Black Cat Weekly #91

Chapter 5-3

I look at Mama.

“Don’t look at her. Look at me. Raise your right arm.”

I do it. It trembles. It is weak, the palest of yellows.

“Lower it.”

I do it.

“Now stand.”

I do it.

“Walk.”

I walk to the wall. I walk back.

“Remarkable,” Father says to Mama. “She seems to have recovered a significant degree of motor function. What about her speech?”

“She can hear you,” Mama says. “She’s standing right there.”

Father’s lips are thin. “Of course. Where are my manners?” He turns to me. “Sit down, please, Em—Anna. Let’s have a little chat.”

I sit on the bed. My hands tremble. Not because they are weak but because I am still afraid.

“Okay,” I say.

“How have you been occupying yourself?”

I do not look at Mama. I do not want Father to be angry. “I exercise. I say words. I sing.”

“Sing?” Father looks surprised. “Sing what?”

“Skinnamarink a dink a dink, skinnamarink a doo, I love you.” I make heart hands. Mama showed me.

Father laughs but he is not amused. “So this is the sum total of my hard work, is it? This is what we’re preserving of Western culture? Not Mozart? Not Beethoven?” I drop my hands. Father looks at Mama. “What about Download? Has she attempted it yet?”

Mama lifts her chin. “Not yet. I was waiting for her to get more of her strength back.”

“Well, don’t leave it too long. You’ve only got four weeks left.”

Mama’s eyes flash silver streaks. Then she looks at me and they dissolve. “I know.”

Why is Mama sad? What happens in four weeks?

Before I can ask, my favorite other Emma and favorite Tyler run in. “Anna!” they yell. They see Father and stop.

Father’s face squeezes into a fist. “What are you doing here?” he says.

Emma Two bites her lip. Tyler Three says in a smallvoice, “We came to play with Anna.”

“Play?” Father says. He advances toward them. “Play?”

Emma and Tyler shake. They step back.

Father turns to Mama. “Why are they here now? It’s the middle of the workday.”

Mama looks into his eyes. “Her friends always visit around this time—she’s too tired later. They’re good for her.”

Father acts like he does not hear Mama. “Have you finished your work in the Scriptorium?” he asks Emma and Tyler.

They look at their feet. “No,” they say at the same time.

“Then you had best go do that, hadn’t you?”

Emma and Tyler look up. They are quaking.

“Go!” Father says. His voice shatters the air. Glass shards rain down.

Emma and Tyler run away.

Father stares at the empty doorway for a long time. Finally he turns back to Mama. “Four weeks,” he says. “Understood?”

“Fine.”

“Tell me you understand.”

“I understand.”

I see something new in Mama’s face. I do not know what it is.

* * * *

Whoosh whoosh there you go you’re flying you’re

He floats through the air with the greatest of ease the daring young

Faster you want to go faster baby girl you want

You’re so tall you’re taller than mama you’re taller than

The daring young man on the flying

* * * *

“What do you think?” Mama says, sitting next to me on the bed. “Do you want to try Downloading again?”

I tried to trigger Download yesterday and the day before yesterday but it did not work. I do not think it will work today, either. I know I am getting stronger every day, and I have a lot of words now, but I do not think I will ever be able to trigger Download again. That part of my brain used to be bouncy and full of light, and now it is flat and dark, like it is sleeping. Like it is dead.

I look up at Mama’s face. It looks tight and squeaky. I understand she wants me to say Yes, so I do. “Okay, Anna,” she says, and relief greens her voice. I know that if I cannot Download anymore, Father is going to hurt me. I do not want Father to hurt me, but not just for me. I do not want him to hurt Mama.

Mama hands me the uncapped syringe. “Don’t worry about transcribing today. Let’s just see if you can trigger Download at all.”

I nod. I find a vein and inject myself. I put the syringe down on the nightstand.

Mama stares at me like she is trying to memorize my face. “Anything?” she finally says.

“No.”

“Let’s give it another minute.”

If Download was going to happen, it would have happened by now, but I wait. After a minute, Mama bites her lip and sighs.

“I am sorry,” I say.

“It’s okay, Anna.” She tries to smile but it comes out wobbly. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

I will not be able to do it tomorrow, either, but I do not say it. Instead I say, “What is Download for, anyway?”

Her eyes widen. “David never told you?”

“Father said that we children are more important than all the other people left in the world, because we are preserving the legacy of the human race, but I do not know what that means. Also, he might be lying.”

Mama is quiet for a minute. “What you Download,” she finally says, “are all the writings from before the war that David thinks are the highest achievements of Western civilization. He wants you to write them down so they won’t be lost.”

“Oh.” I still do not understand.

Mama c***s her head. “Why do you think David might be lying?”

This at least is clear. “Father lied about our Mothers. He told us our Mothers died in the Final War and that is why he adopted us.”

Mama’s fingers, which had been tapping her leg, stop moving. “They probably did die.”

“You were a Mother, and you are still alive.”

Mama’s eyes fill with tears and I feel my heart being stuck with pins. Before I can say I am sorry Mama says, “Some people survived. Not many. Do you know what happened?”

“No.”

“Do you want to know?”

“No.” I am getting tired, and my thoughts are thinning into gray ribbons.

“Okay,” Mama says. “But if you ever have any questions, just ask. I’ll tell you the truth, I promise.”

When she is pulling the covers up to my neck, I say, “I do have a question.”

“Yes, honey?”

“What is a ‘trapeze’?”

Mama’s eyebrows scrunch together. “‘Trapeze’? It’s a kind of…swing…high up in the…ceiling that performers used to do tricks to entertain children. Where’d you hear that word?”

“It was in a song my Mother used to sing.”

“Really?” Mama tucks the blanket around my shoulders. “So you remember her?”

“I do not remember what she looked like. But sometimes I can hear her.”

“How?” Mama says.

“In my dreams.”

* * * *

No matter how many times I try, I cannot trigger Download. I can walk, I can speak, I can even write, but I cannot do that one thing. Mama tells me I should just keep trying, but as the days pass one by one and nothing happens, she tells me to not be afraid, because she will take care of me; she will always take care of me. Her words are a warm blue sweater.

Father does not visit my room again until the very last day of the four weeks. He barely enters, just stands in the doorway. Without greeting me or Mama he says, “Success?”

Mama nods.

Father smiles a lazy smile. “Really.”

Mama’s gaze sharpens into an iron spike. She looks like she would like to smash his teeth in with her g*n. “Yes. Really.”

“That’s excellent news, Charlotte. In that case, please bring Anna to my office tomorrow after breakfast. I’m looking forward to seeing her demonstrate the recovery of her Download skills.” Now he glances at me. “Don’t disappoint me, Anna.”

Before I can answer, Mama squeezes my shoulder. Her eyes glitter and there are pink spots on her cheeks like she has a fever. “Don’t worry, David. You won’t be disappointed.”

Father looks back at Mama. “We’ll see,” he says and turns away.

I wait for him to leave before whispering, “Why did you say that to Father? You know I have not been able to trigger Download even once. He will be angry. He is going to—”

“Shh,” Mama says, smoothing the hair off my forehead and tucking it behind my ears. “Who knows? Maybe you will be able to do it tomorrow. It’s amazing what the brain is capable of, especially under duress.”

“Duress,” I say. “Pressure-threats-constraints.”

Mama smiles. “Why, Anna! You just made a stroke joke.”

“It must be the duress,” I say.

Now Mama laughs. “That’s my girl.”

I am. I am her girl. I make heart hands.

* * * *

The next morning, I am so nervous I cannot eat my protein bar. Mama cannot eat hers, either. We stand up, leaving them on the table, and she puts her arm around my shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

Silently we make our way to Father’s office. He is standing in front of his desk, holding an uncapped syringe. “Good morning, Charlotte. Anna.”

“Good morning,” we say.

Father hands me the syringe and gestures for both Mama and me to sit in the chairs facing him. He perches on the desk, one leg straight, the other thigh resting along the edge. “Well,” he says, “let’s not drag this out. Go ahead, Anna.”

I take a deep breath and plunge the needle into the bend of my elbow. Then I wait; we all wait. Father stares into my eyes. Sweat beads up on my forehead.

The seconds tick by.

Nothing happens.

Another few beats.

Still nothing happens.

Father shakes his head, and my brain starts buzzing. “Just as I thought,” he says. “I knew you couldn’t—what are you doing?”

I turn to see Mama pointing her g*n at Father. “What I should have done weeks ago,” she says. She is trembling. The g*n is shivering in her grip.

Father holds up his hands. “Be reasonable, Charlotte. You know you’re not going to kill me. Let’s talk.”

“I’m done talking. So are you.”

Now it is Father’s turn to sweat, droplets gathering above his lip. “Come on, Charlotte. Do you really think you can run this place by yourself? Keep watch by yourself? You know what’s up there. Come on. Come on.”

The g*n is wobbling now. A muscle next to Mama’s mouth jumps.

Father keeps talking. His fear smells like a burning match. “You know I’m right. We have to stick together to protect ourselves and the children. Think about the children, Charlotte, think about their children, and their children’s children. We can give them everything, everything they need to succeed, to flourish. To rise from the ashes and rebuild our civilization. If you shoot me, this is where it all ends.” He spreads his arms to take in the whole room. He stares at Mama.

“What about Anna?” Mama finally says, her voice breaking. “I can’t let you hurt her.”

Father clasps his hands in front of his chest like he’s praying. “Of course I won’t hurt Emma.” I gasp as the sound of my false name wraps itself around my throat, squeezing, but Father just glances at me and smiles, then turns back to Mama. “I’m sorry if you misinterpreted my words,” he says. “I would nev—”

I yank the g*n from Mama’s hand.

I pull the trigger.

Father jerks back, and his body slithers to the floor. There is a hole between his wide eyes, brain bits splattered on the wall. I watch the blood slowly pool under Father’s head.

I look up to see Mama blinking at me. “He was lying,” I say. “His voice was full of snakes.” I place the g*n on the desk.

Mama hesitates, then puts her arm around my shoulder and hugs me. “Yes, baby,” she says. “You’re right.” She sounds shocked but also relieved. A light green cloud cocoons us.

I pull away to look into her eyes. “Mama? Can I ask you something?”

She nods.

“Is it true what Father said? That if we stop Downloading we will not survive?”

Mama strokes my cheek. “No,” she says. “I think we have everything we need.”

Jacqueline Freimor’s short stories have appeared in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, Vautrin, Black Cat Weekly, Rock and a Hard Place Magazine, and Mystery Magazine, among others, and the anthologies The Best Mystery Stories of the Year (in 2021) and The Best American Mystery and Suspense (in 2022 and 2023). Her novella “The Case of the Bogus Cinderellas” won the Wolfe Pack’s 2022 Black Orchid Novella Award and appears in the July 2023 issue of Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine.