Old Gods

Tiffany stared at the ceiling through red-rimmed eyes. Every so often, she sniffled and sighed, rolling from her left side to her right side, back and forth. A thick nondescript gray blanket hung off the edge of her hard cot. She'd used it briefly during the night until she couldn't stand the way it scratched against her bare arms. Instead, she lay in a small ball, hands gripping her arms tightly. Gray pre-dawn light filtered through the small window overhead.

Time seemed to stop for her; she couldn't tell how long she'd been in the tiny room. She'd screamed and cried and cursed until her throat was raw. Nobody came for her and so she'd spent the night wallowing in self-pity.

The young woman shivered and pulled her knees closer to her chest. She could hear a slow drip in another room. The silence was eerie.

Suddenly, Tiffany sat up, wiping at her ruined makeup. She heard voices and was sure one of them was her father. Letting out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, she sat up against the cold wall and stared at the door of the room. She closed her eyes, straining to hear what was being said. After an eternity, the voices came closer before falling silent again. Keys rattled in the door's lock and the door opened.

Tiffany's father stood next to the old sheriff.

"Daddy," the young woman cried, wailing as the fear and sadness suddenly overwhelmed her. "Why didn't you get me earlier?!"

Her father, face grim and hard, ignored her. "Thank you again, Fred." He was dressed impeccably in a dark black suit and coat. She couldn't help but notice that

he

looked well rested. Anger flashed through her but she pushed it down, smiling tremulously instead.

"Yes, sir," the sheriff said, nodding. "I'm sorry we had to hold her here."

"I wouldn't stop it if I could."

The sheriff nodded again and walked away. Tiffany's father stared at her for a moment and then turned. Tiffany scrambled to get her high heels on, suddenly terrified that they would change their minds and leave her there. She stumbled on sore legs and a lingering hangover but quickly caught up to her father. As they passed the front desk, the young woman sneered at the sheriff. He watched her leave with cold, unblinking eyes and she felt a child touch along her spine. Her expression faded and she looked away.

Shivering in the cold morning air, Tiffany hurried to her father's car, slipping inside when he unlocked it. She sighed as the large BMW cradled her in its warm leather seat. The driver side door opened and her father sat down. The car roared to life.

"Daddy," Tiffany said.

"No," her father answered. "Not another word until we're home."

Tiffany buckled herself and then crossed her arms, staring out of the window with a pout. She pulled her long blonde hair over her shoulder, twisting and playing with the ends while she made a mental list.

A bath first, she thought. Long and warm. And then the spa. Definitely the spa. Is Brian working today? It doesn't matter; he'll have to take a day off now. I'll make him if he doesn't want to. He can take me out to eat and go shopping with me. Ugh. I feel gross. And then Carol and Jessie. I can meet up with them tonight. They're going to die when I tell them what happened. We'll get drinks. And then...

The drive was relatively short. They passed through the small city as people began waking up and making their way to work. The young woman stared from her seat, oblivious to the world around her. She blinked, shaking herself when her father parked in front of their large house. Her mother's SUV was gone and she was glad; she'd much rather deal with her father.

Pretending meekness, she walked behind her father through into the house. She took her shoes off in the foyer while her father stormed through, leading the way into his study. Tiffany followed on bare feet while her father's shoes tick-tacked along her hallway. Inside the study, the older man pulled open a large wooden globe to reveal various bottles of alcohol. Taking a glass bottle filled with amber liquid, he poured himself a large drink. Tiffany considered asking for a glass as well but she kept her mouth shut and sat instead.

"Daddy," Tiffany tried again.

"Three hundred dollars," her father said, staring at his drink. His hair was cut short and had turned gray long ago. He looked up at her and even she could see how tired he was. "They only caught you because you'd stolen from them so many times that store security is notified to specifically follow you. Just you. I thought it was peculiar and so I asked. But, no, you're the only one. They have a little photo of you in the security room."

"But, daddy," Tiffany whined.

"How many times?" He asked. "No, never mind. I don't want to know. They said the only reason they didn't call the police every time before was out of respect for me. They

apologized

for finally having to call the police."

"I-" Tiffany started.

"A little over three hundred dollars in cosmetics. You don't need to steal. Your mother and I give you enough. But that's always been the problem, hasn't it? We've spoiled you and haven't been around to instill the basic decency and morality that your older brother and sister seem to have inherited. Did you sell them? For drugs? Was that it?"

"I don't-"

"

DON'T LIE TO ME

!" her father yelled, his drink slopping onto his hand and the mahogany arm of his chair.

Tiffany shrank back into the hard leather chair. She swallowed, eyes downcast as she wondered whether he'd found the small box she had hidden in her room.

"I'm not stupid. I didn't lead a sheltered life. I brought myself up from nothing and worse. I worked hard to build a name for myself and a comfortable life for my family. For you. For your mother. For your brother and sister. And you. You'd pull it all down if you could. When you failed out of high school, we helped you pass. When you were arrested again and again, we pulled you out. You've failed out of every single college and community college in the area. And now, here you are. Dragging the family down with you."

Tiffany's lip trembled. Although she'd learned how to get her way at a very young age, she wasn't acting now. Her father rarely raised his voice.

"I love this city," he continued. "I worked hard and so many people here helped when I needed it. I give back and I'm happy to do it. I won't have you destroying all of the goodwill I've built over the years."

Tears rolled down Tiffany's burning cheeks. Her father watched her, his expression unchanging while he weighed his options. The mounted heads of various animals loomed above the young woman. They seemed to sit in judgment against her.

"Go," her father said finally. "Up to your room. I'll call you down later. You're not to leave the house today."

"I'm," Tiffany sniffed through her tears. "I'm not a child any more. You can't-"

"Yes, you are," her father told her. His voice was full of pain. "Go."

Tiffany stood, eyes still down on the ground. She sobbed, mostly for effect, and left as her father dialed a number on his cellphone. She was already plotting ways to change her father's mind. She left the room but stood by the door.

"Simon?" Tiffany heard her father ask. "It's Joshua. Yes, long time. No, no, not calling about another hunt. I have... Do you remember that small village? The one we visited on safari in '93?"

The front door opened and Tiffany pulled away, glancing toward the front of the house. She hissed under her breath but quickly made her way up to her bedroom. While she wasn't afraid of the maid, she didn't want the woman tattling on her to her father. She hated that she missed the conversation but she wasn't even sure it had anything to do with her.

Once safe in her plush room, the small young girl plugged in her phone and began texting her friends.

-----

"This is Simon," Tiffany's father said. All three, Tiffany, Simon and her father sat in her father's study. Both men drank slowly from large glasses. Whiskey this time, Tiffany noticed. She waited, frustrated at being called down so late. She'd been bored in her room all day and had almost been asleep when her father called her down. It was nearly midnight.

Simon watched her while her father gave introductions. He was older and rugged, suntanned and rough from living outdoors. Despite his age he looked lean and strong. She thought he might even be a little handsome if he were younger and shaved his large white mustache.

"You'll be going away for a while," her father was saying. "Namibia. A small village in the Kalahari Basin. You'll leave your phone and everything else behind that won't fit into a small suitcase. I'll drive you to the visa office-"

"Are you out of your-!" Tiffany yelled, her heart racing. She stopped herself before she could make it worse.

No phone? Probably no fucking Internet out there, either! What the ever loving fuck is he thinking?!

"I'll drive you to the visa office in the morning," her father continued. His voice was oddly drained of emotions but his eyes were wet with unshed tears. "I called them earlier this morning and already have your tickets ordered. You leave tomorrow evening."

The two men watched Tiffany. Where her father looked worn out, Simon seemed nearly predatory.

"When... how long... you can't be serious. What am I supposed to do?" Tiffany blurted out. The young woman's father shifted, staring at his drink. He seemed at a loss for words for once. "What the fuck is the point of this? You can't- My friends! Everyone I know is here and you're shipping me off to some other country? What? To teach me a fucking lesson? Are you fucking insane?"

"That's enough," her father rumbled, still not meeting her eyes.

"No," Tiffany said. She leaned forward, her face pale white with fury. "No, that's not fucking enough. My life is here. Whether you like it or not. You and mother-"

"Enough," Simon growled. Tiffany blinked, sitting back suddenly as if slapped. The other man's voice was a pure command. "We leave tomorrow at 5 pm sharp and you are coming with me even if I have to drag you by your hair."

Tiffany's mouth hung open. She looked between Simon and her father but her father simply continued to stare at his drink, swirling it slowly around the glass.

"You're dismissed," Simon said. His cold brown eyes stared through her as if she no longer existed. Tiffany's jaw worked while she desperately thought of something to say. Thoughts melted away beneath the man's gaze.

With a scream, the young woman flounced away, running back to her room to throw herself under her covers. She screamed into her pillow until her voice cracked. Texts to her friends went unanswered. She threw her phone against the wall in a rage, not caring when it cracked and exploded into pieces. Mentally and emotionally exhausted, the young woman eventually fell asleep.

-----

Tiffany's father stood with her at the airport gate. Simon was off speaking with airport security over something in his luggage.

"I'm-" Tiffany's father started. She'd never seen him look so sad. Or indecisive. "We could still..."

"Mom couldn't bother to show up? Fucking typical," Tiffany sneered. Her father looked away, wiping at his eyes with his thumb. "You have no idea how fucked up this is, do you? When I'm back, I'll-"

"I'm sorry I couldn't be stronger," her father whispered, wrapping his arms around her in a fierce hug. Tiffany held her hands to her sides. He swallowed and cleared his throat. "I... I loved you. I'm sorry."

Stepping back, Tiffany's father wiped more tears. And then, he turned and walked away. Tiffany watched him go, frowning at him. She'd

never

seen him act like that. Still, it didn't stop her from wondering what she'd do to get back at him when she returned. Obviously he would owe her a better car. And now she'd demand to get her own place. She'd already had her eye on a three bedroom condo downtown and this would simply clinch the deal. An increase in allowance as well. He would be groveling to win back her affections by the time she was back. She'd make sure of it.

"They're getting ready to board," a rough voice said at her shoulder. Tiffany jumped. She hadn't heard Simon approach. "Let's go."

Tiffany followed the older man through the gates and directly to the small waiting plane. It was a short flight to a nearby hub and she was tired enough to sleep the entire way.

-----

Over a day later Tiffany held onto her seatbelt as the Range Rover she rode in bounced along a rough dirt road. She was sweaty and dirty and her hair was a disaster. She watched the seemingly endless desert pass by in silence. Simon spoke little except to tell her when to move and where to go.

Hours passed and sparse patches of vegetation appeared along their path. She'd counted three small villages on their drive and each one was dirtier and more pathetic than the last. Sweat rolled down her face. She'd tried asking for the air conditioner but Simon had just snarled at her. The man never seemed uncomfortable.

They stopped once to refill their gas from one of the large cans on the back of the vehicle. The next time they stopped, Simon told her they'd arrived.

Tiffany looked at the village in disbelief. Large stone huts were arrayed in rough circles around a large open area. Adults and small children wandered between buildings. Some carried large baskets while others herded small, sickly animals. Goats and chickens wandered aimlessly. She was amazed at how very black everyone was. She didn't associate with black people back home but even those seemed light skinned by comparison.

Simon stepped out of the big vehicle and knuckled at his lower back. A crowd began to gather and she saw the man smile for the first time. He called out in a language she'd never heard and several people answered with their own smiles. Hugs were exchanged with men and women and he even crouched down to talk to small, shy children hiding behind their mother's loose skirts.

A few people gathered around Tiffany's door and she shrunk back, watching them through expensive sunglasses. They seemed more than curious. Almost... hopeful, she thought. Simon walked over and opened her door. When she didn't immediately come out, he turned to her and the smile slid from his face.

"Get out," he said. And, she did.

A small black girl, her hair pulled back in tight braids approached her timidly. She said something and held out a small garland of rough brown weeds. Tiffany stared at the little girl while people crowded around.

"Take it," Simon told her. "It's an offering. A gift. They made it for you."

"I don't want it," Tiffany said, hiding her hands behind her back. Simon turned to face her.

"Take. It." He said, biting off each word.

For a moment, the young girl considered refusing but a large part of her worried what the man might do if she refused. It was a completely alien concept to her - to worry about her own safety. But, here, away from her family and city she was at the mercy at this man. And he terrified her. She reached forward and took the wreath. The small girl and several others backed away, their heads down and their fists pressed between their breasts.

"Here," Simon said. "I'll show you where you'll be staying." He turned to walk away as a few villagers opened the back of the vehicle to pull out the few pieces of luggage.

"I-" Tiffany said. "I don't want them touching my things."

Simon turned back to her. "Why? Oh, for god's sake woman. They aren't going to steal anything. They're a damn sight more trustworthy than you are. I'd trust any of them with my life. Now follow me."

Tiffany followed the other man, covering her nose with a small hand. The stench of animals was powerful and alien to her. She gagged a few times until she started breathing through her mouth. Looking around, she began to notice how thin everyone was. But, more than that, she realized people were looking at her with the same expression. Hope.

"Why are they looking at me like that," Tiffany asked.

"They're starving," Simon said, ignoring her question. "Their harvests have been falling off for a while and their animals are beginning to die. Hunting has been sparse."

"Why don't they move?"

"To where?" Simon laughed. "This is their land. You saw what it was like on the drive here. If you were even bothering to look. It's like this everywhere. This is all they have."

Tiffany fell silent until they reached a small hut near the edge of town. Simon pushed aside a thin curtain and waved her in. She turned to see a man pulling her luggage. He bowed slightly when she looked at him.

"Should- Should I tip him?" Tiffany asked.

"Don't be stupid," Simon answered. "Take your bag and go in. I'll follow in a moment." The older man spoke to the crowd in a language unfamiliar to Tiffany. She pulled her luggage into the small building and looked around. The floor was bare dirt. There was a small table, a tiny bed and a stand with a large stone bowl. An old rack stood near the bed, five wooden rods parallel to the ground.

The young woman sat on the edge of the little bed, dropping the wreath to the ground. She was exhausted, physically and mentally. She hadn't known quite what to expect from her trip but the reality of it was beginning to crash into her. She'd never felt so alone. So isolated. Everything was alien to her. She was too tired to cry.

Simon pushed aside the curtain blocking the entrance.

"Get some sleep," he told her. "They're going to have a small feast in our honor tonight."

"I'm not hungry," she told him.

"You will be," Simon said. He left without a word.

"I want a shower," Tiffany said quietly, to no one. She pulled her boots off, curled up on the bed and was asleep in minutes.

-----

"- time," a voice said, waking Tiffany. "It's time. Wake up."

Tiffany yawned, blinking her eyes. Darkness filled the small room and she had a weird sensation that she was back in the holding cell again. She shivered and looked around. Bright light danced behind the curtain and she saw vague shapes of people moving and dancing. She could hear them singing.

"I want to go back to sleep," she said sullenly. She didn't want to go out there among those people. She wasn't hungry and she didn't want to be among them.

Simon grabbed her arm.

"You're hurting me!" she said loudly.

"Then stand on your own and come outside, damn you," Simon hissed. "Stop acting the spoiled child and do what you're told."

Tiffany yanked her arm away and stood, rubbing at her skin. Simon stalked away, disappearing behind the curtain and into the night. Tiffany walked slowly, cursing this man and her father for what she was going through. The voices outside rose in nearly a cheer when she emerged. The young woman shivered and quickly made her way to the roaring fire at the center of the village.

Women, dressed in simple cloth dresses that crossed up over their shoulders to cover their breasts but leave their stomachs bare, busied themselves gathering food. Children moved between the men and women, helping and dancing and humming with the song. Some men danced, some sang and some sat talking around the fire. Nearly everyone bowed to her in that peculiar fashion until she seated herself beside Simon.

Two young children came with a large platter of fruit. The platter was weaved out of local bushes and sticks and the fruit was spotted. Several small flies buzzed around the pile of food. Tiffany grimaced at it but forced a smile and said thank you to the children. They flashed quick bright smiles before running off.

The fire warmed her and she watched everyone moving around her. The singing rose to a crescendo and the crowd parted. A young man strode through the opening. He looked strong with big arms and a hard stomach. So unlike the thin people around him. He wore a mask covering his face. It was long and furred with a flat snout. And, the more she looked the more she realized that it wasn't a handmade mask. She could see his eyes through the mask, the fire glinting off of them. He stared directly at her.