Parable of the Talents - Octavia E Butler Page 0,81

ached and leaked and I felt sick. I needed to use the bathroom. I wanted my child, my husband, my home. Near me, Zahra was cold and stiff, her eyes closed, her face beautiful and peaceful, except for its gray color.

I got up, stepped over people as they began to wake up. I went to an empty corner that I knew needed repair. A small earthquake a few months ago had caused a slight separation between the wall and floor in that corner. It wasn’t obvious, but ants came in there, and water spilled near there ran out. Gray had promised to fix it, but hadn’t gotten around to it.

I moved people away from the area—told them what I was doing and why. They nodded and gave no trouble. I wasn’t the only one with a full bladder. I squatted there and urinated. When I finished, others followed my example.

“Is Teresa still there?” I asked Diamond Scott, who was nearest to the window.

Di nodded. “She’s unconscious—or maybe dead.” Her own voice sounded dead.

“I’m so hungry,” Doe Mora said.

“Forget hungry,” Tori said. “If I could just have some water.”

“Hush,” I said to them. “Don’t talk about it. It just makes you feel worse. Has anyone seen our captors this morning?”

“They’re building a fence,” Diamond Scott said. “You can stand back from the window and see them. In spite of the collars they’ve put on us, they’re building a fence.”

I looked and saw maggots being used to string wire behind several of our homes, up the slope. As I watched, they smashed through our cemetery, breaking down some of the young trees that we planted to honor our dead. The maggots were well named. They were like huge insect larvae, weaving some vast, suffocating cocoon.

Our captors were keeping our land, then. Until that moment, this had not occurred to me. They were not just out to steal or burn, enslave or kill. That was what thugs had always done before. That was what they did in my old neighborhood in Robledo, in Bankole’s San Diego neighborhood, and elsewhere. A lot of elsewheres. But these were staying, building a fence. Why?

“Listen,” I said.

Most of the room paid no attention to me. People had focused on their own misery or on the maggots.

“Listen!” I said, putting as much urgency as I could into my voice. “There are things we need to talk about.”

Most of them turned to look at me. Nina Noyer and Emery Mora still stared out the window.

“Listen,” I said once more, wanting to shout, but not daring to. “Sooner or later, our captors will come in here. When they do, we need to be ready for them—as ready as we can be.” I stopped, drew a deep breath, and saw that now they were all looking at me, all paying attention.

“We need to pretend to go along with them as much as we can,” I continued. “We need to obey them and watch them, learn what they are and what they want, and where they’re weak!”

People looked at me either as though they thought I’d lost my mind or as though it was good and hopeful news that our captors might, perhaps, have weaknesses.

“Anything they tell us may be lies,” I said. “Probably will be. So any of us who get the chance should spy and eavesdrop and share information with the rest. We can escape from them or kill them if we can learn about them and pool our knowledge. Learn about the collars, too. Any little thing might help. And most important, most essential, learn about the kids.”

“They’ll rape us,” Adela said, all but whimpering. “You know they will.” She knew they would—she who had already suffered so much rape. She and Nina and Allie and Emery. The rest of us had been lucky—so far. Now our luck has run out. Somehow, we’ll have to cope with that.

“I don’t know,” I said. “They could already have raped us, and they haven’t. But… I suspect you’re right. When men have absolute power over women who are strangers, the men rape. And we’re collared.” I glanced toward the window that Teresa’s panic had driven her through. “If someone decides to rape one of us, we won’t be able to stop him.” I paused again. “I think…if you can’t talk a guy out of it or beg and cry and get his pity or bluff him into believing you have a disease, then you’ll have to put up with it.” I paused,