The Gilda Stories (33 page)

Her foot rose smoothly, the toe of her boot catching the edge of his chin in a ballet movement marred only by the blood that arced from his nose as his head snapped backward. For a moment there was a look of terror in his eyes. The mythology of the Vampire still had power even for the Hunters. This one already regretted not waiting until she slept before he attacked. Even with biphetamines he was not fast or strong enough for her, and the smell of blood was in the air.

Gilda hit him full in the face with her left fist, feeling the slippery wound of his flesh. He lurched backward but didn't fall. He struggled forward again, and Gilda peered through the sheet of blood over his broken face into his clouded eyes. She could see the haze of drugs that held him upright, conscious and able to resist her will. But in this, too, she was stronger. She held his gaze long enough to rip away his memory, then knocked him unconscious with a brisk crack of her palm on his forehead.

He sat on the coldness of the pavement like a child oblivious to the pain that tore through his body. Gilda left him there and sped away.

Once back at the entrance to the cavern she stood for a moment and sniffed the dry night air. It was clearer than usual. Such a close call with a Hunter was unnerving. She ignored the pain in her shoulder, certain that it would dissipate by tomorrow's nightfall, and tried to focus on the nighttime sky and her next move.

Bird had made her way south early and settled in the less industrial lands where it was somewhat easier to remain undiscovered. It was said that some of their kind had escaped Off-world, but there were few facts to put faith in. To Gilda, crossing that great expanse of sky was as frightening as crossing the boundless sea.

The Off-worlders had rebelled, refusing to take any immigrants who could not prove need. They monitored all applications as if their lives depended on it. And they did, Gilda thought. Still the Government refused any attempt to reverse the train of destruction they had put into motion.

Gilda's gaze held on a small patch of grey sky that slowly brightened to reveal the luminance of a waxing moon. As the night breeze blew the heavy chemical clouds away, her heart raced at the sight of her beloved moon.

Then her body became rigid as the message entered her thoughts:
Effie and Julius are safe. They will be joining Bird before the next full moon. They are enroute to South America. Sorel and Anthony have preceded them. There is safety there… hovel Faith! Love!

The contact was broken, and Gilda's body slumped. Houston rushed forward, catching her arms from behind. She broke free instantly and spun around ready to kill. When she saw Houston looking down at the empty air between his arms, she laughed. His shock increased at the sight of the filth and blood on her clothes, but he said nothing as he recovered himself. The night shook with Gilda's laughter for the first time in years. Houston joined in because it felt good to laugh freely in the night.

“I'm sorry Houston, you startled me.”

“I thought you were fainting.”

“We don't faint, Houston.”

“All women faint,” he said, chuckling.

“No, Houston, all women do not faint. They haven't in some time!”

Houston looked chagrined until he saw that Gilda still smiled as she gazed at the faint glow of moon.

“Houston, soon I'll give you everyone's wages for next month.”

“Yes.” Houston was invaluable because he didn't ask questions.

“In the event that I have to be away for a while, you may pay the others until I return or send you a message.”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps you can take some time away if I am not here. Visit your family or friends?”

“There are none anymore,” he said with almost no inflection.

“Is that why you remain unresolved about the blood?”

“Yes.”

“What do you want out of this world, Houston? It's dying. Perhaps you should be contemplating how to live instead of dying with it.”

“If it dies there is little I can do but die,” he said. “What's a world without people?”

“What about Off-world?”

“The money for such a trip, not only the fare, but the bribes, the health tests… I'd have to work several lifetimes for that. The Government has us trapped here. The charity ship sent by Off-worlders stands waiting, almost empty, while the healthy make themselves ill working to accumulate enough money to bribe their way to life.”

“There must be some answer to this disruption of immunity, the diseases, the meteorological tilt,” Gilda said without much conviction.

“The answer is greed. We are dying of greed. I don't know the cure for that.”

They were both silent, looking out into the surrounding desert, searching for hope, while behind them the female guard slipped away from the entrance to the cave and crept downward to her post. Her hands trembled as she searched the lining of her jacket for the microcommunicator. The decision had been made; she would radio the Hunters. When they arrived she'd collect her reward: passage Off-world for her and her family. The guard was happy she'd been so clever. As soon as Gilda slept it would be over.

Gilda worked at her desk under the lamp's glow for an hour, putting together the payments for the guards and packing the few things she would carry. She was careful to leave her chamber with the appearance that she would return. She took only a pallet of earth, her mothers's rough metal cross, Bird's leather-encased knife, a heavy cloak especially woven and lined with soil, and her copy of the
Tao.
She decided to fold the ancient quilt that had been with her for so many years inside the pallet. Gilda was saddened to leave the desk she had sat at through the generations. It alone had been witness to the years of recording her life. Early in the decline, when travel was not restricted, she had allowed Bird to transport most of her journals south with her. That was a time when Gilda still believed there would be many more years of writing at her desk.

She removed three sets of forged health certificates from the familiar drawers. One set she put in a brown envelope with a large stack of currency and marked it for Houston. The other two she slipped inside her body belt. Smaller envelopes addressed to the other guards and the larger one she left in the center of her desk. Gilda blew out the lamp.

At the opening she looked out onto the glowing rock at the shadow of the girl guard, who stepped forward, smiling. Gilda glanced around as she did before each dawn, then nodded. She realized she had never liked that smile, and her attempts to probe the young woman's thoughts inevitably yielded simple yet pervasive preoccupations with her family. Gilda preferred the taciturn face of Houston or the sprightly resignation of the other guard.

Gilda rustled around in the room for some time before slipping out through the silent panel and making her way about the winding passages. She easily removed a boulder that should have required a dislaser blast and disappeared into the darkness.

Houston watched silently, a little sad that she was gone but also relieved. He didn't think she would have been safe here much longer. Entering her chamber through the hidden panel he took the papers from the desk. He sat down before it, listening for the stillness of the guard outside. Houston opened the envelope addressed to him and tried not to gasp aloud at the sight of the health papers and money. He stuffed them in his pack and went back out through the panel. He found a distant spot where Gilda might have chosen to sleep and stood guard over the emptiness.

Outside, the desert was silent. Gilda embraced the wind and the darkness as she sped eastward toward the city. She would hide for a time in the tombstone high-rises before beginning her journey south. She knew she should feel anxiety or fear, but she was filled with anticipation instead. She wanted this journey. She expected to look at things along the way, not just look for something. Once all of them were together, they would plan a future much different from the one envisioned by the Government.

In the years since leaving the home she had shared contentedly with Effie, Gilda had come to enjoy making the leap into the unknown that was at the heart of traveling. But in her journeys she had learned to let go of searching. She brought no one else into the family, and no longer questioned herself relentlessly. Her time was spent learning to be more than human. She saw more deeply into life, further into the past and through lies. But the future was as much a mystery to her as to anyone—a delicious reason for being, she thought.

She slowed her pace so she could enjoy the desert air, hoping to spot a few city lights as she approached. It was much like the evening she arrived in the Arkansas town where Nadine lived. She'd come south and west from New Hampshire, avoiding Mississippi almost unconsciously as if bounty hunters might still be searching for the girl she had been. The darkness of the road was finally broken by the invitation of those circling lights, the township sign that Nadine had described so vividly in her stories and had struggled to keep going. They'd spent weeks together, their thoughts flying back and forth with an intensity that was almost audible. Nadine shared what she remembered of her great-grandmother. It was in these memories of Aurelia, and Nadine's determination, that Gilda found understanding. Leaving Aurelia behind hadn't been a missed opportunity; it had been opportunity fulfilled. Nadine was proof that Gilda's decision had been a good one. Gilda glimpsed dim lights ahead as she neared the city and picked a high-rise in which she could rest and listen for further word.

She breeched the security system with ease. The entire building had been emptied. She chose to hide where it would be least expected: in full view of the city, in a sealed penthouse apartment. The rooms were heavily curtained, but the air was fresh. Gilda crept around the blackness, comfortable in its warmth. As soon as she opened the bedroom door she knew someone was there, very still, barely alive. She was uncertain what to do, when she saw the vague outline of a figure on the bed. As she moved closer, the person did not stir but breathed in shallow gasps. Gilda tried the bedside lamp. Of course it didn't work; all the power was disconnected. She felt the waxy end of a candle melted down onto a small table.

Gilda pulled a drape away from the window. It let in little light for there were no stars, but she could now see that the figure was a woman, tall and brown-skinned. Gilda felt her pulse and knew the woman was dying. Her cheeks still had color, but the weight of death was upon her. Gilda was shocked. The woman did not look as if she had begun the deterioration yet. Her body was full and healthy, not wasted by the failure of her lungs or muscles. When she knelt beside the bed she saw the half-empty pill bottle sitting neatly beside the glass that smelled of distilled palm wine. The answer was clear: the woman had chosen death rather than wait for death to choose her.

Gilda looked at the sleeping/dying face, curious about what had led her to this moment. There was no clue in the velvet skin, as dark as Gilda's. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties but was without any of the pain lines that marred most faces now. Her brow was peaceful, her hair cut in a loose, curly, old-fashioned Afro. It was deep brown, with a streak of pure white above the temple that was shocking against the dark furrows of the soft, nappy hair. Gilda could not stop herself from stroking it. Her fingers slipped through the softness, and Gilda felt her own heartbeat increase. The woman stirred slightly, moving her head toward the touch.

Gilda put her hand on the woman's slack jaw and breathed into her lungs, realizing even as their lips met that it would do no good. She was appalled by the thrill of pleasure that shot through her at the warmth of the woman's mouth, and a small cry of sadness escaped her. Gilda waited no longer. She pulled back the light quilt tucked around the woman's chest, and her own breasts pulsed with excitement, desire, and shame.

Once Gilda had unbuttoned the rough cotton blouse she slashed with the firm fingernail of her baby finger and put her mouth to the woman's skin. She glanced only briefly at the round breasts. The intoxicating odor of perspiration and sleep filled her senses as she drew the blood quickly. The woman's pulse became more faint, and the languor of the sedative began to wash over Gilda as she dragged herself up to the woman's mouth. She moved slowly, the drug which had been meant to kill the other now racing through Gilda. She bit her own tongue, then the soft membrane of the woman's mouth. She thrust her tongue inside and held the woman's head tightly against the pillow. The blood flowed between them. Their pulses dropped, then rose again, in harmony.

The throbbing in Gilda's head was echoed in the woman. Both became flushed and damp as Gilda collapsed beside the quiet body, her hand held tightly over the wound in the woman's chest. Gilda had little strength left, but again she moved down to the woman's breast. Her lips tingled at the touch of skin, and hungrily she pulled the life from her again. Then, just as eagerly, she gave it back. This sharing of the blood was a desperate act as Gilda willed her to live.

Gilda drew back to look at the brown face now drawn into a mask of pain—the eyes open, unseeing. There were deep textures in their enveloping brown color. She closed the lids gently and said silently,
Sleep. Love. Love.
As the tendrils of unconsciousness wound around her Gilda sensed the message: the route Effie and Julius would be taking to reach Bird. She sunk onto the pillow beside the dark woman.

Their rest was drugged and held them for too many hours. When Gilda awoke it was dusk. She was in need of the blood but afraid to leave the woman before she awoke. Walking around the apartment she found stacks of books, some old food and bottled water, packets of letters. Most of the personal furnishings had been stripped away leaving only the large pieces of furniture and the woman's belongings. Gilda wondered how long it had taken her to climb the thirty-six floors with her heavy boxes. And why had she chosen the top floor? Perhaps, Gilda thought, because she never planned to come down again.