CHAPTER 16

Limbo

The winged man would have understood how I felt. Seven was out there protecting and saving people like some New Mythology superhero. Where the new myths had villains like Penguin Men, Goblins, and Human Magnets, Seven had the Big Eye. To both of us, the taste of justice was sweet, metallic, and warm. However, up here, in the sky, above and away from everything, with no one but the sun and the spiraling columns of warm air during the day and the moon and whipping cool winds at night, it was easy to be that which was separate from anything alive. It was easy to be that which knew death, intimately. During the hours where I had to fly high above the ship to stay out of sight, I often had to work to keep the ship in sight—not because it was difficult to do, but because I’d become Other up there.

It was not silent. The air rushed past, below, above, into, and behind me constantly. It was noisy, harsh, and smelled like the ocean even up here. I spread my bright red wings wide, feeling with every one of my cells but at the same time blending with the air. Then the sun would set, and I would hear Mmuo in my head, “Phoenix, come back.” Familiar words to me that always managed to bring me back to myself, no matter where I was. And it was when I set foot on that ship, smelled the food cooking and chlorine from the ship’s many swimming pools, got a whiff of sewage from the ship’s plumbing, when I smelled the general smell that human beings give off when in a community, that I remembered the burning, rolling, vibrating ball of heat inside me.

 • • • 

I saw Saeed and Mmuo for about two hours in the evening. “We stay out of sight and help some of the workers when we can,” Saeed said. He shook his head. “They work these people too hard.”

Because he was good with machines, Mmuo worked with two men from Colombia in the engine room. Both of these men had been engineers in Colombia and couldn’t find work. Neither spoke English, but they knew exactly who Mmuo was and were delighted. “They are constantly grinning at me and shaking my hand,” Mmuo said. “One even brought a piece of paper and a pen for my autograph.”

Saeed said there was also a Yoruba worker on the ship named Omo who had taken a liking to Mmuo. So much so that Mmuo kept disappearing with her. “She’s not an engineer,” was all Saeed said. I never saw her, but I was glad for Mmuo. From what Saeed said and what Mmuo refused to discuss with me, Mmuo hadn’t been with a woman since he was imprisoned in Tower 7. That was seven years. I didn’t know much about men and knew even less about sex, but if I had to guess, this was a long time for a man.

Saeed volunteered to help wait tables at one of the restaurants near the swimming pool. He said several women made passes at him, even going so far as giving him their room keys.

“The women here behave worse than whores,” he muttered that second night as we ate in the small room. Today’s meal was roasted chicken, asparagus, some kind of salty rice, and a dessert of canned peaches. I found the meal disgusting and only nibbled at the rice. Mmuo turned on the jelli telli, and the next thing I saw was my face and the words “Phoenix Rising” in charred letters and “Ledussee the Future” just below it on the CNN channel. No anchorperson explaining, warning, or discussing. No ads scrolling by on the top, sides or bottom of the screen. Just my face and those words. A full minute passed, and my face and those words were still there.

“They’ve hacked CNN,” Mmuo said, grinning. He sat down on his bed, staring at the screen.

Saeed giggled and then glanced nervously at me.

I got up, my legs shaky. I glanced at the image one more time. The image of me looked intense and unsmiling; like I was staring right at the camera, at you. My bald head was shiny with sweat, and I was glowing. The image was from Tower 7, maybe right after I realized I could wipe my hair away. When had that image been captured? The Big Eye and their big eyes.

I sighed and ran my hand over my short hair, enjoying the feel of its roughness on my palm. “I will see you tomorrow night,” I muttered. Then I quickly threw open the door to our room, then to the outside, and I flew off. I had one more full night to fly alone before we’d arrive at the Virgin Islands. One more night in limbo.

 • • • 

The ship arrived at the Ann E. Abramson Pier that morning. And when the time came, Mmuo disrobed, sunk through the ship’s lower deck into the water and swam to a nearby quiet beach whose location we’d each intensively studied on the 3D map. He hid in a small cluster of palm trees and waited for Saeed to arrive with some clothes. I slipped and met him there a half-hour after he arrived. Saeed packed on the ship then got through customs using his passport. Once on land, he took a cab to the hotel near the beach and this is how he rejoined Mmuo and me.

But there is one more thing that I will speak of now, that I did not tell Saeed and certainly not Mmuo. I’d seen them just after the sun rose and only because the waters were so calm and the sky was so clear. The sunshine glinted off their shiny metal domes as they moved along. They had to be Anansi droids. They were about a mile from the cruise ship, moving in the opposite direction. I’d flown down for a closer look. There were at least fifteen of them, and they really did look like robot spiders! They were about the size of a small child. As I watched, several of them extended their long legs and spun over the surface of the water. Dare I say their movements were . . . playful? Some of them would drop beneath the water and come back up and spin some more. There were four that swam slowly a foot or two below the surface of the calm clear water, one on each side of the group, making a diamond formation.

I watched them for a while, wondering if they saw me, a bit afraid that they had developed the ability to fly, wondering where they were going, and wondering how much hatred they harbored for human beings. Then I flew back to the ship.

Human beings make terrible gods.