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We’re getting closer and I shine the torch down to where we’re heading and something starts glinting back, something that ain’t tree or bush or animal or water.
Something metal. Something big and metal.
“What’s that?” I say.
We get closer and at first I think it’s just a big fissionbike and I wonder what kind of idiot would try and ride a fissionbike in a swamp cuz you can barely get ’em to work over flattened dirt roads much less water and roots.
But it ain’t a fissionbike.
“Hold up.”
The girl stops.
Whaddya know? The girl stops.
“So you can understand me, then?”
But nothing, as ever nothing.
“Well, hold up for a sec,” I say cuz a thought’s coming. We’re still a bit away from it but I keep flicking the torch over the metal. And back over the straight line that the ditch makes. And over the metal again. And over all the burnt stuff on either side of the ditch. And a thought keeps coming.
The girl stops waiting and heads off towards the metal and I follow. We have to go round a big burnt log, still lazily smoking in one or two spots, to get to the thing and when we do it’s much bigger than the biggest fissionbike and even then it looks like it’s only part of an even bigger something than that. It’s crumpled and burnt in most places and even tho I don’t know what it looked like before it crumpled and burned, it’s obviously mostly wreckage.
And it’s obviously wreckage of a ship.
An air ship. Maybe even a space ship.
“Is this yers?” I ask, shining the torch at the girl. She don’t say nothing, as usual, but she don’t say it in a way that could be agreement. “Did you crash here?”
I shine the torch up and down her body, up and down her clothes, which are a bit different than what I’m used to, sure, but not so different that they couldn’t have belonged to me once upon a time.
“Where’d you come from?” I say.
But of course she don’t say nothing and just looks off to a place further into the darkness, crosses her arms and starts heading off there. I don’t follow this time. I keep looking at the ship. That’s what it’s gotta be. I mean, look at it. A lot of it’s smashed beyond recognishun but you can still see something that might be a hull, might be an engine, even something that might have been a window.
The first homes in Prentisstown, see, were made from the ships the original settlers landed in. Sure, wood and log homes got built after, but Ben says the first thing you do when you land is build immediate shelter and immediate shelter comes from the first supplies to hand. The church and the petrol stayshun back in town are still partly made outta metal hulls and holds and rooms and such. And tho this heap of wreckage is pretty pounded, if you look at it right, it might be an old Prentisstown house that fell right outta the sky. Right outta the sky on fire.
“Todd!” Manchee barks from somewhere outta sight. “Todd!”
I go ru
“Todd!” Manchee barks and I shine the torch over to where he’s barking, standing next to the girl. She’s just standing there looking down at something and so I shine the torch and see that she’s standing by two long piles of clothes.
Which are actually two bodies, ain’t they?
I walk over, shining the torch down. There’s a man, his clothes and body pretty much completely burnt away from the chest down. His face has burns, too, but not enough to disguise that he was a man. He has a wound on his forehead that woulda killed him even if the burns hadn’t but it don’t matter, does it, cuz he’s dead either way. Dead and lying here in a swamp.
I flash the torch over and he’s lying next to a woman, ain’t he?
I hold my breath.
It’s the first woman I ever seen in the flesh. And it’s the same as the girl. I never seen a woman in real life before but if there was a real life woman, that’s what she’d be.
And dead, too, of course, but nothing as obvious as burns and a gash, not even blood on her clothes so maybe she’s busted up on the inside.
But a woman. An actual woman.
I shine the torch at the girl. She don’t flinch away.
“That’s yer ma and pa, ain’t it?” I ask, my voice low.
The girl don’t say nothing but it’s gotta be true.
I shine the torch over the wreckage and think of the burnt ditch behind it and it can only mean one thing. She crashed here with her ma and pa. They died. She lived. And if she came from somewhere else on New World or if she came from somewhere else altogether, don’t matter. They died, she lived, and she was here all alone.
And got found by Aaron.
When luck ain’t with you, it’s against you.
On the ground I see drag marks where the girl must have pulled the bodies out of the crash and brought them here. But the swamp ain’t for burying anything but Spackle cuz after two inches of dirt you pretty much just get water and so here they sit. I hate to say it but they do smell, tho in the overall smell of the swamp it ain’t as bad as you think, so who knows how long she’s been here.
The girl looks at me again, not crying, not smiling, just blank as ever. Then she walks past me, walks back along the drag marks, walks to the door I saw open in the side of the wreckage, climbs up and disappears inside.
“Hey!” I say, following her over to the wreckage. “We can’t be hanging around–”
I get up to the door at the same time she pops out, making me jump back. She waits for me to step outta the way, then climbs down from the door and walks past me, carrying a bag in one hand and a coupla small packets in the other. I look back at the door and stand on tiptoes, trying to peek in. It all looks a wreck inside, as you’d expect, things tumbled everywhere, lots of busted everything.
“How’d you live thru that?” I ask, turning around.
But she’s got herself busy. She’s put down the bag and the packs and has taken out what looks like a small, flat green box. She sets it down on a dry-ish area of ground and piles some sticks on top of it.
I look at her in disbelief. “There ain’t time to make a–”
She presses a button on the side the box and whoosh we’ve got ourselves a whole, full-sized, instant campfire.
I just stand there like a fool, my mouth wide open.
I want a campfire box.
She looks at me and rubs her arms a little bit and it’s only then that I really realize I’m soaking wet and cold and achy all over and that a fire is just about the closest thing to a blessing I can think of.
I look back into the blackness of the swamp, as if I’d be able to see anyone coming. Nothing, of course, but no sounds neither. No one close. Not yet.
I look back at the fire. “Only for a second,” I say.
I walk over to the fire and start warming up my hands, keeping on my rucksack. She rips open one of the packs and throws it to me and I stare at it again till she dips her fingers into her own pack, taking out what must be a piece of dried fruit or something and eating it.
She’s giving me food. And fire.
Her face still has no kinda expression at all, just blank as a stone as she stands by the fire and eats. I start eating, too. The fruit or whatever are like little shrivelled dots but sweet and chewy and I’ve finished the whole pack in half a minute before I notice Manchee begging.
“Todd?” he says, licking his lips.
“Oh,” I say, “sorry.”
The girl looks at me, looks at Manchee, then takes out a small handful from her own pack and holds it out to Manchee. When he approaches, she jerks back a little like she can’t help it and drops the fruit on the ground instead. Manchee don’t mind. He gobbles it right up.