They all agree by way of tipping their teacups.
Selah One of the strongest supporters of the war was a wild man named Caldor Clemens. Clemens was a former member of the group of balloonists known as the Solution. The Solution was a collective of nine or ten bird-masked men who refused to obey the laws of the end of flight. The Solution staged free falls off the tops of buildings and tied kites like leashes to shop doors. They were an aggressive bunch.
I wanted my daughter back. I wanted my husband to be safe. So when I saw Caldor Clemens, all seven feet, three hundred pounds of him standing at my door with tears running down his cheeks, I pulled him into my home by the wrist and told him that the blame could be placed directly on February. That a war can only help us.
This is Caldor Clemens, I said.
It"s nice to meet you, said my husband.
Sc.r.a.ps of Parchment Found Under Selah"s Pillow I want my daughter back.
I want my daughter back.
I want my daughter back.
I want my daughter back.
I want my daughter back.
I want my daughter back.
I want my daughter back.
I want my daughter back.
I want my daughter back.
I want my daughter back.
I want my daughter back.
I want my daughter back.
I want my daughter back.
I want my daughter back.
I want my daughter back.
I want my daughter back.
I want my daughter back.
I want my daughter back.
I want my daughter back.
I want my daughter back.
I want my daughter back.
Thaddeus Today I took a trip into town with Caldor Clemens. The air was cold and smelled like apples. I saw a fox sitting on a mailbox. He had duck feathers in his mouth. People asked about the war against February. We couldn"t answer the questions fast enough. The crowd circled us ten rows deep.
Here, said Clemens, and he knelt down. Feeling somewhat foolish, I climbed onto his shoulders, where I sat perched high above the crowd once he stood.
I told the townsfolk that the war against February was as necessary as the air we breathed. If we refused to fight back, the cold and gray would settle like an endless blanket of rocks. I told them to remember what it was like to hold hands with May. I told them to remember what the streams sounded like outside their bedroom windows, the water pouring over August rocks, the birds calling from branches of green, dogs howling in the plains. I told them to close their eyes and ignore the snow melting on their faces but to remember what it looked and felt like when they woke in the morning to the sun draped over their beds, over their bare feet.
Clemens reached up and grabbed me around my ribs. He lifted me from his shoulders with a strange grace and elegance and placed me back on my own two feet.
Great speech, Thad. Really, really, really good.
Clemens punched me in the shoulder. It left a bruise the shape of a mallet"s head.
Caldor Clemens Thad paused for a moment. The smell of mint leaves rose like smoke from his skin. Then he mumbled a few positive comments. LIFE IS GOOD. PEOPLE LAUGH WITH JULY. FEBRUARY IS NOTHING, BECAUSE FEBRUARY IS s.h.i.t. He didn"t really say that last one. I said that. The smell stopped. He pointed at the sky. He told me to look for a girl"s feet through a hole. He said they could be Bianca"s. I didn"t see anything but clouds suffocating little stars. We watched for a few minutes until he said that a man and a woman were in a second hole. Still I didn"t see a d.a.m.n thing. Thad said that the man and woman were fighting, throwing b.a.l.l.s of paper at each other. I kept looking. Kind of crazy to think about holes in a sky. But maybe I did see two shadowy figures in that one hole. Who knows? I was drunk on cider, vodka and mud.
Orange Bird Mask Today we go up the hill with our weather-changing poles. Some of them are fifty feet long, requiring a dozen men to raise them. The idea is to destroy the clouds that cover the sun. An old Peter tactic he never had the chance to try.
It fails, because when we raise the weather poles, an ice storm freezes them together. They blow down the hill and toward the town. One weather pole spikes a shopkeeper"s window.
By nightfall we feel the sadness inside us that is February. I can smell the mint evaporating from Selah and Thaddeus.
Not every tactic will be effective against February, Thaddeus says. Everyone stay positive.
The War Effort has doubled since the great Thaddeus speech. We now have blacksmiths and sculptors and farmers and a little person and beekeepers, and most of them have lost their children to February. Most of them can"t unclench the fingers-into-fists that are their hearts.
Go home and make a large fire, Thaddeus tells us. Warm yourself until your sweat soaks through your clothes.
Thaddeus February has destroyed dozens of our limbs. Infected men stay in bed where they are sad and useless. The rest of us stay up at night sketching plans for a new war strategy. We take turns pacing, crumpling paper, disregarding each idea that springs from our cold mouths. Selah makes tea with two crossed mint leaves floating on the top of each cup. Without an idea, we question if we should even continue our daily a.s.sault of warm-weather tactics. A few of the men have dressed for the day in long pants and sweaters. They throw up their hands and walk out the door. Selah is standing in the doorway trying to make out the mountains behind the clouds. She drops her teacup. Then she says I should come look. I walk over, and she points to her feet and raises her finger up to the roofs of the town. The hot tea has burned a path through the snow from our front door and down into the town.
They find Bianca dead on
the riverbank. Two members of the War Effort drag her from the water and place her arms at her sides, rest her head on a rock. The members stare. She"s covered in blue ink, random letters they can"t form into words. When they tell Thaddeus, the smell of mint leaves is so strong it turns the windows in town green and the clouds look like moss.
Thaddeus tries to decipher the words, hopes for a complete sentence. He sends a messenger for the Professor.
The only word the Professor can make out is OWLS.
You should know that I would like to join the war against February, says the Professor.
Fine, says Thaddeus, b.u.t.toning his coat.
In a few days you should call a meeting. There is something you need to see, the Professor says. It"s a tactic against February. I think it could help.
Very well, says Thaddeus. A meeting tomorrow at my home. Good-bye.
The Professor"s plan for light
boxes was a mess of equations and diagrams nearly three hundred parchment sheets long. He didn"t sleep for days, using Thaddeus"s workshop to construct the first light box. When the pounding of metal, the sawing of wood, the breaking of gla.s.s, the tearing of paper stopped on the night of the fifth day, he emerged with his face covered in black grease and arms bloodied.
It"s finished, he told Thaddeus. He picked gla.s.s from his knuckles with his teeth and spit them out. Let"s begin the meeting so I can explain the effectiveness of light boxes.
The War Effort gathered. They watched the Professor lift the light box over his head and set it down until it was tight against his shoulders. In his right hand he held a dented metal box that had a cord attached. Lifting the metal box, he said in a m.u.f.fled voice, Now, this is the power supply that when switched will simulate the light of the sun which we haven"t seen in a year. The light box itself was constructed of wood fastened at odd angles with metal clamps, except for the front, which was a panel of gla.s.s. The top of the gla.s.s was where the light was going to shine-bulbs, the Professor called them. As he toggled the switch, everyone could see the sadness and frustration in his face, his eyes looking up at the bulbs as his head jerked from side to side. The switch clicked uselessly. He violently shook the metal box. He clutched the sides of his head and lost his balance a little.
Then the stench of burning leaves, and the bulbs bloomed crystal white across his face. The War Effort cheered. Some ran out into the snow-filled plains to mock the sky. Others took turns fitting the box over their heads, letting the light soak into their winter beards, their tongues tasting the blood from their splitting lips.
When Thaddeus went back into
the woods the three children weren"t there. Thaddeus looked up and saw the owls on a branch. He asked them if they had seen the three children. Owls can"t speak, and Thaddeus felt foolish. He walked around looking for footprints. A parchment was nailed to the tree. It stated that the three children had been kidnapped and should be added to the catalog of missing children. It was signed, February. Thaddeus saw footprints leading from the tree. They stretched several yards, then formed a circle. They continued straight, then another circle, then straight again. After each circle was a new type of footprint: bear, deer, squirrel, human, et cetera. The footprints continued this way as far into the woods as Thaddeus could see.
List Written by February and Carried in February"s Corduroy Coat Pocket 1. I am not a bad person. I have enjoyed June, July and August like everyone else. 1. I am not a bad person. I have enjoyed June, July and August like everyone else. 2. I fed you dandelions and picked the stems from your teeth with my tongue. 2. I fed you dandelions and picked the stems from your teeth with my tongue. 3. You smell of honey and smoke. That"s what I call you. Girl who smells of honey and smoke. But you"re more than that. You"re a field of dandelions. 3. You smell of honey and smoke. That"s what I call you. Girl who smells of honey and smoke. But you"re more than that. You"re a field of dandelions. 4. I have this nightmare where I"m standing in the field of dandelions holding a scythe. The horizon is children marching. Each child holds one of your teeth. 4. I have this nightmare where I"m standing in the field of dandelions holding a scythe. The horizon is children marching. Each child holds one of your teeth. 5. I"m so confused it almost feels calm. 5. I"m so confused it almost feels calm. 6. I am guilty of kidnapping children. I am guilty of Bianca and causing great pain to Thaddeus and Selah and the town. 6. I am guilty of kidnapping children. I am guilty of Bianca and causing great pain to Thaddeus and Selah and the town. 7. I want to be a good person, but I"m not. 7. I want to be a good person, but I"m not.
Thaddeus The first hot-water attack takes place from our home on the hill. We spend the first night filling large buckets with boiling water. We keep them hot by lighting small fires with piles of tree branches. We pour the buckets downhill toward the town. A cloud of steam rises into the sky as wide, empty trenches expand in the snow. The War Effort applauds like they are watching theater. The midget does somersaults down the hill. For a moment yellow streaks the sky. When I angle my face into the rays of sun, I notice the sky trembling around one of the holes. I see footprints running from the first to the second hole, where the dangling feet are no longer visible. I tell Selah to look up. She does but says she doesn"t see anything except the clouds separating a little. And then the sky flutters like a flag, and then it goes black like closed curtains of wool.
Bianca I could be in an underground cell. I could be dead. I miss air. I miss my father and mother. Every once in a while, the darkness disappears and I can see a man for a few minutes. Like yesterday when yellow streaked the room. He"s tall with hips like mine. I believe this is February. He doesn"t wash himself or clean his clothes. His hair is thick and uncombed, his beard scraggly, his pants torn, his shirt a faded gray. He sits at a desk or walks around the small room where he lives and where I stay hidden behind furniture. He cries a lot, too. Sometimes he just sits at his desk staring at the blank sheets of paper in front of him. But eventually he"ll move and write something down and get up and walk around again. February drinks too much coffee. In the afternoon he eats food that"s two thick slices of bread with a gooey substance and animal parts on the top. February is happy when he eats this meal. Sometimes the animal parts fall off the bread and onto the floor, but February doesn"t mind. He just reaches down and picks them off the dusty wood floor and eats. One time I saw him staring out the window at the snow falling, and he started to cry really loud. There are two holes in the floor. Sometimes I sit on the edge of one. Sometimes I think of jumping down.
Thaddeus curled himself around the
backside of sleeping Selah. In a hazy voice she asked if they would know June again. Thaddeus closed his eyes and saw the town burn to the ground as he nodded his nose down the b.u.mps of her spine. He opened his eyes. He thought of Bianca. When he fell asleep, he dreamed the clouds falling apart, the town starting anew. And when he woke in the morning he tried to remember the dream but couldn"t, no matter how long he spent on the hill with his eyes shut.
Selah, he yelled down the hill toward their home. Do you remember the dream I had last night.
Selah was pouring buckets of hot water around their home. She yelled back that she didn"t remember, but it was probably about balloons.
Of course, said Thaddeus. I would dream about balloons and flight. Thank you.
Selah wished for a moat to protect their home from February. Selah wished for the end of February and endless sadness and the end to missing children. Selah wished for the rebirth of town and flight. Selah wished for a sc.r.a.p of something beautiful.
Thaddeus After three days of dumping hot water by single buckets, our arms are long bruises unable to handle the turning of the sparrow-head faucet. Caldor Clemens invents the water-trough-horse system. He works for two days hacking down oak trees and carving out the trunks with knives and axes. When he finishes, the wooden trough is three times longer than our home. It stretches to the middle of where the corn-fields used to grow. Clemens shows us how to stick bits of gla.s.s to the bottom of the trough with birch sap he has collected in buckets. The trough itself won"t catch fire this way, he says, and lights a small fire beneath it. The water simmers. Clemens brings six horses up the hill and harnesses them with leather straps to the trough he has readied with boiling water. He raises his hand and sticks the fingers of the other in his mouth and whistles louder than I have ever heard a man whistle. The horses bolt forward, sending a wave of water rushing toward the town, melting the snow into slush.
We continue the attack for the rest of the week, until the streets clear-we want unfrozen land-and the snowfall melts on the soil like a ma.s.sive tongue. The children say the clouds look like rippling sails. The holes in the sky turn pink and a body falls from the sky and into the river. The War Effort, their fingers sticky with sap, point to the sky shouting for the death of February.
FEBRUARY SAT ON A COTTAGE FLOOR with a girl who smelled of smoke and honey. The girl was telling him that she was tired of being around someone who carried so much sadness in his body. February drew his kneecaps to his eye sockets. with a girl who smelled of smoke and honey. The girl was telling him that she was tired of being around someone who carried so much sadness in his body. February drew his kneecaps to his eye sockets.
February apologized. He rocked back and forth. When he stretched his legs back out the girl was smiling and running in place. February asked what she was doing. The girl who smelled of honey and smoke said it was to cheer him up.
I don"t think that"s going to work, said February. I"m sorry, but it just won"t.
Just try it, said the girl who smelled of honey and smoke. Please.
February stood up and ran in place. His joints popped. He b.u.mped into a table, knocking over a jug of water.
Looks like a flood, said the girl who smelled of honey and smoke, who pumped her legs and arms faster.
It does, said February, who watched the water expand across the table and drip onto the floor with great delight.
War Member Six (Green Bird Mask) The hot water worked better than we imagined. There was some flooding on account of the melted snow, but we used most of it to refill the buckets. February is breaking apart at the horizon seams. There are few clouds. The sky is a soft blue. The children"s cheeks are flushed red from the sun.
People in town laughed today. Someone even skipped. The first sprouts of green crops can be seen on the hillside. The town feels alive and productive again. We have won an early battle against February but know that anything can happen. For instance, there have been reports from the messengers that dark clouds are cascading from the mountain peaks. Grizzly bears were seen b.u.t.toning deer-skinned coats in case of freezing temperatures. The carpenters have boarded up their windows and refuse to leave their homes. They mumble sadness. Sadness sounds like bubbles blowing slowly in stream water.
THE GIRL WHO SMELLED OF HONEY and smoke enjoyed collecting old books on plants. One night while out on the cottage porch sitting on the swinging bench with February, she opened to a chapter about vines and moss. One page had twelve different pictures of skinny green vines climbing the side of a Victorian brick house. and smoke enjoyed collecting old books on plants. One night while out on the cottage porch sitting on the swinging bench with February, she opened to a chapter about vines and moss. One page had twelve different pictures of skinny green vines climbing the side of a Victorian brick house.
When the girl stood up to go inside and check on the pot roast she kissed February on his forehead. February flipped through the plant book until he stopped at a picture that showed a deer skeleton in a forest, spores of moss covering the white bone.
In only a week, the caption read, this deer skeleton will be blanketed with a spongy green moss.
The girl came back outside. She asked if he found anything interesting. She said the pot roast was ready. February nodded. He said that he liked the idea of moss.
Thaddeus Spores of moss appeared on the horses" feet, and layers of green grew on their legs and backs. Selah spent her nights trying to defend against the attack of moss by pulling it out in patches and then soothing the horses" b.l.o.o.d.y flesh with wet magnolia petals. We continued the water-trough attacks until the moss collapsed each horse. A dark green blanket grew over their eyes.
Selah couldn"t destroy the moss with her hands anymore, because it was so thick. It was now bigger than each horse. She slept next to the dying horses until the moss made its way down their throats. After the horses died, the moss moved its way from the woods and up the hill toward our home. Caldor Clemens swung the scythe like he was chopping wheat from an advancing crop field. He screamed and swore against February. Two priests came to sprinkle holy water around our home. They looked confused. The sky turned green, then black, then green again. A wolf stood on its hind legs and ripped opened its stomach. Ants carrying cubes of moss crawled out.
Eventually we tired. Clemens and I and the War Effort moved inside my home and barricaded the door with our backs. Then the moss moved its way under the door and over our boots.
Short List Found in February"s Back Pocket 1. I"ve done everything I can. 1. I"ve done everything I can. 2. I need to know you won"t leave. 2. I need to know you won"t leave. 3. I wrote a story to show love, and it turned to war. How awful. 3. I wrote a story to show love, and it turned to war. How awful. 4. I twisted myself around stars and poked the moon where the moon couldn"t reach. 4. I twisted myself around stars and poked the moon where the moon couldn"t reach. 5. I"m the kind of person who kidnaps children and takes flight. 5. I"m the kind of person who kidnaps children and takes flight.
Selah To watch the way those horses died. To have felt the waves of their muscles contracting and shaking under that skin of mushy green. It was too much for me. The floor and walls and ceiling of our home were covered in moss. The dog was covered in moss but was still alive, and he ran around the home barking green-colored clouds. Thaddeus was tearing it out in fistfuls from the walls. Caldor was swinging a scythe in wide, low arcs.