She bolted upright and stared hard at the shadows, examining them from the safety of her bed, listening; the house seemed unnaturally quiet, as if she were the only living, breathing soul under the roof. Outside her partially opened window there were no sounds in the dark night air, not even crickets. As if pulled by an invisible force, her eyes became focused on the dresser, and what she knew lay in the bottom drawer, hidden, but not. The awareness caused her heart to race, and her lungs felt compressed, as if there was no room for air, or not enough air to fill them. Her stomach cramped.
She got up from the bed and wandered into the hallway, listening. No sounds came from the upstairs. She padded barefoot to the kitchen, the familiar place where she spent so much time. She plugged in the electric kettle, and that simple, everyday act calmed her.
The undercurrent of terror she felt began to dissipate and she was left with a gnawing in her stomach she understood to be hunger. She opened the refrigerator, took out the plate with the roast, and reached for a carving knife from the rack. Hardly aware of what she was doing, Remedios cut deep into the flesh, to the bloodiest part, pulling out the reddest bits with her hands and stuffing them into her mouth, licking the blood from her fingers.
She looked at her hands, stained crimson with the meat juice, the blood, and suddenly remembered this: in the days between seasons, when the weather begins to turn even cooler at night, when she had been a child, very young — had Esperanza been born yet? — she had tasted blood!
Her mother, her father — he looked tired always — her grandmother before her hair had turned all white She stood with them, her mother's hands on her shoulders, in the square of the village. The square, with the church at one end, was crowded with friends and neighbours, other relatives. 'It is a feast day,' her grandmother said that morning, 'el Dia de los Muertos, the day when the people pray to all the saints for all the dead.' How can you pray to all the saints, Remedios wondered, because there are so many? Her grandmother said the day would be filled with prayers. The mass had been long, with all the names of the dead read out by the padre, many together for the poor families, and individual masses for the families that could pay more. The procession from the church where they had just attended the tiring masses was under way, moving around and around the square, the prayers chant- like, led by the padre, with the people echoing and responding to his words. The pungent scent of burning incienso filled the air, and the altar boys rang bells as they followed slowly behind the priest, while others sprinkled dark purple flower petals before the procession.
Remedios sucked on the guagua de pan that came from the basket of Dia de los Muertos bread her grandmother had baked that week — the little bread men and women representing the dead. This one had red sugar eyes and bright green hair and lips, and she wore a colourful dress. Esperanza, her grandmother called this one — Remedios's mother's dead sister, Esperanza, the one her sister would be been named for. 'Her name means 'hope',' her grandmother said. She stuffed little Esperanza into her pocket to place later on the altar in their home, an altar that held the large picture of Sainte Marianita de Jesus, and many many candles. It would also hold some of the flowers they brought back home from the cemetery.
Remedios felt hungry, and wondered when they could return home and eat the good, thick locro soup, and drink the hot purple jelly-like colada morada that her mother only made for the Day of the Dead feast.
The colourful pageant lasted a long time, with large wreaths carried back and forth through the square, with little stampas of the saints, and prayer cards for the dead affixed to the red and yellow flowers. The padre held a big banner with a picture of the Virginsita , and two other priests carried an enormous one of Santa Marianita de Jesus, who gave her life to save the city from earthquakes, both images decorated with glitter and seashells and many flowers. Remedios felt sleepy and sat on the hard ground, leaning against her grandmother's legs.
And then, when she opened her eyes, the light had faded from the sky and the night descended over them like a dark figure swooping across the heavens to stifle all life She realized they were now in the cemetery.
Here, the home of the dead. Stacked in cement drawers, one atop the other, four and five high. Many dead but little space, her mother said. She stayed seated on the ground before the graves of their ancestors while the adults placed beautiful white death lilies, and floral wreaths against the graves and behind the marble plaques that bore the names of the departed. The air became thick with the scent of flowers, and alive with the hum of chanting, and Remedios felt drowsy.
'Bring them!' the padre called. Suddenly, the night had become black, with only the light of the stars overhead. Dogs! So many! Where had they all come from? Hardly any of their neighbours could afford a dog. These animals roamed the streets, wild, in packs, competing with the people for food. How had they been lured here? It was the food scraps; Remedios had never seen so many dogs in one place, nor so much food handed over to them.
Much time passed with heated discussions as the men observed the dogs and argued in a friendly way: which animal was strongest, which the weakest? Would the large one be more determined than the second largest? And this little white one, it showed aggression — perhaps he would grow to become the dominant male that mated! Finally, finally, one was selected. A she-dog not so small, with brown fur, but she seemed to lack energy. The weakest, her grandmother said. ' Someter ,' her uncle said, telling the dog to submit.
Remedios stood rooted to the earth as Uncle Antonio sliced the throat from side to side. The animal reared, gnashed her teeth, howled — a haunting sound. She dropped to the earth, first on her front knees, then her side. Before she stopped twitching, the women rushed to the corpse and collected the spilled blood into basins, Remedios's mother among them. Each family gathered as much of the precious life-blood as they could, struggling to keep it from seeping into the earth. Then another dog was captured and brought snarling to the front, and Remedios tensed, tears still stinging her eyes. He was strong, this one, filled with life, not as large as the biggest animal, but his spirit felt enormous, and all could sense that. 'The one best suited to survive,' Uncle Antonio said, and Remedios watched her uncle feed that dog the blood of his slain sister. And then she watched her uncle sip of the blood himself.
'Here, Remedios, drink this,' her mother said. 'It will make you strong. You are the strongest, you must survive.'
Obediently, she placed her lips against the cool metal basin and drank the steaming thick blood down, as if it were milk. 'The weak feed the strong,' her grandmother had said as she drank. 'Sometimes the strong ones escape the herd and become wild, because once they have tasted it, they can only feed on blood. It has always been this way and will be this way again. The strong must be encouraged to survive, or all die.'
Remedios stared at her blood-covered hands. Why did they not repulse her as before? She sucked the sweet juice and could almost feel it charging her body with energy, just as she now remembered the blood of the weak dog sparking through every inch of her being.
She put the roast away and returned to her bedroom, to the dresser. Carefully she removed the rosary from the leather pouch and held it under the night-table light.
So many teeth! Some looked so fragile they might crumble to dust if she touched them too much. Others seemed larger, stronger, more capable of cutting, chewing, taking in and transforming the food that would nourish and sustain. And then the one so unlike the others. One designed by nature for survival. A fierce tooth. It could defend and protect, or destroy. She lifted the rosary over her head and placed it around her neck, letting it drop under her T-shirt. She felt the cool teeth rest against her skin. The point of one tooth pressed slightly between her
