She Bleeds for Us: The Galactic Consortium 3

Chapter One

Gabriel Holloway heard jazz in his head. He'd only heard real American Jazz once, on Uncle Issa's radio one Christmas a couple years back. But the creole musicians that played for the tourist down near the beach played mostly American hits. Besides, jazz was in Gabriel's very soul.

His great grandfather had been a jazz musician in America, very famous, once upon a time. Or so Grandma insisted.

They had discussed America and Jazz in school today. Now, as he made his way towards the outer gates of the school, Gabriel pulled the jacket from his skinny frame and wrapped it around his waist. He danced and shimmied to the music in his head.

He was almost to the gate when a burst of laughter erupted behind him. It was Mustapha and his friends. "Look at Gabby dance," Mustapha said. "Dances like a girl."

Gabriel scowled and stuck his tongue out at Mustapha. Mustapha glared and started towards him, fist clenched. Gabriel dashed out the door and into the streets of Freetown.

But his mood was broken. The Holloway's had jazz in their veins, but no god damn luck, or so Uncle Issa said when he was drunk. He was right. Great Grandpa Holloway may have been a rich jazz musician back in America, but when he returned to Sierre Leone during the 1960's, as part of a "Back to Africa" movement, he'd had little success with reforms or making a living in this country.

His daughter lived in a ghetto overlooking the city of Freetown, barely surviving. The ghetto was so poor it wasn't even recognized by the city itself. Grandma Yaema made a living selling herbs to those too poor for a real doctor. She couldn't cure herself of the parasite that took her sight and she was known through out the ghetto as the Blind Witch.

But it was her kids that had suffered the worst. The civil war had ended long before Gabriel could remember but it had raged for over ten years and the scars were visible even today. Uncle Issa had fought for the government. Mom had been captured by rebels, forced to be wife to some child soldier. She'd returned to the family long enough to give baby Gabriel, the product of that marriage, into Grandma's care.

Uncle Issa had looked for her right after she disappeared, looking in all the places that drug addicts hung out. But he never saw her and his wife made him stop looking, she worried he was spending too much time among "those riffraff."

Gabriel stopped beside a bar where the creole band was already playing, even though it was still early afternoon. He listened and then started to dance again, trying to get his good mood back.

But an older man called out some word. It meant a boy who acted like a girl, but it implied something more. And the man had a hungry look in his eye that made Gabriel scared. He hurried on towards home.

Home was at the top of a hill, buried in a maze of tin huts and traditional mud walled houses.

Gabriel stopped at Uncle Issa's house first. The radio was on, but it was playing the news, not music.

"Favour," Aunt Marie barked at Gabriel's cousin. "Give him that plate." On the fire in the middle of the tin shack was a cauldron with rice and some meat in it. "You're uncle isn't here," she said to Gabriel. Sometimes Uncle Issa would greet Gabriel warmly, talk to him. Aunt Marie, never. "And I only got enough dinner for Mama Yaema, understand?" She gave him a long hard look.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said as he took the covered plate from his cousin's hands.

Aunt Marie gave one last look of contempt at Gabriel's school shirt. She was still pissed that grandma had spent nearly all the money Uncle gave her on Gabriel's tuition. "The child needs an education," Grandma maintained. Gabriel almost agreed with Aunt Marie on that one, there were better things to spend their money on than school, but you couldn't argue with Grandma.

Cradling the plate, he made his way to the top of the hill.

"Is that you, Gabriel," Grandma said without looking back. Then again, what would she see?

"Yes, Ma'am," he said.

Her head came around. "You okay?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he repeated. "Aunt Marie said she only had one plate." But she had a whole cauldron for her and her kids.

Grandma was a large woman. She'd been tall, broad and beautiful in her youth, now she was stooped and withered but still large. Her milky unseeing eyes were a hazy brown. She crossed the room in two strides, long familiarity hiding her blindness. "A customer gave me some cassava leaves," she said. She lifted the cover from the plate and sniffed. "Besides I'm not really hungry," she lied.

"I'm not either," Gabriel lied back.

They had played this game many times, each feigning indifference to make sure the other got their fair share.

"It's such a nice day, let's sit on the porch," Grandma said.

She carried the bowl of cooked greens and Gabriel carried the plate of rice and meat. He had to agree about the day, it was nice. The sky was clear and the weather warm but not too hot.

"Take a bite," he prompted as they sat.

Grandma demurred and then reluctantly accepted a bite. "And you, eat up," she prompted in turn.

To distract themselves from the too-small meal she asked about his day.

"It was good," he said. "We talked about America. Mustapha said they are the richest and most powerful country ever. Then Suzan said, 'huh uh, the new ones are. The ones from space.' They argued half the morning."

"Daddy said America went to the moon," grandma said. "But these newcomers come from a whole another galaxy. Guess that's got America beat, huh?"

"Yeah," Gabriel said. He sat back, leaning against Grandma's wide side. "Think they'll ever come here?" He was imagining large space ships like he'd seen on the TV at school flying overhead. The beautiful princess of theirs striding through the streets of Freetown, a huge parade behind her.

Grandma put one arm around him, holding him tight. She held the bowl out to him, prompted him to take another bite of greens. "I don't know, Gabriel, I don't know," she said.

Gabriel was happy, living with the best grandma in the world. He didn't need more than that. But it would be cool to see a space ship.