Kate Bush's Arc

Chapter 2 of 21

Kate climbed past the second bend alone. Marrow had stopped where the path narrowed and pointed her up. Mr. Echo stayed lower with his box, watching the needle. The wind had been quiet on the wooded slope. Above the last trees it found her. It came in one long push against her coat and did not let up. She stopped, took the candle from her pocket, and cupped a match to the wick. The flame lived for three seconds and blew out. She tried again behind a rock. The wind curled around the rock and killed the flame before she could shield it. Her list of questions was folded in her hand. She could not read a single line by the gray sky alone. The peak was close. She could see the bare crown of the hill and the gap in the stone she was meant to enter. Without the candle she would stand at the top with a jar and nothing to say into it. She sat down out of the wind and thought. The candle would not hold. She had no lantern. She had the salt still in her other pocket, and the sealed jar, and her boots, and her coat. None of it made light. Then she remembered the questions. She had written them out three nights ago at her kitchen table. She had read them so many times her mouth knew the shape of each one. She closed her eyes and said the first question under her breath. It came. She said the second. That came too. She went down the list in the dark behind her eyes and found every line waiting. She folded the paper and put it away. She left the dead candle on the rock. She climbed the last slope with the jar held against her chest and her lips moving. At the crown the wind stopped as if a door had shut. The gap in the stone opened in front of her. She stepped inside the quiet. She unsealed the jar. She spoke each question into it in order, clear and slow, the way she had rehearsed. Her brother's name. The date. The soup. What he saw. Where he went. Whether he was still somewhere. She capped the jar. It felt heavier than before. She turned to start down and saw the woman. Pale, tall, standing between Kate and the path. Long hair moved around a face that did not move. Kate had not heard her arrive. The wind was still gone. The jar was full and the way back was blocked, and whatever had been swallowing sound at the peak was now standing in front of her with eyes.