the dream, “So you came with us after all. I’m so happy.” But she didn’t answer.
Transcript of Witness Testimony 369B
64
The night slid by in silence. Agnes was asleep, and the guy driving was not what you’d call talkative. I guess he thought of us as cargo to be delivered, and who ever talked to the cargo?
After a while we turned down a narrow side road; water glinted ahead. We pulled in beside what looked like a private dock. There was a motorboat with someone sitting in it.
“Wake her up,” the driver said. “Take your stuff, there’s your boat.”
I poked Agnes in the ribs and she started awake.
“Rise and shine,” I said.
“What time is it?”
“Boat time. Let’s go.”
“Have a good trip,” said our driver. Agnes started thanking him some more, but he cut her off. He tossed our new backpacks out of the truck and was gone before we were halfway to the boat. I was using my flashlight so we could see the path.
“Turn out the light,” the person in the boat called softly. It was a man, wearing a waterproof with the hood up, but the voice sounded young. “You can see okay. Take it slow. Sit on the middle seat.”
“Is this the ocean?” Agnes asked.
He laughed. “Not yet,” he said. “This is the Penobscot River. You’ll get to the ocean soon enough.”
The motor was electric and very quiet. The boat went right down the middle of the river; there was a crescent moon, and the water was reflecting it.
“Look,” Agnes whispered. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful! It’s like a trail of light!” At that moment I felt older than her. We were almost outside Gilead now, and the rules were changing. She was going to a new place where she wouldn’t know how things were done, but I was going home.
“We’re right out in the open. What if anyone sees us?” I asked the man. “What if they tell them? The Eyes?”
“People around here don’t talk to the Eyes,” he said. “We don’t like snoops.”
“Are you a smuggler?” I said, remembering what Ada had told me. My sister nudged me: bad manners again. You avoided blunt questions in Gilead.
He laughed. “Borders—lines on a map. Things move across, people too. I’m just the delivery boy.”
The river got wider and wider. The mist was rising; the shores were vague.
“There she is,” the man said finally. I could see a darker shadow, out on the water. “The Nellie J. Banks. Your ticket to paradise.”
XXIII
Wall
The Ardua Hall Holograph
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Aunt Vidala was discovered lying behind my statue in a comatose condition by elderly Aunt Clover and two of her septuagenarian gardeners. The conclusion the paramedics came to was that she’d had a stroke, a diagnosis confirmed by our doctors. Rumour sped round Ardua Hall, sad shakes of the head were exchanged, and prayers for Aunt Vidala’s recovery were promised. A broken Pearl Girls necklace was found in the vicinity: someone must have lost it at some point, a wasteful oversight. I will issue a memorandum about vigilance in regard to those material objects it is our duty to safeguard. Pearls do not grow on trees, I will say, even artificial ones; nor should they be cast before swine. Not that there are any swine at Ardua Hall, I will add coyly.
I paid Aunt Vidala a visit in the Intensive Care Unit. She was lying on her back with her eyes closed and a tube going into her nose and another one going into her arm. “How is our dear Aunt Vidala?” I asked the nursing Aunt on duty.
“I have been praying for her,” said Aunt Something. I can never remember the names of the nurses: it is their fate. “She’s in a coma: that may aid the healing process. There may be some paralysis. They’re afraid her speech might be affected.”
“If she recovers,” I said.
“When she recovers,” the nurse said reproachfully. “We don’t like to voice anything negative within the hearing of our patients. They may appear to be asleep, but frequently they are fully aware.”
I sat beside Vidala until the nurse had gone. Then I made a rapid inspection of the pharmaceutical aids available. Should I up the anaesthetic? Tamper with the tube feeding into her arm? Pinch off her oxygen supply? I did none of these. I believe in effort, but not in unnecessary effort: Aunt Vidala was most likely negotiating her exit from this world all on her own. Before leaving the Intensive Care Unit, I pocketed a