When We Shed Civilization

Chapter 37

The headaches were the first thing that registered with Beth. They ascended in waves—up her spine and through her brain.

She was lying on something hard and cold. A low voice, almost a whisper, produced a continuous string of words, but her sluggish thoughts couldn't follow them.

With an effort, she opened her eyes.

She was looking at a wall of rough concrete, poorly illuminated by unsteady, weak light. The air was fresh, almost like under the domes of Seaside, but it carried a moldy smell.

The volume of the raspy voice rose. "... have died, and in death you have redeemed us..." The rest of the words lost themselves into a murmur once more.

Beth's shoulder, the one she was resting on, hurt. And her skin was itching, everywhere.

Should she move? Should she draw attention to herself?

The shirt she wore—Leo's shirt—was dry against her skin. She must have been unconscious for hours.

"... we celebrate your death because we know it will not fetter you..."

Was the voice talking about her?

"By eating your flesh, we praise you. By drinking your blood, we honor you."

The words jolted her fully awake. Whoever this voice was, it might be time to show them she wasn't dead.

"You will set us—"

The babbling stopped as Beth rolled onto her back and turned her face towards the light.

A handful of people were sitting around some lanterns and a small fire, and some of them were staring at her. Two of them, a man and a woman, had short-cropped, gray hair and the wrinkliest faces Beth had ever seen. She was holding up a chunk of what might be meat, with both her hands, its color a sickly grayish-brown in the poor light. A much younger woman, thin as a twig, squatted next to her.

Two more figures sat on Beth's side of the fire, their backs turned towards her, and others lurked along the walls of the room—their features mere sketches in the gloom.

The old woman lowered her hands and placed the chunk of something on her lap, the sudden movement making the small flames of the fire dance and quiver. She looked at her pale companion. "Rebecca, you dragged her in. And, apparently, she ain't gonna die just like that. Now deal with it."

A blush crept up Rebecca's elongated face as she tugged at a lank strand of her long hair. "Can't she... stay? Please, Jael?" She looked at the old woman.

"I told you she can't." Jael shook her wrinkly head.

Rebecca chewed her lips.

"I can help Rebecca to deal with our... guest." The old man grabbed the chunk of something from the woman's lap and bit off a piece.

The woman slapped his hand and retrieved the rest of the food. "Don't eat this. I haven't sanctified it yet."

"Then sanctify it, quick!" He replied with a cranky voice. "I'm getting hungry here."

"In the name of the Lord, be patient. We first have to get rid of her." Jael used the food to gesture at Beth.

Beth felt that she should add to the conversation, but words failed her.

"Can't she stay a bit?" Rebecca had a lisp. "Maybe, she could..."

Jael, the old one, shook her head. "You know the words the president left to guide us." She closed her eyes and spread her arms. "Strangers bring disease and disorder. And they'll eat your lunch. Shun them, outsmart them, and don't talk to them."

"Amen," the group replied.

Having heard enough, Beth pushed herself up into a sitting position. The effort made her dizzy, but she forced herself to speak. "I apologize for intruding, and I am happy to leave this place."

Jael frowned at Beth, which wrinkled her brow even more. Only the younger woman, Rebecca, had a hint of a shy smile on her face.

No one said anything. Uneasy under these people's scrutiny, Beth studied the room they were in—square, maybe ten feet across, only illuminated by the fire and lanterns. Three doors were set into its walls; one of them stood open and revealed an unlit tunnel or corridor.

"She doesn't belong here," Jael said.

The hatred in the words made Beth look back at her and challenge her rheumy stare.

Anger made her speak before thinking. "Yes, I may not belong here. You're right. But this, by any proper standards, makes me a... guest, as the old man said." She pointed at him.

"Eliah's the name," he said. "And I don't see no old man here."

Beth ignored him, her eyes still on Jael. "And it does not give you the right to display such rudeness and insolence."

The woman sneered, revealing a pair of toothless gums. "It's you who's rude, calling Eliah an old man." She glanced at him. "Even though you might have a point there."

Eliah grabbed a stick and got up, using it as a support. "Come, Rebecca, let's get... our guest out of here to put a stop to this conversation."

Rebecca picked up one of the lanterns and rose. Thin as a twig, she towered the wiry Eliah by at least one head.

He took another one of the lights, and he waved it at Beth, motioning her towards the open door.

The anger still coursing through Beth's veins gave her the strength to get up. The movement made her head spin, and she had to steady herself against the wall.

"Get her out," Jael said, impatient. "Get rid of her."

With a last glare at the old woman, Beth turned and moved towards the exit that Eliah had singled out.

"But when I'm back, I want to eat," he said. "So sanctify our breakfast, already."

The rectangular tunnel Beth entered was almost dark, dominated by the shadow her body cast into it.

"In the name of the Lord, this is thy body," Jael began. " We share it—"

The words were cut short by the door slamming shut.

Beth looked back and found Rebecca two steps behind her, holding the lantern. Eliah was at the tail of their little procession. The light cast long shadows across his grim face as he pointed the blade forward.

Interpreting the gesture as a command to continue, Beth turned her back on them and went on, keeping a hand on the wall.

Get rid of her. That's what Jael had said.

What were they planning? There was only one way to find out. And the young woman seemed the least unfriendly of this bizarre troupe.

"My name is Beth. You are Rebecca, right?"

The sole reply was the tunnelers' footfalls.

Ahead, the tunnel ended at yet another door. Beth stopped when they reached it and glanced back at Rebecca. The woman gestured forward.

Obeying the unspoken command, Beth pulled the handle. The space beyond it was pitch black, and its humid air carried a scent of decay.

"Move," the man said.

Beth stepped over the threshold. As she moved away from the door, the light of the lantern lit up the scenery before them.