The Motion of Puppets(31)
“… so he just went blank,” Mlle. Parker said. “And I was all rise and shine, but he just sat there and spaced.”
“You know his story, right? Word is his wife just vanished into thin air this summer.”
“What do you mean she vanished?” Parker asked. “Like ran away on him, ’cause that I could see.”
A third voice chimed in. “No. That’s just it—they don’t know what happened to her. Went all missing person on him. They say she might be dead.”
“Get out. You don’t suppose he killed her and dumped the body?”
They shared a nervous laugh.
“C’mon, guys,” one of them said. “Not nice. But no wonder he’s that way. Seriously lost.”
Parker leaned across the table. “Hey, you never know about the secret life.”
*
Kay’s joints rumbled, her stitches pulled at the seams. The vibrations meant that they were moving once again. On the main roads at constant speed, the hum of the engine and the rolling wheels lulled them to sleep, but a bump or a pothole and everybody was awake and complaining. If the jolt was harsh enough to cause the shocks to spring, her neighbors in the cardboard mausoleum swore and cursed the driver. They had been packed into some sort of van or truck, the puppet box wedged into place by other crates and cartons, shifting only slightly on the steepest of hills or the sharpest of curves. The back of the vehicle was dark, dank, and dismal. Inside her compartment, Kay suffered with the heat. The straw laid down as a cushion made her itch and twist to find comfort and relief. But most oppressive was the dullness of the routine. They would mosey for a few hours and then rest. She imagined that the drivers had stopped for lunch or to use a bathroom or to stretch their legs. And then back in the van and move some more until night fell. One or the other, for both the Deux Mains and the Quatre Mains took a turn at the wheel, would come to the back and open the door, and the stale air would belch out in a rush as fresh air billowed in. After they checked their cargo, the giants departed. Above her, the Sisters yawned like three little kittens. Only when they were all shut in for the night, Kay dared to speak.
“Olya? Masha? Irina?” she called to them.
“Dahlink,” they sang together.
“I’ve been awake all day between naps. How can that be, without the moon or without the stars?”
Directly above her, Olya spun slowly in her chamber, her wooden shoulders scraping the edges. “We are no longer in the Back Room, and we are free of its rules.”
Irina laughed bitterly. “Free as one can be, shut in a coffin.”
“Until we get to the next place,” Olya said. “We will be in a kind of limbo, between one world and the next. The Original must be traveling with us.”
“Purgatory in a box,” Masha said. “Shut up and sealed is worse, if you ask me, than knowing where you are and what is to be expected. At least in the Back Room, you could see your friends every once in a while. Here the scenery never changes, the company never varies.”
On her left, No? quietly sobbed. “What I wouldn’t give for a little light, a gulp of fresh air. I’m going crazy in here, I tell you, cooped up night and day, never knowing if it is night or day except for the constant driving, driving, driving, then stopping probably at some cheap hotel out in the sticks. This is no way to live. Without your friends, your family. A chance to move and play, a chat across the table.”
“Ah well,” Olya said. “No use complaining, nobody is listening, nobody cares. Least of all the Quatre Mains, who could do something about it. You must make the best of your lot in life. Think of Kay, this is her first trip. Give some consideration to her feelings.”
“Hers? What about my feelings? What about some consideration for the rest of us, bundled like packages? Like bottles in a case—”
From the right side, Nix trumpeted. “Oh would you please shut up? It’s like this every time. Whine and moan and carry on. You know it’s not forever. You know we had to leave the toy shop, they have come looking for Kay. Most likely we’re bound for a better place, a happier tomorrow. Songs to be sung. Capers, jests, a chance to perform again. So you have a little inconvenience—”
“Feh,” Irina spat out. “An inconvenience? Better they would just dump us in the back of the van in a great big heap and then lock the door. At least then we could move about, see how the others are.”
Masha hollered from her chamber. “Are you there? Can you hear us? Good Fairy? Devil? Are you all right, my Queen? Mr. Firkin, are you with us?”
The six puppets went quiet and waited for a reply. The other tombs were quiet. A cricket had crawled into the back of the van and began to chirp. The song echoed and filled the space.
“I wish I had a shoe to throw,” No? said. “And silence that bug.”
“Where are they?” Irina whispered. “Do you think they are here? Maybe the Quatre Mains forgot them at the Back Room.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nix said. “Perhaps we have stopped at some little burg and the masters decided to put on an impromptu roadside show. No doubt the Queen and Mr. Firkin are behind the proscenium awaiting their cues.”
The cricket picked up the tempo.
“Or maybe they can’t hear us over this godforsaken cricket,” said No?. “I would give my left arm for a shoe. Hell, I would throw my left arm at it if it would just shut up.”