Give Them Wineby Mary Brunini McArdleBook I
|
General Synopsis |
| Chapter 2 |
In the mid-22nd century, a mysterious apocalyptic event has destroyed the world as we know it. In the Mississippi delta country, survivors reorganize in isolated enclaves and live in primitive conditions with little knowledge of their own history.
Donas, a beautiful, bright, curious girl on the verge of womanhood, discovers that her community is hiding a terrible secret: drug-induced conformity. She flees, taking her younger brother Mak and sister Rani with her. They make their way south and find a new life with a new people. They find hope, love and maybe some trace of their own past that might point the way to the future.
There were other moteles in the vicinity; the outside men used little wooden carts pulled by ponies for trading. The children were never allowed off the grounds, but Donas relished being given outdoor assignments. Sometimes the ponies were tethered close enough to sneak them a quick petting.
The trainer instructed the group in horticulture and plant identification. Donas absorbed every tidbit but, given the chance, would slyly look up from her tasks to observe what she could. Often she would see Ter entering the gate in a cart loaded with goods.
“Donas, what are you gaping at? You’re supposed to be planting seeds,” the trainer would admonish if she caught Donas not paying attention. Donas would docilely lower her eyes and bury her quota of seeds, waiting patiently for the next opportunity. Then she would strain to see what lay beyond the gate. This was more successful in the cool when the trees were bare. Everyone would rake leaves, and she could see strange hulks of objects large enough for people, but much smaller than the motele. There were tall things, too, like trees without branches. Black cords hung idly down from the things.
Drawing sewing duty the afternoon following her first glimpse of the black with the pretty fires, Donas compensated for her disappointment by using the time for reflection. It was then that she thought of her brother and sister.
‘Should I let them continue eating the apples?’ she asked herself. ‘Perhaps not.’
She had protective feelings toward Mak and Rani. Although Katera was their mother and, as First Leader, was deserving of respect, she prompted emotions Donas didn’t understand. Donas knew that Katera was First Leader because she was addressed as such. Whenever Donas heard the leaders disagree among themselves, it was always Katera who decided the outcome, and the rest who acceded.
Donas watched Katera carefully every evening after supper when the story was read. She held the only book Donas had ever seen, a cream-colored parchment pamphlet, torn at the edges, with a drawing of a rose on the outer left-hand corner.
The First Leader’s eyes had a peculiar glint as she droned the words that never changed: “Once there was a motele with many children and a beautiful garden. The garden was full of rosebushes. The roses remained in their places. The roses never asked questions. The roses never disobeyed, but did what they were expected to do. Children are like beautiful roses...”
Donas attempted to ask Katera once why she didn’t tire of reading the same story over and over. “The Rose is your handbook, Donas,” Katera said sharply. “Never ask me that again.”
Donas never asked Katera anything after that. The harshness of her voice caused her daughter to lower her eyes and hastily retreat to her own table.
Katera’s firstborn did not consciously set out to plot rebellion. Her feelings about the society in which she lived began on an intuitive level. At first she merely carried out rebellious acts as they occurred to her. She had no guilt. Raised by impersonal trainers, the children of the motele had no affection or loyalty for their mothers.
The biggest hurdle was finding a way to talk to Mak and Rani. The group was with trainers most of the time; if not, the other three girls — Lucee, Thea, and Cherin — were there. None of the children could read or write, so there was no possibility of a note. The command “keep your silence” was so imprinted upon them that it was rarely broken.
Receiving sewing duty again, Donas wasn’t frustrated, because she needed her mind more than her eyes. She had to find a way to talk to her brother and sister without the others’ hearing them. It was not unpleasant to be indoors, for the weather had turned icy cold. A fire crackled on one side of the room, away from the drafts caused by the light-holes.
It took Donas hours to arrive at a solution. There were constant distractions; her group was not skillful at sewing. Rani could only hem; Mak could seam if supervised but had a tendency to make big stitches, and the trainer would become angry if a seam pulled apart. Cherin was ten, the eldest next to Donas, but restless and unreliable. Lucee was absent-minded and could never remember to pull the pins out. Thea had to be helped constantly. The cloth was old; items were fashioned from extra coverlets, curtains, and the dingy white material that was plentiful near the dining area.
“Cherin, sit back down,” Donas said, more than once. The trainer frowned but did not interfere. It was less work for her if she allowed Donas to keep her group under control.
Finally the search for an answer ended. Of course! Donas thought. Twice a week her group had access to the bathing room. They shared three tubs filled by serving women while Katera read The Rose. The bathing room was one of the few places where the children could be noisy and spontaneous.
At the first opportunity, Donas directed Cherin and Thea to a tub, put Lucee in one by herself, and joined Mak and Rani in the other on the pretext that they were misbehaving. Donas used the squealing and splashing to cover her whispered conversation with Mak and Rani. “Mak, keep playing so the others won’t notice, but hear me,” Donas hissed.
“Why?”
“Hush, it’s important. I want you and Rani to watch me tomorrow after supper when we go up the stairs. I want you to see what I do with my apple.”
Six-year-old Rani looked solemnly at Donas then remarked matter-of-factly, “You eat it.”
“I don’t.”
Mak and Rani stared at their older sister.
“Keep splashing and don’t say anything. I’ll kill you if you say anything. Just trust me and watch tomorrow.”
They worked in the kitchen the next morning, Mak and Rani wide-eyed and silent, Donas diligent and watchful.
She gave them a warning look later when they headed for the stairs. The two children followed meekly as Donas repeated her clandestine routine and slipped her uneaten apple section into the barrel. The girls in front saw nothing; they, as well as Mak and Rani, had swallowed the apple slices before they began climbing the staircase.
Donas tucked them all into their beds, settling her brother and sister last. Mak and Rani didn’t notice Donas hadn’t changed into her sleep-wear. They fell asleep at once, as did the other three.
Donas tiptoed to the door, looked out, and entered the hall. She slipped down the back stairs, paused to view the fires in the black, and ventured further — past the gardens toward the shacks where the outside men stayed. ‘I hear someone talking,’ she thought. Male voices, talking softly.
Ignoring the damp sod soiling her knees, she crouched behind some thick shrubs. Two outside men were sitting in the crisp air smoking. Ter was there, and another she had never seen. He looked different; his hair was white like the things in the hot blue. His skin had tiny grooves in it.
Ter was speaking in an undertone. “I tire of the way we live. Everyone is initiated except the leaders and the two of us who were here in the beginning. It is wrong, very wrong.”
“I am too old to leave alone, Ter.”
Ter groaned heavily and covered his face with his hands. “I cannot abandon my sister. Even though—”
“Even though she is evil,” the white-haired man finished. “I understand. But time is at our side, Ter. Besides, how would we live if you were not here to supervise the outside men’s work?”
Ter drew deeply on his pipe. “Ah, if only we were sure about the south — if there are still other peoples there.”
“Yes,” replied the white-haired man. “But none have ventured here since Katera and Vervia found the research facility and the means to use the apples. The way to the south is long and dangerous.”
“And to the north and east the earth is split and there is nothing. The west is barren as far as the river. Some say the river was closer once.”
“That was before the earth split,” said the white-haired man.
“Do you remember when the earth split, Geor?”
“Oh, no. It happened long before I was born. But my father had books and could read a little, though not as well as Katera.”
Donas listened intently. She knew what “east” and “west” and “north” and “south” meant; one learned those words working outside. They had to do with direction and where the sun was in the blue and where the wind came from with the cool.
But what did the outside men mean by “other peoples”? And the earth splitting? How could the earth split? The earth was firm and solid and supported food. Whom did Ter mean by his “sister”? Katera? Vervia? Katera and Ter were dark-skinned, whereas Vervia was fair. But then, Donas was darker than her brother and sister.
And the strangest thing of all: Ter spoke of “wrongness.” Was it the same wrongness Donas sensed? Could Katera make a whole motele live wrongly?
Donas had to admit that Katera was prettier than the other leaders, and much prettier than the serving women and trainers, who looked perpetually tired or angry.
‘I suppose “pretty” doesn’t always mean “good”,’ Donas thought as she stealthily backed away from the shrubs. But it seems like they should mean the same thing. Only two males old enough not to have been “initiated” — that was what nagged at Donas. Children were given apple slices; children did not awaken during the night. Was that something to do with being initiated? And if one had to be young to be initiated, how long before it happened to her? Did the apples make one obedient like a rose? Donas was almost fifteen.
“No,” she said softly to herself the next morning in the garden. It was the season for bedding plants, well before the hot; the community awaited the mild rains. ‘No,’ Donas thought, mounding the dry soil with her hands. ‘I want to know things. I want to know what it means — the wrongness.’
Donas looked up and frowned. Cherin was changing places with Mak and the ten-year-old girl was limping.
“Cherin, let me see your footwear,” Donas said in an undertone. “Oh, it’s gotten too small. Do your feet hurt?”
“Donas!” The trainer’s voice was harsh and strident.
“Cherin has outgrown her footwear, Trainer.”
“Remove it for now.”
“But, Trainer, the worms—”
“Cherin will have new footwear when it is available. Besides, it is not warm enough yet for the worms.”
‘She doesn’t care,’ Donas thought angrily. ‘None of them care about us. Must Cherin be barefoot for weeks?’
In the bath that night, Donas contrived to place Lucee and Cherin together, and Mak and Thea, Donas herself getting in the tub with Rani. It might appear odd to try the exact arrangement as before. Although Mak was older, Rani was much more receptive. Donas murmured, “Have you been watching carefully each evening?”
Rani nodded.
“Do you think you could do as I do with the apples and not be caught?”
Again Rani nodded.
“Don’t say anything. If I don’t kill you, Katera will.”
* * *
Donas was tempted to leave by way of the kitchen and listen to the outside men again, but she heard unusual activity coming from the front stairwell that night. She sidled halfway down, her desire to “know” too overwhelming to resist. Leaning against the wall, she recognized Katera’s voice. She was probably speaking with the other leaders. Trainers and serving women had surely retired.
“She is exceptional, yes.”
“Katera, it would be a waste not to make her a leader.”
“I’m afraid not. She has asked questions on more than one occasion. If she is not initiated, she could cause trouble.”
“But, Katera, she is your blood,” another voice put in. “Your pride.”
“She is dangerous. And don’t forget, Vervia, the bright ones awaken earlier and are ready for initiation sooner. If they are not initiated immediately upon awakening, they will not obey. Donas may awaken as early as fifteen — or before.”
“And she is what — fourteen?”
“Nearly fifteen. I think trainer is all we can expect.”
Donas climbed the stairs, heart pounding. They had been talking about her!
There was little sleep for her now. Her discipline of the past weeks failed her completely. The terrible words echoed in her head over and over: “trainer — awaken — initiate — obey...” What if Katera discovered Donas had already been awake at night? What if the leaders could never make her obey? Would they let her live? And what would happen to Mak and Rani, no longer innocent?
Donas’s survival instinct got her through the next day despite her exhaustion. She still had another two days before her group’s turn for bathing — time for thinking, if she could get some rest. She noticed Rani looking at her with a puzzled expression every now and then.
When Donas put her charges to bed she was desperate. She craved sleep, but she was so frightened she was nearly ill. For a moment she wished she had consumed her apple slice — sleep would have come so easily...
The five younger children breathed softly and evenly in the darkness. Then a sudden thought flashed, like the pretty fires in the black. The south! The other peoples! Were they really there? She could run away! She could take Mak and Rani and leave the motele!
She drew the wonderful thought about herself like a coverlet and fell into the relaxed sleep of one who has been relieved of a heavy burden.
Copyright © 2011 by Mary Brunini McArdle
