No luck. Alka had expected a short fall, thought her brief life would flash before her eyes like they say it does at the end, and then—impact, darkness. Like someone switched off a TV.
But it turned out to be nothing like that. The fall was way too short for a ninth-floor drop, and there were no flashbacks of her life, not even close. The asphalt she’d braced for turned out to be a pile of wet dirt. Alka tumbled head over heels down it, flipping several times before coming to a stunned stop. No luck—her attempt to quietly slip out of life had failed. That was a minus. But, on the plus side, it seemed she hadn’t broken anything, just gotten herself covered in mud. She probably looked like some kind of swamp monster now. Not that looking like a monster was the plus— the fact that she hadn’t broken any bones was. Wait, had she really not broken anything?
Alka tried moving her neck, her arms, her legs. It felt strange, almost unbelievable, but there were no serious injuries. She could feel scrapes and bruises all over her body, but those were minor. The fact remained: her plan hadn’t worked. The higher powers, if they existed, weren’t ready to take a doomed girl like her just yet. Which meant she now had to figure out how to get back to people. How to do that without her familiar wheelchair, Alka had no idea. For years, it had been her only way to get around. But lying here, dying in a muddy puddle, made no sense either. It was clear she wouldn’t die from this—not if a jump from the ninth floor hadn’t killed her. Still, making her last months even worse with something like pneumonia or other “perks” of hypothermia? That was all too possible. She pulled herself up with her arms and sat, leaning against the thick trunk of a tree to gather her strength. She ran her hand over the rough bark. Instantly, the scent of pine, winter, and New Year’s filled her senses. Her father’s weary face flashed before her eyes—his kind smile, a blue plush puppy in one hand, a bag of candies in the other… Their last New Year’s together… Wait. Pine? There were definitely no coniferous trees near their apartment building, especially not massive ones like this. Alka looked up. Dozens of pine trees intertwined their shaggy branches high above her head. That’s why it was so dark, like deep twilight. That, and the leaden clouds that had been dumping rain for three days straight. But under the trees, it wasn’t as wet. Big, cold drops broke through the dark green canopy, but it wasn’t the relentless downpour she’d face in an open field.
Hold on. Where did these pines come from? And this wet slope she’d rolled down? There was supposed to be nothing but gray, hard asphalt below her balcony. Alka shook her head, trying to get her thoughts in order, but she couldn’t find a single logical explanation. She noticed her teeth chattering from the cold, her whole body trembling. Time to move. She had to get back to her building…
She glanced in the direction she’d just tumbled from. There was no sign of her apartment block. Probably hidden behind the wall of rain. Though, in weather like this, some windows should’ve been lit up. Sure, a lot of people were at work right now, but some would be doing homework, others working on their computers. With these clouds, apartments would be dark and gloomy. But no lights shone.
That wasn’t the issue, though. Alka slammed her fist into the pine needle-covered ground. The real problem was that she couldn’t climb back up the slope. But maybe that wasn’t a problem after all. Somewhere nearby, across from her building, there should be another high-rise, even if she couldn’t see it now. So, she needed to get there. It didn’t matter where, as long as it was to people. They’d help her. People around here loved to help the poor and disabled. Alka gave a sad smile. A soaking wet, muddy, dying girl? They’d definitely lend a hand. She’d just have to crawl. No big deal, as long as she didn’t stay put. She’d make it. And when she got home… Her stepmother would sigh and shake her head, her stepsister might even laugh. Fine, let her laugh. Alka would ask them to take her to the hospital. It was easier to die there, surrounded by others like her. She wouldn’t be a burden to her stepmother and sister anymore.
Decision made, Alka set off with determination. She’d lost one slipper while tumbling down the hill, and the other got stuck in the mud. She had to crawl barefoot, pulling herself forward on her elbows and dragging her unresponsive body behind her. After just a few yards, Alka realized slogging through the dirt like this was impossible. She tried pulling her knees under her and crawling on all fours. It worked. But even this way of moving across the slick, soggy ground was pure hell. After face-planting into a puddle for the umpteenth time, she felt anger boiling up inside her chest. She’d long forgotten how to get mad or upset—at fate, at the people around her. What was the point of getting angry if nothing could be changed anyway? But now, real rage consumed her. At fate, at people, and most of all, at herself—at her own stupidity for ending up crawling through mud, freezing in her thin clothes, heading who-knows-where. She could’ve been sitting quietly in her wheelchair right now, watching the rain batter the windows, staying dry and warm. Idiot… What an idiot!
Beating herself up didn’t make things any easier, so Alka decided to keep moving, little by little. She wrapped her arms around the nearest pine trunk and, holding onto it, pulled herself to her feet. Her head spun a bit, and she felt nauseous. Great, probably a concussion too. Though, what kind of brain could she even have, pulling a stunt like this? She snorted angrily and took a step. To her surprise, she didn’t fall. Her knees didn’t buckle like they usually did; her head just spun harder. Instinctively, she took a few quick steps to the next pine and hugged it like a lifeline. It was like a toddler learning to walk, running to their mom and grabbing her legs to keep from falling. Right now, Alka felt like that child. And just like a child, she was filled with awe at taking her first independent steps in years. She pressed her whole body against the tree, took a deep breath of fresh air, smelling the rich scent of rain and mushrooms, and smiled at these forgotten sensations of life. No, it wasn’t all for nothing. Even if these few steps and this breath of fresh air were the only gifts fate had for her, she’d be grateful until her very last moment. Alka inhaled deeply again and licked a drop of resin that had seeped from the bark. The new sensations tore her apart, shattering the dull, monotonous world she’d lived in until now. She took a few more steps to the next tree, then another. She could walk on her own! Her steps were unsteady, wobbly, but they were hers! And with each step, it felt easier. Of course, she didn’t forget that she was doomed, that she had so little time left. Probably the shock and cold were causing this strange effect. And an adrenaline rush. Yeah, definitely an adrenaline rush. It would pass, and she’d be back in her familiar wheelchair, living out the weeks or days she had left. But right now, she needed to savor every moment of this miracle fate had granted her. And she did—smearing cold raindrops across her face, breathing in the pine-scented air, running her hands over rough tree trunks and soft, springy moss, picking up and tossing last year’s pinecones. She didn’t even notice how far she’d gone until a light flickered ahead. People. Probably a house. The intoxicating sense of freedom, better than any wine, began to fade. She needed to get to people.
Alka approached the light, but to her surprise, it wasn’t a window in a high-rise. It was a small campfire in the middle of a clearing, beside which sat an ancient-looking woman in tattered clothes, poking at the logs with a stick. How a fire could burn in such a downpour became clear only as Alka got closer. The old woman and the fire were in a circle where there was no rain. Above them hung a patch of clear sky, and the downpour seemed to flow around invisible walls. How this could be, Alka had no idea, but that’s how it looked. Even the ground around the fire was dry. Maybe the old woman had covered herself and the fire with some transparent plastic, Alka reasoned, because she needed some way to explain what she was seeing. The rain was easing up now, with only the puddles underfoot as a reminder of the recent deluge. As Alka neared the fire, the old woman raised deep eyes of an indeterminate color and spoke in a voice that didn’t sound old at all:
“Finally, you’ve come.”
“I-I… I’m not who you’re waiting for, ma’am. I need help.”
Alka felt like she was snapping out of a strange dream where she could walk and feel joy in life. Suddenly, an overwhelming exhaustion hit her. Her cold, wet clothes clung unpleasantly to her skin. Her head spun again, and she sank down by the fire, utterly spent.
“Can I warm up a little?”
“Warm yourself. I built this fire for you.”
Alka shook her head. The old woman must be confusing her with someone else. But right now, all that mattered was the warmth of the fire coursing through her body, bringing a sharp, physical pain to her numb limbs. Despite it, her eyes began to droop, as if glued shut with honey.
“I need to get to people. Please help me,” she pleaded in a weak voice.
“There’s no one here but me, girl. You’ll live with me now.”
Alka heard the old woman’s last words through a haze of sleep, so their meaning didn’t fully register. But what’s more precious to a tired, soaked body than a good rest? All problems could wait.
The old woman sighed, walked over to the girl curled up on the ground like a child, her fist tucked under her cheek, and studied her for a long time, shaking her head. Then she draped a sheepskin vest over her:
“Sleep, girl, sleep peacefully. A new life is beginning for you. You don’t know it yet, so just sleep easy. What lies ahead, even I don’t know. But I’ll do everything to make sure you survive and serve me. I have high hopes for you, child.”
The old woman rummaged in her bag, tossed a few roots and dry twigs into the fire, sending a fragrant smoke curling toward the sleeping girl, and sat back down on the storm-felled tree trunk, muttering:
“I’ve waited three days for you. I can wait a little longer. Sleep, dear. You’re not going anywhere now.”