American Elsewhere

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE




Throughout all this, Parson speaks.

Mona tries to listen. It is almost impossible, as the geography of the town keeps changing so wildly and abruptly (at certain points Mona is not even sure she has ears, feeling as if her physical being has, again, been disassembled and reassembled), but the words start sinking in, as if she is listening without knowing she is listening.

When everything comes roaring back, Mona is sitting on the ground with her baby sleeping in her arms. Gracie has her head on Mona’s shoulder, and is weeping silently, shoulders trembling. The rifle is on the ground beside them. Mona has no idea how they got into these positions. She especially has no idea how her daughter managed to fall asleep during all that.

“I’m sorry, Gracie,” says Mona, though she is hardly aware of what’s going on.

Gracie only sobs, despondent, and buries her face farther in Mona’s shoulder. Soon she’s infringing on the baby’s space, much to the baby’s dislike.

“It’ll be okay,” Mona says. “I promise, we’ll figure out—”

Then the intense buzz fills the air, many times louder as it was before. Even Parson looks up, disturbed, and Mona’s daughter wakes and begins crying again.

They watch as all the people of Wink—if they could be called such—turn and begin encircling Mr. First.

“No!” cries Gracie. She stands. “They’re going to trap him! We—we can’t let them do this!”

“I am afraid we can,” says Parson.

“We can’t! We have to do something!”

“There is nothing to do,” says Parson. “He knew this would happen.”

“How do you know that?” Mona asks.

“Because he discussed it with me.”

Gracie turns on him. “He what?”

“When you left him to go fetch Miss Bright’s car,” says Parson, “I returned to him in his canyon. We knew what was happening, and tried to think of something to do. This was our solution.”

“You… you planned this? You’re letting him do this? Letting him die?”

“It was the only way,” says Parson.

“The only way what? The only way you could get what you wanted? The only way to win another one of your f—your f*cking family tiffs?” It seems to take some effort for Gracie to swear.

“No,” says Parson. “The only way that you would live.”

Gracie blinks. Mona can see her reviewing the statement in her head. “What?”

“First has known something was coming for some time. Not this, precisely, but something. He has taken steps to prepare.” Parson’s small, boyish face grows queerly intense. “You understand this. You know what steps he has taken.”

Gracie shrinks a little, as if some inner part of herself is collapsing. Whatever steps First has taken, she is clearly not keen to discuss them.

“Yes,” says Parson. “These steps, these choices, limited his options later on. And he was most specific that you should be spared.”

Gracie is so shaken by this that she cannot answer. Mona says, “So you’re saying that we’re going to live?”

“No,” says Parson. “First is never quite sure of anything, temporally speaking. He does not predict, he estimates. But this provides the greatest chance for succe—”

A deafening scream echoes through Wink: NO! NO! I WAS HAPPY! WHY CAN’T YOU LET ME BE HAPPY? WHY CAN’T YOU EVER LET ME BE HAPPY?

Gracie wheels around. She sees the giant bending down to something trapped on the ground. She clasps either side of her head, falls to her knees, and screams.

None of them quite sees what the giant does to First. It looks like nothing at all: there is no light, no noise, no gore or blood of any kind. They can just see First’s translucent form struggling under the masses of people, and the giant seems to brush something with its fingertips, and then…

The mound of people collapse as if they had all been piled on top of a balloon that’s just popped. It’s as if First was there… and then he wasn’t. As if the giant has simply wished him out of all realities altogether.

For the first time, Mona begins to understand exactly how powerful her Mother really is.

Yet the moment First is gone, Gracie begins to change. She doesn’t notice it initially: she is bent over on the ground, sobbing… yet then her hair begins to rise, as if she is holding on to a Van de Graaff generator. Her sobs taper off, and she looks up, confused.

Mona jumps slightly: Gracie’s eyes are now coal-black.

“What’s happening to me?” Gracie asks. “What… what’s going on? Mona?”

Mona, in turn, says, “Parson?”

“A transfer of power,” says Parson.


Gracie starts breathing very quickly. Then, as if suddenly, terribly pained, she begins screaming. She stands up, but there’s something unnatural about it—something in the way her arms appear limp, and her torso is slumped forward—that makes Mona think she’s not standing, but being pulled…

Could it be, thinks Mona, another of Mr. First’s puppet tricks?

Gracie flings out her arms to point to the sky. She stops screaming; then, slowly, she begins to levitate, rising about nine feet into the air and turning to face the giant. The air grows shimmery around her, as if her body is radiating immense heat, and her skin loses color until it’s as white as paper…

“I always wondered,” says Parson beside her as this horrific change takes place, “why he made her more like him—more like us. He didn’t need to, not for his little dalliances. But eventually I understood—he was getting her ready. He wanted to leave her a way out. He wanted to give her the abilities to punch through the fence encircling Wink, evade capture, and go free. Naturally, in all of Wink, only Mr. First himself had that sort of power. And the only way to give it to her…”

“Was for him to die,” says Mona quietly.

“Yes.”

Gracie’s body slowly relaxes. The hairs on her head begin to lie back down again. Then, slowly and gracefully, she descends to stand on the street again. But there is something about the way she stands that causes Mona to wonder if she’s still floating: it’s as if, should she want, she could go flying up into the atmosphere, shrieking like a fighter jet, and never return.

“Gracie,” says Parson (and Mona is pleased to hear that he is a bit wary), “are you all right?”

Gracie does not answer.

“Can you hear me, Gracie?” asks Parson.

Gracie nods.

“Do you understand what has happened, Gracie?” Parson asks.

“Some of it,” says Gracie softly. There is something hollow and resonant to her voice, as if it is echoing down many invisible passageways.

“Then you know this change will not last forever,” says Parson.

Gracie nods again.

“How long do we have?” asks Mona.

“An hour, perhaps less,” says Parson.

“That’s it?”

“Yes. I believe this change was only intended to get Gracie out of Wink.” He looks back at the giant, which is quickly approaching the town proper. “Along with us, if things had gone accordingly…”

“What the hell do you mean, if?”

Parson’s tiny child-face begins sweating. “Unless I am mistaken… First’s skirmish with Mother did not quite go as he foretold. It was meant to take longer, give us a chance to prepare. He must have forgotten Mother’s strength.”

“Prepare for what?” asks Mona.

“I told you where the wildling is,” he says. “But with Mother approaching so quickly, I do not know what to do with it. This is not what was predicted, Miss Bright. I was supposed to have more time.”

“So… you don’t know what to do?”

He shakes his head. “I did not plan for this. I could try what I’d originally planned, but we have only minutes to spare… I am sure it would not work. I’m sorry.”

Mona looks at Gracie. “You got any ideas?”

Gracie stares off into space with her black eyes, head cocked. It’s like she’s on some wonderful drug. Mona envies her, a little.

“Well, f*ck.” Mona sighs, and looks at her rifle.

Gears start engaging one another in her head.

After all, deep in every Texan’s heart, there remains the steadfast belief that any problem can be solved with a big enough gun.

“I think I have an idea,” says Mona quietly. “But it’s a desperate one.”

Parson watches the giant run toward them. “Well, I, personally, am quite desperate.”

The idea keeps dripping into Mona’s head, taking shape, turning color.

This is such a dumb thing to do, she thinks. And it is. Because it would take innumerable things happening in the right ways at the right times, and Mona has become intimately aware that the rules in Wink are, at best, whimsical. But it’s this, or they all just sit here and wait.

“Parson,” she says, “you’re going to take my… the baby.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. And Gracie… I think you’d be a lot better with these than I am.” She holds out the two hand lenses to her. Parson has to poke Gracie to make her notice. She looks at the mirrors, then takes one in each hand. Immediately they gain a shimmering, pearly sheen.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” says Mona. She stands, and looks at her daughter, who is watching the giant approach with marvelously alert eyes.

It hurts to look at her, just to see her. A tiny, independent creature, sitting up straight in the crook of Mona’s arm and toying with her left ear. It is so astounding to see thought in those eyes.

If I were to die today, thinks Mona, I would die so happy. Because any world with you in it is a good one.

But she’s not going to die today.

“I’m gonna give you away for a bit,” whispers Mona to her daughter, “but don’t worry. I’ll be back. It’ll just be a minute.” She holds her out to Parson. The child starts protesting almost immediately.

“What are you planning to do?” asks Parson as he takes her.

Mona tells him.

“Oh,” says Parson. “Oh, my goodness.”

“No shit. You hotfoot to the town square, okay? And you,” she says to Gracie, “you head to the mesa. Can you do that qui—”

Gracie smiles at Mona, her dark eyes shining, and then it’s as if she steps behind an invisible wall, and she’s gone.

The two of them stare at the empty space where she was.

“It appears she can do that quite quickly,” says Parson.

Mona looks to the mesa as if expecting to see Gracie standing on the top. “I hope she’s in place.”

“We must assume so. Are you sure you wish to do this?”

“I can’t think of a better idea. But you listen—if things don’t go to plan, you grab that little girl and you run. I don’t care about any of this ‘can’t leave Wink’ shit, you figure out something. And don’t you come back for me. Just get her out of here. You understand?”

Parson nods.

“Good,” says Mona. “Then get moving.” And she turns and sprints across the street.