The Library

Fourth Scene

The next morning Gwen awoke to a sustained but orderly shuffling of boots, bags and paraphernalia and watched in bewilderment how the seven were quietly preparing for what looked like a military campaign.

They looked serious and none of them was speaking, which rose Gwen's anxiety to panic levels. She didn't dare ask what they were doing.

No. 5 spoke eventually.

"Are you coming?"

"Where are you going?"

"Fishing."

"In the middle of the desert?"

No. 5 pointed to the creek in the valley. Its waters looked murky and ochre after the rain, and raged, powerless, against their banks, carrying dead sticks, straw and debris.

"What could possibly live in that?"

"Catfish."

"I don't know how to fish," she hesitated.

"Suit yourself," No. 5 replied as he walked to the door.

Gwen wavered between her distaste for fishing and being loathed to spend the entire day alone in the house. Fishing won, if for no other reason than she wanted to verify the truth of this unlikely venture with her own eyes.

The waters looked even angrier up close and the thought of dipping her feet into their unseen and clearly unsanitary depths made her gag.

"Are you just going to sit there, princess?" No. 7 stared uncomfortably.

"Don't worry, she'll join us soon enough. Just give it a couple of hours. The noon heat will explain it to her," No. 5 commented.

'I could just go back to the house, couldn't I?' she thought.

They all stared at her as if she had suddenly lost command of her reason, or whatever passed for it in her case that allowed her to function.

'Never mind. I'll wait.' She dug in her heels and retreated to a boulder.

Her position, perched on top of it above the creek, gave her a bird's-eye view of the surreal scene: the numbers advanced slowly into the murky water, with the fishing spears above their heads.

Nobody said a word, but now and then one or more of them shuddered visibly, like someone had suddenly thrown them onto a magic fingers bed.

'Are they high?' she wondered, although they didn't seem to be, and surely their mood didn't point to that.

The sun stung her, and beads of sweat started gathering on her forehead, drying up before they slid down her brow. She had this instinct, more primitive than an actual thought, but very clear in its message, that she was slowly being cooked alive. She got up from the boulder to go to the house, but she was so lightheaded the thought of engaging the hill to return to the house put her into a tailspin.

"I assume that means you're ready to join us, milady," No. 5 mentioned casually. "That's your electrolyte balance, in case you're wondering. I strongly recommend a dip in this lovely creek to cool down. Just don't drink from it, it's gross."

'I was just about to treat myself,' a snarky thought possessed her.

"I can assure you that is going to look very tempting in another half hour. Do you have any clothing you can spare you can wet and wrap around your head?"

"No!"

"You'll have to make do with one of the fishing nets then."

Gwen looked at the nets: they were caked up with mud and fish slime, and the smell was overwhelming, even from afar.