The Caryatids

Biserka thrust the dripping mass of pearls into Radmila's face. "So: They bring out all these for me! Little lumpy bastards-the wild pearls from the old days! And then-they bring out these really huge gleaming superperfect ones !" Biserka draped strands of pearls, one by one, over Radmila's head.

"And I say to them, 'What's the damage? and they reply…what a fraud! These little stinking mean dirty ones cost a cut-off arm and one leg! And all these big white perfect round ones, pearls which didn't even grow from mother oysters…they are so cheap!"

Biserka cinched the thick rope of pearls around Radmila's neck. She hauled Radmila to her feet.

Then Biserka hauled her forward, tugging at the leash of jewels. "Where's the justice ? I hated them for that! I mean: People did that to the whole world, didn't they? Such a pearl of a world, they had once! And now look at it!"

Biserka dragged her outside and down the stairs of the derelict building. There was a big black hearse parked in a seaweed-strewn gravel driveway. That hearse hadn't been there before, when Biserka had first abducted her.

Radmila tried to look around, feeling jewelry bite into her throat. Tall brown palms towered over the mansion, all of them killed by rising seawater.

Biserka meant to force her into the black hearse. Radmila moaned.

"Pretty evening for a drive," said Biserka.

Radmila snorted through her nose.

"You're pla

Biserka pulled Radmila's shoes off. She filled each shoe with a handful of sharp gravel. Then she daintily tied the shoes on. "So now-happy dancing girl-let's see you run, hey?"

Radmila had to take four steps to reach the hearse. Those steps were like walking on sharp nails. Tears came to her eyes.

Biserka heaved her through the door of the hearse, then joined her on a velvet pew in the back. They sat together next to a huge, dirt-stained coffin.

"I could rip that tape off your lipstick," said Biserka, studying her, "but you'd give me all kinds of lip for that. If you're mean to me, I might lose my temper!"

The black hearse rolled silently into motion. The machine left the shoreline, humped and bumped over a broken patch of flattened woven-wire fencing.

In a matter of moments, they were in the indestructible LA freeway system, quietly cruising under the flashing lights.

"I know you're wondering about this big dirty coffin here," said Biserka, languidly kicking it with rhythmic, bongolike thuds. "Well, there's some good news for you. The coffin is not for you. The casket has an occupant already."

Some time passed. Biserka enjoyed a chilly sip from a cocktail thermos. "You're not alert anymore," she said. "Are you ignoring me?"

Radmila turned toward her, eyes burning.

"That's better. Good. Okay, now I'm explaining tonight's events to you. You can't understand all this, because you are this rich-chick blond actress and you're kind of stupid. Never mind. Because I had a long time to think about this. It's been one of those asymmetric terror things where the enemy is very rich and has all her skyscrapers, but I always have the initiative. So: You become my hostage now. Only, Radmila: I don't want you as my hostage, because, wow! Wow, wow! I can't stand the sight of you!"

Biserka kicked the side of the coffin harder, with her cheap black rubber ninja boot. " This man is my hostage. This dead gentleman in his coffin. I dug him up out of a graveyard today. What an exciting day full of action for Biserka Mihajlovic!"

Radmila looked longingly at the thermos.

"You are thirsty, but you don't want to drink this," Biserka told her, yawning. "It would put you out flat on your ass!" Biserka rolled her neck on her shoulders, and massaged the back of her own skull.

"So, as I told you: the graveyards. I know that sounds weird to you: my dear lively sister Biserka, in the graveyards? But graveyards are blackspots! People don't wire the graveyards, because there are no paying customers in there, and they don't imagine that the locals would get up and leave. So there's an imagination gap in a graveyard."

Biserka giggled, and enjoyed another sip from her thermos. "Because I can work fine in graveyards! They never scare me! I love them! Because they're a huge blind spot for everybody stupider than me. For people like you. Huh? So, you know, who else is in there in graveyards? Besides me. Well, your people are in there, that's who. Every famous old family has famous dead people. Like Svetlana, Bratislava, Kosara! Half of us are dead already and we don't even have real graves!"

Biserka wiped her mouth on her black ninja sleeve. She had a tattoo on her right wrist, a homemade tattoo, the kind of artwork people did in jail cells while afflicted by long lengths of time. "So, me and my friend the fu

Biserka waited a patient moment. "All right: don't get so excited. I wasn't the one who shot him. He won't get any deader now. When we're done with our family business, I'll leave him somewhere-with a beeper on him. You can come fetch him and bury him back into the ground. You can hush it all up. The Montgomery-Montalban Family hushes up so many matters and hides so many troubles already."

Biserka rubbed her nose. Someone had broken it, years ago. "So: I don't hold you for ransom. I mean, yes, I stole some things by pretending to be you, but that was just to be fu

Biserka stared out the hearse window at a passing high-rise; it had a giant ape climbing on it, but that was only a projection. "But: two crazy women up in orbit? How could you do that, Radmila? Two? That's too much. It's a

Biserka scraped mud from the edge of her rubber boot. "I knew that you married big money. Fine, I married some money once. A bedful of money is nice! But you married people with orbital launch capacity ! Wow! That means we can reach our mother, Radmila! We can put one bucket of sand, or some bolts and nuts, into Mama's orbit. Bang! Boom! One moment, no warning, Mama's dead in her flying coffin! And when that happens, then I give you this coffin back. "

Biserka looked out the window of the hearse at the towers along Figueroa, then back at Radmila again. "You're not happy with my brilliant, genius plan?"

Radmila shook her head. Her heart was crushed within her. She had never felt such shame.

"You're not happy? But imagine how much better we both feel when that old woman falls from heaven in small burning pieces! I know some people in China who have space rockets. They could help us."

Biserka snuffled as lights flashed over her face. "Look at you, feeling so sorry for yourself…A billion people died in Asia from the climate crisis. A billion. And I helped them to die. While you never looked. Because everyone was supposed to look at you, Radmila! Black skies and starving mobs and empty rivers, and the world is supposed to watch you. And worship you! Because you might take your clothes off! Or something. You're a dress-up doll made from plastic."