Jenny’s eyes twitch back and forth in rapid revolutions, tracing abyssal images on the backs of her eyelids. She is alone, standing in a desert. Mountains rise around her and a harsh wind battles across the valley and through her bones like crystal needles. Far away on the empty plain she can see a tent lit with the flicker of fire. A panic seizes her until she runs toward it. She runs and runs, through the angry cavalry of cold charging down the mountains, but she never gets to the tent. The heaving in her lungs makes her stop to take a breath and she bends over resting her elbows on her knees.
The cold air stabs deep in her lungs. Finally the spinning body rush settles, and she tilts her head down. To her surprise, she finds a small hole where beetle-like creatures crawl in and out of the cracked earth in a hive-mind scuttle. Each little insect carries a small curl of parchment tied to its back in a scroll. She reaches her skinny fingers out to pick one up when a voice falls on her shoulders and head like hot steam.
I wouldn't do that if I were you.
Jenny looks up into the face of a withered old woman dressed in rags and fur pelts. Her skin is dark olive and etched with many years beneath a relentless sun.
What are they? Jenny asks the old medicine woman. Looking behind the woman she realizes she has somehow arrived at the tent despite its unreachable distance only moments ago.
I do not have a name for them you would understand. The Welkin People brought them from another planet many ages ago. They serve as both messengers and keepers of moments. Your ancestors called them Namib beetles.
Whoa...backup a second, Welkin People? I don't mean any offense granny, but what the hell are you talking about!? And you expect me to believe these beetles keep…moments?
Farah was struck by the audacity of the young woman. She dismissed it as a cultural deficit caused by millennia of social anarchy and dwindling respect for the kam caste.
What am I to do with this one? Farah mumbles as she looks up at the stars.
What did you say?
Nothing. Don't mind me. I'm just a crazy old woman who lives in a desert ten thousand years away...
You mean ten thousand miles, right?
Jenny looks closer at the old woman and now notices the exotic hand-sewn patterns in the furs, the arcane pendants and wrought jewelry that dangle from the woman's neck and wrists. Rough-cut rings hammered from crude metals and set with dark gems adorn the woman's fingers. Everything about the woman is ancient. The old woman meets Jenny's eyes with a prehistoric fire that makes her jump. The woman laughs at Jenny’s agitation.
No. Ten thousand years. You are my new apprentice. You, too, must take up the mantle and become a kam, a sage...to save your own time and people from the same fate as mine…
The peal of a frying pan hitting the kitchen floor wakes Jenny from her alarming dreams. Sweat is gushing from every pore and her heart is pounding.
What?...shit she says under her breath.
Her mother stirs and moans and rolls over in the bed beside her.
Jenny, was that you?
No mom. Go back to sleep. It must be dad home drunk again.
Mumbled curses drift from the kitchen. Jenny hears him groan as he bends over and picks it up.
Fucking dishes never clean. Goddamn bitch and her little whelp bitch, never clean up anything in this fucking dump!
He continues shuffling through the kitchen toward the fridge. Jenny hears the fridge door open and the clink of glass, shortly followed by the hiss of carbonated air escaping. At the clatter of the bottle cap in the dishes, she buries her head down in the pillow and tries to sink back into the world of sleep and dream.
As she begins to nod off, she hears her drunken father moving down the hallway. The sound of his jeans rubbing together between his thighs sends shivers up her spine. She knows he is headed for her room. The door creaks open down the hall and his soft steps in thick carpet come to a stop.
Fucking wise little cunt he whispers to himself when he finds her bed empty.
I know you're awake you little bitch. Think you're smart, huh?
He kept whispering in the dark; menacing threats sliding down the hallway like vipers. She clutched the blankets tight around her and sank deep into her mother's bed trying to make the mattress swallow her whole. After a few minutes she heard him haul his liquor thick carcass back down the hallway to the living room. The springs in the couch made cranky, disapproving squeals as he sat down and wrestled with a pile of blankets. She waited for a long time until she heard his lungs heave and sway on the squall heavy seas of whiskey—long, study snores soon followed.
She thought about the kooky old woman from her dream and felt her skin raise into thousands of tiny goose bumps. Her brain must have been playing tricks on her: ten thousand miles makes more sense than ten thousand years! Jenny mused on the woman and the crazy things she had said as her eyelids became dark jackets against the evil glow of the room's night-light. Outside, crickets drew heavy bows across de-tuned strings in the meadows, transmitting an alien symphony of thoughts and emotions only witches might understand.
∞
The next day at school, Jenny lingered after her social studies class. Her teacher, Mr. Rhyeson, was facing the blackboard and erasing the lesson on pre-Columbus American Indian tribes when Jenny startled him.
Mr. Rhyeson, have you ever heard the word 'kam?' she asked.
He tried to play off the fact that he'd been startled by a seventh grader as he brushed chalk dust off the lapels of his jacket. He was almost thirty-five and already going thin on top. His eyes carried heavy, purple luggage that betrayed many sleep-troubled nights and his sloppy, baggy clothing had the word 'bachelor' written between every wrinkle line.
Kam? It is an interesting sounding word, where did you say you found it?
I didn't...I'm just curious. I read it in a book but it didn't make any sense to me.
What was the book? His eyelids pitched. Despite being a fatherless bachelor, he could tell the girl wasn't divulging the whole story.
Just some book in the library.
Well, did you search for it on the internet or look it up in the dictionary?
Not yet, I thought it might be something you might know, and since I only heard it last night, I thought it might be easiest to ask you since you know lots about those kinds of things. She looked at the clock to avoid eye contact with the teacher. Even though he was nice, he sometimes gave her the creeps.
But I thought you said you read it?
Uh...yeah. I did, that's what I meant.
The teacher shifted his glance from the girl to his desk. He moved towards it and began shuffling random papers and notes into his briefcase.
I tell you what, how about we both look it up on the internet tonight when we get home. If you find something interesting about it, and it applies somehow to history, I'll give you some extra credit for it...I noticed you've been struggling to keep your grades up lately.
He gathered the last of his papers and looked at the girl. Her own eyes seemed gaunt with insomnia. The distant sorrow in her pale green pupils drove a knife through his heart. He'd noticed that she never could make eye contact with himself or any of the other male teachers.
I can't though. I need your help cuz we don't have internet at home. I can only use it here at school and there isn't enough time during study hall to look up random stuff on the web.
Desperation washed over her face and her voice took on an angry, annoyed tone. He could tell she wasn't sleeping enough, but only because he knew he wasn't sleeping enough. The twitchy irritability and lack of concentration were inimical.
Well, if there is time during your study hall today, try researching it. If you can find something, I will still award extra credit. If not, I'll try and look it up this weekend.