Young Offender, Part 56:
Francoise shivered when Ivan levitated the bowl of oatmeal from her hands to his lap. He looked over towards her and said what she understood was 'thank you' in Russian. She sat on the edge of his bed and asked, "Do you not remember how to speak French? Or use your telepathy?"
/Some telepathy, not as easy as telekineses. Lots of effort. Must rest./ His mental voice sounded softly in Francoise's head. She patted his free hand and smiled.
"You rest. Don't worry about anything."
Ivan started eating, pausing to rub his left eye from time to time. She worried, seeing how bloodshot it was around its new, brown color. Rather than pester him, she left his room and went back downstairs.
She felt Albert and Jet's eyes on her as she sat across from them in a red velvet chair. "He's very, very tired. We have to let him recover some."
"Let's hope the Black Ghost doesn't show up before he recovers," Albert said.
"It'd be our luck," Jet said, getting mopey.
"Bite your tongue. We can take care of him for a little while longer. Besides, they've been silent for ten years. Could it be that the Merchants of Death are all that's left? Maybe we're free." Francoise said.
"Don't count on it, sister," Jet said, with a cynical snort.
"Can't you think positive for once?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'm positive those goons are still out there plotting to take over the world. Why else are the Merchants of Death still around? To fund the Black Ghost."
"Jet is right. We do need to keep up our guard until we know both organizations are finished," Albert interrupted. "We need to lay low for a while and not raid any more Merchants of Death until Ivan is fully recovered. Jet, you're working season is going to start next week. Why don't you go back..."
"Because I don't want to. Time for a job change," he announced abruptly, to Francoise's consternation.
"You're being irresponsible!" Francoise said in a high pitch.
"Nope, I'm bored," Jet insisted, stubbornly crossing his arms.
"Well what are you going to do? Lay about?" Francoise snapped.
"Don't know yet, but I know I don't want run numbers any more. Maybe flying planes again. Or something a little more exciting," he said, getting a gleam in his eye she didn't trust.
"Albert! Are you going to let this stand?" Francoise turned towards the older man.
"Jet can make his own choices. If he's bored, he can find new employment," Albert replied with coolness.
Francoise grew miffed, hopped out of the chair, and marched to the kitchen. She muttered, "Men," under her breath. She was irritated that Albert, who was usually reasonable, seemed willing to humor Jet's flighty behavior. It was a switch that baffled her. She relied on Albert's steady nature and good judgment; letting Jet quit his job on a whim wasn't what Francoise expected of him.
"Hey! Junior! Wait up!" Two-Feathers Yazzie called from across the dusty Fredonia, Arizona street. Junior slid the large sack of feed off his broad shoulder and into the truck bed before he turned towards the skinny, older man.
Two-Feathers jogged over and smacked Junior on the upper arm. It was a too friendly gesture Junior didn't appreciate. "I see you're still working for old man Cody."
"It's good work, honest work," Junior replied, with narrowed eyes.
"Back breaking work, too. Listen, there's an opening in my show. I could really use a big guy like you. You have this intimidating look about you that would draw those eastern city-slickers right in."
"Forget it," Junior said, crossing his arms.
"There's money to be had from all the white tourists coming to visit The Canyon."
"Let them enjoy the nature for free."
"Stop being so uppity, kid. You think you're better than the rest of us because you got a job with the Codys? Bah! That'll dry up one day. Cody is as old as that damn hole in the ground, and his wife is in failing health. At least, that's the word around town." Two-Feathers sneered. "She's not one of us any more, marrying outside of the tribe. If you're thinking he's going to leave you a thing, think again. He's got kin out east."
"Back off," Junior warned. "I'm not going to embarrass myself like some of the others. As far as the Codys, at least they're living honest, simple lives. Unlike you."
"Fine! You'll be sorry when Cody kicks the bucket!"
Junior controlled the urge to punch the scrawny shyster. He jumped into the dilapidated truck's cab and drove south out of Fredonia towards the Codys' ranch. He took several deep breaths and let his anger flow out.
Two-Feathers had finally got a wild west show together several months ago and had been exploiting a lot of people from the tribe Junior's age, older teens, that had bleak employment opportunities. What made Junior angry, still, was how readily people he grew up with wouldn't hold out hope and would cheapen themselves and the Navajo culture for money. At the same time, he felt pity for them.
After he mused on how to approach some of his childhood friends, he pulled up in front of the farmhouse. Confusion hit, seeing two police cars and a large, black sedan. He got out of the truck and watched Doctor Watson come out the farmhouse.
He wasn't surprised, but that didn't stop the dread when the man walked up, shaking his head. "Junior, sorry, but Martha passed an hour ago."
Chang continued to hoe the dry, cracked ground. He repressed the despair rising in him at the horrible condition of the soil. He took a moment and wiped his calloused hands on his rough trousers. He took his large straw hat off and mopped his sweaty brow. He'd been here for months, and there was no end in sight.
His eyes darted around for a minute at the other people stranded at the re-education farm with him. There were bent and broken people all around him with colorless expressions and drab clothing. None of them knew when they were due to go back home, and they seldom knew what lead to them to being assigned to farm at Jinhe.
"Hey! Prisoner! Back to work," the Party worker shouted out across the field. Chang put his hat back on and continued to hoe the ground.
Jinhe was only a few years old, so the conditions weren't as bad as some, according to the people stranded with Chang. He believed them and didn't want to find out personally. Therefore, he kept quiet and respectful. He was careful who he talked to as well; there were too many people willing to snitch on each other for a shot at freedom. There wasn't much in the way of friendship or trust among the others at Jinhe, which did more to depress Chang than the hard labor.
One day, he dreamed of getting back to Shanghai and back to professional cooking and creating a lot of honest friendships. He continued to dream and look for an opportunity to work his way back into the good graces of the Party. Even though, he admitted, he never heard of anyone granted forgiveness.
"Mr Britain, Miss Meriwether had complications. She'll have a full recovery with time. The baby girl is nice and healthy," the obstetrician delivered the news with bright smile. GB looked up from where he sat in the hospital's lobby, a numbing shock hit him. He was now a father.
He stood and said, "Can I see Sofie?"
"She's resting right now. Maybe in the morning," The obstetrician shifted from foot to foot and then asked, "Would you like to see your daughter?"
GB rolled the word "daughter" around in his mind for a few minutes. Just yesterday Sofie was happily getting ready for the baby, now the baby was here. He nodded and followed after the obstetrician. Eventually, they ended up in front of the nursery's wide picture window. A nurse rolled a cradle up to the window and GB looked down and flinched.
"Why is she crying like that?" he asked, shocked how red the tiny baby was as she squalled. The pink blanket only intensified the deep red of her face.
"She's quite fine. Don't be alarmed. By the way, did your lady friend have a name picked out for her?"
"Oh, we thought we'd wait see what the baby looked like before deciding." He slowly smiled at the tiny girl, a warmth and pride flooded his chest. "I think Rose would be a good name, seeing how red she is. And to quote the Great Bard: What's in a name? That which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet."
Pyunma looked over the young boys in front of his village and shook his head. "You'll never get very far with that kind of technique," he gently chided them. "Why don't you all go home and get some dinner."
The young boys didn't need to be told twice. He chuckled watching them scamper to their mothers' lodges after combat training. He walked towards his own mother's lodge, but paused by the water spigot out front. He then rinsed his face and hands in the warm water.
He spotted his mother, Ife, coming around from behind their home. She was carrying a basket filled with fresh vegetables. Her face was still saddened from several months without word about his father.
He went over and took the burden from her and asked, "Where are the girls?"
"Visiting the hospital lodge. They're preparing dinner for the elderly." They went into Ife's lodge. Pyunma lit the fire and sat in front of it. His mother was preparing to stew vegetables when she said, "So, I watched you with the youngsters today. You're a great teacher, very kind and patient with them."
Pyunma nodded and smiled. "Just like Father."
Ife's expression clouded over with misery. "It's been months. Too long."
"He'll be back soon, Mother. Going on the hunt can take a while."
Her eyes gave him a cutting look. "I know your father went to war, not a hunt. You can stop lying to me. Just don't let you sisters know."
He looked down to his knees, shamefaced he'd been lying to his mother all that time. He forced a smile and said, "He'll be back soon, Mother. Have faith."
Ife nodded and finished the dinner preparations. His three sisters, one older than him, two younger, came in full of gossip and giggles. Ngozi, who was eighteen, had come back to live with them because her husband was out with the rest of the men. Pyunma could tell her husband, Mamado, hadn't let her know their truth behind the hunt. She'd be weeping and wailing, otherwise, like other new brides whose husbands went off to danger. Then again, Mamado was his best friend and he hadn't mentioned it to Pyunma, either.
Rudo, fourteen, and Anan, ten, liked having their sister back home because she was the village gossip. Pyunma found himself irritated by Ngozi's presence because she tried to act as a second mother towards him. She hadn't even had her first child, so Pyunma was doubly offended when she came back to his mother's lodge and started ordering him around like a wayward child.
"Girls! Enough with the chatter. Time to eat."
"Did you wash up, Pyunma?" Ngozi asked.
"Yes I did!" he snapped, not wishing to bicker with her in front of their mother, who was so worried.
"You don't talk to me like that. Sit up straight already. Look at your clothes. Filthy as usual. You should consider Rudo will have more to do when she does your laundry tomorrow."
"Ngozi, stop criticizing Pyunma! He's worked hard all day."
"More like playing war with children," Rudo smarted off, picking up Ngozi's attitude.
"Rudo, you apologize now!" Their mother snapped.
"Fine... sorry," she said, sulking. They gathered at the family's table. Rudo shot Pyunma dirty looks over the stew; he ignored her and gave smug Ngozi a few dirty looks of his own. After they were finished, he left the lodge, ignoring Ngozi's demanding questions.
He went to the warriors' lodge and sat on a bench. Old rifles laid at his feet. He took his time cleaning each one and making sure each was in perfect order. He had a nervous feeling, in spite of what he'd told his mother. It had been too long of a time for his father to be gone.
"No, really. Stay with Ivan. We can handle everything," Albert insisted, while packing one suitcase with his clothes; Jet had already packed the night before. Francoise noted Jet's anxiousness, he seemed desperate to take off to Switzerland again. She asked about it, but he shrugged her off.
Francoise rose from a chair in the corner and started pacing. "Are you sure? There's so much to do and arrange."
"We'll find a buyer for the chalet in no time. It shouldn't take us too long to pack our things and ship them here." Albert closed the suitcase just as Jet joined them from upstairs.
"Don't worry, we won't go through your skivvies," Jet said, and then chuckled at her glare.
"I can't believe you. You still haven't figured what you're going to do for a living, have you?"
"It's not like we don't have tons of money and all the time in the world. I'll figure out something when I'm good and ready," Jet insisted.
"I hope Albert talks some sense into while you're there," Francoise said, marching upstairs.
Her sharp hearing caught Jet, mumbling in a sly tone, "You'll be talking to me while we're there, but it won't be 'bout what she's thinkin'."
"She might be listening to you, so you better keep what you're about to say to yourself," Albert reminded him. "Let's get to the airport."
Francoise's brow furrowed and she ducked into the kitchen to avoid them. She hoped when they got back from Switzerland, they'd get back to behaving like they did before Ivan was revived.
"I swear, it's like you two are trying to get rid of me," Francoise called out from the upstairs hallway, but only heard the closing of the front door in response.
To be continued.