Blood Red Road

darkness an the dreams.

    I’m in the Colosseum .
    It’s silent. Empty. Dark. The dead time of night .
    I’m in the Cage, my feet bare, my clothes in rags. I rattle at the door, but it’s locked. I’m trapped inside .
    I feel a pricklin at the back of my neck. Slowly I turn .
    They all stand there. Every girl I ever fought. Every girl I beat an sent to the gauntlet. Locked into the Cage with me. They ain’t nuthin but shadows, their faces in darkness, but I know them. Each an every one. The color of her eyes, the shape of her nose, how the fear smells on her skin .
    They start movin, glidin towards me on silent feet .
    Fergive me. I whisper it, say it, scream it—fergive me fergive me fergive me—but no sound comes outta my throat .
    They’re on top of me now. They surround me. They pull me down .

    Thick darkness, like a blanket .
    Voices. Whisperin. Mutterin. Sighin. But far away, so’s I cain’t make out the words. Then, Saba! Saba, help me!
    Lugh’s voice. But when he was small. Emmi’s age .
    Lugh! I call. I’m here! I’m tryin to find you! Where are you?
    I dunno! Hurry, Saba! It’s so dark. I  …  I’m frightened. He starts to cry .
    It’s okay, Lugh! I call. I’m gonna find you! Keep talkin so I can find you!
    I cain’t! I cain’t! Saba! They’re comin!
    He screams .
    Lugh! I yell. Lugh!
    Silence .
    Then the voices agin. Closer now so I can hear what they’re sayin .
    Too late  …  too late  …  too late …
    No, I whimper. No! Please! Lugh! I’m here! I’m comin!
    I drag myself outta the dream. I’m soaked with sweat. I sit up, my heart poundin.
    I wait. It always takes a couple of minutes fer me to come to, to git my breath back. My blanket’s all twisted an tangled with the chain on my right ankle.
    Every night I dream of Lugh. I never see him. Only hear him. Sometimes he’s frightened an callin fer me, like tonight. Other times he’s angry, shoutin.
    Gawdam you, Saba, where are you? What’s takin you so long?
    But the worst dream is the one where he says my own words back to me.
    I’ll find you. Wherever they take you, I swear I’ll find you .
    Over an over, never endin until I wake up an it stops.
    Some nights I fall back to sleep after the dreams, other nights I lie awake an wait fer the dawn to creep into the cellblock. I roll my blanket unner my head, lie back an wait to see what it’s gonna be tonight.
    Was it a bad ’un this time? A whisper from the cell next to mine. The one where they keep all th’other female fighters locked up together.
    I don’t say nuthin. I don’t like to talk to them I fight or them I’m gonna hafta fight. An none of ’em talk to the Angel of Death. They’re afraid of me. I reckon it’s better that way. I know most of their voices though an I don’t recognize this one, so she must be new. A low, soft voice. Nice.
    I heard you last night too, she says. An the night before. Ever since I came.
    Now I know. They brought in a girl three nights ago. Tall an thin. A bit sickly lookin. A few years older’n me, maybe twenny. She lost her first fight today.
    If she hears me, that means the rest of ’em can hear me too. It’s dangerous to let yer enemy see weakness. Weakness can git you killed. Then, it’s like she sees inside my head. She says, It’s okay. Nobody else knows. Jest me. I don’t sleep much.
    I hear her shuffle closer to the bars. I cain’t see her, not even her shape in the dark. The cellblock ain’t got no windows. It’s lit by torches durin the day an when night comes, it’s black as black.
    You lost today, I says. I heard ’em talkin. They say you didn’t even try.
    I ain’t no fighter, she says, not like you. The sooner I lose, the sooner it’s all over.
    You wanna die? I says.
    I wanna be free, she says. I ain’t never bin free. Not my whole life. She’s quiet fer a moment or two. Then she says, D’you mind that they call you the Angel of Death?
    No.
    The other girls’re afeared of you. They know that if they fight you, it’s the end.
    I don’t say nuthin.
    My name’s Helen, she says.
    I’m Saba, I says.
    Saba. That’s a nice name.
    I pull my blanket around me an lie down.
    G’night, Saba, she says. Sweet dreams.
    G’night, Helen, I says.
    An I sleep.

    Emmi’s figgered out how to git herself into the cellblock to see me. She’s started to come in with the water carriers. They’re the grubby kids who turn up first thing every mornin jest before dawn. They come with their buckets of fresh