Eighteen

The rickety wagon rolled over potholes, and I swayed back and forth in a plumb of dust. I knew that, once; the world had been full of oil-burning vehicles that could go fast, protect from the elements, provide comfort and luxury that everyone took for granted, but their supposed contribution to the low birth rates and high mortality rates made them nearly obsolete. Forrest shivered in the frosty morning air and I hugged him closer to me, wishing for an ancient convenience that I’d never known.

The sun was rising ahead of the wagon; East, then. I shared the contraption with six other women- servants, I assumed, all but one of them young enough to sell into some sort of slavery. They’d probably become prostitutes, and for a moment, I pitied them. And then I realized with a start that I was likely headed for the same fate.

The only one among them that confused me was an old crone. I tried to think of our captors’ reasoning behind keeping her; she was far too old to bear a child, and too wrinkled and dried up with age to be given as a gift to some sexual deviant. She had a stooped, crooked back and her long, silver hair hung disheveled over her shoulder, down past her waist. She seemed frail and weak; what household chores could she perform?

“I’m stronger than I look, Missy,” she muttered, turning her face toward me, and I flinched away from her. Her eyes were clouded over; she was blind.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, apologizing absent-mindedly for thoughts I’d not yet spoken aloud.

She stood up and wobbled to my side, plopping down on the floor of the wagon at my feet. I sat on a crate, Forrest resting on my shoulder.

“He’ll be hungry soon and there’s naught to come from your breasts, at least, not for him,” the old woman said.

“I’ll find him food,” I whispered. I didn’t want our captors, riding in front of and behind and to each side of us in a caravan of angry masculinity, to have any notion that my child might cause disruption. They could too easily decide that he wasn’t worth the trouble, and sell him to an eager, son-less family of better fortune than mine.

The old woman laughed, a dry, crackling sound. “Sure, sure. What will you sell to get food for the young Lord, then? Your big pregnant belly? Your fancy, privileged mouth? These soldiers have been on the road for a while; some may take you up on that offer. But most likely, they’ll just thank you for putting the idea into their heads and they’ll take what they want, anyway.” She snorted. “Most of them already have that idea, lingering in the back of their minds. This little gang of pretties is meant for their Masters, but we’ve a long journey yet, and their raping and pillaging at your village will only tide them over for so long. Make no mistake about that.”

“And why did they keep you, then?” I said, not caring that my biting words might hurt her feelings. She angered me with her assumptions, and her presence made me uneasy.

“Isn’t it obvious? I have the gift of sight.”

I stared at her unseeing eyes, and she laughed.

“Ignorant little thing, aren’t you? Sight, girl, sight! Sight! I see into the future; I see into the minds and hearts of people who would rather keep those secret things hidden away. I see near and far and wide. I see it all, and I keep it all locked away up here.” She tapped her skull with a short, swollen finger.

“Well, congratulations,” I said, wishing she would go away and leave me to mourn in peace.

She was silent for a while, and I let my mind wander. Forrest drifted off to sleep in my arms, and they ached with his heaviness. He was supposed to be at home, learning to walk. He should be smiling. His chubby cheeks should never be without the sweet dimples that came when he laughed. His future should be one filled with happiness and light and joy. And yet, the crone was right. I didn’t even know how I would feed him.

“I can help you,” she said, singing the words.

“You can get out of my head, old woman,” I snarled, surprising even myself. Where were my manners ingrained in me since birth? Where was my quiet dignity, my Mona Lisa ability to remain cool and calm come what may?

“Agatha,” she said. “My name is Agatha, and I only tell people my name when they have something that I want. And you most certainly have something that I want.”

Her unseeing eyes lingered on my belly, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I remembered the new life that would soon erupt from me. How easily I pushed that child away when Forrest was in danger; how easily I forgot about its very existence when my own continued existence came into question.

“What, my baby?” I asked carefully, trying not to give away how little I cared for it. If she truly did have access to food, a way to help keep Forrest safely quiet and his belly filled, I would trade Chan’s infant for that. No question.

“Don’t play coy with me,” she said. “I know how this baby came into being. I know how you feel about her.”

“Her?” I felt a twinge in my chest as the crone nodded her head.

“Sweet little girl,” she said. “Wrong time period to be a sweet little girl, isn’t it? Wrong parents to be born to. Nasty, useless, tiny little thing, clueless to the fact that her own mother can’t stand the thought of her. She thinks your embrace will be as warm as your womb, but she’s frightfully wrong, isn’t she? While she’s growing bigger and stronger, you’re growing more and more resentful. You hate the child, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re-”

“Ah-ah-ah,” she said, tapping her head again. “I see it all, Missy. Don’t you lie to me. What you don’t know about the forming of a human being could fill a book. That little body only recently got its soul. Did you know that? Your hatred prevented any other soul from wanting to go near it, and until recently, that tiny body may have been born dead, left alone and soulless because you abandoned it in your heart. The spirit world has seen the depth of your hate, and none of them wanted to be born into that. A soul finds its way into a body at conception- take little Forrest here. I can see his creation clearly. His mother and father were enraptured with each other. Yes, and the joyful moment that a tiny sperm met with a tiny egg, Forrest found his way into that embryo, sure that such a happy union could only mean a happy life. Now, under these circumstances, well.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows what lies ahead for little Forrest here? But some brave soul risked entering that body that you have hidden away behind your hatred, and I can hear it, full of curiosity and longing. It wants a chance, Piya. And I know just the right family for it.”

I felt chills creeping up my spine. My mind was reeling- how did she know my name? Forrest’s name? My thoughts? Was such a thing truly possible- could she see things that we were never meant to see?

“So, what, I give you this baby and you give me food? Is that it?”

She smiled. “Yes. Precisely. You give me your baby, and I give you food. Protection until our journey’s end.”

“The baby isn’t due to be born until-“

“I know exactly the moment when the baby will arrive,” she said. “My offer stands. Take it or leave it.”

I licked my lips. This seemed too good to be true. I could get rid of Chan’s monster child and ensure Forrest’s safety all in one go. For a brief second, I thought of the infant as a human being, as a daughter, and I wondered where she would go. To whom would the old crone sell her? Babies, even daughters, caught a pretty penny on the black market; they provided hope for childless women and deception for women who’d given birth to a stillborn baby. What would her life be like?

And then I remembered the way Chan had torn my body apart, the way he’d forced himself on me again and again over several long months of torturous visits.

“You have a deal,” I said, pulling Forrest closer. “The infant is yours.”