Rules of Escape

New Epilogue

Ana slips out of bed, opens her bedroom window, and looks out into the dark, listening for the scuff and squeak of Joe's rocking chair on the verandah. The crisp night offers only the sound of crickets and the high pitched screech of little bats searching for moths under the crystal light of a white moon. When fall hit The Place this year, it was different. Ana felt it in her legs and deep in her spine, as if the marrow of her bones had been scooped out and replaced with ice. Then again, maybe it's Ana who's changed, she's in her forties after all, and she's been doing physical labour for almost two decades. Moving takes longer and is more arduous until she warms up, which takes longer too - melting all that ice with warm blood takes minutes, now, not seconds.

She slips her feet into soft moccasins and wraps a cardigan tightly around her chest. She treads quietly down the stairs so as not to wake anyone. Watching nights like this, is one of Joe's favorite things to do. He likes the quiet after everyone else has gone to sleep. On a night like this, Joe sits outside and rocks, sipping hot chamomile tea.

Ana opens the door to the verandah and slowly closes it to prevent the springs from slamming the door shut behind her. The rocking chair is empty, but for a blanket carefully folded and placed over one arm. Ana sits down in the chair and pulls Joe's red blanket over her knees. The cushions on the chair hug her body and the chair rocks beneath her weight. From the chair, she can see the naked orchard on either side of the driveway and the top of the softly lit pyramid on the other side of the road.

People say Joe has been gone for years, but Ana knows differently. Sitting here in his chair, she can see him puttering about in the flower garden, pulling weeds and clipping off dead flower heads. She watches him as he turns and surveys the orchard, assessing the new shoots and dead branches, planning his pruning strategy. The frosty air chills Ana and she hugs the musty, threadbare blanket to her chest. Joe can't be gone. He believed in Ana. He saw what she could do. He called her a Gardener.

When fall arrived, Ana had covered the strawberries in hay, just like Joe had shown her many years ago. Two inches of hay would keep the strawberries nice and warm until the middle of spring when they could be uncovered and their white shoots would quickly turn green with the sunshine. She had clipped back most of the raspberries – all the old shoots that had gone dry during the summer. The new shoots could be left because they would bear fruit next summer. The thing about gardening that Ana liked so much was the predictability. She knew what to do and what results she could expect. Occasionally, there was a surprise like the sweet, little, dark ruby strawberries that had developed after they accidentally crossed with wild strawberries. Those peculiar strawberries had worried Ana until Joe had told her that sometimes nature throws us surprises and sometimes those surprises are just what's needed. He had been right. The new strawberries were more resilient to pests and mold than the old strawberries had been and they had a sweet, complex taste that was pure and true. As odd as they were to look at, when Ana ate them, she imagined they tasted like strawberries from long ago.

Over time, the media forgot about the residents of The Place. They showed respect by staying away during Joe's funeral and as time went on and they got no response from the residents, they let the story about autistic people escaping the system, die too. Throughout the year, but mostly in the summer, tourists came to see the pyramid and to talk to Sandeep. A few people lingered, people who had communicated with Kazuki or Ro before they had stopped writing about the Place. They were people like them or people who had family members like them. Sometimes they stayed for a few days, sometimes longer. Some people are still here and will probably never leave.

The Place heals people and grows people. It takes people back to simpler, easier times and brings them forward to lives worth living. The energy that comes from the pyramid changes people, makes them peaceful and agreeable. People who came with questions and animosity, leave filled with wonder and hope. Fear and mistrust evaporate like water on hot rocks surrounding a roaring fire. The peace spreads and radiates. People forget that they ever felt anger. They forget what had been searching for - someone to blame for their pain and futility.