Cries of the Children(11)

She felt a strange tingling all over her skin; she ignored it. The tingling grew more intense, until finally she had to acknowledge pain. With a cry, Nina fell forward. She hurt, badly, all over. It was as if she had been burned.

She looked at the hand where the green ooze had touched her skin.

But there was no skin.

Nina stared down at her arms and hands. Instead of skin, she could see glistening bloody flesh.

Nina began to scream, but in that vast field no one heard her. She tried desperately to run back to her house. It was just a nightmare! She couldn’t even remember how she’d gotten here! It wasn’t real! The pain wasn’t real! She had skin!

Her legs gave out, and she fell to the ground. Tips of bone protruded through the ends of the fingers that grabbed for the weeds.

Nina Blair was disappearing.





7


SOME CHILDREN ARE awakened by the sound of birds singing outside their windows. Lorraine dreamed of birds, strange birds with multicolored feathers, but it was the squeal of a garbage truck’s brakes that awakened her. Her first sight was a dingy beige wall. The bed she had slept on felt lumpy. For a few minutes the little girl didn’t move; she was bewildered by her surroundings. Then slowly she began to recall the previous night. She remembered the gang, the deserted streets, and Bettina.

Lorraine had spent the night in an old appliance box. Her “bed” was a pile of old clothes.

Rubbing her eyes with chubby fists, Lorraine sat up. She pushed a ragged coat off herself and crawled out of the box. Rising to her feet, she gazed out the litter-strewn alley at the people who were walking by.

There was no sign of the old woman. Her two suitcases were propped against the inside back of the box. She found herself too hungry to think about checking to be certain the money was still there. Instead, she plunked herself down on an upturned box and buried her face in her hands. She was a pathetic little sight, a small child in the midst of all that filth, but no one turned to look at her.

Presently she felt a hand on top of her head.

“Here, now, child,” a voice said, “did you think old Bettina had deserted you?”

Lorraine looked up to see the woman standing before her, a white paper bag held tightly in one fist. She opened it and pulled out a buttered bagel and a pint of milk. Lorraine accepted them and ate as if she were starved.

“I talked to Jesus last night,” Bettina said, pulling another crate to sit beside her, “and he told me it’d be all right just to borrow some money from your suitcase. I went to the Y and had a shower. This morning, while you slept, I got rid of my old rags and bought this dress from a street vendor.”

Lorraine sucked hard at the straw, making gurgling noises as the milk disappeared.

“That’s a nice dress,” she said. “And I don’t mind at all that you borrowed some money.”

Bettina smiled.

“You’re sweet,” she said. “It isn’t that I don’t have good intentions. We’re going to have to find a better place to live, and there’s no hotel that’s gonna rent to a ragged old bag lady.”

She paused for a moment, her vision seeming to focus on a delivery truck that had parked at the curb. Finally she spoke again.

“Well, you work on your breakfast,” she said. “Then we’ll dress you up and look for a room.”

“Are you going to help me find my family?”

“Of course,” Bettina said. “But we have to have a place to stay in the meantime, don’t we? It isn’t proper for a little girl to live on the streets.”

Lorraine nodded and finished her breakfast. Bettina opened the suitcase with clothes in it and found a yellow T-shirt dress for the child to wear. There was a pair of yellow barrettes to match, and a hairbrush. The child stood quietly as Bettina fixed her hair.

Lorraine, Bettina noted, wasn’t exactly a pretty child. But there was something about her. Her almond eyes were a queer gray-green color, and seemed to be watching everything very carefully. Her hair was the blackest Bettina had ever seen on a white child. There was still baby fat clinging to her, and her small teeth were smooth along the edges—an indication they were still baby teeth. For this reason, Bettina guessed that she wasn’t quite six years old.

They spent the morning looking for a place to stay. The desk clerk stared at Lorraine in such a way that the child instinctively felt he was not to be trusted. She took Bettina’s hand.

“Don’t pay attention to him,” Bettina said as they climbed the stairs. “You ignore him, and don’t talk to anyone else either.”

“Why?” Lorraine asked. “What if someone knows me and can help me find my family?”