and screams, “This girl is proof that we can save you all! We can save you all! If you ignore our plea, ignore our plea! We will kill our hostages, one at a time.” She then scrapes a cross on her chest and makes a circle around it so roughly that it must hurt.
The air goes quiet.
Wilda opens her eyes. Pressia goes to her and kneels. The girl looks at the doll head, touches it gently. Pressia offers it to the girl, and she cradles it and Pressia’s arm, rocking back and forth, soothing herself. “We want our son returned. This girl is proof.” She climbs onto Pressia’s lap.
Pressia rocks her as she rocks the doll head. “Hush. It’s okay.” Pressia has memorized the first Message, the one written on small slips of paper that flurried down from some kind of airship. She recites it: “We know you are here, our brothers and sisters. We will, one day, emerge from the Dome to join you in peace. For now, we watch from afar, benevolently.”
The girl nods. They’re speaking the same language.
The blind woman says, “What’s happening?”
“Hush,” Margit says. “Just hush.”
“The cross,” Pressia says softly to the others. “The kind with the wreath around the center point. It’s the same one printed at the end of the first Message.” She looks at Bradwell. “The two Messages are almost identical in some way, right?”
“In what way?” Bradwell says.
“I don’t know. They just feel like they’re the same length, the same form. You know?”
El Capitan says, “Twenty-nine.”
“Twenty-nine?” Bradwell asks.
“Words. Each Message has exactly twenty-nine words,” El Capitan says.
“It’s going to be okay,” Pressia whispers to Wilda and rubs her narrow back.
“Okay, okay,” Helmud coos.
Holding the doll head tightly, the girl whispers, “We want our son returned.”
“I know,” Pressia says. “We’re going to take care of you.”
E L CAPITAN
SPIDERS
B RADWELL LIFTS THE GIRL , who’s still gripping Pressia’s doll-head fist, while the blind woman curses and claws at Bradwell. “She’s ours! Let her go!”
“Back off!” Pressia shouts, and she shoves the woman. She and Bradwell carry the girl off quickly.
Margit yells at El Capitan, “Let us all be Pure! You know their son! I know you do! Hand him over! If you don’t hand him over, we will hunt him down ourselves!”
“Don’t threaten me!” El Capitan says.
“It’s not a threat!”
The blind woman says, “Didn’t the Message open your heart?”
“Shut up about my heart!” El Capitan says.
“My heart!” Helmud says.
“Hand over their son!” Margit shouts.
The blind woman screams, “Pure! We can be Pure!”
“Pure! Pure!” Helmud calls back, like it’s some kind of birdcall. Margit grabs Helmud’s shirt and yanks as hard as she can. El Capitan swings the rifle around and aims it at her. “Don’t give me a reason. I’m trigger-happy. Call off your friend too.”
“We’re willing to die for the New Message!”
“Kill us!” the blind woman shouts.
“Really?” El Capitan says. He cocks the rifle. They’re both quiet. The blind woman knows the sounds of a gun. Helmud shrinks on El Capitan’s back, laying one cheek flat against his neck.
Margit takes her friend’s hand. “Jazellia, the angels will watch over her every step! Have faith!”
Up ahead, Bradwell’s voice rings out. “Spiders! They made it!”
El Capitan and the two women run out of the culvert. Spiders are everywhere. The Groupie is gone. The pale, burned clothes smolder. Bradwell, gripping Wilda to his chest, and Pressia run to the car. Helmud’s whittled boat pops out of the girl’s pocket and falls in the snow. No going back for it. They slam the doors as spiders click over the hood.
One of the spiders gets too close to El Capitan. He fires at it, misses.
The blind woman screams. Margit says, “The Dome sent these creatures. The Dome is good!” Her eyes snap to one spider, skittering over a rock, and she
The air goes quiet.
Wilda opens her eyes. Pressia goes to her and kneels. The girl looks at the doll head, touches it gently. Pressia offers it to the girl, and she cradles it and Pressia’s arm, rocking back and forth, soothing herself. “We want our son returned. This girl is proof.” She climbs onto Pressia’s lap.
Pressia rocks her as she rocks the doll head. “Hush. It’s okay.” Pressia has memorized the first Message, the one written on small slips of paper that flurried down from some kind of airship. She recites it: “We know you are here, our brothers and sisters. We will, one day, emerge from the Dome to join you in peace. For now, we watch from afar, benevolently.”
The girl nods. They’re speaking the same language.
The blind woman says, “What’s happening?”
“Hush,” Margit says. “Just hush.”
“The cross,” Pressia says softly to the others. “The kind with the wreath around the center point. It’s the same one printed at the end of the first Message.” She looks at Bradwell. “The two Messages are almost identical in some way, right?”
“In what way?” Bradwell says.
“I don’t know. They just feel like they’re the same length, the same form. You know?”
El Capitan says, “Twenty-nine.”
“Twenty-nine?” Bradwell asks.
“Words. Each Message has exactly twenty-nine words,” El Capitan says.
“It’s going to be okay,” Pressia whispers to Wilda and rubs her narrow back.
“Okay, okay,” Helmud coos.
Holding the doll head tightly, the girl whispers, “We want our son returned.”
“I know,” Pressia says. “We’re going to take care of you.”
E L CAPITAN
SPIDERS
B RADWELL LIFTS THE GIRL , who’s still gripping Pressia’s doll-head fist, while the blind woman curses and claws at Bradwell. “She’s ours! Let her go!”
“Back off!” Pressia shouts, and she shoves the woman. She and Bradwell carry the girl off quickly.
Margit yells at El Capitan, “Let us all be Pure! You know their son! I know you do! Hand him over! If you don’t hand him over, we will hunt him down ourselves!”
“Don’t threaten me!” El Capitan says.
“It’s not a threat!”
The blind woman says, “Didn’t the Message open your heart?”
“Shut up about my heart!” El Capitan says.
“My heart!” Helmud says.
“Hand over their son!” Margit shouts.
The blind woman screams, “Pure! We can be Pure!”
“Pure! Pure!” Helmud calls back, like it’s some kind of birdcall. Margit grabs Helmud’s shirt and yanks as hard as she can. El Capitan swings the rifle around and aims it at her. “Don’t give me a reason. I’m trigger-happy. Call off your friend too.”
“We’re willing to die for the New Message!”
“Kill us!” the blind woman shouts.
“Really?” El Capitan says. He cocks the rifle. They’re both quiet. The blind woman knows the sounds of a gun. Helmud shrinks on El Capitan’s back, laying one cheek flat against his neck.
Margit takes her friend’s hand. “Jazellia, the angels will watch over her every step! Have faith!”
Up ahead, Bradwell’s voice rings out. “Spiders! They made it!”
El Capitan and the two women run out of the culvert. Spiders are everywhere. The Groupie is gone. The pale, burned clothes smolder. Bradwell, gripping Wilda to his chest, and Pressia run to the car. Helmud’s whittled boat pops out of the girl’s pocket and falls in the snow. No going back for it. They slam the doors as spiders click over the hood.
One of the spiders gets too close to El Capitan. He fires at it, misses.
The blind woman screams. Margit says, “The Dome sent these creatures. The Dome is good!” Her eyes snap to one spider, skittering over a rock, and she
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