When the Devil Dances

“One of the reasons Captain Elgars is on convalescent status is that she’s still in speech therapy,” Wendy explained. “And the psych suggested that she sort of ‘follow me around’ for a while to get her bearings; she lost most of her memory at the Monument.”

“You were at the Monument?” Shari said neutrally.

“S’ the’ tell muh,” Sandy responded. One of the kids maneuvered out of the swarm, trying to escape a pursuer in what Elgars had finally determined was a sort of free-form game of tag. The little girl, about six or seven, came swooping around the group by the door, shrieking like a banshee.

“You handle this very well,” Shari said with a faint smile. “Most people would have flinched at Shakeela.”

Wendy cocked her head to the side and nodded. “That’s true. But I’ve never seen you flinch at all.”

As the tension from the sound built up, Elgars felt herself getting more and more still as if a blanket was coming up to protect her senses. She still could hear, even faint noises, but as long as she stayed in this place, not drifting but not really feeling connected to the world around her, she was fine. Unfortunately she found she also couldn’t talk. Which precluded staying “safe.”

“I don’ fl’nch,” she finally answered. “Don’ know why.”

Shari nodded after a few seconds when it was apparent no more was forthcoming. “Wendy, I’ve got to go change the twins. Little Billy had an accident and that set Crystal off. Could you hold Amber?” She held out the infant.

“Why don’t I start cooking lunch instead?” she asked. “I think that Annie can probably handle it.”

“Okay,” Shari said with only a moment’s hesitation. “Do you know how to hold a baby?” she asked.

“No,” Elgars answered, eyeing the little mite doubtfully.

“Just put it up on your shoulder like this,” Shari said, tucking the baby’s head under her neck. “And support it from underneath like this,” she continued, lifting Elgars’ left arm to hold it up. “The most important thing is to not let the head flop. Okay?”

“No h’d fl’p,” Elgars repeated, patting the baby lightly on the back with her free hand. She had seen Shari doing it and it somehow seemed right. Not particularly important, sort of like tapping your fingernails on a table or flipping a knife in the air. Just something to do with the hands.

“There you go,” Wendy said, headed for the door at the back. “You’re a natural.”

“I’ll be back in just a second,” Shari said, grabbing one of the running children and carrying it over to the changing station. “Won’t be a moment.”

Elgars just nodded as she continued to tap the baby. With no one talking to her she was free to experiment with the feeling she had had. It was not just a stillness, but a sort of unfocused awareness of her surroundings. Although it seemed to reduce the effect of the children’s voices she could still hear them clearly. And she found herself noticing little details. It was a moment of transcendent stillness and perfection that she had rarely enjoyed. And all because she found herself wanting to rip the little bastards’ throats out.

At which point the little twerp she was holding threw up half its lunch.

* * *

“I work there six days a week, six hours per day,” Wendy said as they made their way back to Elgars’ quarters. “Since you’re supposed to follow me around… I think you’re supposed to work there too. It will fulfill your community service obligation anyway.” She looked over at Elgars, who had had that strange stoniness to her countenance ever since Amber had burped. They probably should have explained about the towel.

“So, uh, what do you think?”

Elgars thought about it. She had become familiarized with making large quantities of something called “grits” which seemed to be the staple food for children. She had also learned how to change diapers. She’d tried reading a book, but that hadn’t worked out too well.

“I di’n’t l’ke it,” Elgars said and worked her mouth trying for more clarity. “I’s not as ba’ as sur-ge-ry with no drugs. Close but not as bad.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Wendy said with a laugh. “It is a tad noisy, I’ll admit that.”

Elgars just nodded. She supposed it was one of those things that you had to put up with. Like vaginal exams and pain threshold tests.

“That’s sort of my day,” Wendy continued, looking at Elgars worriedly. “Except extraction drills. Like I said, I’m a reserve fire/rescue. That’s Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday I go to the range. And one hour in the gym every day except Sunday.”

Elgars just nodded. It was different than the hospital, but that was good. The hospital mixed unpleasant sameness with occasional bouts of pain. This at least was consistent.

“Are you okay?” Wendy asked.

“Don’ know,” Elgars admitted. “Want to kill something.”

“From the kids?” Wendy said nervously.

“Maybe. M’stly wanna kill whoever decided I needed to be ‘fixed.’ Or ge’ ou’ where I can do some’ing.”