“My son, Brad is the new Mummer Warden, and I have the utmost confidence in his ability to control the growing mummer population. His shanika, Meadow, is in charge of the tributes. You will be having one-on-ones with her shortly. As for keeping order in the town of Arampom, Blanche has brought in Zaditorians from our sister stomach. They’re standing by the door there, and behind Charlie here. They haven’t walked the earth in many many millennia. Let’s give them a warm welcome, shall we?”
The Prime Nabob began clapping, but only the people who were handing out the books joined her.
The crowd, which had kept it together to that point, erupted with guffaws and inarticulate cries of protest. A young woman sitting next to Hugo in the front row stood up and began singing a soulful song in a language I’d never heard before. She was tall and thin, with a buzz cut. Hugo reached out and grabbed her wrist, but she yanked it free and stepped forward, singing and holding up a little statue of an owl similar to the one Lou had grafted to earlier in the day, which seemed so long ago now. Determination showed in her eyes.
“Oh Rhonaya,” the Prime Nabob said in the tone of a disappointed mother. “Someone please stop her.”
The Zaditorians by the door started to run toward Rhonaya, but they were too late. She was already riding the Ghost, her voice shifting to the unique throat singing I’d heard from Lou. The Zaditorians fell to their knees, covering their ears, all except my Zaditorian guardians, Baldy and Beardo. They walked forward with bright yellow bubbles around their heads. Black, spider-like creatures crawled partially out of the bubbles and rested their legs on the Zaditorians’ shoulders. The Zaditorians each formed a large green bubble around one of their hands, and out of these shot milky-white flippers five times the diameter of their arms. The flippers came to a point with a yellow claw, and on either side of that were two flat thumbs, also pointed with yellow claws. The Zaditorians swiped at Rhonaya with the flippers, but she flipped, twisted, and ducked out of the way. Her throat-singing adopted a faster rhythm and took large leaps in pitch. Just as the color of the bubbles began to fade, one of the flippers wrapped around Rhonaya’s waist and lifted her into the air. She cried out briefly before her body went limp. I couldn’t tell if she was dead or unconscious. The crowd gasped.
After she was carried away, the other Zaditorian, Baldy, retracted his creepy flipper and spider head, dispersed his bubbles, and resumed his place behind me.
The Prime Nabob made a few closing remarks, but I couldn’t focus enough to listen, and I don’t think anyone else could either.
When the talking stopped, Baldy grabbed me by the bubbles and led me back to the car. The sun had set, and the sky was nearly dark. We drove to a little white house on a street full of little white houses. There were no cars on the street and no neighbors moving in. They were all lingering at the gymnasium, prolonging the inevitable.
Baldy took me in the house—which was modestly furnished—dispersed my bubbles, and left, but not before leaving a copy of Blanche’s latest memoir on the coffee table. As I wiggled my newly freed fingers, I contemplated suicide again. I went to the kitchen, found a knife, and held it to my wrist. One slice and I could end all of this. I could free my rekulak, and Blanche would no longer be immune to Arawok’s vomit reflex. Sure, everyone she’d infected since this afternoon would be regurgitated with her, just like my sister and those poor people at the inn were, but at least the infection would stop spreading. One slice and I could save the world.
Killing yourself won’t free Craig, Zelda said inside my head. Your rekulak, I mean. I hope you don’t mind, I named him after my first kiss. And if you want to free him, you have to go back to the sourdough starter whorl. Killing yourself will just trap him there forever.
“How did you get in my head?” I said out loud. “I haven’t taken any bloom?”
I’m a little more independent now.
“What does that mean?”
Open the door.
“What?”
Open the front door and I’ll show you.
I tossed the knife on the counter, went to the front door, and opened it to find a small gray and white fox sitting on the porch, looking up at me. Hello, Zelda said.
Chapter 20
ZELDA WALKED DIRECTLY TO the kitchen, her little claws tapping on the linoleum. Anything to eat? she said.
“I don’t know.” My mouth hung open. “How . . . ? Is this normal?”
No, but you’re a Sojourner. Nothing’s normal with you. When you fouled up in that whorl, I got trapped in there with Craig. We had a moment. I don’t know how to explain it, but he offered me an out. The details were pretty murky because I don’t exactly speak Craig, but I took the chance and ended up here.
“Just now?”
A few hours ago.
Watching Zelda sniff around the kitchen, I felt an intense pang of guilt. I had created her. She was a sentient tapestry of whorls stitched together by my pain, and now she was in a fox’s body, a freak. She didn’t ask for this.
Zelda’s laughter echoed through my mind. I’m not Frankenstein’s monster, Charlie, and I’m not having an existential crisis. You didn’t create me. You created a vessel through which I can choose to express myself. So whatever you do, don’t waste your time feeling sorry for me. The afterlife is a crazy place. You can’t even imagine. You become an amalgam thing. This here, me being a fox, is just one aspect of me, and it’s an aspect that’s starving. I tried catching a mouse earlier, but it was way too hard.
The refrigerator
