find a scientist? And it has to be somebody interested in this sort of study. I would be surprised if I pass a lot of universities along the way. If the danger is as close as it feels, I’ll have to hurry and find somebody.

I’m so happy with our progress, I take us to a diner for lunch. Fish for Natty and a hamburger for me.

That night I find a good place, nine feet high, four feet long, three feet wide. What passes for a window. I won’t say where, though it mustn’t be thought that I’m ashamed of it. Actually I don’t think I’m ever ashamed of anything of that nature, not even that I’m getting rather dirty and mussed.

By now I’m far enough not to have to worry about a tsunami, but this is tornado country now. Natty and I keep studying the sky.

Wherever I end up, I would like a small tree. That is, if I can’t have a large one. Living in the city I haven’t had a tree of my own of any sort since I came here long ago. Also I’d like a nice round lichen-covered rock that heats up during the day and stays hot all evening. I’d like a place to build a fire and a log beside it to sit on. I’d like a nice bed for Natty.

I buy myself a shopping cart to carry stuff like water bottles. I’m getting ready for crossing places in middle America where the rest stops are far between.

I ask for rides in the parking lots, but if I don’t get one I just start walking. And I usually don’t get one. I don’t blame the people; after all I’m dirty and raggedy and my bundles and the shopping cart are bulky and don’t fit in anything but trucks. If I saw me humping along with all this junk I’d take me for a crazy person. I wouldn’t pick me up either. Even so, now and then I do get a ride. Usually in an old pickup that isn’t going far.

I forget how many days it’s been, but up to now everything is serene with the world. Of course I’m not getting the news. Maybe a disaster has already happened and I don’t know about it, though you’d think people in diners and rest stops would be talking about it. I always read the headlines in the newspapers when I pass by them. (I don’t waste money on them.) And you’d think, if the disaster had happened, that my feet would stop sending me all these signals. Natty’s, too. Though maybe after one disaster, there might be another right behind it.

Ahead, you can see the road winding up a hill. I dread trying to climb it pushing my cart. But before I get to it, there’s a town and I pass one of those little country hospitals. It’s right here, handy. I’m going in and have them check my feet. It might be important for them to study me. For omens. Maybe Natty’s, too.

I hide my cart behind the bushes near the door.

The lady at the desk asks me if I want a shower first. I did suspect I was pretty smelly by now, but I tell her I’ll just get dirty again. “I’m on the road,” I say.

“But wouldn’t you like to take this opportunity.”

I haven’t washed since I started on this journey. Just a little bit in the bathrooms at the rest stops.

I know she means the doctor I’m going to see would like it a lot better if I did.

“But what about my cat?”

She lets him come in to the bathroom with me. “Since,” she says, “he’s on a leash.” Then they let him into the doctor’s office with me, too.

Everybody is very nice here.

“I want to report my feet. And my cat’s feet.”

He doesn’t believe me about my feet predicting disaster. He doesn’t say so, but I can tell.

“Well,” he says, “there’s plenty of disasters around to predict.”

That type of little black mustache he has always intimidates me, but he’s quite nice underneath it.

“This is something really, really big. Like a tornado or an earthquake or a gigantic mud slide. Mud as far as the eye can see.”

“Where are you living? Are you eating?”

“Oh, yes, and fish, lots of fish. I know it’s good for you.”

I don’t want him to think I’m just an ignorant tramp.

“There’s a shelter just down the road if you need help. You can get a free meal there.”

“Will they have cat food?”

“Do you have a place to live?”

“But, Doctor, these tingly feelings? It’s getting worse. I thought maybe it was important. I thought you’d like to look into it.”

“Nothing to worry about. Old people get these odd nerve twinges all the time. Let me give you the address of this place where they’ll help you.”

I’m worried they might put me away. I’d have to stay here and the disaster might be right in this area and I couldn’t escape.

I say I’ll go there right away but I won’t.

“I’ll drive you, if you can wait a bit.”

“I don’t mind walking.”

I have to show him all my money before he finally lets me go. I still have quite a bit. Also I show him my vitamins and my cod liver oil. (Both Natty and I take it.) That impresses him.

At least he doesn’t charge me much. But he didn’t do anything either, except to tell me I’m fine.