Sarah ...

I drank water as I ate, dipped out of the pail with a glass tumbler I’d found in a cupboard.  I decided to save the moonshine until after, to enjoy with a pipe once I was fed and full.

I was doing that very thing when I heard the floorboard creak behind me, then the soft voice;

“Are you dead?”

I turned slowly, my Rhodesian in full light, the jar of moonshine in my hand.  It was a child, dressed in ragged clothing, thick fabric wound around small feet  instead of shoes, tied in place with boot laces.  A toque that had seen better days barely containing long matted brown hair.  The face was heart shaped and pale, smudged with dirt.  Hands pale and delicate sticking out of a jacket that was made for an adult with sleeves rolled up as cuffs.

“We’re all dead.” I said quietly, wondering if the child was a boy or girl.  It was hard to tell at that age.

“What’s your name?” the child asked.

“Max.” I answered, “My name is Max.  You?”

“Sarah.” she answered – a girl then.

She studied me for a moment with dark eyes far older than her age.

“Are you here to steal or to rape?” she asked, “If it’s stealing please leave the jars, they fill back up and we need the food.  If it’s to be rape, I won’t fight if you promise not to hurt me.”

“I’m not here for either of those things.” I told her, “I stopped to eat and drink whiskey and smoke my pipe.”

Sarah just stared, suspicious I suppose.

“I promise to leave the jars.” I assured her, “And like I said; no rape.”

“Thank you.” she seemed satisfied, but still guarded.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

Sarah nodded.  I set the whiskey jar down and stood, retrieving a second fork from the drawer and another tumbler from the cupboard.  I set the fork down in front of an empty chair and dipped the tumbler full of water and placed it beside the fork, then sat back down, pushing the food near it.

“Come sit.” I said, puffing on my pipe to keep the full light going, “Eat while I smoke.”

Sarah walked to the chair and sat but didn’t pick up the fork.

“I thought you said you were hungry.” I said.

“I am.  But we share here.” she explained, “We always eat together so everyone gets enough but not too much.”

“Everyone?”

“The others and me.”

“Other kids?”

“Yes.”

“No adults?”

“No.”

“Where did the adults go?”

“Crow bait.” she answered like that explained everything.

“Crow bait?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“You will.” she said, then pointed in the direction I was heading; “You going that way?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ll know.”

“Where are the other kids?”

“Hiding.  They’re afraid of you.  Your machine is loud.”

I looked out the back window and saw the barn.

“Hiding in the barn?”

Sarah said nothing, no twitch, no expression.

“They won’t come out until I leave, right?” I asked.

She continued to say nothing, just watched me with those wise eyes.  I wouldn’t want to play poker with her.

“Do adults come here?  Just appear?”

“Sometimes.”

“And they leave?”

“No.  They’re taken by the caribou man and his people.” she said and shuddered, “They leave us kids alone, but they’re scary.”

“I saw them.” I said, “I was scared too.”

“You were?” Sarah perked up at that, “Were you really scared or are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

“I was scared.” I admitted, “I snuck away while they were praying or something.”

“Making crow bait.” she said, “The crows are their god.”

I took a sip of whiskey and relished the bite in my mouth and the warmth that spread as it went down.  She still made no move to eat.

“I’ll have some whiskey if you’ll share.” she said.

“You drink whiskey?” I asked, she couldn’t be more than ten years old.  Well, her body belonged to a ten year old, she may have been here for decades.  I pushed the jar so she could reach it.

“We all do.” Sarah said, picking up the jar with both hands, “It makes us feel happy for a little while.”

New world, new rules.  I watched her lift the jar and take three large swallows.  She set it down and wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

“Ahh.” she sighed, “That hits the spot.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” I said, “Makes the world a little less scary too, I imagine.”

“Yeah.” she said and actually smiled.

“So, no adults around, you kids takes care of each other?” I asked her.

“Yeah.”

“What do you do when you’re not taking care of each other or drinking whiskey?”

“Play games.” Sarah said, “Kick the can.  Tag.  Hide and seek.  Hide and seek’s my favourite.”

“You like hunting people?”

“No, I like to be ‘it’.”

“How come?”

“Because when you’re all alone and someone who loves you comes and finds you, it’s the best feeling ever.”

Damned if that wasn’t the sweetest thing I’d ever heard.

“What’s your name again?” Sarah asked.

“Max.”

“I like you, Max.”

“I like you, Sarah.”

“You should go before you get taken.” Sarah said.

“I don’t get taken easily.”

“There’s a lot of them and they’re all over.  You’d lose.”

“I suppose I would.” I said, whiffling the Rhodesian.

“I like the smell of your pipe.” she said.

“Thank you.” I said, “It’s cured in whiskey.”

“That’s probably why I like it.” and she laughed like any other young girl.  I thought of Steph, then shut the door on the feelings that tried to sneak out with those memories.

“I wish I could take you with me.” I said, “All of you.”

“But we wouldn’t all fit on your machine.”

“No.”

Sarah shrugged, “It’s not so bad here for us.  We have food, water, and whiskey.” then as an afterthought; “And each other.”

“There’s comfort there, being with friends.”

“Yeah.” Sarah giggled softly as her eyes drooped a little from the whiskey, “We sleep all together, like puppies.”

I smiled at the thought.

“I miss puppies.” she said wistfully, “I wish I had a puppy.”

We sat for a few minutes as my pipe slowly cooled down, her thinking about puppies and me marvelling at the will to survive in this child.

“Well, I should go.” I said.

“Yes, Max.  You should.” Sarah watched me as I stood, washed my tumbler and my fork and put them back where I’d found them.

“If I come back this way one day, I’d like to stop in for a visit.” I said.

“Please do.” Sarah said, “Maybe the others won’t be as afraid of you next time.”

“Maybe.” I said, “Thank you for sharing your food and whiskey.”

Sarah smiled, “Thank you for not raping me.”

“Goodbye Sarah.”

“‘Bye Max.”

As I kicked Bone Shaker to life and rolled down the long rutted drive, I could see Sarah framed in one of the farmhouse’s windows watching me go.  I truly hoped that there were other children hidden there in the barn and not phantoms in the imagination of a long dead child’s fragile mind.

"BETWIXT – where the dead things go"