The Light of Savannah

         They spoke in hushed whispers.

         "She is well?"

         "Yes. The nandinka is healthy."

         He stopped and looked behind him, started as if goosed, only to lower his eyes as the familiar uniforms of the soldiers walked by. He was unaware he held his breath until they rounded the corner with only a cursory and yet disdainful look at the two gerishes standing there. Their tattered and worn overcoats, gaunt expressions of hate and mistrust, and sickening pallor were of no importance to them.

         "And the mamere?" the older one asked, rubbing his hands together to get some warmth into them. The weather had turned bitterly cold overnight. Flakes of ice dusted the crumbling buildings around them.

         The younger nodded; his sadness more evident as he chewed on his cracked lower lip. He was only thirty and yet looked ancient; the lines of pain and suffering on his once youthful visage now entrenched for the rest of his life. "She is hungry," he reported and jiggled his pockets, the lonesome sound of a few coins almost soothing. "Both of them are. If I do not get..."

         Just then the piercing shriek of the alarm jarred them into action. Neither man said a word as they dispersed like cockroaches, scrambling for the safety of their homes before they could be taken away like their comrades for staying past their curfew. With hands still buried in his pockets, the younger man darted in and out of dark alleys, hardly nodding to any who passed his way. He stopped before the once gleaming steel building; chips of rust now its new decor, knocked once on the heavy door with its peeling red paint and stepped into the dank coolness as it was shut behind him with a click.

         "Oh, Jean," the frail woman gasped and clung to his chest. "I was so worried."

         He held her tight, trembling as she seemed to melt against him. She was so thin, so weak. He knew she did not have long to live. Just knowing if they were caught after what they did...

         "The nandinka?" he asked.

         "Sleeping," came the muffled reply.

         He patted his wife's once blond hair - now sprayed with strands of white and gray - and pushed her away gently to stare into her watery blue eyes. "No food," he announced with a tinge of remorse in his voice. "I tried to get some from Louis, but the alarm went off. Have you eaten anything?"

         "I gave the bread to her." She took a step back and reached for the lamp with its dull flame.

         His heart broke. "Lena..."

         She smiled and shook her head, her once radiant beauty breaking through the cracks of suffering. "It is okay, pepico." She kissed his forehead gently. "Now come see your little one."

         In the darkness, they walked slowly, careful not to tread too heavily for fear they'd awaken the neighbors who slept in the basement below.

         "She has not cried?" Jean asked.

         "Not once," Lena said proudly. "She is a good child."

         He nodded and pushed open the door to the bedroom. The circular windows were barricaded with planks of wood, letting no sunlight in. The narrow wrought iron bed served as a resting place for the little girl lying upon it. Rosy cheeks seemed to glow in the darkness, long lashes brushing against chubby cheeks. She was covered in a pink blouse which once belonged to her mother; on her head she wore a worn red wool hat of her father's. She stirred and clenched her small hands into fists, and for Jean, a man who had lived his life under the watchful eyes of the Government and had once sworn to obey the laws of the land; it was just too much for him.

         He fell to his knees and wept bitterly - silent tears that were matched by his wife.

         "We will be caught," he finally whispered with a low moan of anguish.

         "Do not despair," Lena reassured him, even though her doubts continued to nag persistently. It was a conversation they had almost every night. "Louis has promised us the train tickets, yes?"

         "It is taking too long," Jean said, shaking his head as he looked up. "We shouldn't have...I mean...I thought we were careful."

         Lena's eyes flashed in pain and annoyance. "She is not a mistake, pepico. She is our baby..."

         "Yes, but..." He clenched his hands into fists, refusing to recall the horrific stories of parents who recently lost their children.

         Due to the Government's aim to control the population, parents were banned from procreation and a city- wide manhunt took place where all children under the age of ten were taken to a 'facility' no one heard of or saw before. A night of drunken passion between Jean and Lena (thanks to his promotion to manager of the graveyard shift at the mines), the subsequent announcement of her pregnancy and their muted efforts to keep it all a secret took a toll on Jean. He could not believe he allowed Lena to go through with it. He should have slipped the abortion pill into her drink when he had the chance, he should not have allowed her to talk him into boarding up their tiny apartment, and he should not have lived each day in abject terror, wondering if and when he would be pointed out as being a new father.

         There were no baby supplies to be purchased in the city, so they managed as best they could. Louis was their only confidant and friend, an old gerish, who still did his best to oppose the Government with his underground militia group. He was the one to aid in the childbirth and given the nandinka the name of Savannah.

         "Perhaps she will be the one to lead us to our freedom," Louis had said with the pride of a grandfather.

         Despite Jean's attempt to block all sound and light into his home, it seemed as if it wasn't really necessary, for Savannah came into the world with only a choked cry and not much else. She did not give lustful cries as other babies did, and only turned red-faced when she needed attention. Her eyes were large and dark - perhaps due to the shadows she was forced to live in. With only a lamp for light, her senses were heightened; her ability to see and sort out shapes intensified with hours spent entertaining herself as best she could.

         For almost two years, Jean and Lena kept their secret from even the neighbors below, but the young father wondered for how long. It was only a matter of time before they'd come knocking, wanting to know why he sneaks out at night to throw away dirty laundry filled with baby waste.

         "You worry too much," Lena said, as she brushed his brown hair gently. She was tired. Oh, so tired of hiding. How she longed to take her precious one outside to breathe 'real' air. How she longed for the days when the beautiful parks were at their disposal and she could shop for beautiful dresses for her nandinka. She could not tell her Jean that she had not eaten for a few days now; that the little scraps of food she could find or borrow from the neighbors had gone to feeding Savannah to keep her healthy. She knew he was trying his best. It was why she loved him so, and stayed by his side even after the Depression had hit five years ago.

         She sat beside him on the floor and held his hand. For a while they watched Savannah sleep, both filled with pride at what they had created, and yet terrified at what the future held.

         "I love you both," Jean confessed. "You know that, don't you? I promise, Lena. I'll get you both out of here. I promise."

         Lena could only manage a weak smile, the effort almost too much for her. She felt so very sleepy. "I know, pepico," she whispered as he brushed his lips against her pallid cheek. "I know..."

         Morning came with darkness and Savannah opened her eyes to the sight of her parents' heads upon her bed. Giggling happily, she got to her hands and knees and crawled towards her mother, a bemused expression coming to her face as something didn't quite seem right with her mamere. Her skin felt too cold, her lips turning a little blue, but there was a smile on her face, so mamere must simply be having a nice dream. Her father seemed okay, his breath still coming out in shallow gasps, although a troubled frown came to his visage before melting away with a light snore.

         Savannah, with months of dedicated practice, managed to get off the bed and walked toward the barricaded windows. Her astute mind had noticed something one day. One of the planks blocking the window was loose. It was not very strong and was long and flat. All she had to do was knock it aside, but she was afraid that mamere would scold her for it. By some unspoken rule, she knew she had to be quiet at all times, but this new discovery excited her. For the first time, she had seen 'light' - a dull glimmer - but enough to pique her interest and make her want to know more.

         Just what lay beyond the plank?

         Jean woke up disoriented, lashes fluttered open and for a moment, he wasn't quite sure of what he was seeing. It was still his bedroom...in his house...but there was...

         "...light..." he croaked and struggled to his feet. "Light...dear God...what?"

         His heart froze at the sight of the empty bed, his mind churning with all possible terrible scenarios when suddenly...

         "Papa!" Savannah cried out in delight, eager to share her new discovery with someone. The circle was just big enough for her to peek out into the world with one wide bright eye. And what she had seen...oh, how could they keep this away from her? So many pretty colors - a blue sky, with white clouds, and green plants; of furry creatures that scrambled into corners and some that flew in the sky ... and the man wearing a funny outfit who had gaped at her in disbelief from across the street.

         Before he started yelling and pointing to her...

         ...and then the banging on the doors...

         ...and people shouting...

         ...and her Papa bundling her within his jacket trying to run away...

         "Mama!" she shrieked, not liking the way her father smelled of fear and the splash, splash of his tears on her cheeks.

         But Mama would not move.

         Mama would not save her even when the big men in funny outfits came in to drag Papa away...

         ...and pull her away from him...

         ...and not listen to her screaming, her unused vocal chords expanding and stretching with the effort...

         Not even when a loud shot, and many more, was heard and Papa fell to the ground with lots of bright red water coming out from him.

          No one seemed to care. No one listened, and just as suddenly as she began shrieking, she fell silent, knowing now that she had done something bad. She should have paid heed to Mama's soft warnings each morning and night before she went to bed. Those warnings that almost seemed clouded with tears and regret.

         "Stay away from the light, my precious Savannah. You must stay away from the light..."


WORD COUNT: 1920
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