Brian Evenson - Immobility

They continued on a little way in silence.

“What do you know about me?” Horkai asked.

“What do I know?” asked Qatik. “That you were stored. That you are part of our community. That you are ill.”

“If I’m part of your community, then why don’t I look like everyone else?”

For a long moment Qatik didn’t answer. Finally he said, “You used to look like us, then you changed.”

“How do you know this?” asked Horkai.

“Rasmus told—”

“—that’s what I thought,” said Horkai. “Where did I come from?”

“From a storage unit,” said Qatik, finally turning to face him. “You were stored for a long time.”

“And before that?”

“I don’t know,” said Qatik.

“You don’t know much, do you?” said Horkai.

Qatik fell silent. “I am a mule,” he finally said. “It’s not my purpose to know.”

“Aren’t you curious?” asked Horkai. “Don’t you want to know?”

“Yes,” said Qatik. “Tell me.”

Then it was Horkai’s turn to fall silent.

“You are not going to tell me?” Qatik asked. “Is it a secret?”

“No,” said Horkai. “It’s not that. It’s just that I can’t remember.”

“You can’t remember?”

“No,” said Horkai.

“Then why did you ask me if I wanted to know?”

“I thought you might know,” said Horkai. “I thought you might be keeping it from me.”

“Why are you always trying to confuse me?” asked Qatik, his voice anguished.

“I’m sorry,” said Horkai. “I don’t mean to hurt you. But I have one more thing I need to ask.”

For a long time Qatik remained silent, walking along next to them. Finally he raised his hands and said, “All right.”

“What do you think I am?” asked Horkai.

“What do you mean?” asked Qatik. “Can’t you ask a question I can understand?”

“I changed, you said. That’s what Rasmus told you. What I’m trying to ask, Qatik, is if you think I’m still human.”

“Is this question a trap?” asked Qatik.

“No, it’s not a trap. Just answer honestly.”

Qatik shrugged. “You are part of the community,” he said. “Beyond that, what does it matter?”

“Just answer the question,” said Horkai, his voice starting to rise. “Am I or am I not human?”

“No,” said Qatik, turning his bloodstained faceplate toward him. “Of course you’re not.”

IT TOOK MORE TALKING, more coaxing, but in the end he got a little out of Qatik, almost in spite of the mule himself. No, Qatik told him, Rasmus had taught them that he was not human, but even had Rasmus not said that, Qatik argued, he would have known. Yes, Horkai was part of the community, but he was there to look after them, to protect them.

“A kind of keeper?” said Horkai. “A guardian angel? Something divine?”

“I don’t know,” said Qatik, clearly uncomfortable. “We did not call you that. We do not know what you are, only what you are not.”

“Which is human.”

“If you were human, you would be dead by now,” said Qatik. “Several times over. It is good that you are not human.”

“But what if it’s all a lie?” asked Horkai. “What if I don’t belong to the community? What if I belong somewhere else?”

“I don’t know,” said Qatik. “All I know is that the community needs you. We had something we needed and we could not have gotten it without you. Why would you help us if you were not part of our community?”

Why indeed? wondered Horkai. What game am I playing exactly? Qatik doesn’t know anything. Why am I torturing him?

SOON QANIK BEGAN TO STUMBLE, careening back and forth for a few seconds until, all at once, his legs gave out and he collapsed. Horkai, thrown from his shoulders, scraped his elbow going down, striking the side of his head hard enough to make his skull throb.

He lay there facedown on the ground, feeling his head ache. He turned over to find Qatik kneeling beside Qanik, knocking on his faceplate.

“Wake up, Qanik,” he was saying. “Wake up.”

He shook him, then shook him again. He lifted one of Qanik’s arms and let it fall.

“He’s dead,” said Horkai.

“Wake up,” Qatik said again. “Wake up, please.”

“Qatik,” said Horkai. “Stop it. He’s dead. It’s no use.”

And so Qatik stopped. Instead he just kneeled there motionless over Qanik, his arms hanging limply by his side.

“I need to bury him,” Qatik finally said.

“We don’t have time,” said Horkai. “You have your purpose to fulfill. They may already be pursuing us.”

Qatik shook his head. “I need to bury him,” he said again. “I have an additional purpose now, and that is it.”

“No,” said Horkai. “This is ridiculous. You don’t have a shovel. There’s no time.”

Qatik remained silent, not moving.

“Qatik?” said Horkai. “Are you listening to me?”

Qatik didn’t answer.

Horkai sighed. “Qatik, we need to move on.”

“Maybe my purpose means nothing,” said Qatik. “Just as you have been trying to tell me all along. Maybe my purpose is over now. Maybe I will leave both of you here and go off to have some peace before I die.”

“You’re not thinking straight,” said Horkai quickly. “You’re upset, understandably so. This isn’t what Qanik would want you to do, is it?” When Qatik nodded, he continued. “Let’s compromise. What about the hospital that you took me to when I was shot, the shelter there? We’re close to that, aren’t we? It’s the place where he spent the most time, apart from the community, no?”

“Yes,” said Qatik.

“Leave him there down below, in the shelter.”

For a long time, Qatik just stayed squatting and staring down at the other mule, stroking his hood softly. “It is not fair,” he finally said.

“It’s never fair,” said Horkai. “Why should it be?”

“All right,” he said. He reached down, got his hands under Qanik’s legs and back, and, straining, stood up with him in his arms. “The shelter.”

“Wait,” said Horkai. “What about me?”

“What about you?”

“You can’t leave me here.”

“One purpose at a time,” said Qatik, and strode away.

WILL HE COME BACK? wondered Horkai, and then thought, Why would he? He could just wander off on his own and die.

No, Horkai tried to tell himself, he’ll come back.

But even if he does, will he come back soon enough? Even if he comes back, what are the chances of us making it back to the community, to the hive, before he dies?

More important, Is it safe to be out on the road alone?

He looked around. On one side of the road was a series of brick walls that looked like they’d been slowly chewed away. A jagged sidewalk ran along beside them. On the other side, a parking lot empty except for two rusted car bodies that had been stacked on top of each other. A storefront behind it missing all its glass, its façade crumbling away. Nowhere to hide.

A little farther along, probably a hundred feet away, he could see what must have once been a small park, the uprights and chains for a swing set, the swing seats themselves long rotted away. A few large rocks. The splintered bole of a large tree. Better than nothing.

He started toward the park, pulling himself along backwards with his arms, dragging his legs. After about thirty feet or so, his hands were hurting, another thirty and they were scraped and bloody. He wanted to stop, kept telling himself that it was ridiculous, that there was no need to be worried, that the keepers probably weren’t coming for him, but he kept going. When he left the asphalt and entered the dirt, it was a little better—softer, anyway—but it wasn’t long before his hands started to sting. He could see the path his dead legs were leaving through the dirt, two long lines. He tried to brush them over, but that didn’t make it look any more natural. If they’re looking, he thought, they will find me. There’s no point to this. But he couldn’t stop himself from continuing on.