Haven's Circle

A Trauma Tale

Coot Demure's maps are old and fragile, stored in cardboard tubes that are almost as fragile as the maps themselves, the surface of the tubes dirty and fibrous. You have to slide the maps out easy, like they are ancient scrolls, which I guess in a way they are. Coot isn't happy about making marks on the map of Greenfield County, which became Haven sometime in the past.

I unroll Greenfield County's map on the long table at the back of the classroom. It smells of dry tinder and something else, old leaves maybe. No that's not it, it smells like ash in a damn cold grate. That's me reacting to it being so damn late and cold, so don't hold it against me in the morning. Coot haggles over whether I can use one of her precious pencils which she finally allows providing I agree not to press too hard. She tries to drill holes in my skull with her eyes and twitches as I use some of her precious books to hold the map down. She hisses as I pore over the map with an alcohol lamp, anticipating disaster.

The print of the map is faded. There is a box in the lower right of the map showing Greenfield County's position in the state with the county marked out in a red that had faded to a pale rose. Sometime way in the past someone spilt a drink on one part of the map. The spill is a coffee colored splash.

The town of Greenfield looks small, a collection of boxes running either side of the unnamed road that must mark out Main. I use my thumb as a rule, measure it against the scale printed on the map, and replay the route I took with my thumb to place an X on where I think the sunk door is hidden, close enough anyways. I put the lantern down well enough away from the map. Coot looks younger in the shadowy light, her features exaggerated by the shadows cast, her wrinkles smoothed away. She had been a beauty once.

'We need to find the other doors. One doesn't tell us much.'

'I know Coot, but that's going to take some time as there are at least seven of them.'

'You only need to find another two, Tommy. Trig.'

'What?'

'Never mind. I'll show you when we have another two doors. You'll get it.'

'This is going to scare people.'

'You think?'

It's real late, and I don't have time for Coot being snippy right now. But then I am just as bad as her. I badly need to sleep.

'I'm going to take the map back to the barn, Coot. I'll keep it safe.'

'It's the only one in the world, Tommy. The only one we will ever have.'

The sky is ablaze on the drive back, so bright I don't need the cruiser's lights. The prairie is silver in the cold moonlight and spreads forever. It has its familiar sweet smell that eases my soul some, oak moss and Indian grass, sage and earth after the rain. The Chaff is a glittering river across heaven. The Moon a white sickle. Pluto low on the horizon, the Empire of the Bright, the largest star in the sky. I try to imagine a sky without Pluto or the slow moving river of stars that makes the Chaff, but that's all I have known all my life. My mind shies away from the thought of an empty sky. The existence of that big hidden door is going to scare the hell out of people the same way.

It's going to take me a long time to map out the territory searching for two more doors. That in itself is going to get tongues wagging. A town doesn't like its Sheriff going missing for days on end. And I'll get summoned by Qota to explain myself. Even the Sheriff needs his contribution to the cooperative vouched. Sam can't do that, he's my apprentice and part time deputy. Nobody would believe Coot on principle, and Sue-Anne never leaves her bar so she can't do it. That means a trip to Pepper's farm in the morning to ask for a favour from Gnarly Jo.

Glad I went.

Jo Pepper had a better idea.

---

'You need Chow Down Dan, Tom.'

Chow Down Dan was Pepper Farm's tame Traumed. Tamed in as much as he didn't go around stealing and killing folk; and Pepper's as he never strayed far from Gnarly Joe's farm. He did odd jobs for food and kept to himself mostly. Every now and then he came into town with a note from Joe for Sue-Anne and sat in the corner of the Lazy Rustler getting soaked. He was a left behind. A Traumed who was tired of roaming. Attracted by what civilisation had to offer, but too feral to fit in. So he orbited it close as he dare.

Chow Down Dan is not what you would ever call civilised. He dresses in minimal rags. Never washes and never cuts his hair. He braids it into long strings with his 'mem rees' woven into the strands. The skull of a small bird, a strip of cloth, brass rings, pieces of coloured glass. It is in part some Traumed tribal thing and part his 'tellin.' He knows Coot, which surprises no one at all, and if he is in town she will sit with him and match him drink for drink. On evenings like this the smell from that part of the bar can put people off their drink and Sue-Anne always complains about the shortfall in customers and the extra cleaning. Chow Down Dan is not exactly a candidate for what I have in mind. I was wanting to borrow one of Joe's older boys as my witness, Joe being certain to keep him quiet.

Gnarly Joe Pepper is exasperated by having to spend more words than he thinks necessary.

'Dammit, Tom, not to witness you. Chow Down has spent his life wandering these parts. If there is another entrance he might know. Save you the work.'

And he shakes his head wearied by my stupidity. It had been a long night. Just remember that before you judge.

---

Chow Down Dan's bivouac is a canvas sheet stretched around a cone of poles with a hole at the top to let out any fumes, Chow Down's included. It sits in a hollow so he is out of sight from anyone, the penalty being I can sneak up on him in the cruiser before he knows I am there. He came out of there waving a blade and blaspheming like a priest in a brothel until Joe stuck his head out and yelled at him in Trauma pidgin, using more words that Joe would normally use all day.

Chow Down launches into an agitated speech. Waves his arms a lot. Points at me and taps his head a few times which makes Joe laugh.

'You don't wanna know, Sheriff.' Joe drawls when I ask. Joe yammers back at Chow Down.

---

I set out driving fast with the windows down helps some with Chow Down's funk. He likes the cruiser, hung his head out like a dog, his braids flapping in the slipstream whooping and hollering like a rodeo cowboy. One of the tokens in his hair was brand new, my old beat up Sheriff star. It took best part of three hours to whittle Chow Down's demands down to the star, a ride in the cruiser and free Haven Gold at the Lazy whenever he is in town. I don’t mind Sammy giving Chow Down a ride in the cruiser, it will be educational for him, but I will have to give serious thought to how I am going to square the whiskey evenings with Sue-Anne.

We are covering a lot of ground and every now and then he asks me to stop by slapping a hand on the cruiser dash and then climbs out of the cruiser window up onto the roof to orientate himself. Then he climbs back in through the window offering me a view of more of Chow Down than I ever wanted to see and points imperiously with a flat hand port or starboard to the direction we are supposed to be going. If I get it wrong he slaps my arm and gestures violently until I get the cruiser on line.

But he knew just where he was leading us.

---

The Haven 8 door is just as big and solid as Haven 7. Just as old. Just as hidden, invisible until the last few feet and then this steep ramp leading down to the huge door. We get out of the cruiser. It's all shadow at the bottom of the ramp, the sky a wedge of blue overhead. And it's chill and silent. I don't want to say it's like a tomb, it just feels like one. Like one of those ancient temples they used to dig up. Out of time. Dead.

'Wish I hadn't come.'

'Better we know, Joe.'

'That spacesuit that bust out of your jail?'

'Could be. But I would have thought that it would have known the location of the doors already. If it was sent.'

'The girl.'

'More likely.'

'So you reckon Oli?'

'Best guess for now, Joe.'

'Woulda brought a pump-gun if I'd been told.' Joe is edging towards getting gnarly at me. Joe takes the Pepper clan's security very seriously. 'Will do for the next one.'

'I want to get that done today Joe. Can you ask Chow Down which direction?'

So Joe yammers at the savage who shakes his head in reply. I am about to tell Joe to tell Chow Down I am not up for another shake down when Joe says,

'Told you, Tom.'

Chow Down walks up the ramp to where a wedge of sunlight paints the dirt floor. He beckons Joe and I up the ramp yammering at Joe. Then I'll be damned if this near naked savage doesn't start to draw a diagram in the dust of the ramp just like I did when I mapped out Haven 7's position yesterday evening. He draws a circle and holds up his fingers to show a 7. Then points to the door and draws another circle and holds up an 8. Then I'll be damned twice if he doesn't draw another circle and holds up a 6.

I nod to show I understand.

Then he draws a set of lines that converge on a common centre so there are an arc of three circles if you will, each with a straight line from each centre pointing to a common focus. Not finished yet, he walks his near bare arse in a big circle dragging his finger in the dust as he goes making sure it passes through the centres of the door circles with the focus as the big circles centre. Crude, but I get the idea just like Coot said I would. Never would have guessed a Traumed savage would have known how, except maybe Chow Down and Coot go back further than I thought. Was she trying to educate him? I need to have words with her about that.

What is clear is that if it is just the one bunker its size is tremendous.

'That's near a hundred mile across, Sheriff.' Joe doesn't sound relaxed, not one bit.

'I'll go an' get that damned Oli girl.'

'You're going to need an army as well.'

I dropped Joe and Chow Down back at Joe's farm. I was more than halfway back to town before it hit me.

How did Coot know the doors were set in a circle?