[Welcome to our weekly fiction interlude. You can start at the beginning of the Dottie story here.]
Ralph listened. When the whistling ended, he addressed to the crowd. “I am being told that the survivors are being taken to two hospitals. If you are missing a loved one please raise your hand.”
About forty people raised their hands. “If there are no more questions, I will accompany you to the two hospitals and we will endeavor to reunite you with your loved ones.” He paused. “I should say at this time that this is not obligatory. You may not want to be reunited. Till death do we part and all that. Your life — or your afterlife — is your own. I do this voluntarily for those that wish it — I find many people spend their first few years in the Plane accompanying their living loved ones. I should also say that many find this cold comfort. You will not be able to communicate with them in any way, they will not hear you. Seances, Ouija boards and the like — they have no meaning here. The decision is yours. My obligations here are done, as are yours. Those of you who have further questions, you may join us and I will accompany you into town and point you to the Center of the Whispers.”
“What was that whistling you did?” inquired an American man, obviously an alpha male businessman in his life. “Is that something we can learn? Is that something we will need?”
“Ahh, well, no. That whistling is called Silbo. It is a native tongue of the island we are on — Tenerife — and the other Canary Islands. It is used traditionally by the shepherds of these islands to communicate over vast distances. It is extraordinarily useful. It’s my understanding that in the Plane as in the living world, it is rarely used, and only widely in the Canary Islands.”
“Your understanding?” the businessman asked.
“Well, yes. I haven’t left the Canary islands — indeed, I’ve barely left Tenerife — since I died.”
“How long ago?”
“I am seven years old. Amongst souls, we refer to our age as how long it has been since we passed.”
Ralph continued, “Distance is somewhat different in our plane. America, as an entity, is somewhat closer to us than my home in jolly old England. Jumping allows access to America in mere hours. For my part, I hail from East Sussex, and I have not yet fancied a twenty day solo float across the sea. I didn’t have much family there, so…” Ralph shrugged. “Here appeared as good a place as any.”
He got back on track. “Right then. Those of you who would like to be accompanied to the two hospitals, and those who might have questions for the Center of the Whispers, come with me. There will almost certainly be someone there who speaks English. As for the Dutch, I can explain the situation to the souls at the Center, and arrange for someone to accompany you on a jump back to continental Europe, if you so wish. After that, I’m afraid, you’re on your own.”
The Captain translated. “I will take them to the center. And help them make this… jump. It’s the least I can do, to get them home,” he added bitterly. He was still a captain, even in the after life. Still responsible for his passengers. Even in death the Captain could not countenance the reality that he had been responsible for this disaster.
“Thank you, Captain. The rest of you, I bid you welcome and good day.”
“But that’s it?” the businessman protested, “You’re just going to leave us here?”
“Or at the Center, or at the Hospital, yes. That is, as you say, it.” Russell responded. “I have performed the vows, your life — or your afterlife — is your own. I see that that woman accompanies you. It is perhaps rude from the point of the view of the living to say so, as this implies she, too, has died, but I recommend you count yourself lucky. Indeed, all of you. To most of us” his eyes went a bit distant, “dying is a much more lonely affair.”
“Now,” said Ralph. “The quickest way to the Center of the Whispers is through this fence, and through the field at the end of the runway beyond. About a hundred yards after that we will cross a street, then through a small grove of trees, and we will meet up with La Carretera de la Esperanza - Esperanza Road — and, for simplicity’s sake, we will then follow the roads into town. It is about 12 kilometers. The journey will take us a little under two hours. Is everyone ready?”
Dorothea looked at Violet. Violet shrugged. “I suppose we should follow the man —Rafe — right Miss Dottie?”
Dorotha thought of Bill. Two hours! And then they had to go to the hospital from the Center. It could be hours! But what choice did she have? “I suppose so.”
Similar conversations seemed to be had throughout the various crowds simultaneously.
“Right then, follow me, please. Juba and Ico will follow the group from behind. We have not had much experience in guiding large groups — none, in fact — so we will do our best. But if any of you get lost, the sun will be setting in the next hour. The sun sets in the west. We are heading east. Head away from the sunset until you hit the coast of Tenerife. It should take you about two hours. If you see mountains, keep them to your left.” Ralph pointed over the heads of the crowd — he was apparently facing north — to some beautiful mountains in the distance to the north east, turning golden in the imminent sunset.
“When you hit the coast, the town of Santa Cruz de Tenerife juts out onto a peninsula that should be visible from anywhere you might hit the coast, even if you did not head properly East. Make your way into town. Once you’re there, the Spanish term for Center of the Whispers is Centro de los Susurros - but I suspect just Centro will suffice. Any soul you encounter will point you in the right direction.”
“Unless they’re alive,” the American businessman grumbled.
“Quite right,” Ralph replied calmly. “You should be able to tell the difference instinctively. In any case, I will leave word with El Centro that there may be some stragglers. They will prepare accordingly. As I’ve said, in our two hour journey, the sun will begin to set. It is about 6PM now. It will be night by 7PM. We shouldn’t have any trouble seeing each other in the dark - you’ll find your vision in the Plane is quite improved over that when you were living - so long as we stay within thirty yards or so. And, as there is no variance in speed between any of us, and we don’t get tired, it should not be hard to keep up and stay together. Any other questions?”
Pause Translations. There were no questions.
“Off we go then.” And with that, Ralph turned to his right, and floated — Dottie noticed he did not bother with the pretense of moving his feet — towards the east and — remarkably — through the fence.
“Wait!” Violet shouted. Ralph paused, and turned to face the crowd from the other side of the fence.
“We can just float through the fence?” Violet asked, dubious?”
“That’s quite right. Not a problem at all. You can float through anything. Give it a try. I will wait here.”
Violet’s protestations had the effect of nominating her to be the guinea pig for the entire crowd, who looked to her expectantly. Put on stage, Violet worked up her resolve. She began to move towards the fence. She moved her legs - still walking like the living. She walked up to the fence, paused and, stiffening her resolve, walked right through the fence.
She turned to the crowd. “Mrs Dottie I didn’t feel anything. It’s not a problem at all.”
And with that, the crowd began moving their way through the fence. Violet was right, thought Dorothea. She didn’t feel a thing as she passed through the fence like it wasn’t even there. Or I’m not, she morbidly mused.
Ralph looked amused, waiting for the crowd to pass through the fence. Juba and Ico brought up the rear.
“Right then, off we go,” he said, turning and floating away. He raised his hand in the air, like a tour guide to the British Museum, “Follow me please.” Ralph made his way across the field.
They traversed the field beyond the perimeter fence, coming to a road. Ralph didn’t stop, and crossed the road even as the evening traffic roared past. Many in the crowd stopped to wait for a break in the traffic. From the other side of the road, Ralph paused and turned towards the crowd, watching them navigate the crossing. He chuckled to himself about these people’s remnant concerns about the physical world.
Up next was a thicket of trees, which they would need to pass through before arriving at La Carretera de la Esperanza. It would be no difficulty at all, of course, to pass right through the thicket. Still, though, Ralph didn’t want to lose anyone. “You can see a small dirt road to the left of this thicket. We will follow that to La Carretera de la Esperanza. Once there, we will make a left. From there, we will travel in the middle of the road and there will be no more obstacles. We will regroup on the other side of this thicket.” And with that, he made his way to the dirt road and turned the corner.
Among the crowd, Dorothea and Violet, along with everyone else, followed. Juba and Ico remained behind, ensuring that everyone followed the path. They then followed.
For two hours Ralph lead the group. They stuck to the main roads — La Carretera de la Esperanza, taking a right onto the large expressway Autopista Del Norte, then taking city streets to the center of town.
About twenty minutes into the journey, Dorothea again thought of Violet, who was floating by her side. “Violet, honey. I’m sorry about how all this turned out.”
Violet shrugged. “It’s not your fault, ma’am.”
“You had such a short life.”
“Yeah. Well.” Violet paused. The weight of the life she would not live pressed upon her. She would never marry. She would never fall in love. She would never have children. She would never, she told herself, have to go through what Mrs. Dottie just went through. She would never have to see her baby disappear in her arms. She felt a sympathy for Dorothea. “This seems to have some privileges, this life.”
“If we could call it a life.”
“True enough, Mrs. Dottie.” Violet paused. “And I’m sorry about Miss Vicky. She was such a lovely baby. It’s a shame. A no good shame.”
Sadness welled in Dorothea. She did not disagree. “She will live again.” Dorothea said, endeavoring to believe Juba. “A milagro.”
“I believe that too,” Violet concurred. In truth, she wasn’t completely convinced, but what else was there, but this hopeful belief? Nothing. And there as enough of nothing around them now.
“I guess you don’t work for me anymore, huh, Violent?”
“I guess not, ma’am. But,” she quickly added, “If you want me to come with you to see Mr. Turner….”
“No, no. That’s okay. I suspect you want to go home. Your duty is done.”
Relief came over Violet. “Yes ma’am. Earlier I was worried about calling my parents and telling them I was all right but I guess there’s no use in that now. No possibility of that, I mean.” She bitterly corrected herself.
“What are you going to do?” Dorothea asked.
“Well, ma’am…”
“You don’t work for me anymore, Vi. It’s Dottie.”
“Well, Dottie,” concurred Violet, “I think I’m going to go home. I think I’m going to… jump, like Rafe called it.”
“So I guess we will be parting soon then,” Dorothea numbly concluded. She had lost Vicky. Bill was parted from her. And now she was going to lose Violet. She hadn’t known her long, but when you rely on someone for the basic tasks of living, it doesn’t take long before you become somewhat used to their presence.
“I guess so, ma’am.”
They lapsed back into silence.
Shoegaze mix for you today. Mostly new, three old. So many shoegaze bands. Miss the social benefits of church or Elks lodges? Join a shoegaze band and play a local shoegaze festival. Bob’s your uncle. Or just start going to every local shoegaze show you can find. It would be cool if they had Sunday morning shoegaze shows in every region. That would be great.