Chapter Three: Out the Door
Grantville, near the end of May, 1635
How does one go about leaving on a year journey? A journey around Africa on a ship about as technologically advanced as the Mayflower? Pam stood in her bedroom scowling at the things she had arranged on the bed, feeling very put out with the whole exercise. The clothes she had chosen were the most sensible and weather resistant she owned. She figured she would be facing extreme conditions so she had selected items for both hot and cold weather. She had gone through her medicine cabinet and put anything that might be remotely useful in one of her carefully hoarded ziplock bags. There were other things that she should bring; the flashlight from the bedstead drawer, and some of her precious batteries, needle and thread for repairs. . . . The list got longer and longer. She found herself gazing numbly into her closet, feeling confused and overwhelmed by the scope of the journey she faced. Shaking her head she blew out a long, plaintive whistle.
Well, I'd better bring along my best little black dress so they'll have something decent to bury me in when I'm shot dead by savages with poison blow guns, or succumb to some rare tropical disease.
Enough was enough. This could wait. She swept the closet door shut with a bang and stalked off to the kitchen to make coffee. Would there be coffee on the ship? There damn well had better be! She would mention it to the princess' clerks.
Pam set her coffee on her desk to let it cool off a bit, her mind still busy going over things. She had hired some friends of Dore's as caretakers, a young couple who were new to Grantville and needed the work. She had written careful instructions in German (with a little help from Gerbald) telling them how to harvest the sunflower crop, and how to keep the bird-feeder stocked. Pam's daughter-in-law Crystal would be their paymaster and check on things once in a while, which made her more comfortable with the situation. Once Crystal had come to terms with Pam's looming absence, she had proven to be a rock, helping Pam get ready in any way she could. Meanwhile, Pam and her son Walt had been avoiding each other, which was sadly the usual state of their relationship.
Things had gone amazingly well when she broke the news at work, much better than she had expected. She had managed to nearly finish her latest round of research, and smoothly pass what little was left to do on to her colleagues. Pam had expected to resign, but the director had insisted that she remain an employee, moreover, an employee on official leave of absence drawing a reduced salary, which was quite generous to her mind. They asked her to document anything she found along the way that may be useful to their mission in Grantville, and she vowed she would. In a flash of inspiration Pam asked them to look into the subject of artificially pollinating the vanilla orchid if they could find some live specimens. Apparently it was a lost art, and she wanted to revive it for use in her spice colony. They even threw a farewell party for her! That had really helped her mood, she had been lonely since Gerbald and Dore had left a week earlier to supervise the loading of their ship, especially the stowing of the many pounds of coffee she had made it very clear were an absolute necessity. Well, she would see them soon enough, she would try to enjoy the time remaining in her cozy little home as best she could .Now that it really was really getting close to being time to go, Pam had to once again face the fact that she was at heart a homebody. Sitting at her window watching the bird-feeder was her idea of paradise. Chasing around Africa in a seventeenth-century sailing ship had never been something she would have considered in her old life. She blew softly into the steaming cup to cool it down, making this peaceful moment last as long as she could.
The princess herself had called her the other day to let her know the issue of the colonists was finalized. "They aren't annoying religious nuts, are they?" Pam had asked, and was assured that they were nice, quiet Lutherans who were looking for a better life, and willing to take a chance. They would travel in a fleet of four ships; one for Pam and her expedition materials, two for the colonists, and one military escort. Once the business discussion was done, there was a long pause from Kristina.
"You still there, Princess?" Pam asked. She could hear a deep, child-sized breath being taken.
"Pam, I want to thank you for doing this from the bottom of my heart. I know it's not easy for you, and I feel a little bad now that I talked you into it." Kristina's voice was freighted with emotion as if she might cry, enough so that it made Pam wonder if things were all right at home for her.
"It's okay, Princess. I wouldn't do it unless I wanted to. You see I was once a little girl who cried when I read the story of what happened to the dodo. This is something I need to do, and in no way do I hold you responsible. In fact, I'm glad you came along to help me out the door. I needed a shove. You are a real good kid, and your heart is in the right place. I hope you will continue to work to preserve nature. It's going to need your help in the years to come. I've seen what a bunch of Americans can do to the land, and it ain't pretty. You keep at it."
She heard Kristina sniffle away from the receiver. "Thank you, Pam. I will try my best. Please come back to us safely!"
"You can count on it, kid."
"May God be with you!"
"He's welcome to come along. I could use the extra help." This made Kristina laugh, which assuaged Pam's concern for the girl's emotional state. Pam laughed too, said good-bye, and put the phone down, feeling pleased despite her continued anxiety over the coming voyage.
****
The day had come. Pam took one last look at her beloved bird-feeder, full of sunflower seeds and currently hosting a pair of young, up-time descended Eastern bluebirds, fellow immigrants through the Ring of Fire. She wondered where the transplanted bird species wintered now. In their former homeland, it had been Central and South America. Here in Europe she wondered if they found the balmy southern reaches of Italy or Greece to their liking, or if they ranged farther, across the Mediterranean to Africa? Well, now maybe she would find out.
She became aware of a noise coming from up the road, growing louder as it drew nearer. She peered out the front window to see just what the ruckus was. She could hear . . . cheering? And some kind of music. A bit irritated at the disturbance, she went out on the front porch to gaze over the nodding heads of her hillside full of sunflowers, to the road below. There was some kind of a parade coming.
"Oh that's just great. Now the road into town is going to be all jammed up, and I'll be late for the train." She was about to return to saying her private farewells to her little pink house when an odd thing caught her eye. There was something large coming into view, what must certainly be a parade float. Today wasn't any kind of holiday that she could think of, but with all the different kinds of people living in Grantville these days it certainly could be somebody's holiday. It looked like it might be a chicken, or a turkey, or maybe a . . . Pam gave it a good study with her sharp eyes, her hand cupped over her brow.
No. It's a dodo.
Pam rolled her eyes. She had already said all her good-byes to family and friends, not wanting a scene at the train station. Now she considered quietly slipping the door closed, sneaking off over the wooded hill behind her house, and then bushing her way cross-country to the station. As a dedicated birder she knew every secret path and hidden hollow in Grantville, and figured she could go most of way without using a road, or even being seen at all, for that matter. Yeah, no problem, I could do that, the baggage has been sent ahead, just my rucksack left. . . . She looked back at the road to see that the parade mostly consisted of a large group of children led by Stacey Antoni Vannorman, a teacher who often helped Pam with the summer nature program, and who had kindly offered to take it over during Pam's absence. The parade came to a halt at the bottom of her steep walk, the kids bearing painted signs that said "Our Hero, Pam Miller the Bird Lady of Grantville!" and "Save the dodo, Pam!"
Oh. Dear. God. Pam nearly swooned from embarrassment. I swear I'd rather be lost in the Congo than be the leader of a damned parade.
"We're here to escort you to the station, Ms. Miller!" one of her favorite girls from nature program outings cried out between giggles, beating her teacher to the punch. Stacey, knowing Pam's fluctuating moods pretty well after several seasons of working with her, grinned merrily at her current discomfiture without regret, and said, "I'm sorry Pam, but they insisted." She definitely didn't look sorry. Pam did her best to maintain the deadly expression of bored disdain she favored disruptive students with during her planned activities, but it broke into a really silly, grinning girl giggle of her own.
"Gawd, you guys! I'm simply mortified! Okay, I can't possibly get more embarrassed than this, so let's have a parade! Maybe no one else will notice if we move fast enough. I have a train to catch! Just give me a minute to grab my pack!" With one last look back, she took in her living room and her desk by the window, beyond which her lay her little garden. She felt a sharp pang of regret blended with a murmur of fear at leaving this island of reason in a turbulent world, a world that all too often struck her as violent and incoherent. With an effort of willpower she pushed the uncomfortable feelings aside. It was time to go. She was ready.
Pam turned back toward the door, slipped her trusty rucksack over her shoulder. She spied her grandmother's sturdy walking stick leaning in its usual place beneath the coat hooks. It had saved her and Gerbald's life once, she had nearly killed a man with it in their defense. Might as well take it with me! She gripped it firmly in her hand. The solid oak weight of it was reassuring, lending its strength to her. If you could just see me now, Grandma! Pam stepped out her door, closed it tight with a twist of the lock, and took her place at the head of her parade, gamely raising her walking stick up and down like a grand marshal's baton as she led them forward.
Pam hadn't expected anyone to attend her departure. She had warned her relatives away, being as how it was going to be hard enough as it was. But now, to her great discomfiture, Pam found a host of noble types and local muckety-mucks waiting on the station platform, and it looked like half of Grantville had turned up! Her cheeks achieved a rosy red they hadn't known since high school. A stunned, and thoroughly embarrassed Pam Miller was escorted by gentle hands up the stairs onto the platform.
Stacey climbed up with her, clearly the master of ceremonies. She spoke up in the far-carrying voice of an experienced teacher. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am very proud to present Pam Miller; champion of nature, and soon to be rescuer of the poor, helpless dodo!" Cheers and clapping erupted, some of the town's original hillbillies shouting out "Way to go, Pam!" Pam inwardly cringed, but resolved to make the best of it. This is all part of it, too. Smile, Pammie! And she did.
Mercifully, before she could be asked to make a speech, the train conductor blew a loud whistle and hollered "Alllll aboooooarrrrd!" with old-time American gusto, albeit with a slight German accent. Pam was ushered to the open door of the converted school bus that someone had repainted a day-glo lime-green popular in the 1970s, a hue still found on several brands of construction equipment, apparently in a misguided attempt to make the thing look less like a school bus. It certainly didn't make it look like a train, to her it resembled a giant caterpillar.
Pam waved at the crowd one last time, then stepped onto the ersatz train. She made her way to the very back, even though it turned out that this was a "special non-stop express" just for her. Thank you, Kristina! She thought, grateful not to have any company but her own for the ride north.
She collapsed onto a dull-green, vinyl school bus seat as the converted vehicle rumbled out of the station, the festivities' noise diminishing behind her as they picked up speed. She didn't look back. Instead, she studied the bright red-and-white up-time safety stickers. These urgent messages from another universe combined with the familiar smell of up-time plastics, metals, and artificial fibers, suddenly made Pam painfully nostalgic for her child-hood. This quickly grew into a longing for up-time life in general, filling her with an intense feeling of loss she hadn't felt since her very first years here in the 1630s. She watched as the landscape made its abrupt, unnatural change from West Virginia to Thuringia as they crossed the rim of the Ring of Fire, a round peg thrust into the wrong hole by forces beyond comprehension.
She began to weep silently as the now familiar German country-side, with its thatch-roofed barns, and half-timbered farmhouses sped by beyond the fingerprint smeared windows. She had spent many hours wandering this quaint, pastoral landscape in search of elusive birds. This, too, was her home now, and it wasn't until she was leaving that she had come to realize it.
She knew she now belonged to both worlds, this Germany, this time and place, was a part of her as much as that lost USA had been. Once a soft twentieth-century woman, she had been re-forged in seventeenth-century iron. Pam found a handkerchief in her pocket and wiped away her tears, then blew her nose so loudly it made the conductor in the front of the bus-train jump. With professional courtesy he refrained from looking back to check on his only passenger, giving her all the privacy she might need. Pam smiled approvingly at his good manners. She opened the satchel containing her many notes, maps and copied pages of useful books, studying the long journey ahead as they chugged their way toward the distant sea on the ever spreading rails of industry.