OPEN SESAME

OPEN SESAME

At last they came to the edge of the city. A dangerous place. Anything
could happen. It sometimes did.
Owdgirl sensed their reluctance. It was always the same.
"Keep going," she snarled, "Jump to it."
It was her job to mother them, theirs to obey. They jumped, but they
also moved closer together, holding hands as they scrambled over the
molten glass and shattered concrete.
Wind had been quiet since daybreak. Having a quick sleep, maybe. Now he
woke in a rage, roaring and swearing and carrying-on something
terrible. Snatching up handfuls of bricks and roof tiles, he began
taking pot shots at them. Missed, though.
"Leave us alone, you old bugger," screeched Owdgirl, "Ent life hard
enough without you blaming us?"
Owdgirl had once heard tell that Wind used to be all right back in the
bettatimes before the Unthinkable. Sometimes warm, sometimes cool, but
rarely downright nasty. Who knew if it was true though. Even Owdgirl
couldn't remember bettatimes, and she'd seen nearly forty
winters.
It was getting close to mid-day. She could tell by the way the
yellow-black cloud canopy had lightened directly overhead. As she
stumbled through the debris, Owdgirl wondered if the stories about
Father Sun's great golden all-eye face was true. She wondered if she'd
ever be granted a vision of him. Her thoughts switched back to the
desperate present. Nearly mid-day and they still hadn't found. Nearly
four days since they'd last eaten. The tribe was getting restless:
she'd heard them whining amongst themselves; knew there'd been talk of
replacing her.
Owdgirl leaned on her stick and raised her hand. The others waited,
shivering and shaking as she scraped back her thin white hair and
stared into the dense shadows, listening hard, scenting the air,
gauging whether it was safe for them to continue. A lot of evil things
lived in the city. Always had. Always would. She called down the
protection of the Goddess and added a prayer for her own safety. If
they didn't find food soon she might be walled up in some cave by this
time tomorrow. Or pegged out along the way as a live offering to
Crow.
They were muttering again. She could hear them.
"Owdgirl knows where to find food," she lied, "The Goddess came to me
in a dream and showed me enough for two winters."
She walked on and didn't look back. Ungrateful lot. After all she'd
done for them. If she could think of a way of giving them the slip, she
would. And she'd take the Open Sesame with her. She smaned quietly
to herself. Where would they be without it? Even if they did find it
would do them no good. The Goddess went with the Holy Open Sesame. It
would damn well serve them right.
She slipped down a passage which led straight through a bone heap.
Beyond stretched a black field.
Stopping to bless the grinning skull spirits meant that the others
caught up with her. Their whispers carried. Owdgirl was no good. What
use was a tribe-mother who couldn't find food?
"Let Hermaff be tribe-mother," suggested one, "See if she can do
better."
Owdgirl turned on them. "Only a true woman can take my place, and there
aren't many of us left, so be careful. Hermaff? Don't make me laugh.
You think the Goddess would like that man-woman creature? Ten breasts
and no uterus? Ha."
She started to march over the black field, carefully skirting the metal
skeletons. Her eyes flicked right and left, searching for hidden
dangers, hoping for a way of dumping the lot of them. She'd had enough
of this thankless tribe-mother lark. Let them see how they liked
managing on their own. This time she meant it.
Them she stopped. There were rainbows in the black puddles. Hundreds of
them everywhere. It was a sign. An omen. The Goddess was here. The
Goddess was pointing the way.
Owdgirl looked carefully round. What had she missed? Then she saw it.
The sign. Great red letters hanging on a wall.
E S C O
Fall out! The Goddess really had led her to the right place.
"See?" she hissed, "Didn't I tell you the Goddess showed me. Think your
Hermaff could do that? Think the Goddess would have helped her?"
And suddenly they were a tribe again. And running over that black field
so fast you'd think Sane Peter had sounded the three minute
warning.
They stopped at the door. Inside it was blacker than black. Could be
anything living in there. Hands on knives, they all crept forward into
the darkness. But only as far as the magic limbo bar. From there on,
Owdgirl was on her own.
She whispered another prayer to the Goddess to help her duck under the
steel limbo without touching it. If she did, any food here would be
taboo and immediately turn to poison.
On hands and knees Owdgirl crawled forwards into a blackness more black
than the blackest of black nights, feeling around until she found
shelves. Empty. Her fingers found another. That was empty, too. It was
time to run. Time to escape. If she kept crawling there might be
another way out.
No, said the Goddess, keep looking.
A few heartbeats and she'd found a full shelf. Lots and lots of tins.
So many that she had to stuff both hands in her mouth to stop herself
screaming with relief. Holding up the hem in one hand, she filled her
skirt with as many tins as she could carry. They bashed and banged
against her legs, but she didn't care. Outside, she lined up the tins
on the black field and took out the Holy Open Sesame. After they'd
thanked the Goddess, she began to open the tins, eating a little from
each one before letting the others join in.
Afterwards, she took all the Father Sun shaped lids and arranged them
in a great circle on the black field. And she looked up at the lighter
patch in the cloud wondering if he could see her down here, full and
contented and safe for another winter.
Wind swooped down, laughing out loud. He shot up into the sky and
ripped the yellow-black clouds apart for her. Owdgirl saw Father Sun
staring back at her with his one great shining eye, that was so bright
she thought he might burn out her own. But she didn't care. Throwing
back her head, she laughed out loud. And Father Sun reached down and
touched her, warming her old bones and smiling back.