Through the Windshield Glass (11 page)

Without
warning, my stomach revolted against me, I leaned over the side of the bed and
vomited until I felt like my insides were going to burst into flame. As soon as
Hannah had seen me roll over she knew something was wrong. She held my hair,
patted my back, and shushed my sobs as I removed the poison from my system.
Hannah seemed unafraid of the black liquid that continued to pour from my
mouth, she even stooped to look at it when I had finished and returned to my
back.

"Demon
poison all right," Hannah said. She said demon like Daman, "you been
kissin' a demon, lady?"

My throat hurt
too much to respond, instead, like a child, I nodded and began to sob. I hid my
face from Hannah and wailed into one of the many pillows keeping me on the bed.
Hannah seemed to realize she had done something wrong, in an instant she was
sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling me into her lap. I let her; it felt
good to have someone hold me, even if I didn't know the person.

As I cried
Hannah sang something in a lilting language I didn't recognize. Hannah’s voice
was soothing and the song eased my nerves. Before I knew it, I was relating the
entire story of my death and what had happened after to Hannah. I left out
names though; they were too painful to remember.
　
She
continued to sing and as she did I realized my body hurt less and less.

When I had
finished the recounting of my tale, I looked up at Hannah’s face to see that
her eyes were set and hard, she stopped singing and helped me into a sitting
position next to her.

"Mortal
death didn't used to be that way," Hannah said. She gently took my hair in
her hands and began to twist it into two braids. She tied each off with a bit
of cord from a pocket in the pants she wore. They were loose brown leather, and
looked like something what would be worn under armor. Hannah had paired the
pants with a tan tunic that just accentuated the beauty of her skin and made
her look regal. Being in her presence I felt immature, juvenile, and naive.
Hannah’s mere demeanor made her seem wise and too knowledgeable about too many
things for her age, which can't have been much greater than my own.

"When I
died, I came straight here," Hannah continued. I was tempted to ask her
how long ago that had been, but I resisted and Hannah went on, "most of the
people here are like you though. It used to be that when you got here, you
could choose to move on, or continue living here to help the new arrivals cope.
Then the one who calls himself Alecsander took control. He gave himself that
name, what a conceited meaning."

Hannah trailed
off and I could feel the contempt she had for Alecsander coming from her.

"What does
his name mean?" I asked. Again, I felt like a child begging for more of a
story before bed.

Hannah scoffed,
"Defender of people. Calls himself the new Alecsander the Great. His
followers were upset that so many people had easy lives and just walked right
through here and moved on without truly knowing what others had gone through.
Before, you died, walked through a hallway, opened a door at the end and came
here. From there you could decide what to do. Alecsander was a prince; he
overthrew his father and changed the rules."

"Has
anyone ever made it through all twelve doors?" I asked.

"A
few," Hannah replied. She didn't offer up any more information on the
subject which led me to believe that there was something terrible about those
people she wasn't telling me.

"Can I
meet them?"

Hannah patted
my leg and stood up, "After you've eaten. Now that we know you survived
the demon poison we have to keep you alive."

"Keep me
alive? I'm already dead."

Hannah smiled
at me, and shook her head, "That's what you think. You're more alive here
than you were on Earth."

I started to
ask Hannah what she meant, but she just shook her head and told me she'd be
back with food and more explanation in an hour or so.

"Meanwhile,"
Hannah said, "try and rest some more. Demon poison takes a lot out of
you."

I didn't think
I'd be able to sleep when Hannah left, I was too confused about everything that
had happened, but just to make Hannah happy, I decided to lie down and at least
pretend to sleep. It didn't take long for my ruse to become reality.

The instant I
woke up I knew I'd slept longer than an hour, I should have known Hannah
wouldn't wake me, even if it meant food.

"So you
are alive, Hannah wasn't lying."

The voice had
come from my right, startling me more than I wanted to admit. As soon as my
still groggy mind processed what had made the noise I felt ridiculous for being
frightened.

The speaker was
a girl, no more than ten years old and that was being generous seeing how small
she was.

"My name
is Aida. Kinga gave me that name, Kinga says it means visitor, because I'm the
only one who isn't worried I'll never leave this place. What's your name? What
does it mean? Who gave it to you?"

Aida's words
were strung together so quickly it was hard to separate one from another, but
her name seemed true enough. She hadn't stopped grinning since I'd opened my
eyes and it didn't look like she was going to stop anytime soon. For some reason
it made me upset that she was so happy, I wanted Aida to be as depressed as me.
And who was Kinga?

"Alice, it
doesn't mean anything, and my parents gave it to me," I said coldly,
"don't you want to go by the name your parents gave you? Don't you miss them
at all?"

It was a cruel
thing to do, almost the same as Lacey accusing me of not loving James. However,
my words seemed to bounce right off Aida's shiny smile.

"My
parents called me, Leigh. but here everyone has a different name. Usually the
first person you meet gives it to you."

"Why?"
I asked. I had to admit I was truly interested now.

"It's
something that describes you, usually. But if you're like Kinga you can earn a
new name. Avery says it means 'stubborn mule', but I looked it up. It actually
means bravery in war. Kinga is stronger than a million Averys and is leading
the war against Alecsander."

I still didn't
understand, "But still, why go by different names?"

I had been so
focused on Aida and her answers to my questions that I hadn't noticed a very
tall black woman in the doorway. She was dressed similarly to Hannah, but that
was where the comparison ended. This new woman was wraith thin, angry, and
wreaked of authority, her whole demeanor was cold and demanding, "Most
people don't want to remember who they were when they come here,” the woman
said, “A new name feels like a new start to them and they can more easily
forget the person they were. The rest of us take new names to keep up
continuity and respect for those who chose to change theirs. More prodigious
names are like titles among us, but only when given by others."

"Yeah,"
Aida agreed, "like Kinga's!"

"That's
enough," Kinga said, "Isn't it time for you to be in bed?"

Aida hugged me
tightly, completely catching me off guard, "You're nice, Alice. I like
you."

Aida hopped off
my bed and skipped out the door, poking Kinga in the stomach on the way out.

"How did
she die?" I asked Kinga.

"You'll
have to ask her that one yourself," Kinga replied, she set a tray of food
down in front of me. From what I could see it was all bland, unseasoned, and
probably flavorless food. Not really my idea of a good meal. Kinga saw my
skepticism and quickly explained that I probably didn't want to upset my
stomach further by eating rich food too quickly.

I didn't want
to admit it, but I knew Kinga was right, but I was already sick of her babying
me, and I wanted to know what was going on.

"Will you
tell me how you died then?" I asked hopefully.

"I was a
slave," Kinga said, her Jamaican sounding accent seemed heavier then,
"I died giving birth to a little girl. I would've named her Aida."

"So that's
why you gave Leigh that name."

Kinga shrugged,
"It fit her."

I hesitated,
wanting to ask Kinga what she thought my name should be, but I bit back the
question. I didn't want to sound like an overeager child.

"Your name
intrigues me," Kinga said. Her eyes were not on me, but fixed somewhere
above my head, "it means of noble kin. Few others here are known by that
name. The old king's wife was named Alice before Alecsander stole her away. No
one loyal to the old king will support Alecsander. For now we are in anarchy
until one side conquers the other."

"So that's
why Alecsander gave himself that name? To try to intimidate the ones who won't
follow him?"

Kinga nodded
her head, "I think for now we will call you Ira, meaning watchful. Perhaps
your new name will remind you to
　
look
out for
　
the demon who gave
you that mark."

I closed my
fingers defensively over my palm, "Can he find me because of this."

"Yes,"
Kinga said. There was no gentleness in her response, "but he will only
know your general location. Just mind your name."

Kinga stood up
to take her leave, but there was one more thing I was dying to know.

"Kinga,
what was Alecsander's mortal name?"

Kinga thought
for a moment, trying to recall the name, "Daman I think. Fitting, now that
we see what he's become."

Chapter Seventeen

Kinga's
information had frightened away all thoughts of hunger, but to make her happy I
picked at the meager meal on my bed. I sampled the thin soup; it tasted like
water. The plain piece of toast was dry and blander to my taste buds than it
was to my eyes. The only thing that actually had the remnants of flavor was the
water that seemed to be laced with peppermint.

I knew I had to
eat and somehow I managed to make everything go down and stay down, but I got
no satisfaction from it. My body felt no different. My eyes had finally cleared
enough to let me see detail of the room beyond my bed.

The floor was
dark, worn wood, not to mention completely clean, meaning that someone had
cleaned up my tarlike vomit. I tried not to think
　
about
who got that awful task as I took in the rest of my surroundings.

The bed, the
bedside tables, the chair Aida had been sitting on, and a small desk in the
corner were all white painted wood. The walls were the same yellow as the
quilt, the ceiling was plain white, but just as in my hall it seemed to be the
source of the soft light that was illuminating the room.

All in all, the
room was just as exciting as the meal I'd just forced down. There were no books
to occupy myself, no music to listen to, and of course no television to
mindlessly divert me from my own thoughts.
　

I sighed and
reached up to feel the braids Hannah had put in my hair.
　
As my hand passed my face I
　
caught a glimpse of the circle on my palm. I
instinctively shut my hand tight before I brought it down in front of my face
to inspect it more closely.

For hours all I
could do was sit and stare at the perfect little black ring.
　
It didn't look as menacing as I
sat in my quiet, dull room, and I began to think that there might be a way
　
to get rid of it so that Daman
would never find me again.

His last words
still haunted me, "My queen," he had whispered.

Each time I
recalled his voice a shiver went up my spine, the reverberations never seemed
to leave completely, it just echoed quietly until it decided to remind
　
me again. I felt like I was
going insane, tears had worked themselves out of my eyes, cruelly wetting my
face as they traversed over my cheeks. Intense anxiety wrapped its cold hand
around my stomach and tickled the back of my head. I clenched and unclenched my
hands on the quilt, under the covers my toes squirmed, and my legs spasmed with
the need to walk off the terror that was filling me.

Finally, I
could stand it no longer; I decided I'd rather deal with the wrath of Kinga
than lie in that bed doing nothing for another moment.

I kicked the
quilt off and jumped out of the bed. That was my first mistake; I nearly fell
flat on my face and had to steady myself against the bedside table. My legs
were jelly under my weight, but I forced them to hold me as I looked around for
some kind of shoe. Finding none, I resolved to go barefoot; I just needed to
get out of the room before I killed myself.

I crossed to
the door and steadied myself against it for a moment before I turned the knob
and stepped through.

Outside was not
what I had expected. It looked like a subway tunnel, minus the train rails of
course. The walls were white washed cement, same as the floor, though slightly
less clean looking than the walls. The ceiling, as in the room I had just left,
was emanating quiet light. On either side of me were more doors, they didn't
look like the one I had just come through though. These were metal and I could
almost feel the chill coming off of their cold surface. Still, it was better
than the hallway I'd been stuck in for almost a year. I secretly hoped to
myself that I would never have to return to that place.

The hallway was
a dead end; I turned to the door on my immediate right and tried turning the
knob. It wouldn't budge. My blood froze in my veins as claustrophobia and
memories of my year stuck in a room of locked doors collided in my head. I felt
dizzy and nearly went back to hide in the room I had just come from before I
realized I was being silly. It was understandable that a few doors would be
locked, especially in a place like this with a person like Kinga running
things.

Still, it took
me a few moments to regain my composure, and it only lasted for another second
before one of the doors behind me opened.