Red - Jack Ketchum [7]
She and Max and Cindy and Teddy — Max was her elephant and Cindy was her ragdoll and Teddy was…well, Teddy — were out on the lake in her little boat and Teddy was rowing as usual because bears are strong and the breeze was in her hair and it was a nice sunny day. The waves were gentle.
She had her picnic basket with the little-man cookies and bright red candy apples at her feet and she’d already told Cindy that no, they’d have to wait for the candy apples to get warmer so they could get kinda sticky and drippy and easier to eat. She was about to open the basket to give her a cookie instead when the sky went dark and the wind got much stronger and poor Teddy had to struggle. And then it got so dark she couldn’t see any of them at all. Like she was alone.
But she wasn’t alone. She saw that when the boat landed and the sky cleared a bit and they were all of a sudden right there with her standing in front of the castle. The castle was big and tall and old and crooked-looking and Cindy was scared but Darlin’ wasn’t.
We’ll have our picnic in there she said and the next thing she knew they were in this great big dining room which was crooked too but it had a long wide table so she set the basket on the table and they all sat down while she unpacked the little-man cookies and the red candy apples which were still not sticky enough so she put them back and handed them each a cookie.
“You bite the heads off first, little girl!” came the voice. Which was the witch-who-turned-into-a-wizard-and-then-a-witch-again‘s voice.
And they turned and saw her there all in black standing by a great big fireplace that hadn’t been there at all before and she was waving her crooked black wand at them and she had all those teeth that seemed to turn out from her mouth like dirty nasty forks, curved-like, but even as they screamed at the sight of her she turned into this giant, this flat-headed man with a pointed hat and bulging red eyes and the wand became a club like a table leg and the teeth turned inward like dog’s.
He roared at them and they ran. They ran out the door and the boat was so far away. And she heard her turn back into a witch again and say, real close behind her, scary close, laughing that scary laugh, I’ve still got the wand, little girl! I’ve got the wand!
And she woke. Still scared like she always was.
And there was the house. Her house. Home.
THREE
The Woman sleeps by the banked embers of the fire, the wolf pelt and browse-bed beneath her.
Her sleep is troubled.
At first this is not so. At first she is running though a thicket, almost dancing through the thicket, graceful and keen with the hunt, eyes wide, all senses alert, her prey in sight. The others are all with her save for the Cow, Second Stolen only steps behind with spear at the ready. The Woman feels a flush of pride in her. Second Stolen has the makings of a leader.
Suddenly a baby wails and she is back in the cave, mating with First Stolen. And if this is not entirely pleasurable, his grunts and thrusts behind her and the smell of his sweat are at least familiar. It is the baby’s wail that is unfamiliar. This is not her baby. Nor Second Stolen’s. She knows their voices.
“Babai,” she says.
She looks around the cave in the flickering light for the source of the sound. Past the pile of axes, hammers, hatchets and other tools and weapons. Past the fire. Past the heap of clothes. And finally there it is. Hanging between three skins, rabbit, fox and human, on the far right wall of the cave. A baby in a knotted clear bag lying in its own piss and shit. The baby writhing, howling. But dead.
Inside this new cave, alone, The Woman turns in her sleep and moans. Her hand goes to the weed-dressed wound in her side. She makes a fist and digs in.
The Woman in her dream uncouples from First Stolen, pushes him back away despite his protests, despite his erection. She gets to her feet and goes to the baby. Stares up at the baby in wonder. How can it be alive and yet dead? She can see its tiny face pressed against the bag.
It snarls at her.