“Get in line. I’ll see you.” With that, she turned and ran down the steps, heading full tilt to the main village.
Chena’s jaw dropped. What was she supposed to do now?
She saw the line that Sadia was talking about. Half a dozen men and women, a couple with babies in their arms, waited on the catwalk in front of a house that was almost lost in the shadows.
Actually, it wasn’t just one house, it looked more like three different houses that had allowed their roofs to group together.
One of the babies bawled, a high thin sound that grated against Chena’s aching eardrums. She didn’t want to stay, but she couldn’t face trying to climb a hundred feet down on her shaking legs. So Chena got in line like she’d been told. After all, Sadia was her friend. She wouldn’t have brought her here if there wasn’t some kind of help like Chena has asked for.
But then, why did she leave? Chena collapsed into the line behind a woman with a long, red, puckered scar running up her forearm.
Probably she saw Shond, Chena thought, answering her own question. Then she felt a twinge of guilt. She hadn’t even stopped to look for Teal. Who knew where she had gotten to? That was what she’d do first thing when she got her relax patch.
Every now and again, someone, or a couple of someones, would come out of the grown-together houses, and someone else would go in. The sun filtered through the leaves overhead and warmed Chena’s skin. She fell into a doze, and only woke when someone poked her in the ribs and muttered, “Your turn.”
Chena tried to stand up and promptly fell over. She bit her lip, partly to avoid screaming as she unfolded her legs, which seemed to have locked solid, and partly to avoid yelling at the people in the line behind her who were chuckling.
She waved away a hand that reached to help her and grabbed the railing, pulling herself upright. She forced her rusty legs to carry her into the darkened doorway. Whatever they had in here, it had better be good.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. When they did, she found herself in the strangest room she had ever seen. It looked like a cross between an ancient library and a witch’s cottage out of a rig game. Where the walls were not lined with glass pipes full of green algae and silver fish, they were lined with shelves of books. Bags and bundles of things Chena could not begin to identify hung from dozens of hooks on the ceiling. There was a brick stove in the corner, and four or five tables placed around the room. Next to the biggest table stood the stooped old woman that Chena had last seen on the rooftop of the dormitory.
Apparently the old woman recoginzed her too. Her sunken mouth gaped into a smile.
“Station girl!” she exclaimed, clicking her tongue against her few remaining teeth. “I didn’t expect to see you here so soon.”
Chena had to clear her throat before she could speak.
“I was told I could get a relax patch here.”
The old woman—what did she call herself? Nan Elle, that was it— frowned. “What would you want with such a thing?”
Chena spread her hands to the ceiling. “What’s the matter with you people?” she exclaimed. “I hurt! What is the big deal about getting a muscle relaxer?” Then she remembered another important question. “And just what do you think you got anyway? What makes you the big woman?”
The gaping smile returned and Chena wished she had the strength to get really angry.
“I think I’ve got all you’re going to get, station girl.” She pointed one green-and-brown-stained finger at a wide wooden chair situated under three battery lamps. “You want help? Sit.”
Chena hesitated. She really wanted to walk out of there, but she hurt so bad. If this old wreck really did have something …
Chena hobbled over to the chair and sat.
Nan Elle puttered around Chena. She snapped on one of the lights and peered into Chena’s eyes. She grabbed both of Chena’s shoulders with her gnarled hands and squeezed until Chena yelped.
“Mmmm. What have you been doing today, station girl?”
“My name is Chena!” Chena jerked her shoulders out of Nan Elle’s grip.
“So I’ve been informed.” Nan Elle took one of Chena’s arms and flexed it. Her hands were a lot stronger than they looked, and Chena felt if she struggled she would end up with bruises in addition to all her other pains. “What have you been doing today, Chena?”
“Shoveling, mostly. I was in the recycling shed.”
“That’s not a place they put freshies.” Nan Elle flexed Chena’s other arm. She smelled like bad breath and peppermint.
“They do if you ask for it.”
Nan Elle circled around back of the chair. “Which just goes to show you should be careful what you ask them for.” She dug both thumbs into the muscle on Chena’s back, and Chena screamed.