The Best of World SF Lavie Tidhar (me reader .TXT) 📖

harder yet. She was usually too busy hunting and catching the bad guys to think about it. Now she had time enough, but she wasn’t happy.

She’s right, she thought. We sell our country too cheap, we don’t fight for it. What’s left of it now?

As if reading her mind, Elizabeth gave her a wry smile.

‘All we have left are our stories,’ she said. ‘Our lore, our folk tales. Our own native people to listen to and to learn from.’ She shrugged. ‘We could write much better westerns here. The jungle is a place where we can find out who we really are. And that’s what a western is. A journey to the centre of you.’

‘But the arid landscapes?’

‘Take Cormac McCarthy, for instance. He writes about the emptiness in the heart of all things. The desert is just a reflection. With us, down here, it happens the opposite. We are full. But not necessarily of good things. We are full of love, full of hate, full of shit – both metaphorically and literally. Have you noticed that almost nobody in American westerns take a good crap?’ She laughed out loud. ‘Girl, here we crap a lot.’

Anita blushed. She was used to cursing, but not to talk about bodily functions. Elizabeth certainly knew how to push her buttons.

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

*

When they finally arrived at Elizabeth’s house, Anita was tired, hungry, and feeling dirty. Not on the outside, not unwashed, but full to the brim with unanswered questions. Questions that disturbed her deeply.

‘She didn’t call you Mum, right?’ she mustered the courage to say. ‘She was going to call you Matinta. And you shushed her.’

‘Really?’ Elizabeth smiled.

‘And you killed that man. You killed all of them. How did you convince them to accept that Matinta crap? I never thought they could be so superstitious, not in this day and age.’

‘You’re a trigger-happy gunslinger, right, Anita? I mean that literally.’

‘What do you mean?’ Anita felt herself reddening.

‘I use Google too, Anita. You never cared about hiding your real name. You’re not related to any university. You’re a fed.’

‘I’ve been to the university.’

‘What did you study? Not literature, I suppose.’

‘No. Not literature. But this is not about me.’

Elizabeth shook her head slowly.

‘It’s about you as well. Come on, let’s have a smoke.’

‘Nasty habit, don’t you think? You’ll get cancer one of these days.’

‘I have cancer, Anita. Smoking is one of the few pleasures I can get now.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. It’s an awful cliché, but I lived my life fully and well. I did what I wanted to do, no more, no less.’

‘Including the killings?’ Anita couldn’t avoid asking.

Elizabeth let go a roar of a laugh.

‘My god, you won’t let go,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t me. It was the Matinta.’

‘Which happens to be you.’

‘Which happens to be an entity. I’m just the vessel.’

Anita scowled.

‘Please, don’t treat me like a child,’ she said. ‘I can handle the truth.’

‘Can you? What if the truth is something you can’t accept?’

‘Like?’

‘Like the need to dispense justice whenever necessary, no matter the cost.’

‘Only the law can do that, Elizabeth.’

‘Did you see any cops there on the river’s edge? Did you? No, Anita, because there is no law. Human law can’t and won’t do anything.’

‘So the… the Matinta, so be it, this creature is killing all those men?’

‘Not all,’ Elizabeth said candidly. ‘A couple of them really drowned. The Matinta had nothing to do with that.’

‘So, this is a confession? Are you telling me that you—’

‘The Matinta.’

‘—the Matinta, OK, fuck, I’ll play along if that’s what it takes… the Matinta killed at least five men in the last few months.’

‘Yes, she did that.’

‘I’m really sorry to hear that. I wish I could help you in some way. Are you coming peacefully with me to the city? Maybe I can get you special treatment because of the cancer.’

‘Maybe. But do you want to help me?’

‘I can’t let you go, Elizabeth.’

‘I’m not asking you to let me go. Quite the opposite, actually.’ She took Anita’s hand. ‘The sun will set in a couple of hours, but I can’t wait that long to get some rest. I’m so exhausted, Anita. Come with me.’

*

When Anita woke up, it was still dark. Still quiet out there.

She sat up in Elizabeth’s bed. The older woman wasn’t there. She stood up and opened the door. For a moment she considered getting dressed but didn’t see the need. It was hot and they’d already seen each other naked.

The house was still. Slowly, Anita tiptoed over the floorboards, heart in her throat until she stopped near the stove, blinking and getting her eyes adjusted to the penumbra. Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen. But the front door was ajar, and Anita could see a whitish glow through it.

Then, the whistle.

She froze.

Suddenly her instincts kicked in and she hurried back to her room to get her gun.

She tried to clear her mind and focus all her attention on the front door. Gun in hand, she opened it wide.

A huge black bird was there on the porch, looking at her. As if it was just waiting for her to open the door.

She held her breath.

It was a really huge bird. For a few seconds Anita couldn’t grasp its enormity. Its big head came almost to her shoulders. Its beak shone as if made of steel. And, slowly, it spread its wings. Anita could easily vanish in its embrace.

She had never felt such terror in her life.

Then the bird simply lifted off, taking flight. And let out the weirdest cry Anita had ever heard: ‘Who wants it? Who wants it?’

Anita’s mind was reeling. It didn’t make sense, a bird the size of an eagle and talking like a parrot.

Then she heard the call again. It didn’t come from above, but from behind her. Anita turned.

Elizabeth stood there, in the middle of the clearing, naked under the moonlight.

‘What do you want from me?’ Anita whispered, not sure Elizabeth would listen.

The naked woman came towards her. She seemed