Our Dried Voices Read Online Free PDF Page A

around the dreary meadow. When they had traversed the entire field from fence line to fence line, crisscrossing over each of the little wooden footbridges that spanned the river, the woman returned to each sleeping hall in turn. She studied the buildings in detail, tracing circles around their perimeters and tugging at the locked doors. Samuel watched from a distance, crouched behind the corner of the nearest hall. As she moved toward the third sleeping hall, he rose from his hiding place and glimpsed a swath of muddied white cloth and the flash of little brown heels as another colonist turned the corner at the opposite end of his building. He came out into the open meadow, glanced over his shoulder and saw another woman following a path roughly parallel to his own. They walked on together through the unrelenting mist, and Samuel soon realized they were both following the same woman.
    They eyed each other across the meadow, glancing back and forth from the copper-eyed woman to one another, until they gradually shifted their attention away from their target. Though there was some coarse polish to her movements, this new female was but a child learning to walk in the shadow of its mother in comparison to the grace of the copper-eyed woman. Soon they lost sight of her in the veils of silver mist. They followed a rough estimate of her course for a few minutes more until their paths drew closer and closer and finally intersected. They stopped and faced each other. The rain pitter-pattered on the leaves of the tree next to them. This new woman seemed to be about Samuel’s age, perhaps a year or two older. Her eyes were large and black, rather empty and without any spark. But though they emitted no light, they appeared to draw the world into them, collecting all the rays of light reflected by the objects caught in her gaze.
    Samuel spoke first. “Hello.”
    The woman’s big eyes grew even wider and she seemed to fade away from him, although in actuality she did not step back one centimeter.
    She frowned furiously. “Hellohoweryou?”
    “Goodtha—” Samuel began to reply and then stopped. That was not right . He tried to speak again, but his tongue and lips felt heavy and sluggish. “How… how are… you?” he managed.
    Her face drained of emotion. “Goodthankshoweryou?” she said.
    Now Samuel took a slow step backward. The woman opened her mouth but no words came out. She jerked a hand up mechanically, as if to grab his arm, and then just as quickly returned it to her side.
    “Fine,” Samuel answered, as he took another step back. He skidded in the wet grass and looked down to catch his footing. Slick, brown mud bled amidst the sodden and broken turf. The woman started toward him, then hesitated and slowly retreated. She turned and scurried away. Samuel watched her flee across the meadow until the sheets of rain erased her fading figure. His waterlogged tunic clung fast to his skin and weighed heavily on his arms. He turned in the opposite direction and walked to the nearest meal hall.
    * * *
    The copper-eyed woman returned to Samuel’s meal hall late in the day. For about an hour the sun had been low enough in the sky to cut through the ashen shroud, but as it sunk lower the scarce light in the windows faded and died. The people ate their evening meal in dazed, perfunctory motions. Samuel ate and walked the hall while his clothes finished drying. Crumbs of food from the day’s previous meals dotted the floor and he brushed at them idly with his bare feet. He was still pacing when the woman entered. This time, he was sure her mouth was twisted into a private half-smirk, though this expression faded as she stepped inside and gazed around at the colonists seated against the walls. Samuel stopped in the middle of the hall, transfixed by her presence.
    “Come,” she said from the doorway.
    She turned and walked swiftly out the door into the rain. Samuel looked to see if the others would follow, but they all remained in