The Nothing Within Read online

  “Yes,” she said. She said it in the way that told me it was time to stop asking questions.

  So I asked, “How did she die?”

  “I didn’t ask when Shepherd Gabriel told us some years back. She was one of the eldest shepherds, or at least she looked to be. Skin goes smooth on elder shepherds, and hers was so very smooth, like Shepherd Gabriel’s.” Which I thought strange, since the skin on regular folks goes the other way through their years. “So I figured it wasn’t my business to ask him about it. We needn’t fret over old folks passing. We needn’t puzzle over it.” And there was something in her voice that struck me funny, that made me wonder what she wasn’t saying. But she also clipped her answer real hard at the end, making it entirely clear no more questions were welcome.

  So I asked, “Did Shepherd Lee get along real well even though she couldn’t see?”

  To which Ma just replied, “Don’t be foolish, girl. Of course she could see. Now stop poking at shepherds’ business. Get to bed.”

  And I’ll tell you, that confused me something awful.

  No one hardly ever lies, and when somebody shades the truth, I can usually feel it. Shepherd Gabriel didn’t strike me as the type to lie, and he had no reason to lie that I could imagine. Excepting maybe pity, but he didn’t strike me as the pitying type, neither. And in all her life, although Ma didn’t always tell me everything I wanted, when she did speak, I’d only known her to speak the clear, sharp, hard truth.

  That night, my first Festival, was when I stopped trusting shepherds quite so much. It was a silly thing, really, and not worth fretting over. Whether a dead shepherd was able to see? Pshaw. But knowing Ma as I did, all I could figure was that Shepherd Gabriel had kept the truth from me, and I couldn’t figure why. And that rubbed me raw.

  In the end, turned out I was pure, dead wrong. Ma and Shepherd Gabriel had both told me the truth about Shepherd Lee. But it’d be a good many years before I finally untangled that knot.

  Words from the Reckoning, So Very Long Ago: Ruth Troyer’s Journal

  1

  January 19, 2163

  7 winter sparrows

  7 juncos

  6 starlings

  5 chickadees

  2 mourning doves

  1 cardinal

  Too many crows

  Please watch over us, just as you watch over these little ones.

  Mostly sunny, still very cold.

  Wednesday, shopping. Monthly trip to the tooLow. Hannah came with me, Waneta minded the baby. The callcar arrived at 9am as it should. A pink one, not black as requested. Hannah’s first trip in a callcar, and her first time at the tooLow.

  It used to be that only us Amish and some Mennonites shopped at tooLow, since most people shopped virtual or printed at home. That’s not counting the English who went there to gawk at us plain people and our old-fashioned store.

  But today, a line out the door. No tourists. Plenty of English who’d never been before. Some probably can’t afford their stuff-printers anymore. Some probably don’t trust shopping virtual because of deliveries getting unreliable. Many gawked at us plain people. I managed to not gawk back at them. Hannah did not manage.

  The shelves were sparse, and sharp rationing rules were in place, but we found rice, beans, tortillas, yarn, cloth, thread, coffee, and a few other useful things. Prices were up twenty times or more from last year. I’m grateful Eli’s work is still in demand. Along with whatever we can get in trade for my weaving, we’ll make do. I made my allowance stretch to cover the expense somehow.

  As we left the store, a chimera rushed up and attacked those waiting outside. I think it had been a woman to start with, though it was now corrupted with other things. Goat and some kind of rodent, it seemed, along with big, clawed hands and patches of blonde fur at the shoulders. It wounded about a dozen people, two badly, a toddler among them. tooLow’s automated security managed to put the chimera down, though with some difficulty. Those exposed blood-to-blood were taken to IFB for treatment, lest they should go chimeric, too.

  Did what we could to comfort the injured while waiting for medical. In the confusion someone took one of our bags. Mostly sewing and weaving goods. The coffee. We’ll get by.

  Eli and I have seen chimeras before, but Hannah hadn’t. She froze up at first, but after that she was obedient and well behaved. Was quiet on the way home, though at one point she said Waneta might like to come in her place next time. I didn’t scold her. Think she was joking.

  Home by noon. Afternoon chores.

  The children are asleep now. I’ve finished my weaving, but Eli isn’t back yet. I might be asleep by the time he gets home. Or I could pretend.

  2

  January 21, 2163

  7 winter sparrows

  6 chickadees

  5 wrens

  4 juncos

  2 cardinals

  2 mourning doves

  1 towhee

  Too many crows

  Please watch over us, just as you watch over these little ones.

  Cloudy, even colder.

  Missed writing yesterday. Nothing particular to report from yesterday, just the usual sewing and mending. Finished my weaving last night and was about to write when Eli came in late. I hid this journal before he saw it. Devil was in him.

  Friday, baking. Three loaves (two white), three pies (one sugar cream, two apple), two friendship breads. Waneta helped with the pies while Hannah minded Martha. We’ll bring one of the sugar creams to Hochstetlers on Sunday.

  3

  January 22, 2163

  8 chickadees

  5 juncos

  4 winter sparrows

  3 wrens

  2 starlings

  2 mourning doves

  2 cardinals

  Too many crows

  Please watch over us, just as you watch over these little ones.

  Still cloudy, but a little warmer. Flurries in the afternoon.

  Saturday, cleaning. Hannah washed the windows inside; too cold to wash outside. Boys washed the floors upstairs. I did the rest while Waneta looked after the baby.

  Dr. Habib visited for the baby this afternoon. Said she’s doing as he’d expect, though the way he said it was “within expected variances”. Okay that she’s not walking nor talking yet, so long as we’re doing the reading and the stimulation, which we are. He says with extra care up front, she’ll have a full life ahead of her despite the Down syndrome.

  Eli saw three more strays on the far side of the south field this morning. They just watched him a while then went back in the woods. Looked hungry, he said. More of them around lately, what with the problems in the cities. And in small towns now too I guess. I’ll pray for their safety. And for ours, from them.

  4

  January 23, 2163

  11 winter sparrows

  4 chickadees

  3 juncos

  2 mourning doves

  2 cardinals

  Too many crows

  Please watch over us, just as you watch over these little ones.

  Less cold, but very windy. The buggy bucked and shook.

  Sunday, Lord’s day. It’s third Sunday, so we had worship service at Stoltzfus’s. After the meal, we visited with Hochstetlers.

  We were late getting night chores finished. Didn’t weave much tonight.

  5

  January 25, 2163

  2 wrens, dead of cold

  Not one single crow

  Please watch over us, just as you watch over these little ones. Or maybe watch over us a little closer.

  Bright and bitter cold. I don’t recall a colder day in years.

  Tuesday, ironing. Waneta has been doing more of the ironing. Burned herself badly. Butter helped. Thankfully, there was plenty of cold outside for compresses.

  Mother ewe’s due to lamb any day. Spring would be better. These Merino-Plus do pick awkward times to breed. Waneta and Atlee check her first thing and last thing every day, and probably several times between.

  Aft
er the children were in bed this evening the devil was in Eli. Maybe he’s fallen asleep during my weaving. Maybe he’s not up there waiting. We’ll see soon enough.

  6

  January 26, 2163

  6 winter sparrows

  5 chickadees

  3 juncos

  2 mourning doves

  1 starling

  1 cardinal

  Too many crows

  Please watch over us, just as you watch over these little ones.

  Strays came onto our porch today. The same three Eli saw last week, I expect. Two big pale brown-haired fellows, maybe brothers, and one short and dark-complected. All with shaggy hair and tattooed faces, as is the style. All skinny with hunger.

  They had fancy coats and gloves and colorful hats and scarves and boots that looked expensive under all the dirt. They also had the look of men who sorely missed their screens and desks and electric shavers and twinkling modern gewgaws. I wonder what they were before the economy crumbled. Engineers maybe. Bios. Lawyers. Something well to do.

  They asked for food. Eli has forbidden me to give any to strays. They said they’d eaten nothing but dry crabapples in three days. Three days was about right from the hollow look of them. I gave them a loaf of bread and welcomed them to use our well. I apologized it couldn’t be more, said we had little enough for our own.

  Their mouths thanked me. Their eyes wanted more.

  They left east-southeast, so must be holed up at Beilers’ old place. I’ve seen smoke that way the last couple weeks. Hope they don’t burn themselves to death.

  Told Eli when he got home. He waited til after the children’s bedtime to share his displeasure with me. I weaved later than usual tonight.

  7

  January 27, 2163

  Crows. So many crows.

  Lord, protect us.

  Smoke to the east all day. Or clouds? A wall of darkness. Earth to sky, north to south, as far as I could see. Like something from the Old Testament. Like God’s Wrath.

  Eli came home from work before noon. He heard something big was happening. Lots of guessing, but nobody knew what. All the equipment stopped working at his shop, all at once. Then he saw there was no electricity anywhere. That shouldn’t be possible with the Wicc power network reaching everywhere. It’s not like we live in the twenty-hundreds.

  Eli said folks were awfully spooked. Heard about looting in New Philly. Maybe killing, too. There’s talk of I-77 ending into empty space down south, and Route 30 ending just east of Canton. That can’t be right. But something serious is happening.

  Eli got my Remington up from the cellar. I forgot we still had it. It’s been down there gathering dust since I was a girl deer hunting with Grandpa Solomon. Twenty-five or thirty years, now. I wish I’d remembered it was there. I might have found a use for it.

  No. I don’t mean that. He’s my husband and I’ll honor him. Forgive me for thinking it.

  I broke down the Remy and cleaned it for Eli. He wouldn’t actually shoot anyone, of course, but the sound might be enough to scare someone off. At least I don’t think he’d shoot anyone. He’s outside now, sitting up with my Remy on the front porch.

  As troubling as all this is, I know we’ll get by. Always do. “Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.”

  I couldn’t weave much tonight. Time to try sleeping now.

  Shepherd Gabriel

  1

  Shepherd Gabriel And the Chimera

  Shepherd Gabriel surveyed the chimera’s corpse with a practiced eye.

  It had been a man to start. Judging from the stunted pink tail, a rodent was involved. Horn nubs, more likely from a goat than a sheep. Feline eyes. Rear legs and thick fur from some kind of mustelid.

  Then there were the clawed fingers with just a touch of webbing between. Gabriel peered at an ear where subtle ridges were forming. As he leaned in, the smell of rotting flesh hit him again; his naughtwork muted his smell receptors even further. Bending his face to the corpse’s, he pulled back the upper lip and peered at the needle-sharp teeth.

  “Bat,” he murmured, nodding.

  As far as all that went, this wasn’t an unusual chimera, though it certainly appeared more human than most. The other shepherds would have called Gabriel to examine it regardless, but not so urgently, running, jumping, and swinging at the edge of his endurance to reach the woods near Nyehoff, across the breadth of the World That Is from Haven, with Shepherd Asra bounding ahead at the edge of his sight, flaunting her military-grade naughtwork.

  But this chimera was different. Things that were different unnerved shepherds nearly as much as they unnerved the People. When something unexpected happened, the other shepherds called for Gabriel or Lee to help them understand it.

  And now, only Gabriel.

  This chimera was different because its belly had been cut open, its abdominal skin pulled back for a better view. Its lonely organs swarmed with maggots and flies in a pile a few feet from the cadaver. Like a high school frog dissection writ large. Except that there weren’t high schools anymore. And there wasn’t supposed to be anything at all like biology class.

  The chimera’s limbs were splayed, bound with rough, heavy ropes to nearby trees. Judging from the bruising on its wrists and ankles it had lived for some time while someone explored it. Gabriel lifted its head and found the bloody trauma he expected on the back of its skull. It had thrashed in panic while they flayed it, pounding its head against the ground.

  “Vivisection,” he muttered.

  “What?” Shepherd Asra asked, looking uneasy and annoyed in equal measure.

  “Vivisection,” Gabriel replied. “Cutting open a living thing.”

  “This thing deserved to be cut open.”

  “Vivisection is cutting open a living thing to study it. Out of curiosity, to understand how it works. And the People don’t normally like making things bleed on purpose.” Gabriel tugged his beard. “I dunno. Anyway, nice catch. Makes a big difference to find it fairly fresh.”

  “Sure, fine. Now do you mind if I go protect some people who actually need it?”

  “I’ll get by,” he said.

  He managed to watch Asra—barely—as she leapt from the clearing and into the woods, her feet pounding moldy wooded undergrowth. With three receding thuds she was gone.

  Gabriel turned back to his subject, inspecting the long, crossed horizontal and vertical slits in its belly, cuts too clean and straight for any stone or wooden tool. “So, my friend,” he said with a flap of flesh between his fingers. “Who the hell had the balls to peek inside you?”

  When I Was Ten: An Evening Stroll

  1

  A Good-old Story

  Grandma’s Wisdom

  Grandchildren, here’s what my grandma told me.

  In the World That Was, she said, women lived long and wore stars on their brows. They planted more than all the People could eat. Their voices made songbirds weep with longing. And every day Gebohra Muerta, the Mother of Pride, gave them wondrous new tools. They thanked her for these tools, and they remade the World That Was to suit their dreams.

  Grandchildren, here’s what my grandma told me.

  In the World That Was, she said, men lived long and wore stars on their brows. Their voices rent the sky. Their footsteps shook the ground. And every day Gebohra Muerta, the Mother of Pride, gave them wondrous new tools. They thanked her for these tools, and they remade the World That Was to suit their dreams.

  Grandchildren, here’s what my grandma told me.

  In the World That Was, she said, spirits lived in secret places—righteous, Wrathful Spirits who loved the world just as it was and didn’t want it remade to suit some fools’ dreams.

  Grandmother Root found them. Grandmother Root roused them. Grandmother Root guided them.

  The Wrathful Spirits rebuked those women and men. Gathered them up and bore them to a Pit for the very first cleansing fire. Tore down th
e village walls, not leaving one stone upon another.

  But those who followed the old ways were spared. Grandmother Root gave them a safe home to dwell in: the World That Is.

  When the world was quiet again, the Wrathful Spirits went back to their secret places to listen, and to wait, and to mourn that so many of the People had passed.

  And even today Gebohra Muerta, the Mother of Chimeras, who loves us more than she loves herself and would destroy us if she could—she leads good folks astray. She offers them her poison wonders, not understanding the danger she brings. She puts pride in their hearts and tools in their hands to remake the World That Is.

  And even today, Grandmother Root finds the Wrathful Spirits. Grandmother Root rouses them. Grandmother Root guides them. And the Wrathful Spirits tear down those prideful villages to keep the World That Is safe and good.

  Grandchildren, that’s what my grandma told me.

  One day when you have grandchildren, you tell them, too.

  2

  About Death

  I expect some of you are concerned about my story. Even those who haven’t heard it must know it’s got suffering and sadness.