The Purgatorium

Chapter Twenty-One

Daphne felt someone touching her, but she couldn't open her eyes. She tried to speak, and in her mind, she was saying, "Brock?" but her lips did not move. The pain in her knee was no longer acute, but dull, and vague, like an old dream. A dream. She heard the thumping of Kara's headboard. Should she get up? (What's she doing, jumping on the bed? Sit-ups? Dancing?) But Daphne lay there, unable to move. Too tired. Knee hurts. Thirsty.

The thumping grew louder, like a bass drum, and she felt herself being rubbed down and then lifted. A smell of musk and peppermint and perspiration wafted near her face. Someone whispered at her ear. What? What did you say?

She heard singing above her. Not birds. People. Daphne tried to open her eyes but they felt weighted down. She could not move her lips.

"It's okay, Daph."

Who is that? Kara?

Now she was rising up. She blinked several times at the clear blue sky above her.

"Limuw has taken her life, and our prayers are to Hutash. Hutash agrees it is not yet time. She has given us a ritual to bring Limuw back to life."

What? She blinked, again and again, the light bright above her.

Applause. She turned her head toward the sound of vigorous clapping.

"It's okay, Daphne," a whisper came near her ear. A hooded figure in white.

Oh no. Daphne sat up. Her hand rushed to her head. No! Her head was bald! Slick as a bowling ball. "My hair," she whispered. Tears pricked her eyes.

Five hooded people in white knelt before her.

"Limuw was dead and now she is alive again. Welcome back to the land of the living." It was Larry's voice.

More applause.

Individual faces became recognizable to Daphne—Hortense Gray, Stan, Emma, Roger, Arturo Gomez, Lee Reynolds, Phillip, Mary Ellen, Kelly, and many others in the amphitheater, applauding her as she sat dumbfounded. Anger filled her heart. Where was Brock? What had they done with Brock?

Before she could demand an explanation, she was lifted in a stretcher from her perch on the altar by the five hooded people and carried into the canyon wall into a room alight with candles. "Dave? Vince? Let me go!" She tried to get free, but found her legs were bound. Somewhere stringed instruments played a slow lament.

"Stop!" she shouted. "Let me out of here!"

The five took her to the wall of the cavernous room and sat her on a bench of rock before stretching her arms out to either side and cuffing them into shackles. Draped with a white sheet, no clothes underneath, she screamed, "Oh, my crap! Why are you doing this?"

"It's not why, but what," Larry's voice sounded, clear and low through the room.

"Please! Please let me go!"

The hooded people backed away and left her alone in the room. The music stopped. Only the candlelight remained.

"Please!" she screamed again. "Hello? Where's Brock? Cam, I told you I didn't want this! How can you let this happen! Anyone there? Please!"

A hooded person appeared before her carrying a bucket. The person lowered the hood to reveal her identity.

"Mother?" Daphne blinked her eyes, sure she was hallucinating. "Is that really you? Mom! Help me!"

Her mother stepped forward. "You should have gotten out of bed that night you heard Joey in Kara's room."

Before Daphne could respond, her mother lifted the bucket and threw cold water all over her, face and all.