Through the Windshield Glass (18 page)

Each slave
and even some of the soldiers were pressed for information on who this Jenny
was, but no one seemed to know anything beyond the fact that she was tall,
hard, and the bravest woman any of them had ever beheld.

There was
one interesting bit of information gleaned from a tiny girl who had quietly
talked to a kind handsome soldier; Jenny Sumner had a price on her head.

The people
knew it would only be a matter of time before she arrived. She would not
survive long with a reward like that encouraging her murder. The people were
right of course, within a few months, Jenny Sumner was among our number.

She would
not speak to anyone, save for the people she had known previously. She would
give away no details of her life or how it had come to an end, nor would she
answer to Jenny. The same little girl informed the kingdom about the price on
her head revealed that Jenny was only Jenny when her master called her. Since
she hadn’t had a master for a very long time, it was unlikely that his given
name for her would suffice as a proper address.

However,
Miss Sumner was also unwilling to give any other name by which she might be
called.

Eventually,
the Civil War became old news; people came and went, some bringing news of new
advancements in the war and finally its end. On that day, it was impossible to
stop the celebrations that erupted among the fallen soldiers.

Even enemies
joined in the festivities and enjoyed the company of people they had once been
trying to kill. The raucous event even drew out the King who could never pass
up a good party, especially one as boisterous and happy as this.

He brought
the queen with him, showing her beauty off to each soldier and asking him if
they’d had a special girl at home. Some blushed and answered quietly, while others
puffed out their chests and proudly answered in the affirmative, some even
searched their coats for old photographs.

The King was
more than happy to pass his time talking with anyone who came to him. Though he
had never met any of the newcomers personally, he knew each of their names and
made a show of impressing the partygoers.

“I know all
of your names,” the King announced, “save for one. I believe she was called
Jenny Sumner, but does not wish to answer to that any longer. Miss Sumner, if
you are here would you kindly step forward and inform this lovely crowd of your
name?”

A few
moments of silence met the King’s words before a tall, graceful, beautiful
woman stepped forward from the crowd. The little girl who had first given the
woman a name was clinging to her hand.

“My mother
called me Jamila,” the woman said.

The gathered
people gasped. At once her words were respectful to the King, while at the same
time
　
haughty with
indignation at being called forward and made to follow another man’s orders.

“Jamila,”
the King said thoughtfully. He gracefully ignored the glimmer of hate that
flashed in Jamila’s eyes when he did not apologize for his actions, “it means
beautiful, does it not?”

In the words
of those present, Jamila’s set jaw parted and slackened like an avalanche of
snow falling from a mountain.

“It-- it
does,” Jamila said, “how could you possibly know that?”

The King
stepped toward her and rested a hand on her shoulder; he looked down into her
face, right down into her eyes. No one could contradict the King when he did
that, his eyes walked right into a person’s soul, sat down, and made themselves
at home; no conscience could withstand the King's stare. Just by looking at a
person he could know everything about them, but he preferred to ask and be told.

“One does
not become king of a place like this without knowing these things. It would be
shameful if I did not know what your name meant.”

If possible,
Jamila’s jaw dropped open even farther. She gaped, looking for words, but her
haughtiness and quick tongue had been silenced by respect and gentle speech,
something she had never known from a man like the King.

The King
smiled and lifted his head to look at the crowd of people waiting for something
to happen, “I believe I have found my heir!” The King announced.

A roar of
approval rose from the people. To the people Jamila had tried to save, she was
already royalty. The widely known title would be the only difference to them.

Of course,
there were people who were angered by the announcement. The King had taken no
time deciding, he had chosen someone who had very nearly challenged his
authority, and she was a woman. None of the most adamant supporters of finding
the King an heir had been women, nor had they suspected he would choose one as
his successor. Some of them had even fantasized about being chosen themselves
when the King tired of living.

One in
particular was quite certain he would be chosen as the next ruler of Beyond. He
had many supporters vying for him, nearly a third of the population, but the
King saw something in that man that frightened him. He looked the other
direction and chose someone he knew he could trust with the wellbeing of his
kingdom should something horrific happen to him or his beloved wife.

The man was
called Leif, and as soon as Jamila was made heir, he vanished.

King, queen,
and princess ruled Beyond better than ever before. Jamila’s ideas and
abrasiveness were a valuable asset, no one could argue with her for long
without realizing how wrong they were, nor could anyone dispute that she was
fair in all her dealings. She called the King father, and the queen mother, or
even Alice.

Years passed
pleasantly. Then the signs of another great war began to manifest themselves.
People of all nationalities flooded Beyond. There was none of the friendliness
the Civil War soldiers had shown to each other. These men were cold, if you
weren't with them, you were the enemy and should be dealt with accordingly.
There were dirty slang terms for each of the enemy armies and it seemed like
there would be no end to the rivalries, bitterness, and vulgarities.

Jamila went
to the King and proposed he make an announcement to the newcomers. Either treat
each other with respect and quietly hate each other, or leave. For the first
time, the King reprimanded her and would not execute her ideas. He told her he
could not force people to get along, nor could he threaten them with
unhappiness if they failed to comply. No one knew what lay behind the door, it
was a risk just to step through it and he would not force someone to make a
decision that could lead to something worse than a few arguments.

For days
Jamila sat
　
by the
door located in the palace courtyard, watching the line of people advance
through it. Some were crying and saying tearful goodbyes, while others
　
stood stoically and alone. Not
one of the new soldiers went through; instead, a few watched and jeered at
those attempting to leave. They yelled names at the people who would not look
their way and laughed at the criers. Jamila could almost accept that, until she
saw the little girl who had held her hand when the King had asked for her name.

She had
chosen to age slightly with the passing of years and now stood nearly as tall
as Jamila, but not quite as beautiful. She held the hand of a man, one of the soldiers
who had arrived around the same time. Jamila knew of the romance between the
two, it was a tale unrivaled by any made up story that would not have been
possible if they hadn't both been killed. Jamila also knew the two had recently
decided to leave Beyond together in the hope that there would be something more
for them behind the door.

The soldiers
watching the door jeered louder than ever before, some wolf-whistled while
others mocked, in various languages.

"I
guess not much has changed since the Civil War boys," a loud brutish
officer yelled to his fellows, "The good lookin' white men is still havin'
their way with them negroes."

The words
made Jamila sick to her stomach and more angry than she had ever been in her
life. If those soldiers only knew a white man had had his way with that girl.

"Have
you any idea what that woman went through to get here?" Jamila questioned
the men. She was taller than most of them, but her angry eyes made up for any
height she lacked with the rest, "She did not die fighting someone else's
war, she did not choose to leave home and join up with some army for the glory
and the promise of admirers when she returned home. She was taken from her
mother, held in slavery from the time she was weaned, and died with me when our
escape was thwarted. One of your men did have his way with her, she would have
survived had he not been so entitled to what he thought was his property.
However, unlike you, she has not held a grudge against an entire race and has
found love where the only thing you have found is your foot in your
mouth!"

The men had
quite forgotten that their princess was within earshot of their snickering and
mutterings. Each looked ashamed in his own way, not one could meet Jamila's
eyes any longer.

Jamila left
the men to themselves and went to comfort the victims of the soldiers' cruelty.

"Lavender,"
Jamila said to the girl, "I am sorry for those men, they are just as
entitled as--"

Lavender cut
her off, "That was my old life Jamila," she said, "I have a new
one now, there is no ill will in my heart for those men, I have Marcus, and
that is enough for me."

After that
day, the soldiers didn't return to the door and no news of hateful words being
spoken about any of her people reached Jamila's ears.

Eventually,
the tension between the enemy soldiers diminished almost completely and there
was no need for Jamila, or any other person, to defend anyone.

A few more
years passed before the King and queen decided Jamila should have a husband. A
search for a suitable man ensued, even more vigorous than the search conducted
for an heir to the throne. Jamila turned down each man, claiming she would know
the man when she saw him. Besides, she had all the time in the world, so to
speak.

A third
giant war brought many more newcomers to Beyond. The fallen called it World War
Two. This time there were millions of dead flooding the gates, each more
unwilling than the next to reveal anything about themselves. The soldiers
proudly stated their name, battalions, and country to which their loyalty
belonged. However, the war-ravaged victims of the Fuhrer were more than
reluctant to give away any information, even where they had died.

The King
became frustrated with this lack of information; he tried every method he could
think of, within reason, to get at least the names out of the people, but with
little success.

About this
same time Jamila met a charming young man by the name of Daman Carter he, along
with his twin
　
brother
Michael, had been killed in the war within hours of each other. They couldn't
have been more different.

Daman was
power hungry, but utterly brilliant and was nearly more persuasive in his
speech than Jamila. He was dark as well, not in his looks, which were stunning,
but in his thoughts and actions. There was gain to be had in everything he did
and there was no price to great to pay for it.

Michael was
just as tall and handsome as his brother, perhaps not quite as cunning, but
smart all the same. There was a lightness about him, and a gentleness that
brought women to swooning. He served others without thought for himself. These
qualities were attractive to everyone but Jamila, who had a special soft spot
for Daman. He was older than Michael, if only by minutes, he was stronger, if
only in actions, and he was more powerful, if only on the outside. Jamila saw
their match to be extremely beneficial, not only to her, but also to Beyond as
a whole.

The King was
a little skeptical until Daman proposed an idea that changed his mind. The
proposal was to give each person who wanted it a new identity. They could
completely forget who they were on earth, those who had taken lives could
forget what they had done and start over, the Jews and other victims of the war
could create a whole new life, knowing their names would never show up on a
registry of those marked for death.

The King
clapped Daman on the back, then hurried from the room to consult with his
advisors before making the announcement official. He called back over his
shoulder as he was exiting to inform the two of his approval of their match.

The wedding
date was set; Jamila loved Daman wholeheartedly and couldn't wait for their
nuptials.

The romance
was only upset by the gloomy mood of Michael. It was widely believed that he
harbored special feelings toward his brothers fiancée, but when questioned he
denied the accusations vehemently.

The truth
was, Michael knew something no one else did. He had been his brother's
confidant as he had been courting Jamila. Daman had told Michael of his
intentions to overthrow the King as soon as he had enough followers, had even
asked his brother to be his right hand man provided his plans worked.

Michael
adamantly refused and, ever graceful, Daman had laughed it off believing his
brother would come around once he saw how great he could be. Besides, if he
didn't come around on his own, Daman had other ways to persuade his brother.

Unbeknownst
to anyone, Daman had been approached by Leif almost the second he appeared in
Beyond. Leif told Daman he could sense something in him he hadn't seen in
anyone else but himself. Daman could handle power without being corrupted by it
as the current king had, and Leif had a way for him to do it, and to get a
beautiful wife in the process. That was all the persuading Daman needed.