American Elsewhere - By Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,257

elsewhere stare, horrified, astonished.

“No,” says one. “No. No!”

On the mesa, Parson lets out a huge breath, and says, “Yes.”

Mona and the wildling stare down at their dead mother. Then, slowly, the wildling kneels and reaches out with trembling hands to caress her still, pale face.

Mona understands. She still feels the same, despite everything: she wishes her mother were here, alive, healthy, and that her mother loved her daughter with all her heart. Such desires can never really go away, no matter what you learn about your parent.

The wildling looks up at her, and though his wooden face is as inscrutable as ever, Mona thinks she understands him. He is asking—What now?

“I don’t know,” says Mona. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Crushed, the wildling looks back down at his mother. Then, slowly, he gathers her body in his arms, stands, and carries her away, away from this perfect living room, down the hallway, and out of sight.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

As he carries Her he cannot help but think about how small She is. He did not know he had grown so great. Or perhaps, underneath it all, She had been this small all along.

The wildling carries his Mother down a long, dark tunnel. It stretches on and on, dipping through planes of reality, over and under and around Wink.

Finally it ends in a small stone chamber. In the center of the floor is a pile of rabbit skulls. The wildling kicks these away, clearing a space, and gently, gently lays his Mother down in its center.

He has Her now. They are reunited. At last.

He has dreamed of this moment. During his long, dark days chasing his family, and all throughout his long imprisonment, this is what he dreamed of, what he hoped for, what he needed.

He hates Her and loves Her. He wanted Her to love him, and hated Her because he knew She never would. But now he has Her.

He sits down across Her. She is terrible and beautiful, all at once. Even in death.

And he waits. For death can only last so long. Things like Mother can never truly die.

And when She reawakes… She will be here. She will be trapped here, with him, with nothing to see but these stone walls, and no one to speak to but Her son. Her beautiful son.

And he will make Her love him. Forever and ever and ever. And ever and ever and ever.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

Mona opens her eyes to a scene of total devastation.

The giant, strangely, is gone, yet she can see where it fell, leaving a huge indentation like a drained lake. It looks like it broke a gas main when it fell, and the shops on the northwest of the town square are ablaze.

All the children and the people from elsewhere are gathering at the square, staring at where their Mother once was. None of them move or speak. They don’t even notice the flames beginning to encircle them.

Mona walks down the stairs and out to the street.

The fire has reached the residential neighborhoods now. It is dancing up the walls and crawling across the roofs and leaping from structure to structure. The people (and the not-at-all people) watch the fire helplessly. Some do not even move or struggle as it consumes them.

One person asks her, “What do we do now? What do we do now that Mother is gone?”

But Mona has nothing to say. She climbs into the Charger, wheels it around, and points it back at the mesa again.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

The People from Elsewhere look around themselves helplessly. They have waited so long for Her to return, and now She is lost again. What is there to do?

It is Mr. Elm who speaks first, whispering in his wife’s ear.

“The car?” Mrs. Elm asks. “What about the car?”

He mumbles something.

“Oh,” she says. “Oh, you are right, aren’t you. The car does need work. It’s not quite right, is it?”

He shakes his head.

“No, it isn’t. I think you’re right. We do need to go home. We have some things to take care of. What if I make a nice pitcher of lemonade, just for you?”

But Mr. Elm is not listening—he turns and walks away, back to the house, back to do what he did the day before, and the day before that, and several hundred days before that.

One by one, they all agree—they have work to do. The Dawes children had planned to build a pirate ship out of sand in their sandbox, Mr. Trimley had intended to put up a new train, and