Green Jay and Crow by Dj Daniels
Author:Dj Daniels [Daniels, Dj]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 9781781086445
Amazon: 1781086443
Publisher: Abaddon
Published: 2018-12-11T00:00:00+00:00
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Green Jay
I KNOW THE Crow has left; there is no need to look for him. The water tower feels empty and peaceful without him. I miss Blue Jay, but the feeling of freedom has not left me. When I move, my body fails me. It craves the drugs Rose-Q gave me, it needs more doses from the box. But I can walk and I do not fall. I spend some time exploring the water tower, looking for a message from Blue Jay. Itâs unlikelyâprobably impossibleâbut I cannot help but hope.
The poor tower has suffered. Water has dripped through many things, and animals have found a home here. There is some food in cans, but not much. What I really need is sun. I could bask on top of the tower, but then a thought strikes me. There is nothing to stop me walking outside. Through the alleyways and back to my old home.
Of course, thanks to the Crow, I cannot know exactly where and when we are, I cannot be sure I am safe, but the greenhouse is pulling me and after all this time in captivity with Guerra, I cannot stop myself. I am down the ladder, standing under the water tower before I have truly thought.
I take a circular route under the High Track, staying away from the marketplace. I donât venture into the warehouses in the middle, just stick with the curve of the High Track above me. When it takes me close to the tenements I slip across the road and into the alleys. I should know the layout here, but somehow I am lost. I find dead ends where I thought there was another lane. But I am not yet fearful, because in each of these dead ends there is a picture.
A picture of me.
At first I thought it was a picture of a green goddess. Each portrait is a face covered with swirls and ornaments so that the only features that are clear are the mouth and the eyes. Even the hair is an extension of these curling patterns. The green goddess is always positioned at the end of the alley and underneath her are flowers and other gifts. Sometimes there are messages painted onto the wall. I stopped in front of one portrait to read them: blending, union, hope. And it was then that I realised that the eyes staring down at me were mine. And that the lips, if they were to speak, would know exactly who I was. I know they are mine, not Olwin Duilisâ, but how I know this I cannot say.
This brings me great joy, although I cannot claim to understand it. And the joy carries me through to the right alley, towards the greenhouse. There is no-one by the doorway and it is not hard to open the bottom door and walk up the staircase. It seems deserted, but also clean. There is no urine on the stairs the way there often was when I lived here.
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