Melissa Foster - Chasing Amanda

Tracey smiled.

They walked for what seemed to Tracey to be forever. She asked Mummy if she thought there was gold in the tunnels, and she stared at the ground, hoping to be lucky enough to see a shiny nugget of gold. The tracks had become deeper set in the ground, almost even with the dirt. Mummy slowed her pace, eventually stopping and settling her backpack on the ground.

“Tracey,” she said, “to get to where my mummy is, we have to go down a long, dark, narrow tunnel—much narrower than what we’ve been in before. It’s a little scary, but when we get to the end, it’s beautiful, like a garden.” She knelt before Tracey and stared into her eyes. She looked like she was mad, but her voice was sweet. “I need you to stay right with me, okay? I need for you to be quiet, too, as we enter her resting place. Do you understand?”

Tracey nodded, fear and excitement swirling in her belly. She wanted to see the garden. She wanted to be outside. A worried look crossed her face. “What about the toxins?” her voice shook.

“There are no toxins where we’re going, only a great big, deep well.”

Tracey reached for her necklace, calming herself. “Okay,” she whispered.

“I mean it, Tracey. You need to stay with me. Don’t get too scared, don’t try to run away. I’ll keep you safe.” She pulled her against her chest. Her hair swept the top of Tracey’s head, her arms held her so tightly that Tracey was sure Mummy could feel her heart pounding.

She put her arms around Mummy and looked up at her. Mummy’s dark hair was like a curtain around her face. “I promise, Mummy. I’ll be good,” Tracey said, and she meant it. She wanted to make Mummy proud. She wanted to be safe.

“That’s my girl. I knew I could trust you! That’s why I gave you the necklace—to show you how much you mean to me.”

Tracey fingered the cool gold chain.

The tunnels closed in on them, becoming narrower with each step, until they were barely able to fit Mummy’s body without her turning sideways.

“Mummy, I’m scared,” Tracey clutched her doll in one hand and clung to the back of Mummy’s sweater with the other.

“I know, pumpkin. Just stay with me. We’re almost there,” she answered.

Tracey concentrated on the back of Mummy, a mantra running through her head, We’re almost there . We’re almost there . Her feet moved fast, shuffling across the ground, three steps to every one of Mummy’s.

Suddenly Mummy turned around and whispered, “Do not move.”

Tracey became rigid. She moved her head to the side, looking around Mummy, and eyed the opening at the end of the tunnel. Mummy peered in, moving just the top of her body forward. She lifted the lantern, illuminating an enormous cavern carved into the earth. The floor, covered with wood chips and rotted chunks of logs, was also, surprisingly, covered with plants and flowers—white flowers with yellow middles, blue and red flowers, big orange flowers. The garden before them seemed unreal, unimaginable in a place where there was no sunlight, no water.

Candles rested on dirt-carved shelves throughout, shrine-like. Mummy moved slowly forward. Tracey tried to follow, but she stood mesmerized, watching her captor move from candle to candle, lighting each one, and with each flame came a harder beat of Tracey’s heart. The flames from the candles threw dancing shadows on walls that were littered with white drawing papers and old newspapers, torn and nailed directly into the dirt. Tracey leaned forward, trying to discern the scribble, unable to make out the words drawn before her.

Mummy prayed as her match dimmed, “Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame.” She turned slowly toward Tracey. “Now, my God, may your eyes be open and your ears attentive to the prayers offered in this place.”

The smell of must and incense filled the room. The candles flickered, as if there were a draft, though Tracey could not feel one. Tracey turned big, wondrous eyes toward Mummy, who walked toward her, silently taking her hand. “Follow me,” she whispered, “but don’t say a word, okay?” Tracey nodded fast and hard, wanting to figure out the big, magical chamber. Mummy walked her to the center of the room. “Wow,” slipped from Tracey’s lips. Mummy squeezed her hand, giving her a stern look.

She turned Tracey around. Tracey gasped, taking a big step backward, afraid she’d fall into the deep dark hole that looked to her like a big evil eye. Mummy dropped Tracey’s hand, and in that split second, Tracey wondered if she was in trouble. Mummy bent down, resting her knees on the plush green below them. Tracey followed. Mummy put her hands in a praying position, and Tracey did the same.

“The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation,” she began. “He is my stronghold, my refuge and my savior—from violent men You save me. I call to the Lord, who is worthy of praise, and I am saved from my enemies.” She reached out and took Tracey’s hand in her own. “We listened, oh Lord, we took heed in your direction; ‘Follow my decrees and be careful to obey my laws, and you will live safely in the land. Then the land will yield its fruit, and you will eat your fill and live there in safety.’”

Mummy’s hand was warm and strong. Tracey darted her eyes, looking at the flowers—the sound of their breathing, the only rhythm in the room. Mummy let go of Tracey’s hand, and Tracey quickly closed her eyes tight, unsure if she would be in trouble, unsure if she should have kept them closed. Mummy touched her arm, gently, beckoning them open again. She reached in her pocket and withdrew the quarters she had brought with them. She kissed each one of them, tossing them gently into the hole, one by one. Tracey listened for the soft Plink! as they hit the water, but it never came, almost as if they had disappeared into thin air, like magic.

“Tracey,” she whispered, “this is where my mummy is.” She lifted her chin toward the hole. “We bring the quarters as an offering to God—to repay Him for all that he does for us.” Tracey barely heard the last sentence, she was too focused on the first. “In there?” she asked. “Yes. This is our holy well. God has blessed this well with fortune and riches. You see, my mummy was…well…sort of magical.” Tracey’s eyes grew wide. “She could put spells on things and make things happen.” “Why didn’t she just make herself well then?” Tracey asked, confused.

“She couldn’t change the path of people’s lives like that. If God had decided to make a person sick, well, she couldn’t really go against his wishes and change that. She tried to make sick people well, but it wasn’t to be.”

Mummy turned around then, stood up, and motioned around the room. “Look around you. Look what she’s created: Life. She’s created life where there was none.” She moved slowly across the carpet of greenery. “She once brought me a book on plants. These are like the orchids of the genus Lecanorchis or Galeola type. I remember reading about them. Or what was the other one called?” She looked around, like she was trying to pull the answer out of the air. “Oh yeah!” she exclaimed. “ Pyrolaceae of the genus Monotropastrum ! They’re called saprophytes.”

“Sapro what?” Tracey asked.

“Saprophytes. They’re plants that don’t need sunlight because they rely on dead plant or animal residue to live, like from decaying wood.” She bent down and picked up a chunk of rotting wood. “See? Like these. As they rot, the plants eat them. I think that’s how they work anyway.” Tracey bent down and smelled the white flowers, “Mm, they smell like spring!” Mummy pointed to the walls, “Do you see these symbols and drawings?” Tracey nodded.