Black Feathers (20 page)

The voice was like something out of a dream.

She jerked to a stop, looked up from the sidewalk. Skylark?

“Dorothy!” Louder this time, and the sound of running.

She turned, and Ian was there at the edge of the sidewalk at
a gap in the fence, his smile broad and bright. He was wearing faded grey pants and a thick T-shirt, his eyes bright, his breath coming in fat grey puffs.

“I thought it was you!” He swept her into a hug that almost lifted her from the ground. “It’s so good to see you! Where did you go?”

She had to force herself not to struggle free of his embrace, not to push him away. He smelled of smoke and sweat and cold, with a strong tone of some woody perfume, almost like a spice.

“Go?” she asked as he released her and stepped back, still smiling.

“After the police busted up the camp?” He bounced a little on his heels. “Everyone was looking for you.”

Cassie felt a surge of warmth. “Is this—” She craned her neck to see past Ian’s shoulder into the small park.

He nodded excitedly. “It’s ours!” He swept his arms wide, welcoming her.

Her heart raced.

Skylark.

Looking more closely, she recognized a lot of the people wandering around the camp. There were some strangers, but there was Hilary, and Janice was close to one of the fires. Jeff, Ian’s boyfriend, was watching them from the end of the path, in the gap in the fence.

“So what do you think?” Ian asked. “Pretty cool, eh?”

Cassie nodded. She wanted to ask about Skylark, wanted to run through the camp calling her name, but she couldn’t. “It looks great.”

“Come on,” he said, touching her shoulder.

She followed him past the fence. Jeff smiled as he joined them.

The air was heavy with smoke from the fires, and here and there Cassie caught traces of marijuana and, almost more surprisingly, roasting meat. It smelled like camping.

“So what’s with all the tents?” she asked as they approached the centre of the camp.

“They were donated,” Jeff said, in his slow, cautious way.

“Donated?”

“People just gave them to us!” Ian exclaimed.

“But—”

Jeff looked at Ian. “People heard about the police raid or read about Brother Paul in the newspaper,” he said, and Cassie was impressed by how carefully he spoke. Ian seemed like a bit of a goofy puppy in comparison. “A lot of people were upset. They didn’t think we were doing anything wrong, and they thought that the police were out of line.” He shrugged. “So they started bringing us stuff. Clothes. Sleeping bags. Old camping equipment, tents and stoves and lanterns. Food.” He smiled broadly at Ian.

“I’m making a stew at our tent,” the boy said, obviously pleased with himself. “Are you hungry?”

The thought of food made her stomach growl, but she shook her head. Skylark, then anything else. “Show me the rest first,” she asked, not wanting to give too much away.

Ian led her through the twisting, rough paths between the tents, stepping over lines and around piles of stuff.

There were small fires everywhere, and the air stung with smoke.

“People keep bringing us wood,” Jeff explained when he saw Cassie squeezing her eyes shut. “Some of it’s pretty green, pretty smoky.” He sounded apologetic. “It’ll dry, though.”

“You sound like you know a lot about this sort of stuff.”

“I’ve done a fair bit of camping,” Jeff said.

“Jeff’s trained as a naturalist,” Ian said proudly. “He’s working on his doctorate.”

“Well, not right now,” Jeff deadpanned.

Both of the boys laughed, but Cassie winced: What were they doing there, Ian and Jeff? They were both smart, both friendly, Jeff at least had some education. How did people like that end up living in places like this?

And if they had to, what hope did someone like her have?

“And that’s about it,” Ian said, wrapping up the short tour as they reached the fence on the far side of the camp. “What do you say to some stew now?” There was definitely a puppy quality to him, a high-energy eagerness to please.

She forced a smile; where was Skylark?

“That sounds good,” she said.

Skylark would be here, sooner or later. She would wait, have some stew, maybe ask Ian and Jeff to show her where Skylark’s tent was.

She imagined sitting beside Skylark as they ate or falling asleep beside her. She thought of her laugh, the way she would kind of lean against her when they gathered around the circle to listen to Brother Paul.

The thought stopped her.

“Where’s the main meeting area?” she asked. Jeff and Ian looked at her blankly. “Where Brother Paul talks? At the evening gatherings?”

Ian and Jeff looked at each other, then turned slowly to face her again. “There aren’t any more evening meetings,” Jeff said.

“What? Why not?”

“Brother Paul …” He looked at Ian like he didn’t really know what to say.

“Things are different now,” Ian said. “Brother Paul doesn’t have time for meetings every night.”

Cassie stared at him.

“He’s been busy with the newspapers and the TV,” Jeff said, stepping forward. “And he spends time with each of the new members of the community.”

“But no meetings,” she said.

“No,” Ian said. “He sees people in his tent.”

Cassie followed his gaze across the mess of lines and bundles.

“Oh,” she said quietly.

She hoped that Frank and Joe hadn’t noticed Jeff pointing at them, standing on either side of the entrance to the largest tent in the camp. Bob had, though. He stood up from his folding chair outside the tent and smiled at her across the distance.

Ian and Jeff fed her. Spicy and hot, the stew filled her in places she hadn’t known were hungry.

“What’s in this?” she asked as she finished her first bowl.

“Potatoes and rutabaga, carrots, some celery and celery root …”

Jeff rattled off the list of ingredients as Ian filled her bowl again without her even asking.

“No meat?” she asked, when he seemed to be finished speaking.

“No,” he said, mildly disdainful. “Meat is murder.”

She smiled, recognizing the title from an old Smiths album.

Looking into the steaming bowl, not making eye contact, she took a deep breath. “Have you … Have either of you seen Skylark?”

“You haven’t seen her?” Jeff asked, sitting up to look at her.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I—”

“We thought …” He looked at Ian. “We assumed that she was with you. We didn’t want to ask in case something had happened with you guys.”

“No,” she repeated. “We got separated when the police came. I ran one way, she—” As she spoke, she found herself trying to remember: Had she even seen Skylark that morning? Everything was such a jumble in her mind, all the flashing lights, the shouting, the running. But Skylark had been there, right? She had seen her before she ran, hadn’t she?

“We haven’t seen her,” Ian said, flat, like he was trying to remember something himself.

They all fell silent.

After a few minutes, Cassie stood up. The thought of eating another bite made her feel like she was going to throw up. “I’m just going to …” She was hunched over, her head almost brushing the roof of the tent. “I think I need to take a walk.”

Both of the boys—not boys, not really, she realized, but that was how she thought of them—nodded gravely. “Sure,” Jeff said.

“Can I—” She gestured at the backpack, just inside the zipped door.

“Sure,” Jeff said. “No worries. Our
casa
is
su casa.
”

Her smile was weak and thin. “Thanks.”

“Just come back, okay?” Ian said as she was turning away.

“Okay,” she said softly. “I will.”

Her emergence from the zipper of the tent woke a dog curled a short distance away. He jumped up and pounced over to her, sniffing her hand, licking her fingers.

The dog kept her company as she walked through the
camp, bouncing against her leg, looking for attention, its tail whipping sharply back and forth. Its presence took the edge off her discomfort, her fear.

A bit of it, anyway.

She stayed in the shadows as much as she could. She had no idea what time it was, but the sun was already setting, and the camp was pools of light thrown by lanterns, the warm glow of fires, the rich smells of cooking. It felt even colder in the dark than it really had a right to.

She did her best to avoid everyone. She recognized some of the voices in the dark, but she didn’t want to talk to anyone. Skylark wasn’t here, and she just wanted to find a quiet place and try to figure it all out.

“Well, hey, look who’s back.”

The voice cut through her.

“We were wondering if we were going to see you again. We thought we might have scared you off.”

Cassie could barely see them in the dim light. They were clustered at the base of a massive tree, passing their small pipe behind the last tents straggling at the edge of the camp.

“What’s the matter? Too scared to talk to us?” The dog thumped against her leg. “Where you been?”

There was a tone in his voice she hadn’t heard before, a solidity, a sense of authority similar to that in Harrison’s voice.

She shook her head, and she could feel the rumble of the dog growling, not quite silently, against her.

Bile rose in the back of her throat.

She turned into the dark, the dog padding beside her as she hurried away, the boys’ laughter echoing in her ears.

“Come on back,” Bob called after her, mocking now. “We won’t bite.”

Cassie spent the night in Jeff and Ian’s tent.

Jeff had somehow managed to find a sleeping bag for her while she was walking, and a ratty comforter that he folded lengthwise twice to create a sleeping pad. “That’ll keep out a bit of the cold at least,” he said as he laid it alongside his and Ian’s bed.

“Thank you,” she said, still shaking from her confrontation with Bob and the boys. She hadn’t told Jeff and Ian about it.

“
De nada
,” he said, billowing out the sleeping bag as best he could. “Our
casa
is
su casa
,” he repeated.

She had thought at first that it might be hard for her to sleep in such close contact with people she barely knew, but it was warm and comfortable being with them, snuggled close with Mr. Monkey, listening to their whispers and murmurs after Jeff blew out the light.

It made her think of the day she had gone to the pet store with her mom and dad, looking at the puppies in the cage in the middle of the store, all piled up and dozing, shifting and stretching, bright eyes opening and closing.

In the morning, she stumbled sleepily to the small concrete shed in the back corner of the park that the campers were using as a bathroom, trenches dug deep along two of the walls. “Boys on one side, girls on the other,” Jeff had told her the day before.

She had gone before bed, but it was different, even in just the pale light of the early morning, to be squatting next to a girl she didn’t even recognize.

The smell was acrid, harsh.

As she finished, the girl—who hadn’t said anything as she
unbuttoned her pants and squatted down next to her—said, “Be careful.”

Cassie started at the voice and at the words. “What?” she asked, half-turning, making sure to keep her eyes on the girl’s face.

The girl cocked her head, gesturing toward the edge of the park. “Cops,” she said.

Cassie’s heart jumped. “Are they coming in?”

The girl shook her head, reached into her jacket pocket for a napkin. “No,” she said. “They’re just sitting there. Watching.” She dropped the napkin into the trench and pulled up her pants, wandering back toward the camp without another word.

Cassie took her time, letting the other girl disappear into the camp before she pulled up her own pants and crept away from the stinking wall.

Zipping the tent seam behind herself, she settled as quietly as she could back into her sleeping bag.

“Dorothy,” Ian said, still mostly asleep. “Is everything okay?”

“I had to pee,” she whispered, her face warming. Then, a moment later, “There are police outside the fence.”

“I wonder what they want,” he said, even dozier.

As she listened, his breathing slowed and deepened, a tiny rasp coming on each exhalation as he went back to sleep.