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Authors: Christopher Coleman
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to church she would have asked one of the nuns, or perhaps the preacher after Sunday service; certainly they would have some knowledge of a book older than The Bible. But the routine of church-going had come to an abrupt end several years ago, with little forewarning or explanation, and though it was something that Gretel welcomed at first, she had grown to miss church, if only for the gathering of friends.
Gretel read for an hour or so and then closed the book and placed it on her lap. She sat meditatively for a few moments, staring out the window toward the elms in the back, before deciding she had better check on Hansel. Her father had become far too overprotective of her brother lately, Gretel thought, but today she understood.
She took a deep breath and walked outside to the front stoop, leaving the book behind her on the chair. The air had quickly thickened with the emergence of the afternoon sun and the humidity stung her lungs instantly. Gretel looked off toward the fields and saw Hansel sitting in the dirt, playing with one of his many stick creatures that her father had made for him over the years. He was still such a young boy, she thought, and her eyes filled with tears.
Gretel cupped her hands around her mouth and lifted her chin, and as she inhaled to call her brother in from the fields, she noticed the cloud of dust that was rising from the end of the half-mile road that led past the fields to their cottage. It seemed to appear spontaneously, as if suddenly erupting from beneath the ground like a geyser of powder. The glare of the sun reflecting off the particles made it impossible for Gretel to see the source, but as the cloak of earth dissipated she saw the unmistakable red metal explode from the dust and go speeding insanely past Hansel toward the house. It looked as if the devil were coming, Gretel thought. But she knew better.
There was no mistaking it. It was The System.
CHAPTER FIVE
Anika fidgeted and grimaced, then rolled to her back and screamed. Reflexively, her left eye opened and the scream devolved into heavy breathing. She stared searchingly at the beams that ran along the ceiling above her, trying desperately to get her bearings. The daylight shone in from a small lunette window over her bed and illuminated the room, but nothing was familiar.
She touched her head where she had been struck and thought absently that it was probably a good sign of her condition that she even remembered the attack. The feel of her forehead made her dry heave. Her right eye was swollen shut and felt enormous; the entire area around it having the texture of a ripe plum, and probably looking about the same, she imagined. Anika pulled her fingers away from her head and looked at the white doughy substance that caked her fingertips. It had the consistency of batter, and she guessed it to be some type of moist medicinal powder.
Lying on her back, Anika surveyed the room and took note of the accommodations. They were far from charming, or even sterile, but they appeared fairly adequate—the wool blanket, sheeted bed, and apparent medicine on her wound even suggesting she was being nursed. It was a pleasant thought considering the attack she had received. Perhaps whoever assaulted her had done so mistakenly and was now atoning, believing perhaps that Anika was the wild creature she herself had imagined was lurking in the dark of the forest. Or maybe Anika had been unconscious for days and had already been rescued from her assailant.
Neither scenario seemed quite right to Anika, but whoever brought her to the comfort of the bed in which she now lay was certain to reveal himself soon. Her scream moments ago had been wild and echoing and, judging by the sounds of movement and clanging pots outside the door, there was definitely someone else in the house. And smells had begun to seep into the room, incredible smells that filled Anika’s mouth with saliva and churned her stomach.
Despite the pain and fatigue gripping
Gretel read for an hour or so and then closed the book and placed it on her lap. She sat meditatively for a few moments, staring out the window toward the elms in the back, before deciding she had better check on Hansel. Her father had become far too overprotective of her brother lately, Gretel thought, but today she understood.
She took a deep breath and walked outside to the front stoop, leaving the book behind her on the chair. The air had quickly thickened with the emergence of the afternoon sun and the humidity stung her lungs instantly. Gretel looked off toward the fields and saw Hansel sitting in the dirt, playing with one of his many stick creatures that her father had made for him over the years. He was still such a young boy, she thought, and her eyes filled with tears.
Gretel cupped her hands around her mouth and lifted her chin, and as she inhaled to call her brother in from the fields, she noticed the cloud of dust that was rising from the end of the half-mile road that led past the fields to their cottage. It seemed to appear spontaneously, as if suddenly erupting from beneath the ground like a geyser of powder. The glare of the sun reflecting off the particles made it impossible for Gretel to see the source, but as the cloak of earth dissipated she saw the unmistakable red metal explode from the dust and go speeding insanely past Hansel toward the house. It looked as if the devil were coming, Gretel thought. But she knew better.
There was no mistaking it. It was The System.
CHAPTER FIVE
Anika fidgeted and grimaced, then rolled to her back and screamed. Reflexively, her left eye opened and the scream devolved into heavy breathing. She stared searchingly at the beams that ran along the ceiling above her, trying desperately to get her bearings. The daylight shone in from a small lunette window over her bed and illuminated the room, but nothing was familiar.
She touched her head where she had been struck and thought absently that it was probably a good sign of her condition that she even remembered the attack. The feel of her forehead made her dry heave. Her right eye was swollen shut and felt enormous; the entire area around it having the texture of a ripe plum, and probably looking about the same, she imagined. Anika pulled her fingers away from her head and looked at the white doughy substance that caked her fingertips. It had the consistency of batter, and she guessed it to be some type of moist medicinal powder.
Lying on her back, Anika surveyed the room and took note of the accommodations. They were far from charming, or even sterile, but they appeared fairly adequate—the wool blanket, sheeted bed, and apparent medicine on her wound even suggesting she was being nursed. It was a pleasant thought considering the attack she had received. Perhaps whoever assaulted her had done so mistakenly and was now atoning, believing perhaps that Anika was the wild creature she herself had imagined was lurking in the dark of the forest. Or maybe Anika had been unconscious for days and had already been rescued from her assailant.
Neither scenario seemed quite right to Anika, but whoever brought her to the comfort of the bed in which she now lay was certain to reveal himself soon. Her scream moments ago had been wild and echoing and, judging by the sounds of movement and clanging pots outside the door, there was definitely someone else in the house. And smells had begun to seep into the room, incredible smells that filled Anika’s mouth with saliva and churned her stomach.
Despite the pain and fatigue gripping
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