Shadows of Glass (5 page)

“There have to be survivors,” Alcide observes.

“I certainly hope so,” Pace says. I know he’s worried about his mother.

“We need to take care of our own before we worry about anyone else,” Adam says. His
words sound harsh, but I know it’s only because Peggy is among the bodies laid out
on the beach. More had to have come down during the night.

“He’s right, we should,” I agree with Adam. “If we gather up all the wood, we should
be able to make a suitable fire.”

“It’s wet,” James says.

“Not all of it,” Alcide offers. “And there is a can of oil that I found last night.”
His stomach rumbles as he speaks and he places his hand against it. Food is at the
forefront of my mind also.

“The children can dig for mussels,” Pace says.

“And what good would that do?” James asks.

“It’s food,” Pace explains. “I read about them in a book. We can cook them and eat
them.”

“You’ve got an answer for everything don’t you?” James asks. “Just because you’ve
read a few books.” Reading is something we learn for necessity’s sake. The only book
any shiner has ever had access to is a Bible. Mine, the one I gave to Peggy and Adam
as a wedding present, is lost in the flood, like the other few things I owned. The
type of reading Pace has done is frivolous to us. Books are too valuable to be wasted
on the likes of us. Thinking about books makes me wonder if the library that held
so many of the past world’s treasures has survived the explosion that destroyed
our
world.

“If it’s going to put food in my stomach then I’m glad of it,” Alcide declares.

I watch the lines being drawn, the sides being taken. I know Pace and James well enough
to recognize the signs of their anger. James is crafty and sly, and Pace showed his
limits last night when he took him on. James is smart enough to goad someone else
into throwing the first punch, while Pace retains a calm façade that does nothing
to reveal the anger he’s feeling inside until it erupts. I know by the blaze burning
in his very blue eyes that he’s out of patience with James and his prickly know-it-all
demeanor. Pip senses it also and darts off, a bright spot of yellow against the drab
rock cliff.

We all know it will do us no good to fight amongst ourselves. Yet neither James’s
nor Pace’s pride will let them back down, even when one or the other is wrong. I know
that anything I say will only make matters worse. Both are fighting for leadership
and for the right to make the decisions for all of us. As far as I’m concerned they
can have it.

Thank God for Freddy. “Can you show us?” he asks Pace. “So we’ll know what to watch
out for?”

Pace keeps his gaze on James as he speaks. “I can,” he says to Freddy. “We’ll need
the pails.”

“Can you make sure the ponies are watered too?” I ask Freddy.

“I will,” he says and dashes off to do as I asked with Nancy following on his heels.

“Come on, Wren,” Pace says and holds out his hand.

I don’t take it. I have an obligation that I need to fulfill. “You go search for food,”
I say. “I’ll help Adam and James get the bodies ready.”

“I think you should come with me,” Pace says again, his eyes on James.

It would be so simple now. To take Pace’s hand and just walk off without a care. But
these are my people who died, and it is because of me that they are dead. It is my
responsibility to tend to their needs now, with the respect I owe to them. There is
more at stake here than Pace and James fighting for control of our little band of
survivors. I will not allow myself to be the source of contention between the two
of them.

James’s self-satisfied smirk isn’t helping things either. For the first time since
we met I feel really awkward around Pace. I take his hand and he thinks I’m going
with him, but instead I just pull him far enough away that James cannot hear our conversation.

“I have to do this,” I explain.

“I don’t trust him,” Pace replies, and I realize he’s not really listening to what
I have to say because he’s still watching James. My temper flares and I lose patience
with him. I know it’s because I am tired, scared, and worried. I need Pace to be supportive
of me, just like he has since all this began.

“I’ve known him a lot longer than you and don’t trust him either,” I snap. Pace’s
eyes finally turn to me and they widen in surprise. “But this has nothing to do with
who trusts who,” I continue. “This has to do with my people who have died. I owe it
to them to make sure they are respected until the end.”

“We can help them after we find food,” Pace argues.

“Or I can do it now while you find food.”

“They’re dead Wren, they can certainly wait.” His tone is dismissive and callous,
and I know his thoughts are more about James than me.

“I won’t let them wait any longer than they already have,” I return in a voice I barely
recognize.

“I’ve got people that are missing too,” Pace says. “And unlike you, I don’t have any
way of knowing if they are alive or dead. I don’t know what’s happened to my mother.
What if she’s hurt someplace? There’s no one to look for her. There’s no one to care
for her.”

“I know,” I say. “And I’m sorry.” I really am sorry, but I’m also angry that he’s
putting this pressure on me. I have enough on me as it is. “There is nothing I can
do about it now. Right now I have to take care of what is in front of me, then I will
worry about the rest.” I turn and walk away.

“Wren!” He whispers my name loudly so James and Adam, who have moved down the beach
to the bodies, won’t hear. I ignore him and keep on walking until I get to the pile
of debris from our village. I gather up as many pieces of wood as I can carry in my
arms in one trip and splash across the stream of water to where James and Adam have
laid out the bodies. I am strangely angry and do not want to talk to anyone, especially
James who I know is watching me.

I make several trips back and forth across the water for wood, gathering up the pieces
that litter the beach. I am soaked up to my knees but I keep going. What’s a bit of
water to me when others have lost their lives? The day becomes brighter around me,
but I don’t notice as we are still in the shade from the cliff walls. I see Pace in
the distance, standing over the children as they dig. He kneels and picks up something
from the sand. It must be what he was looking for because he drops it in the bucket
and the children go back to work with a clear purpose now.

I suddenly realize that Alcide is missing. Did he go for water with Freddy and Nancy?
I look to the ponies, who are still huddled in the same place, and see Freddy and
Nancy watering them, but there is no sign of Alcide until I hear a shout. I look up
and see him on the trail that goes up the cliff. Alcide waves at me and I wave back
as he makes his way down.

He’s a bit out of breath as he trots up to join me, Adam, and James, who stopped what
they were doing when he arrives. “It goes all the way up,” he informs us.

“Is there any sign of life?” I ask.

“I didn’t see anything or hear anything, except for some birds,” he says. “But there
has to be something up there, some sign of the dome, and survivors,” he adds hopefully.

“We need to finish this,” Adam says. While I’ve been gathering the wood, Adam and
James have moved the bodies into a circle, placing husbands and wives together with
their children. I didn’t pay much attention to what they were doing, not because I
dismissed it, but because I didn’t want to look at the faces of the dead. I carry
Alex’s death with me, so close to my soul that I see him right as I fall into my sleep
and am suddenly jerked awake with the horror of it. I don’t need more faces to haunt
my dreams, yet I fear they always will.

“Bring the oil,” James adds. “We’re nearly ready.” They’d placed the bodies close
to the water. The tide is out now, but when it comes in, it will wash the ashes out
to sea. I’d always wondered if that’s where the ashes went, when we placed our dead
on the funeral pyres on the river that ran through our village. I’d always hoped it
was the sea, and not deeper into the earth. Generations of shiners spent their lives
underground and, to me, their remains deserved to be free of the constraints of the
earth. Pace told me stories of the before time, when people buried their dead in the
ground. When my time comes, I want my ashes thrown from the cliff tops and carried
away in the wind that swirls around us so that I can fly like the birds and not be
buried once more in the earth.

Alcide finds the can of oil he’d stashed earlier and hands it to James. Then he runs
down the beach to where Pace and the children are still hard at work to bring them
back. It is time to pay tribute to those of us who have passed on.

My grandfather’s funeral is the last one we had. It was just a few short days ago,
yet it seems like a lifetime … many lifetimes. It is our custom to talk about the
one who has passed, to list their attributes and how they contributed to the village.
I realize there aren’t enough words to speak about those who lie before me. How do
you pay tribute to so many people who died in vain?

The children come, slowly, dreading what is to come as much as I am. They all have
family members among the bodies, and if they aren’t here then they are surely dead.
Some of them, like Stella, are too little to understand the finality of it all. She
just knows that she misses her mother and wants her back.

Pace doesn’t cross the water with the rest. Instead he collects the pails from the
children and gathers bits of wood for his own fire. I watch him for a moment and wonder
if James will take offense at Pace not joining our circle. I realize it’s a no-win
situation for Pace. If he came across, James would be just as likely to tell him he’s
not welcome.

I nod, to let him know I’m in agreement with his decision to stay away, and he ignores
me, even though I know he was looking right at me. It is ridiculous that we allow
James to come between us, because that’s exactly what he wants. I need to put my anger
away for now, out of respect for those who have died.

The smaller children hang back. Just like me, they don’t want to look on the faces
of the dead. Little Stella has tears streaming down her face. I pick her up and urge
the rest of the children closer to the circle.

“Why don’t they wake up?” Stella asks.

“Because they are dead,” the little boy who had the answers the night before says.
“They will never wake up again.” His dry way of speaking reminds me of my grandfather.

“Everyone here has lost someone they loved,” I explain. “And we need to tell them
good-bye.”

Peggy’s body is the last one to go on the pyre. Adam places her on top, against her
parents. He smooths her hair back from her face and places a kiss upon her cold lips.
It tears at my heart to see it and the tragic look on Adam’s face. They truly loved
one another, which is a gift in our world. When there are so few to choose from, a
lot of couples settle for compatibility. Adam and Peggy were truly blessed.

I steal a quick look at the faces on the bodies, committing all who have died to memory.
I see Adam’s father and realize I never even thought about him losing his only remaining
parent. So many lives gone and families shattered. I was the one orphan among them;
now we are all orphans. All that is left of generations of shiners.

James dumps the oil over the pyre and, without a word, lights it. His jaw is tight
and I know he is full of anger. I fear that Pace and I will bear the brunt of it,
when it comes out, as it is bound to do. Even though it is damp, the wood catches
quickly because it is old and splintered. The flames shoot up and the wind spins them
round and we step back as one from the heat. Stella buries her head in my shoulder
and cries. “My mommy isn’t there.”

“Hush-a-bye, baby,” I say, quoting the lines to an old lullaby. I don’t know if her
mother is on the pyre or not. It could be nothing more than a wish on her part. There
were so many faces, and I don’t want to confess to her that I don’t know who her mother
is.

The heat is unbearable. So many bodies at once have created a huge fire, with flames
leaping so high it seems as if they will touch the top of the cliff. Surely if there
are survivors above they will see the smoke and flames.

And what of the others, the unknown army that my father feared? What if they see it
and come with their superior weapons to attack us? My father traded with them, giving
them young men and women from the dome for weapons that could drop you in an instant
from far away. We would be at their mercy if they showed up. Especially now.

My skin feels like it is blistering from the heat. Every part that is exposed to the
flames burns. The children are crying and my eyes water painfully. But it isn’t because
of tears. My eyes feel like they are on fire too. The smell of burning flesh brings
back the memories of Alex once more, and my gut wrenches in protest. The only thing
saving me from puking is the fact that it is empty.

I look around even though it is painful to my eyes. We are all feeling it. The children
continue to cry and James, Adam, and Alcide all look as if they are in pain. I lift
my hand to shield my eyes and see that my skin has taken on a red hue.

I look up at the sky and feel as if someone has stabbed my eyes with a red-hot poker.
My vision is gone, replaced by a white light. I still have Stella in my arms, and
I need to move. I need to cover my eyes, wash them out, something to make this horrible
pain go away. I am terrified to take a step, terrified to release my hold on Stella
because I’ve lost all sense of where I am.

I am blind.

4

The cold hard truth
of our world is if a baby is born with defects then it is not allowed to live. It
is not something that is talked about because it does not happen that often, but upon
occasion a baby has been born with a mouth that did not form right, or with twisted
or missing limbs, or even blind or deaf. The child is killed mercifully, if there
is such a thing, and the family mourns and then moves on because it is for the best.
It is not something that I like to think upon because I cannot say what I would do
were I to find myself in the same situation. I’ve been told it is for the greater
good because everyone must be able to contribute to our survival. A child that is
a burden has nothing to give back to the community, yet we take care of our ponies,
which are born blind, because they can work, even though they cannot see.