The Gilda Stories (34 page)

Gilda went to the bed when she heard the woman stir, sitting silently until she opened her eyes.

“My name is Gilda. You are…?”

“Ermis.” She closed her eyes and appeared to sleep.

When she opened them again she said, “I'm going to be sick.”

Gilda took the wastebasket from beside the bed and held it for her. Ermis gagged, spewing out the contents of her stomach until she heaved drily. Gilda then laid her back on the pillow and bathed her face with a wet cloth, much as had been done for her many years before. She offered her a glass of water. Ermis rinsed her mouth and fell back again, exhausted.

“I had planned to be dead now,” Ermis said in a whisper.

“Why?”

“There was no reason to live on. My family, the moon … everything's gone.”

“Your plan has been half-fulfilled,” Gilda said with a cool edge in her voice, masking the anxiety she felt.

“Half?” Then Ermis looked more closely at Gilda. She saw a brown woman of immense strength. That could not be hidden beneath her loose-fitting tunic. Gilda was shorter than Ermis and leaner. Her gaze was unwavering, and the dark-brown color of her eyes was flecked with orange.

“Vampyre?” Ermis said the word calmly with the ancient pronunciation, but her face filled with terror.

Gilda closed her eyes tightly, making herself completely vulnerable to this woman who feared her and to show her abdication of power. At the same time she looked inside to reassure herself she had not done an evil thing. When she heard the ringing laughter she looked sharply, afraid the woman had gone mad.

“Vampyre!” Ermis said again, laying back on the pillow, then slept.

When Ermis was finally awake she and Gilda stood at the window looking down on the city which was settling into evening. Gilda explained that she must go out.

“I'll return shortly to share the blood with you. Or, if you prefer,” she handed Ermis a small packet of herbs, “I will see to a proper completion and interment.” Ermis remained silent as the door closed.

When Gilda returned, Ermis was seated by the window, the curtains tied back. The packet lay unopened on the floor beside her. She turned expectantly and saw the change in Gilda. Her eyes were bright and her body even more fluid and powerful. Ermis felt a hunger she'd never had before. She did not wait but pulled Gilda to her on the wide living room floor beneath the starless sky. This time Gilda's lips explored the whole of Ermis' body shamelessly before sharing the blood that gave them both life. They slept on the pallet where Gilda had mixed the home soil of Ermis with her own.

On the next night they went out together, Ermis moving cautiously, still unused to the strength of her body and the quickness of her reflexes. They walked around the city watching the wary faces that did not meet their eyes. Gilda showed her how to move silently and stun, so there was no resistance, struggle, or death. She explained how best to come into someone's dream and take the blood while they slept, arousing no suspicions. And how to leave something behind in exchange—life for life. Ermis became swift and unafraid.

Gilda talked of their escape once they were back in the high-rise, explaining the things they would need to take with them, but not revealing their destination. Ermis did not inquire, only nodded and said she would be ready.

Then Gilda said, “You are not bound to me. Don't feel obligated to take this journey if that's not what you want. You can still end your life if you wish, or go on alone.”

Ermis met Gilda's gaze, a look she still didn't fully know although she recognized a multitude of emotions hidden behind its opaque veil. She said, “I wanted to die because there was no one left to wish that I lived. That's no longer the case, is it?” The sparkle in her eyes warmed Gilda.

“Why did you laugh that first night, when you knew?”

“It was the perfect twist to my story: I, alone in a penthouse at the bottom of despair because I was unloved in a dying and unloving world, awake to find myself in the possession of the most valuable commodity on the planet—long life. And it's a life freely given by a stranger.”

“I feel I must explain more of my world to you than simply the exchange and secrecy. There are many questions to this life, many of which I've not answered for myself. Many of which may
never
be answered.”

“I believe I'll run on…” Ermis said, the lilt of her voice providing the music to the old gospel song.

“When I came upon you, I knew you had planned your own death, still I sensed your wanting me to stop it. There was hope inside you even as you stood with death. I needed that in you.”

Ermis continued to hum the song as she listened to Gilda.

“It was knowing and not knowing that made me do it. I wanted the chance to be with you.”

They lay down together beside their few possessions, ready to rise and depart quickly. At first dusk they left to gather other pallets Gilda had hidden along the southern route. They quickly transferred the hard-packed New Mexico soil Ermis carried into half of the indestructible sleeping pallets. They traveled by hovercraft, then by foot, packhorse, and then on foot again, doubling back on their own path but always moving southward.

Intermittently along the way Gilda told Ermis of the others, but they didn't speak during most of the journey. Nor did they pause to enjoy the few remaining aboriginal villages of Mexico. They moved quickly, only delaying when they felt they were being observed. They stayed hidden until the last moments before dawn, finally taking their share of the blood, retracing their steps to sleep in caves or ruins.

Early evening shadow found them, several days later, filled with anxiety. They were in the area that had once been called Panama but was now part of Mexico. Crossing the Canal would be a particularly dangerous part of the journey. The rushing waters below the narrow footbridge had the ability to drain them of their strength, but Gilda felt confident she could guide Ermis through this difficult passage.

Their boots and the hems of their clothes were lined with soil as partial protection. In addition, they would cross the Canal as soon as they awakened—before they took their share of the blood-in hope that the edge of hunger would push them onward.

Their anxiety caused them to awaken early. It was then that Ermis heard breathing and whispered voices outside the entrance to the cave.

The two women did not move. They waited for the Hunters, who sounded uncertain whether they should leave and return earlier on the following day or try to make the catch now in the gathering dusk. They finally drew deeper into the cave toward the two who lay as still as death, listening to one another's beating hearts and the metallic scraping of narco darts hooked onto the belts of the approaching Hunters. The women waited until the Hunters were within their reach. Each Hunter carried a paralyzing dart in his hand as well as the smell of sweat and greed.

When he saw the women the larger of the Hunters drew his breath in sharply, and the other motioned him to silence. They stood, one on either side of the pallet, then crouched down over the immobile women. As they bent, one of their canteens fell forward grazing Ermis' head. She emitted a low hiss, and in a second she and Gilda leapt up, pinning the men quickly. They knocked the darts to the ground. One Hunter tried to run back toward the cave's opening, but Ermis picked up a dart and tossed it swiftly. It caught him just above his left elbow. He took a half step, then fell as if the ground had disappeared beneath his feet.

The other Hunter swung forward behind her, evading Gilda and bringing his fist down, dart in hand. His aim was sure: the center of Ermis' back. Gilda moved to deflect it, and the tip pierced her hand before she swung it around and buried it in the Hunter's chest. The blood that bubbled up around the wound sickened Gilda. She watched death collect him, memorizing his face just before she felt a blazing light blind her.

Until now, all had been muffled silence. As she held out her arms to catch Gilda's falling body, Ermis screamed aloud, her bellow shaking rocks from the wall of the shelter and echoing down the stony corridors.

Ermis clutched Gilda to her breast under the sifting dust and clay as anguish and fear swelled inside, choking off her piercing screams. She was relieved to feel Gilda's heart beating weakly. She carried Gilda and their burdens out to the road, then walked a few miles with the several hundred pounds balanced precariously, just to get away from the cave. She left Gilda hidden in a thicket and went off to get their share of the blood. The cave had been chosen because of its isolation, so her journey was a long one. She returned to share the fresh blood which would hold Gilda's pulse steady. Ermis probed the muscles of Gilda's legs and arms. The drug did not seem to have damaged them; they were weak but still had resilience.

Knowing so little of this life, Ermis was sure of nothing. They had to cross the Canal, but what then? Others would be waiting for them somewhere, others who knew what to do. But where were they waiting?

Ermis watched Gilda for signs of movement, the question screaming inside her head. Then the answer came. Ermis sat transfixed, her eyes almost as still as Gilda's. Inside her head she heard the voices as if a breeze had entered and blew gently across her mind.
South to Peru.
They would be waiting at the
old ruins of Machu Picchu.
The sound of the place was so ancient to her, she was uncertain she had ever heard it said aloud. But she pictured the place clearly and almost saw the two who would be waiting.

Ermis rested until darkness was total. The sky was almost clear of clouds, and a few stars hung in the emptiness as if it were an ordinary night. She took little time to appreciate the special quality of the evening. She gazed into Gilda's face looking for signs of improvement and for answers about how they would continue this journey. Then the picture came to her of a travois. She used the belt from her tunic and other bits of leather strapping from their pallets to tie together their packs and lash them to an awkward litter made from green tree limbs. She tied Gilda to it, molding her limp body around their possesions. Ermis then attached it all to her waist and walked swiftly southward. The pull of the water very soon made her muscles feel thick and arthritic. By the time she was in sight of the footbridge and the rushing water below, her teeth had begun to ache with tension as she held her jaw clamped shut.

If the litter hadn't been tied to her, Ermis would not have had the strength in her arms to hold it. Each foot moved leadenly in front of the other, keeping rhythm with the halting beat of her heart. She fixed her eyes on the other side of the Canal although her vision was blurred. The steady movement of Ermis walking rocked Gilda's paralyzed body.

Inside her head Gilda began to hear one voice, Bird's, saying her name repeatedly, as if Gilda were a child outside at play, unable to heed the call of a parent. She settled her mind on the voice and let the rocking motion take her back to it. She heard the sweet intake of breath.

Ah, so finally you come to me in a place I've made home,
Bird said.

And we can leave this world together.
Gilda heard her response as if she'd spoken aloud.

No, my girl. I think not. I have flown from nest to nest since Woodard's. And we've not had time enough to know this world together.

Gilda felt protest welling inside of her. The Hunters would be relentless; there was little chance the atmosphere could be saved. She knew no reason to remain.

We remain because this our home. We both have lost land here. Should we leave it all to them? I will not.

Gilda was able to open her eyes. She watched the determined back pulling her and the weight of many things behind.

Yes, we'll stay.

Gilda focused her will outward, alongside the others she knew drew them forward.

Ermis blinked to clear her sight and peered into the darkness. She felt the presence of others but saw nothing. She propelled each foot mindlessly, no longer feeling them. There had been a cool spray of water, but the air was dry again and all she knew was the weight of the travois dragging at her body, the bridge turning to stone, then to road dirt. Still she walked on afraid to stop. The dust of the road finally became real to her as the water's hold on her senses was loosened. They had made it across.

There were only a few hours left in the night. Ermis needed to seek cover before dawn. She bent down and wiped the dust from Gilda's face, whispering in her ear. Gilda's eyes opened slowly, no longer opaque. Ermis felt for Gilda's pulse and was relieved. Checking the bindings, she took up the litter again.

She found shelter among what she originally thought was simply a rock fall but then realized was an edifice collapsed in upon itself. She lifted the slabs of rock and burrowed beneath the rubble until she had made a place large enough for them both and their bundle of things. She held Gilda in her arms and listened to their breathing until sleep took them. When the day blossomed they both shifted uneasily but were unharmed by the small rays of sun that filtered through the rocks.

Ermis awoke with a start as evening's coolness seeped through and realized that Gilda's breathing was almost normal. Indeed, when she lifted Gilda's head, her eyes were open and clear. Ermis decided not to move further until there was some other sign of recovery.

And soon Gilda raised her hand to Ermis' face. “Your courage is great,” Gilda said in a hoarse voice.

“I couldn't leave you any more than you would leave me.”

They had not spoken of that night in the penthouse or the bag of herbs that had been left behind.

“I have heard,” Ermis said with a sound of hesitation, “many voices in my thoughts.”

“Yes,” Gilda said, “it's been difficult for me to understand, but Bird has been with me.”

“Those who come to meet us are closer each hour. There were others, urging me on,” Ermis continued.