One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 7, page 2

(start of book) (start of chapter) (previous page)



Fírí Parızada looked up when she heard footsteps stomping on a wood floor. She couldn’t see anything because they were around the corner from the hallway she sat in. The old woman, Vata, hadn’t been so loud when she left, so it must be someone else. Was it Zhíno? Had he found her?

Fírí scrambled to her feet, looking around for something to defend herself with. Nothing in the wide hall but her shoe duffel and dirt. Her only option was to flee--but what if it wasn’t Zhíno? What if Zhíno was in the back yard? She’d be running straight into a bullet. She froze, unable to choose her destiny. Which way was freedom? Which way was death?

In the chapel, the old woman murmured, “Thank you, dearest. Could you please go to the kitchen door? Someone is in the back yard. See if they need help.”

Even through her anxiety, Fírí recognized that Vata now talked different than before, as if she were floating through a dream.

“As you wish,” rumbled a man’s voice.

It wasn’t Zhíno. Fírí’s muscles relaxed. She’d done the right thing by not running out the door. She exhaled at great length and braced herself with one hand against the rough stucco wall.

“Oh,” Vata added, completely mellow, “and please use my slippers. Your feet are dirty now.”

Fírí frowned. What had happened to the old woman? Was she drugged?

“Of course,” replied the man with a biting edge that Vata probably didn’t notice in her current state.

Fírí crept toward the chapel, hugging the wall on the right-hand side so she could get right up beside the corner without being seen.

The man stomped on the wood floor again and then a door clicked shut.

Fírí peered into the chapel.

Inside the circle of flickering torches stood a meter-high slab of rock. Intricately carved designs zigged and zagged over its rough-hewn sides. And on top the stone altar lay the dark-haired foreign kid from the driveway.

“Vuzhí and Pétíso!” They’re going to sacrifice him! Wait, did I say that out loud?

“Dear, there’s no need to hide.”

Vata walked into view, smiling pleasantly at Fírí with eyes half-closed.

The last time Fírí had seen the foreign kid--Bhanar, his name was--he’d been ordering her to strip naked at gunpoint. Maybe letting this old hag kill him in some ancient ritual would be just what he deserved. A smile pulled up the corner of her mouth.

The old woman shrugged at Fírí’s lack of response and turned away. “Just stay out of the way, dear.”

Fírí stepped forward, fully into the chapel for the first time. She gasped.

To the side of the altar lay a horse and a dog, both in somewhat unnatural positions. Vata squatted down beside the dog, which looked like a chocolate lab but with longer hair.

“You killed them!” Fírí rushed forward, but stopped short, still outside the circle of torches, as if her subconscious knew she’d be tainted by evil if she penetrated that boundary.

Without looking up, the old woman replied, “They all live.”

“But. . .” Fírí stood with mouth slightly agape. What is going on here? Why are there animals on the ground? Are they drugged? Is Bhanar? Is Vata about to pass out, too, drugged the same way? That old man must have got them all: Bhanar, Vata, and the animals. He’s going to kill them! I have to get out of here before he finds me and kills me, too.

The tiny old woman picked up the dog, which seemed far heavier than she could carry, and set it down on the altar beside the foreigner.

“What are you doing?” asked Fírí. “We’ve got to get out of here, before the old guy comes back. We need to find an antidote!” She stretched her hand out toward Vata, leaning as far as she could over the imaginary line between two torches, straining to extend her arm further.

The old lady turned to face Fírí, lifting up a long knife. “Be quiet now, dear.”

(next page)