“Miriam hasn’t come home yet, “Joshua said firmly. “We don’t know.” Then he exclaimed in anger as the man pushed past him and came on into the house. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Looking,” the man said. He was a big man. Bigger than Dad.
Dressed in a white uniform with a mask thing around his neck and a green insignia on his shoulders. “Get on with your dinner, kids,” he instructed them. “I’ll only take a moment.” And he went through into the kitchen, then back into the bedrooms. Rillibee heard the closet doors opening and closing, then the man went out the front door and around into the shop. They could hear him banging around out there. Rillibee put down his fork very carefully, looking at his dad, so pale all of a sudden.
When the man came out he stood in the yard for a while, looking around, then he came back to the front door and asked Dad to come out. He talked quietly out there, but Rillibee could hear words, single words, “authority” and “penalty” and “custody.”
Rillibee fell silent.
Brother Mainoa waited awhile, then said, “They talk like that, don’t they. People who get to tell other folks what to do. Full of powerful words, they are. Sometimes I think they have words where most of us have blood.”
Rillibee didn’t say anything.
“Hard for you to talk about?”
Rillibee nodded, gulping, unable to talk at all.
“That’s all right. Wait until you feel better, then tell me.”
They flew, the car bouncing a little on the sun-warmed air. After a time, Rillibee began to tell it again.
Then the big man was gone and Dad was in the common room, sitting down at the table once more, his face like a rock, all frozen and hard.
“Dad?”
“Don’t, Rillibee. Don’t ask me anything right now. The man was looking for your mother and she’s not here. That’s all I know right now.”
“But who was he?”
“A man from Health.”
“Oh, damn. Oh, God,” the parrot said.
Joshua threw a soup spoon at the parrot. It made a splashy red place on the wall and fell on the floor. The parrot just looked at them, its black eyes swiveling back and forth as it whispered to itself.
The man didn’t come back. Mom didn’t come home. Dad paced the room, stopping every now and then to punch up people on the comnet. People Mom knew. Her sister over in Rattlesnake. Her friends. People like that
When bedtime came, Rillibee looked out of the window of his own room to see the hover parked out on the flat. The man was watching the house. After a long time, Rillibee got into bed, dark all around him, trying to see through it to the ceiling, to the walls, only a splinter of light under the door. Tears. Trying to be quiet so Song wouldn’t hear him through the wall. Finally, sleep.
It had to have been sleep, because he woke up to a strange noise. Scratching, near his head. From under him, under his bed. Under the floor.
He thought about monsters first, not daring to move. Only after it had gone on for some time did he remember the cellar that Dad used to store wood in. A long time ago it had been a root cellar. Joshua had dug it bigger so it extended all the way to the shop. The entrance to it was out there in the shop, behind the woodstacks, but there was a hatch to it under Rillibee’s bed, from long ago. Someone was in there, scratching.
He slipped out of the bed and went to tell Joshua. Then he kept still while Joshua moved the bed, a little at a time, almost silently, and heaved the doorway up and it was Mom down there, white and pale, with her face all streaked and her hair tangled and messy and her clothes dirty as though she’d been crawling, and she was saying, “Josh, oh, God, Josh, they were going to send me away, they were going to send me away, and I went out the window. I ran and ran. I crawled down the creek and came in through the little door behind the shop. Hide me, don’t let them get me, Josh.”