CALVARIA FELL: STORIES by Cat Sparks and Kaaron Warren
RELEASE DATE: April 30, 2024
GENRE: Science Fiction / Dystopian / Dark Fantasy
BOOK PAGE: Calvaria
Fell: Stories – Meerkat Press
SUMMARY:
BUY LINKS: Meerkat Press | Bookshop.org | Amazon
The Emporium
Kaaron Warren
Chapter One
Things improved once the mattresses arrived. Before that they’d
slept curled up in massage chairs or stretched out on couches that were too
short for them and stained with old spills; drinks, food, body fluids, drips
from the leaking roof.
They cleared out the secondhand furniture shop of
everything except the bedframes, which mostly rested up against the wall.
That area had been a mess, anyway, filled with
objects found over many years, the “miscellaneous,” items no one knew what to
do with. It was stacked dangerously high; boxes of picture hooks, crates of
broken wineglasses, piles of true crime magazines. Things they no longer
understood and could barely recognize. They moved the broken things upstairs,
finding nooks and crannies in the old shops there, trying to keep some sort of
order.
In the front corner of the shop, near the small
register, were stacked boxes of ancient cat food. Maud said, “We should take
that up to the roof. The birds might eat it if we spread it around.” The other
children all agreed, so they piled it outside the shop next-door, a newsagent
still stocked with ancient news and magazines. They added the true crime
magazines to that collection and headed back to the furniture shop.
Marty stood with his hands covering his face, his
shoulders shaking.
“Marty! What’s wrong?” Maud said. “You’ll get a
mattress, don’t worry! There’s enough for everyone.”
“He’s sad about the fish,” Bean said. She was so
short she could barely see over the counter, but she stretched her toes and
pointed. At seven she was the youngest of the children in the Emporium and she
hated that. She wanted to be old, like the rest of them. Yet she carried a sack
full of soft toys and would bring them out for conversation and cuddles.
Maud looked. Revealed once all the mess was cleared
away was a large fish tank. It was filthy, covered with moss and slime, with
five centimeters of sludgy water at the bottom. Maud stepped closer. It stank;
in the bottom were a dozen long-dead fish, their flesh mostly rotted off, their
bones poking through. She sobbed as well, and that set all of them off, all of
them sobbing over the starved dead fish. There was much they didn’t remember
but all of them remembered the pets they’d left behind.
Carlo pressed his head up against the glass. “Which
one is which, do you think? Who is who?”
“You can’t tell, once they’re a pile of bones. They
won’t be able to know who’s us when we’re bones,” Julian said.
—
They dragged the mattresses onto the bedframes and laid some in
the spaces in between. Bean wanted to take hers into the entrance atrium, a
glass-ceilinged dome, so she could sleep under the stars. Maud said, “You’ll
freeze to an ice block. Maybe when it gets warmer,” so Bean crankily dragged
her mattress into the furthest corner, tucked under an old counter.
—
The children collapsed, exhausted but happy, on the mattresses.
They weren’t very clean, though, so the next job was to traipse up to the first
floor for new sheets and pillows. The Bedroom Bonanza store had been small but
well-stocked. A lot of it had gone to customers outside (everyone preferred
their bed linen unused) or in the looting, but there was one alcove the
children had been saving for this occasion. They mostly used the stuff that
came in through the dock in great mounds. They used the worst-stained
bedclothes for other things, like an outer lining for the building as
insulation, or they’d tear them up for bags of rags they’d leave outside in the
delivery dock. They didn’t get much in return for the rags: a crate of yo-yos
(none of them had any idea what to do with them but luckily Julian found a book
and that was fun) or a box full of broken, salty crackers, stale but still good
for soup, a carton of books, all the same and with the front cover torn off.
That sort of thing.
Julian pushed up the roller
door of the Bedroom Bonanza and exclaimed. The smell washed over all of them;
damp cloth and mold.
“Oh, no!” Kate said. She was the one most looking
forward to the new beds. Somehow she remembered the comfort of climbing into a
freshly-made bed.
Water had leaked through. They had buckets all over
the shopping center and the rhythmic plink plink of water droplets calmed some
of them, annoyed others.
The walls were damp and the alcove holding the
sheets was inches deep in water.
“It’ll be all right. They’re still in their
plastic,” Julian said. He stepped into the smallest puddle and stretched out,
passing the packages of sheets out one by one.
—
Carlo led Bean downstairs to the laundromat. It was dark; the line
of high windows were dirty and cracked. The lights flickered on when he hit the
switch and buzzed quietly; they would keep flickering until they were turned
off.
Carlo organized the loads, saying, “I’m not doing
it all.” But they knew he would. Carlo used to run the machines alone, and he’d
still help when any of them forgot which buttons to push. He got tired of the
state of clothes and bedding. With someone else washing it, they didn’t care
about how dirty those items were. Once everyone had to wash their own, they
took more care.
There were piles of washing in each corner and
piled up behind the counter, way higher than the bench top. It had an odd
smell, not bad exactly, but kind of meaty. Unpleasant.
Carlo timed it perfectly, filling the machines,
adding soap (who knows how old, but it still smelled of soap at least) and
closing the lids, then racing from one to the other pressing START. All
six machines slowly filled with water and one by one most of the other children
crept out. Carlo was mesmerized by the machines and their rhythm, hearing music
that made him want to dance.
The machines followed one second after the other,
and he spun around, click-spin rock and roll, not caring there was no one there
except Bean.
“It’s okay! I know it’s loud! It’s really loud! But
the good thing is we know it will stop. Or maybe I’m magic and they will stop
on my command.”
Bean shook her head and giggled.
“You doubt the great Carrrlooo?” He rolled his rrrs
until Bean joined in. She sat some of her soft toys on the machine and watched
them vibrate.
When the machines stopped, Bean went to get the
others while Carlo emptied each machine into a different basket. These were
ones taken from the supermarket; the laundromat ones had fallen apart long ago
or, perhaps, had been used to carry away loot when the shopping center closed
suddenly.
The children weren’t sure why it had.
Carlo gave each child a basket of wet washing and
they all made their way to the roof. They didn’t like to use the elevators
unless they had to, for fear of being stuck between the floors. They told
stories of ghosts, forever trying to get out.) The elevators worked before
their time, but not since the children had been there.
There was the Very High Roof, but they rarely went
up there at the top of the eight story tower.
The much bigger Lower Roof was only two floors up
and was flat. The children had found ropes strung up here, with some aprons and
workman’s clothes, stiff from hanging in the weather for a long time.
This was where they dried their clothes, and where
they hung the freshly washed sheets and pillowcases. They pegged pillows to the
line as well, hoping to air them out.
Marty had grabbed a box of the
old cat food and shook handfuls out to feed the birds. There weren’t many (the
manager had told them it was because the trees were too skinny) but sometimes
they did come and perch on the cracked walls, perhaps on their way to
elsewhere, somewhere greener. Two black birds and one that was a sickly gray
came and pecked at the food, squawked, pecked again. Marty threw more and then
the others did. Maud felt momentary joy in this, and she made sure everyone got
a handful to toss.
For many miles around there were gray buildings,
most of them less than four floors high. “Gravity Leaks,” they called it,
meaning tall buildings could not be expected to stay sturdy anymore. Beyond
them lay the forest. And way beyond that was the water. From the high roof you
could see the trees, or at least the concept of trees, way off in the distance;
sometimes Maud would go up there, just to see something green. They didn’t know
what sort of trees they were.
Between the forest and the buildings, the Great
Fire had laid waste to most everything. When the sun was out, you could
sometimes see silvery trails through the black mess, left by people walking
toward the forest, perhaps, or to the innumerable mounds that perhaps covered
useful items.
Some of these items came as
deliveries to the children: dinner plates, cake tins, barbeque grills, coats.
Sometimes they were damaged beyond cleaning by ash and smoke, but most things
they could wipe clean and sort, awaiting the next time someone needed garden
chairs, or metal fence posts, or glass jars, or saucepans. Things the children
didn’t always understand, or had forgotten about. Before he ran away, the
manager had tried to teach them stuff about the past but they forgot so easily.
—
They made the beds and snuggled down. Maud went into the
supermarket and brought back some fizzy drinks and the oldest of the potato
chips. If it was a really special occasion, they’d open a fresher packet. Like
the birthday they all shared, or perhaps the arrival of someone new. Maud set
her suitcase beside her mattress, laying it down flat so she could use it as a
table or as a shelf. The others followed suit; they often followed Maud’s
ideas. Maud’s suitcase was brown leather covered with stickers.
“No one is very hungry for dinner after all those
snacks, are they?” Julian said. He had not eaten the snacks himself; that food
made him feel sluggish.
“Me me me!” Bean squealed. “Sausages!” Bean always
wanted sausages.
“It’s not really dinner time yet,” Josh said. The
only clocks they had were the ones in the clock shop, broken most of them, and
only one, which used sunlight for power, still running. Kate could keep time by
the music that played, and she was teaching the others to do so as well. They
didn’t know the names of most of the songs and couldn’t understand half the
words, but they all sure knew the music.
“Carry on,” Kate said. “It’s time for dinner.”
Izzy jumped up. “I’ll do it,” she said. She always
did it.
There was no big oven in the kitchen, but there
were salvaged burners and a toaster oven and a microwave, and with these Izzy
wrought miracles. Most of the saucepans they received were only good for
melting down, but they had gathered three good ones, still in their boxes, and
these they used. They sometimes got fresh food delivered. Fruit and veggies.
They didn’t like that too much, preferring the frozen food. The old manager
used to make them eat boiled vegetables. Disgusting.
Izzy made sausages (skinless frankfurts) from the
can for Bean, then a big pot of soup. Tins of asparagus soup and asparagus
pieces, a can of evaporated milk, a packet of herbs, and with some crackers it
was a feast. They took their bowls into the food court and sat in small groups.
They didn’t always sit together but after the excitement of the mattresses,
they felt like they wanted to be cohesive. There were old menus left on some of
the tables, describing food long since forgotten. Sometimes they tried to cook
by the menus, invent what they thought Spaghetti Carbonara was, or Eggplant
Parmigiana. They’d say, What should we have for dinner, as if anything
was possible.
The roof was leaking in the food court, so there
were buckets everywhere. Over in the corner, one of them had a drowned rat in
it. They’d all vote Julian take that away after the meal. Until then, they’d
ignore it. He’d toss it over the dark side of the building. Below, a dozen cars
sat rusting. This was where they threw all the dead creatures they found.
Josh gathered up the dirty dishes and dropped them
down the elevator shaft. He was the first to do this when it was his turn,
arguing that they had thousands of dishes so why waste time washing them? Now
they all did it.
—
Bean was the first to jump from mattress to mattress, squealing
with delight and the others soon followed, hollering and screaming with
laughter as they jumped from one end of the large showroom to the other.
Someone put a CD in the boombox. They sorted most sound equipment for sale but
held one back every now and then when another broke. The broken ones were sold
for parts and elements, like all the phones were. Carlo had the job of pulling
them apart. Each of them took responsibility for something. They had to turn it
up loud to drown out the playlist, but this way at least they felt they’d
chosen what to listen to.
If the manager had been there he would have said,
“If you’ve got enough energy for bouncing around, you’ve got enough energy to
work.”
But he had long since
disappeared. He’d left with pockets full of salvaged (stolen) coins. Maud kept
a list of all the things that came into the Emporium, as well as a tally of
what went out, so she and the others knew what coins he’d taken. A lot of them
were scrounged from the wishing well, but everything that came in was checked
for money. He’d given them all lessons in value, but Maud was only fourteen
then and remembered very little. That was a long time ago. She was fifteen now
and thought she’d be better at learning if someone wanted to try. He’d stopped
teaching them things; Carlo said it was because he didn’t want them to know the
value of what he was stealing, and that seemed as likely as anything else.
Although he was very tired, always, so tired. He didn’t say goodbye when he
left but he did leave a map for them, directions to the stash of small, sealed
cakes, dozens of boxes, that he was saving for a special occasion. They were
stacked carefully on the third floor, in If It Fits, mixed in with the shoe
boxes full of footwear that didn’t, in fact, fit.
They hadn’t seen that manager in a long time. It took a while
before anyone outside the Emporium noticed. Julian took charge of the orders
and Maud (after Rachel left to go to medicine school) was the boss of things
delivered, so they didn’t need a manager. It was only when the nurse came in to
do the immunizations that the manager’s disappearance was revealed.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS:
Cat Sparks is a multi-award-winning Australian author, editor
and artist. Career highlights include a PhD in science fiction and climate
fiction, five years as Fiction Editor of Cosmos Magazine, running Agog!
Press, working as an archaeological dig photographer in Jordan, studying with
Margaret Atwood, 78 published short stories, two collections—The Bride Price
(2013) and Dark Harvest (2020) and a far future novel, Lotus Blue.
She directed two speculative fiction festivals for Writing NSW and is a regular
panelist & speaker at speculative fiction and other literary events.
Kaaron Warren has been publishing ground-breaking fiction for
over twenty years. Her novels and short stories have won over 20 awards, from
local literary to international genre. She writes horror steeped in awful
reality, with ghosts, hauntings, guilt, loss, love, crime, punishment and a
lack of hope.
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