Forever the Road (A Rucksack Universe Fantasy Novel) (35 page)

She tried to step forward again but could not cross back into the pub. The air itself hardened like a wall. It darkened, blackened, until she could not see into the pub anymore.

When Jade pulled the pub door shut, it locked with something more than turning bolts.

Then she noticed the deep silence. It was as if a limb had been cut away. She touched the door to the pub, thinking about the space beyond: the bar and the glasses and bottles, the tables and chairs and walls covered with maps and memories. She knew it was all still there, but she couldn’t hear it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her fingers tightened on the glass of the door. The emptiness around her had weight, hard and sharp and dark. Jade walked down the hallway, past the illusion at the staircase, and into her room.

For the last time,
she thought, closing the door behind her.
Wait.

Jade turned the doorknob but the door didn’t open. Nor would the window.
Trapped,
she thought.
Trapped until I’m packed and ready to leave here forever. I’m alone now.

She stared at the ceiling toward Jay’s room.
I can’t hear him anymore,
she thought.
Even that’s gone.

Jade closed her eyes, wishing and hoping and even praying.
Choose me,
she thought.
Please, choose us.

Then she opened the closet and drawers and began to pack. Tears fell on papers and clothes as Jade prepared to leave behind the Jade and live now as only as herself.

W
AS THERE A STREET
left in Agamuskara that did not wear his footprints? Dull pains stabbed Jigme’s toes, heels, shins, and knees.

Jigme limped along the alley. For the last time in three days, the black temple receded behind him. Three days of running, seeking, convincing, returning, and going out again. After bringing the last child to the temple, Jigme’s legs had collapsed and he could hardly stand.

I can finally go home,
he thought.
I’ve done enough and he is pleased.
I can rest.

Jigme wondered if Asha would be awake. She needed the rest, but he doubted she would be asleep. Every day she had been more and more anxious, as her early strength waned and she became more tired yet could not sleep.

Not that I can sleep either,
Jigme thought.

A distant fire always glowed in his mind. Jigme saw it the most when he tried to sleep. Saw that and the children. Their faces showed suspicion and trust. They were always afraid when Jigme left the temple, just as the Smiling Fire came toward them.

The Smiling Fire’s need had been great, and Jigme had brought him what he needed. To every corner of the city he had run, seeking out children like Noorjehan.
Like the first boy,
Jigme thought.
Never a name, he has no name, if he doesn’t have a name, he doesn’t, he isn’t—

“He isn’t anything to worry about,” came the rasping yet comforting voice in his mind.

All of the children were healthy and well. They had been alone, unnoticed and not missed. Now, because of Jigme, they were on their way north to fresh air and freedom, to days of learning and playing, days of full bellies and soft beds.

“Soon,” said the voice, “you’ll be with them.”

As Jigme neared the living end of the alley, the absolute quiet in the back streets of Agamuskara told him it was around two or three in the morning.
All the city sleeps but me
, he thought.

Before him, deep shadows made the red door seem murky and dirty. Jigme unlocked it and went inside. A lone oil lamp burned with barely enough light for Jigme to see in front of him. Still, he could make out where Amma lay, a lump on the mattress, her breath raspy and uneven.

“But you were getting better!” Jigme cried.

“Jigme,” she said, quiet yet rough. “My son, my son, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not myself.”

“It’s okay,” he replied. “We got you better once, Amma. We will get you better again.” He kneeled by the bed and held her hand, feverish and fiery yet cold and clammy.

“Have you eaten?” she asked.

He shook his head. “There’s been no time today.”

“You look so thin.” She stared at him and touched his face. His cheekbone protruded so sharply that he worried it might cut her hand. “But you ate yesterday.”

“No,” he replied. “Or the day before. The need was too great, the city so big. So many children to bring him. I have to make you well again. I can only do that if he gets what he needs.”
And I haven’t been hungry,
Jigme thought.
I can’t eat. When I look at food, I see only the children. When will they arrive? When will I get a letter? I haven’t even heard from—don’t say the name!—and surely he’s there by now.

Asha squeezed his hand. “Such a good son,” she said, but then she coughed and went rigid.

“No!” Asha shouted. She looked at Jigme again, her eyes wide and fierce, protective and afraid. Without the redness and shadows he had seen in her gaze lately, her eyes were so dark and clear.

“This is wrong!” she said. “This is all wrong! Get out of me. Get out of my son!” She went silent, as if listening to some distant voice. “No more!” she shouted. “I’d rather die!”

Again, she seemed to listen to something far away. Then she closed her eyes and went limp. Tears and sobs shook out of her. “But I will not leave him alone.”

She pulled Jigme toward her, wrapped her arms around him. “I will not leave you alone, my son. Never. You will always have me. You will always have my love.”

“Mum?” Jigme asked. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s too late,” she replied. “I was too weak. I could not help, I could not stop it. I’m sorry, son. I’ve done you wrong. He…”

Her back arched. Asha rose from the bed until only her head and feet touched the thin mattress.

Jigme fell backward. Asha collapsed onto the bed and was silent, her eyes closed, her chest hardly rising.

Jigme sat on his knees and moved to the side of the bed. “Amma?” he said.

No reply.

“Mum?”

Asha’s eyes opened. She looked at Jigme, then rose and sat. “Son,” she said, her eyes gleaming red and black, her voice rasping and harsh. “How many more can you bring?”

Jigme shook his head. “There can be no more. I’m so tired. And people suspect now. There have been so many children, so quickly. I could hear the whispers as I brought the last child. They don’t understand and they are wary. If I try to bring another, I may be caught.”

“You must bring one more.”

Something hot pressed at Jigme’s eyes. All he could feel was the weariness in his legs, his feet sore from pounding over kilometer after kilometer of the city, nearly without halt. “I can’t.”

“I am not strong,” said the voice in her mouth, becoming softer, gentler as she spoke. “If I am not strong, I will die.”

“Mum,” Jigme said, shaking his head. He reached for her hand, but she pulled away. Something inside him tore. “I’m so tired. I can’t do this anymore.”

Asha lay on her back. “Then you kill me,” she said, her voice harsh again. She stared at the ceiling.

Every cell and muscle in Jigme’s body begged for rest. But he saw the pain and weariness on his mother’s face.

What is my own pain compared to hers?
Jigme thought.
What is my own compared to the Smiling Fire’s? At least I can go about freely. They’re both so trapped. All they want is to be well.

“If you want us to be well,” Asha said, “then bring one more.”

“The last one?”

“Yes.”

Deep inside, from his toes to his head, strength trickled into his muscles and spirit.

Just one more,
he thought.
Surely I can do that, if it’s to make her well?

The weariness faded. Not completely, but enough.

Jigme stood. “I will bring the last child.”

Asha smiled and squeezed his hand. “I knew you would not disappoint me.”

A chill cut through the alley as Jigme closed the red door behind him. Even in the center of Agamuskara, few lights lit the dark. Above the city, dark clouds crowded out the stars. Jigme walked through silent streets. Around him, people slept on the pavement, in doorways, on top of carts. Families huddled close. He could take no children here.

How far can I go?
he thought.
I can’t go to the far corners of the city. I feel stronger but I must be smart. I must be fast. For Amma.

At an intersection he stared down the different directions. “I don’t know where to go,” he said. His strength flickered. Weariness stabbed his legs again.

“Just surrender,” said the voice. “Just follow the darkness.”

Jigme turned right. The clouds were thicker over that part of the city, and for blocks he wandered, staring into doorways, looking down side streets. Adults. Families. No children alone.

The weariness grew.
Am I going too far away? Will I make it back before I collapse? What if I make a mistake?

The thoughts scratched at him, a seeping fear that made him want to crawl into a doorway and sleep.

All he wants is to be better,
Jigme thought.

“And the children are better too,” said the voice. “Think of that. Tonight a child from these streets will go somewhere better.”

The strength came back. Jigme passed another alley.

Behind the statue of a god lay the huddled body of a sleeping child. No one was near. No one would know.

Jigme kneeled by the child. He had no thoughts, no plan. Something else was guiding him now. The boy was thin and small, skin like paper. He seemed to rustle when Jigme touched him.

“Who are you?” the boy said, his voice heavy with fatigue.

“Don’t be afraid,” Jigme replied. He looked into the child’s eyes. He was dirty, but his clothes weren’t ragged. They looked new. This wasn’t a street child. Jigme smiled. “They’ll be so relieved you’re okay.”

“Amma?” the child said. “Appa? They know where I am?”

“I was sent to find you, and I’ve been looking everywhere, all day. It’s a big city to find such a little person in. But I’ve found you. It’ll be okay. We can go now, if you’d like.”

The boy nodded and got up. The statue of the god did nothing.
There’s nothing to do,
Jigme thought.
The boy is safe. He is going somewhere better. Parents or not. Mum and Dad. A dad, even. Isn’t he lucky. I wish I knew what it was like to have a dad.
The jealousy felt like flames.

They wandered back to the main street. Jigme turned them toward the alley.

“This isn’t where I live,” the boy said.

“We aren’t going there,” Jigme replied. “Your parents had learned that you may be in this part of the city. They’re waiting for you.”

Finally, they reached the street near the alley. “What’s your name?” the boy asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jigme replied.

The boy stopped. “What’s my name?”

Jigme looked at him. “We’re nearly there.”

“What’s my name?”

“Wouldn’t you rather hear it from your amma and appa?”

The boy took a step backward. “Where are we going?” he said loudly.

Jigme walked toward him. “We are going to where you need to be,” he said, grabbing the boy’s arm.

“No!” The boy kicked Jigme’s shins and knees. “No!” he shouted, struggling as Jigme grabbed him. “Let me go! Let me go!”

Murmurs reached Jigme’s ears.

“People are waking up,” said the rasping voice. “If they see…”

Jigme pulled the boy forward and curled his right hand into a fist. A power flowed into his arm and the rest of his body. The impact of Jigme’s hand on the boy’s head reverberated through his arm, making it feel dull and dead. Pain bloomed through his fingers as if something had broken.

The boy cried out once, but the blow to the temple dropped him. Unconscious, he collapsed. Hand screaming, Jigme caught the boy before he fell to the street.

More voices. People were up, looking around for the trouble. Soon they would look down this street.

What am I going to do?
he thought.
I’ll be caught!

“If you’re caught,” said the voice, “she dies.”

Jigme looked at the child, his breathing slow but steady, eyes closed. He could have been sleeping again. Hand screaming as he squeezed, Jigme picked up the boy and draped him over his shoulders, behind his head. The boy was heavier than Jay’s backpack, and Jigme felt more tired than ever. He ignored it though, the tiredness in his legs and the pain from the boy’s kicks. The mouth of the alley enveloped him.

But not quickly enough.

Cries followed. Someone had already come into the street. Someone had seen.

The cries brought other people. Jigme heard their footsteps pounding down the street and into the alley.
The noise will wake the people who live here
, Jigme thought.
What if I’m seen by someone I know?

No voice replied.

He looked toward the main city then down the dark alley. The boy felt heavier with every moment.
What if I were caught?
Jigme thought.
At least it would be over.