Through the Windshield Glass (12 page)

I yelped,
twisted around, and pressed myself into the wall behind me, fully expecting to
see Daman coming at me with his rancid breath forming a halo around his head.

It was not
Daman, it was a very short, very angry, red-headed man who didn't even appear
to see me, he was muttering under his breath "Yes, massah-Kinga, yes
massah-Kinga, of course massah-Kinga."

His quiet
tantrum stopped when he finally realized there was another human being present.
My fright still had me pinned to the wall and, obviously, my terror looked very
funny to the little man because he began to laugh. Not a chuckle, not a short
titter, not even a snort, this man full on guffawed. As in belly-heaving, red
faced, tears streaming, knees-buckling kind of laughter. Oddly, it put me at
ease and I giggled nervously, easing myself away from the wall and noticing
that I had backed right into a hinge and my spine was throbbing painfully.

Finally, the
laughing ceased and the man was able to control himself enough to speak,
"You're Ira, I assume."

"I'll
never get used to that name," I thought to myself. It reminded me of an
old man sitting on his porch with a shotgun in one hand, and some homemade
sweet tea in another. No images of eighteen-year old girls were provoked by the
name.

"Yes,"
I replied shakily, "that's me."

"Kinga's
really outdone herself this time," the man said to himself. He thrust his
hand out to me, "Name's Avery. Has been since birth, pretty prophetic on
its own. Elf ruler. Kinga tried to come up with a better one. Terrell she
called me, stubborn. I am not stubborn, I know what's right and I do it, and it
ain't right to take a man's name from him. I've been Avery since I was in my
mother's womb and I ain't goin' to insult her by goin' by anythin' else."

Towards the end
of his monologue, Avery had begun to slip back into an old gruff Scottish
accent.

"What's
your real, honest to goodness, name you were christened with?" Avery
asked.

"Alice
Beth Patterson," I whispered back. I didn't know why I said it so quietly.
It felt like I was saying a dirty word and didn't want my parents to hear.

"There's
no need to whisper!" Avery boomed, "No man or woman should
　
be ashamed of their name or
identity!"

It wasn't like
he was talking to me anymore, and I realized he was trying to make someone
hear, I guessed his comments were directed at Kinga.

When no
response came, Avery shrugged and turned back to me, "What offed you?"
he asked bluntly.

I was taken
aback at the way he so casually asked about my death, I didn't even hesitate
before saying, "Car crash."

Avery shook his
head, "Awful thing. Suffered did you? My wife just popped me one in the
skull and I was gone. Bless her, never could've done it myself, good thing she
hated me so much!"

I felt my jaw
drop. Avery noticed and laughed almost as hard as before, "Divorce wasn't
as easy in my time," Avery said when he had gathered himself again.

I was about to
say something when I noticed a change in Avery's face, a quick look of
surprise, followed by a smirk of bitter contempt and a low bow,
"Massah-Kinga, how good of you to grace us with your presence."

"Terrell,
what have you been telling Ira?" Kinga asked, ignoring the derogatory
title Avery had given her.

"My name
is Avery, and she," Avery said, pointing at me, "is Alice. Ira is an
old man's name.”

"Names
have no sex discrimination here Terrell, you know that," Kinga replied.
Kinga stood almost eight inches taller than Avery who was only two inches
shorter than me. Her glare was full of fire, her voice stern and commanding.
Yet, Avery didn't flinch, his green eyes met Kinga's black ones unwaveringly.
Even at his lesser height he seemed to be her equal and he knew it. I felt
uncomfortable and was considering sneaking off to my room, when Kinga
remembered me.

"You
should not listen to Terrell," Kinga said, completely washing away any
doubt
　
I had about her
authority, "he is an old fool who only wants to stir up contention
　
because he is angry that he was
slighted in favor of me to lead the war against Alecsander."

"I'm not
angry that you're in charge! I'm angry you won't call me by my given name! My
mother called me Avery, you should have the decency to do the same,
massah.
"

"Do not
call me that," Kinga said. There was a deadly edge in her voice, but Avery
did not cringe, or shy away.

I finally found
my voice, "What does it mean?"

Kinga didn't
take her eyes from Avery's face, "I was once a slave. Avery thinks to
remind me of the irony of my position by using the term 'massah' to address
me."

It still took
me a moment to understand, I had to think about the word being said in a heavy
accent before I got it. The second I did I realized how horrible it was of
Avery to use the term.

"Master,"
I said, "you think it's funny to call her 'Master-Kinga'?"

Avery looked
surprised that I had taken offense to it, but he quickly recovered, "Kinga
doesn't mind, do you?"

"Of course
not," Kinga said with more dignity than I thought even royalty could
possess, "my past is behind me. I am no longer that slave, I have a new
name and a new life, no one need concern themselves with the things of my
past."

"See,"
Avery said, "it's just payback, really. If she called me Avery there would
be no need to call her 'massah'."

"I will
not call you Avery, you are Terrell now, just as Alice is Ira. Names are
protection, the past is too poignant for most of us, there is no need to draw
it up again."

With that,
Kinga turned around and went through the door she had come through, closing it
tightly behind her before I could see where it led.

"What she
means is, the past is too powerful for any of us lesser mortals to deal
with," Avery said with disgust.

"What do
you mean?" I asked, forgetting my offense with Avery because of my want
for information.

"The past
is a dangerous weapon. That's why the people here voted to hide their pasts
from each other. I wasn't one of them. If my past can change the black future
of this place, I want to remember everything about it. Starting with my
name."

I began to ask
another question, but Avery cut me off, "The rest you will have to find
out for yourself. If you're hungry there's a kitchen through the last door on
the right. I have a few things to discuss with our prodigious leader."

Without another
word, Avery went through the door Kinga had just disappeared through. I tried
to open the door when it closed, but it wouldn't budge. Frustrated, I gave up.
I really did feel a little hungry but maybe I’d just go back to bed. I was
still feeling a little sick, and the more I thought about it, the more inviting
my quiet room and bed seemed.

Chapter Eighteen

After another
long nap and a little bit of confusion, I managed to finally open the door
Avery said lead to the kitchen.

The 'kitchen'
turned out to be a giant mess hall. Tables full of people were crammed onto
every inch of floor space in the room. A long line stretched from somewhere I
couldn't quite see over the mass of heads. I had forgotten I was standing in
the doorway until I noticed myself being pushed into the line as a wave of
people entered from behind me.

I tried to make
conversation with a few people around me, but no one seemed to be in the mood
to talk. Each person, though different from the others in physical appearance,
were identical in their motives and actions, at least in the line. At the
tables there were lively conversations being held, games of cards were being
played, and children were running around throwing food at each other. I had to
wonder what made the people so hungry that until they had eaten, they couldn't
even speak.

For some reason
the thought frightened me. Thus far, I had seen nothing to suggest that there
was anything wrong with the way the place was being run. I began to think that
perhaps I had just been mistaken about the time of day; maybe it was six in the
morning instead of the afternoon. That thought was quickly put to rest when I
noticed people were walking out of the line with trays heaped high with mashed
potatoes, gravy, and meat. Definitely not breakfast food.

As the line
progressed I skimmed the hall looking for familiar faces. It seemed unlikely
that I would see any, and I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to, but I kept
looking anyway.

I was near the
front of the line when a streak of bright red hair snagged my focus away from
the delicious smells of food. It wasn't Avery, it wasn't Maria...

"Mrs.
Cole!" I yelled. The bobbing red hair didn't stop moving; in fact it
seemed to speed up, flying toward the door. She was trying to escape.

I bolted out of
line, weaved through the tables, and finally sprinted up to the woman who had
convinced my best friend to kill herself, the woman who was also partially
responsible for my death.

I closed a hand
around Mrs. Cole's upper arm and the first sign of recognition presented
itself.

"Al--"
Mrs. Cole caught herself, "who are you? Let me go!"

"Mrs. Cole,
you know exactly who I am."

"I don't
know who you are, and I don't know who Mrs. Cole is. My name is Cassidy, now;
who are you?"

"I'm
Alice, Mrs. Cole, Maria's best friend. Your daughter's best friend! The one you
convinced to commit suicide! Where's Maria? I need to talk to her!" I was
yelling, people were staring, but I didn't care.

"My name
is Cassidy, I don't have a daughter. No one here does, there are no family ties
here, we are all single, individual, and unconnected."

Mrs. Cole
seemed to speaking as if she were in a trance. The speech she had given me came
across as rehearsed and half-hearted. She was too calm, I was right up in front
of her face, barely restraining myself from grabbing her by her shirt and
shaking her until she told me the truth. How could she deny having a daughter?
Did she not care for Maria at all? How could she not remember her own daughter,
or even me? Maria and I were practically sisters; you rarely saw one of us
without the other. I still had all the memories of my life, I knew there was no
way Mrs. Cole, Wendy, as her husband always called her, could have forgotten
all that had happened to her.

"You
almost said my name when I grabbed your arm; you know who I am, so why won't
you say it?"

Genuine fear
registered in Mrs. Cole's eyes, she wasn't looking at me, but beyond me.
Seconds later a heavy hand fell on my shoulder, shocking me so greatly that I
let go of Mrs. Cole and spun around, fully expecting to let my fist land in the
face of the owner of the hand.

"I would
control your anger, Ira," Kinga said calmly, she hadn't even flinched as
my hand nearly connected with her face, "you are not quite living up to
your name. Perhaps you need some alone time to get used to it."

"I don't
need any alone time, I need Mrs. Cole to tell me where Maria is!" I was
yelling again.

Kinga looked at
me, her face was calm, but her eyes were fiery and deadly. I forced myself to
meet them, trying to be as strong and confident as Avery, I had seen Kinga
nearly crack under his glare. It was clear she was the alpha of this group, but
she was afraid of her challengers.

"There is
no Mrs. Cole here, the poor woman you've been assaulting is called Cassidy, and
I'm sure she has no idea who you are, or who this Maria person is."

"She knows
who Maria is, she gave birth to her, she raised her!"

"As
Cassidy informed you, there are no families here, no one has children, no one
has romances. Those things make us vulnerable, friendship is pushing the
boundaries, but it is necessary for trust. So please stop harassing people for
information and either ask me yourself, or keep your questions inside and
locked up."

As Kinga spoke,
her words heightened the power of her eyes. They flickered different
　
colors, reminding me of
different people at each change, frightening me far more than I had been
prepared for. My eyes dropped away from Kinga's face, signaling my defeat.

"You will
go back to your room; someone will bring you something to eat later. Perhaps
some time with your new name is all you need to understand our ways and accept
them."

I couldn't
bring my gaze back to Kinga's face, but I glared heartily at Mrs. Cole. The
woman I had trusted almost as much as my own mother had failed me in a deeper
way than when she had killed herself.

Chapter Nineteen

I felt like a child
sent to her room for being naughty, oh wait, that's what I was. To show my
contempt for Kinga's punishment I slammed the door behind me, but I only felt
more immature. It was only made worse when I through myself face down on the
yellow quilt and sobbed heartily. It felt like losing Mrs. Cole and Maria all
over again, and I was sick of crying!

After a long
time my tears stopped, and I was able to sit up. The light in the room had
changed to foggy dusk and I looked around for a light switch or a lamp. The
room was completely devoid of electronics yet I could hear something as if it
were coming from a loudspeaker.

Ira. Watchful.
Ira. Watchful.

It was Kinga's
voice, constantly repeating my new name, drilling it into my skull, making me
forget what my name was. For a while I sat there, completely lost as to what I
should do, I could almost feel my identity slipping away, I didn't like it, but
what could I do about it?

At first I
didn't even notice my voice slowly rising over the subtle tones of Kinga's, but
as my volume rose I finally heard what I was saying.