Zinaida felt the older woman’s body move, then settle on top of her, felt Theseus’s arm go around her neck. WIth one of her arms pinned between them, she started to struggle, to get her free arm around. It was futile. Through the rush of panic, the fight for breath, she dimly heard the woman’s voice close to her ear.
“You ever raise a knife to me again and I will end you. Don’t think for a second that I can’t or that I won’t.”
The pressure around her neck and on her back was suddenly gone. Zinaida lay in the dirt, gasping, as footsteps receded into the distance. She heard the lift rattle, counterweights clattering as it ascended.
–
On discovering her skills, the administration had put her in touch with the city’s construction committee, people tasked with repairing and restoring what had been lost. That, that she could do. As the years began to pass, Paudel had tried to help save what they could, improve what they had. Electricity was a fading memory, fuel stocks depleted, so everything had to be done by hand. The city library became their most valuable asset and new books more precious than gold. From time to time, there’d be rumours of a collection, built by some crazy philanthropist somewhere north of Kathmandu. People were in it, she’d heard, helping others out. As fairy stories went, she used to think this was one of the better ones. Occasionally the story came with an embellishment, a young girl that walked with a tiger, the Collection’s guardian, the Curator’s Cat. She’d laughed, discounted it completely at that point, until she came across the old newspaper cutting, many years later.
She’d been searching the archives at an old abandoned Kathmandu shipping company for something else when she realised that they’d shipped a vast amount of cargo and materials north just before the war. Someone had tucked a newspaper clipping in with the invoices, a clipping that talked about a collection of books and art buried into a local mountain for safe keeping, funded by a foreign millionaire, Isaac Leibowitz.
Paudel had stared at it in utter disbelief, then had grabbed for the invoices.
They’d all gone to the same place. A village called Shikharbesi, about three days walk away.
–
She’d cleaned herself up a little, had considered just hiding in a dark corner somewhere, but the basement was a little too quiet, a little too empty, despite the plants and the clutter. It was too easy to hear the echoes of faint whispers.
Better to face Theseus now, even if she had gone crazy.
Zinaida came out of the lift onto Class 0. Two chairs sat in the middle of the open space they’d been sprawled in before. Theseus was in one, dressed now, shotgun sat across her lap. The other chair was a good fifteen feet away. Theseus left the gun in her lap, pointed a bandaged finger at the chair.
“Sit down.”
She tried to read the woman’s face and couldn’t. Dark eyes watched her cross the room, watched her sit, gave nothing away. They stared at each in other in silence for a few moments.
“Do you want to tell me what that was about?” Theseus’ voice was calm, conversational. Zinaida wondered for a second when the explosion of rage would follow. She hunted for the right words.
“I… I came down and you were talking to someone. Someone that wasn’t there.”
Theseus made a noncommital sound, gestured for her to carry on.
“…I kept hearing things, like in that bunker… and I thought that meant it was here. And that meant you were talking to it.” She paused, looked away. “I keep hearing them.”
“Even now?”
She concentrated for a second, listened. “Faintly. They’re quieter with you here.” She looked up again, met the dark eyes. “Who were you talking to?”
“I told you. I was talking to The Collection.” Theseus rubbed her face wearily, sat back in her chair and blew out a long sigh. “I started hearing it properly just after we got back, although now that you say that you’re hearing things too, I’ve got to wonder if we’re both going a little mad.”
“I can’t hear it.”
“No, it said you couldn’t.” Theseus tipped her head to one side, gave Zinaida a considering look. “The Collection thought I should have killed you downstairs. You’d just tried to stab me, after all.”
A rush of fear; suddenly she felt cold and sick, very aware of the gun in Theseus’ lap. “I’m… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.” Tears suddenly pricked at her eyes, confusion welling up in her. “I got scared and the noises got really loud and I didn’t think, I just kind of did it.”
For the first time in years, completely baffled by everything and how she was feeling, Zinaida burst into tears.
–
Shikharbesi was snuggled in between two ridges, just below where the permanent snowline now was. She’d felt a little silly, asking about a girl with a tiger, right up until the old man she was talking to smiled broadly. Tia? Yes, she’d been here, although not much recently. They had been wondering if she was ok up in the mountain. They hadn’t seen her parents for a while.
Anticipation flooded her, an almost choking sensation of having something incredible within reach. She’d offered to check, casually asked for directions. He’d pointed up at the nearest peak and had told her to follow the path.
–
Theseus let the girl weep. It gave her a chance to think. If Zinaida was hearing noises, then there was a good chance that the voice of The Collection wasn’t real, was just her own psychosis showing.
I’m not a psychosis. It actually sounded irritated.
“Yes, but then you would say that.” she muttered softly. “How does a crazy person tell if they’re crazy?”
Psychological textbooks in Class 1?
She smothered a laugh. At least her psyche had a sense of humour. Unlike Zinaida’s. She sobered quickly. The gun was heavy in her lap. She didn’t want that to be the decision, but had to be ready in case.
She had a couple of choices. Zinaida had, up until now, been a good person to have around. She was learning fast, had been useful when they’d left to conduct trades. And, Theseus had to acknowledge, it was good to have the company and good to have someone else who could take over if she couldn’t carry on.
Come on, be honest with yourself. Someone here in case you die.
“Please shut up for a minute, will you? Do you want me to leave you in the hands of a potential book burner?” She subvocalised her response, not wanting to spook Zinaida more.
The voice fell silent.
On the other hand, if Zinaida was genuinely going over the edge, she might lash out in another murderous fit. That wouldn’t just kill her, it would probably mean The Collection would cease to be of use to anyone. When she’d come to The Collection, when she’d found Tia’s journal, still open on the table beneath the Observatory, she’d realised she couldn’t take it back to Kathmandu. The city was surviving, already had its own resources. There were other people out there who didn’t have the resources, who needed the help; The Collection could reach them and was maybe the only thing that could.
It’s not up to you, either. You help whoever needs it, no matter what. We’re too good at forgetting we’re all in this mess together. You have to be above that. Otherwise…
You have to look after them both, Theseus. Please. Please love them both for me.
You have to be above that.
Shit.
Theseus set the safety on the shotgun, put it down. Since the first bomb had dropped, life had been one long run of risks. There was a risk she was going crazy too. She didn’t know what it would mean if she was, but no matter what, she was going to try and help people until she couldn’t anymore. At least her kind of crazy seemed mostly benign.
“Zinaida!” The girl looked up, slightly fearfully, eyes puffy and red. “We might be going crazy. We’re probably going crazy. That thing has quite likely damaged us both. I don’t know how much, yet.” Zinaida flinched slightly, involuntarily, as Theseus stood; Theseus showed her empty palms, slowly moved closer, and offered her her hand.
“But you know what? We’ve got work to do, and I don’t think I can do it on my own.”
–
The blizzard had caught her almost unaware. Blinded, and going slowly numb from the cold, Paudel had struggled onwards, knowing she was too far from the village to turn back. She’d slipped, fallen, cursed herself for having been so stupid. How stupid to have believed that she could find a hidden door to a hidden bunker in the vast entirety of the mountains.
Something had moved ahead of her. A flash of orange. A high viz vest? After all this time? She’d shouted, screamed, clawed her way back to her feet and stumbled forward, driven by a burst of hope. There had been another flash of orange to her right; she’d shambled towards it, literally fallen into the cave that had been hidden by the driving snow. Panting for breath, skin burning in the absence of wind, she’d looked up just in time to see the tiger disappear into the back of the cave. Paudel had got back up, mindful of the risks but also of the stories of the Curator’s Cat, and had cautiously followed.
Deeper into the cave, the light and the temperature had started to rise. She had found the tiger stood outside a doorway, the metal door held open with a chair. The big cat had looked at her, and then had disappeared inside with a flick of its tail.
She had stepped through the door after it, out of her world for the last time.
Linh Paudel’s journey was finally over.
Theseus’ was just beginning.
–
~ Oldgreymane, 19 November 2016.
(Based in The Collection world, created by A.C.Macklin. If you haven’t read it yet, go here:https://everwalker.wordpress.com/2016/11/01/read-this-first-ch-1 Seriously, go read it. My own contributions start here: https://oldgreymane.wordpress.com/2016/11/15/the-light-in-the-dark/)
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