13.
 Taxi felt strange, wearing socks and underpants. She felt almost as strange, wearing the long dress. She’d refused to wear the bra, until she found she could dangle the .45 from it in front, under the stiff, starchy apron they made her wear. She slid the knife into her right boot, and the socks nicely kept it from her bare skin. Maybe there was something to all these weird clothes people had worn long ago.
“You look like one of us!” the young women rejoiced.
“Do you have any more of that food?”
“Yes!” “We have to get our chores done.” “Supper. The boys will be coming out of the fields.” “Moira? Is she yours for now?”
Moira took Taxi by the hand and towed her through the huge wooden house, up staircases, across wide corridors and along narrow hallways, until they arrived at a flight of stairs that led down into a huge room full of beds. “We sleep here,” Moira said, “and so will you.” She took Taxi to a bunk and sat her down on the wool blanket. There were several pillows in crisp white covers. The other beds were all the same, each big enough for two to sleep.
“You stay here, Taxi M’Koo. If you hear men’s footsteps, dive under the bed. Only the Toons come in here, and usually only after lights out.”
“Toons?”
“Yes. The soldiers. The ones from the Nutcracker Suite.”
“What the hell do you people do in here?”
“Wait — I have to run — if you any Toons, dive under the bed. They don’t bend over very well, and they can’t smell anything at all, because they are so old.”
Moira ran off, leaving Taxi alone in the ridiculous getup. She sat quietly and listened to the sounds of the big house. It was getting dark out, judging by the darkening in the distantly visible hallways. She wondered how Sammy was, and wished she could talk with him. This place was cozy all right, but it could quickly get claustrophobic. The Toons still intrigued her — if she could get their guns...
She stood before a mirror, her boots squeaking on the hardwood floor that was the color of forest honey. What magic the electric lighting made. She could almost imagine herself living in the golden age of a century ago, taking all this for granted. She hadn’t realized how powerful all this domestic stuff was. Domestic people nowadays relied on burning wood or, in a good season, coal. They went to bed with the sun and rose with it.
She stared at the tough little person in the mirror.
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Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.
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