Not even sound can escape from this place, thought Tip. 

     He sighed as the trumpeter repeated the brief melody that signaled the end of supper. The notes rolled across the central square and through the barracks. They were bounced inward by the high walls surrounding the camp.

     Tip remembered dreaming about living free, without any restraints. Back then he felt he was destined for more than the lowly life of a serf. Now he just wanted to escape from something in his mind.

     Tip walked through the crowd of workers. He was finished with supper and was headed for an appointment he dreaded. Tip was certain the meeting would turn into an argument.

     As Tip shuffled along he made sure that his disguise was in place. He set his face in a bland expression and lowered his eyelids, shaking his head until his hair fell in a waterfall over his eyes. Then he slumped into hopelessness.

     His disguise helped him look like the other workers. Many boys wore their hair long like Tip did. They made his disguise even more effective.

     Tip was hiding in plain sight so the guards and rulers of the camp would not notice him. He was also hiding from informers. Only Tip’s friends could recognize him when he wore his disguise, but even they did not know what he was hiding.

     Fortunately, Tip thought, his hair matched the brown of the dirt and his eyes were no particular color. He knew this because he had seen his face in the green water of the Fairhaven River when it was calm.

     Tip reached a place where the workers stood packed together. He dashed through the crowd like a minnow darting between water weeds. As Tip ran the babbling talk of the workers covered any sound that he might make. Suddenly Tip broke through them.

     Between the crowd and the northern edge of the central square, Tip saw an empty stretch of ground. Guards patrolled the edge of the square and the lanes that ran among the buildings, but Tip needed to go through this area.

     He resumed shuffling and headed for the buildings. He steered clear of the guards without acting like he was avoiding them.

     Tip looked at his bare feet because doing this made him look humble. Unlike the other worker’s feet, Tip’s inner toes were joined together by a web of skin. Fortunately, his outer toes were normal.

     Now Tip walked beyond the protection of the southern wall. The late day wind swirled across Tip’s skin in warm gusts. A stronger burst soughed across the square, lifting dirt in a cloud. Tip stopped breathing until the cloud passed. Taking a deep breath, Tip smelled the acrid scent of the dust.

     Soon Tip reached the long packing shed, which stood beside the square. He slipped around a post and hid among the barrels that awaited the beginning of the harvest. Even after months of idleness, the shed exuded an aromatic perfume.

     Tip paused when the trumpeter blew the ‘go to the barracks’ call. He wondered why the workers were being ordered inside so early. He began walking again.

     Weaving through the barrels, Tip arrived at the western side of the building. He saw his destination just across the lane. He stopped and scanned the area. The way was clear.

     Tip shuffled into the open, while forming his thoughts in preparation for the appointment.

     “Halt!”

     His mind raced towards panic. Tip turned and faced the guard who was stepping out from behind a pile of barrels. Tip’s throat tightened as he thought, ‘Father, why did you leave me? I need you.’ 

     The soldier strode over and stared at Tip. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

Fighting hard, Tip gained control of his mind. Using a meek voice, he answered, “I have an appointment at the clinic, sir.” 

     Slowing his breathing and keeping his face locked in an expressionless mask, Tip opened the pouch on his belt and found the piece of paper. He took it out and handed it to the guard. Tip looked upward at the guard as the man unfolded the paper and studied the doctor’s symbol.

     The soldier waved the paper and gazed down at Tip. “And why does the doctor want to see you?”
Putting on a submissive pose, Tip said, “I fell out of a tree and broke my arm.” He held up his right arm as proof.

     “Oh, you’re that tree monkey,” said the guard, the suspicion leaving his face.

     Tip dropped his arm. “Dr. Garner must check my arm. Make sure I’m ready for work.”

     “Very well, you may proceed,” said the soldier, handing back the piece of paper. “After you see the doctor, go straight back to your barracks. Tonight is early turn in.”

     “Yes, sir.”

     Tip put the paper back into his pouch and shuffled across the lane towards the clinic. Climbing the familiar steps slowly, Tip crossed the porch and entered the building. He turned and closed the door, pulling on the lever handle until the wooden bolt slid into the hole in the doorframe.

     Tip breathed in relief. Then he was knocked against the door by a flying body. Arms encircled him.

     “Tip,” said a high pitched voice.

     Tip looked down into the hazel eyes of his youngest brother, Harrien. He hugged his brother and then ruffled his dark brown hair, making Harrien smile. 

     “I’m watching for you,” said Harrien. Then he turned around and yelled in his loudest voice. “Tip is here.”

     “Bring him back,” said a mellow voice from the rear of the building.

     When Harrien grabbed his hand, Tip followed him through the waiting room. He straightened and threw back his broad shoulders. While Harrien chattered about all the day’s happenings in the clinic, Tip strode down the corridor towards the back of the building. On the way he breathed in the scents of herbs and soap. He passed by the surgery room, the treatment rooms, and the storeroom that contained a secret cabinet where special drugs and poisons were hidden. He also passed the room that was always kept locked.

     Then he padded past the bedrooms. Baby sister’s crib was in the right hand rear room. She napped there when his mother worked in the clinic. Tip paused at the doorway of the left hand back room. He noticed that the white curtains were drawn shut.

     “Here he is,” said Harrien, leading Tip into the room. 

     Dr. Garner waved at the table. “Take a seat and I’ll be right with you.”

     Tip sat on the exam table and Harrien climbed up beside him.

     “Go sit in the waiting room, Harrien,” said Dr. Garner.

     Harrien slumped and the corners of his mouth fell. He grabbed Tip’s arm. “I wanna stay with Tip.”

     “If you wait for me up front, I’ll be out shortly,” said Tip. “We can go back to the barracks together. Then I’ll show you how to make a spoon stick to your nose.”

     Harrien’s eyes brightened. “Okay.” Grinning, he slid off the table and ran out the door.

     Tip watched the doctor walk over to his pets, a pair of love rainbows. Tip thought these flyers were beautiful. 

     They were green like tree leaves. Their heads and undersides glowed with all the colors of the dawn sky.

     Dr. Garner untied the male’s leg leash, and encouraged the creature onto his hand by offering it a nut. The flyer used a fore foot to hold the nut while it cracked the shell with its beak. Dr. Garner stroked the rainbow’s soft fur as he carried it across the room. He tied the male onto an empty platform. The rainbows began screeching and chattering at each other. Only then did the doctor approach Tip.

     Worry lines radiated from the doctor’s gentle blue eyes and from the corners of his mouth. Even his forehead was creased. Usually it was smooth as it blended into the bald spot on top of his head.

     Under the protective cover of rainbow calls, Dr. Garner said, “Let me see your hand, Tip.”

     Tip extended his left hand.

     The doctor ran his fingers over the crescent scar where Tip had bitten himself. Rows of dots on either side showed where Dr. Garner had stitched the wound back together. 

     Holding his right arm out, Tip relaxed while the doctor felt the bones and flexed his hand in different directions.

     “Make a fist.”

     Tip curled his fingers into a tight ball.

     “Good. Now squeeze my arm.”

     Again, Tip followed directions.

     “I see you have been doing your strength exercises.”

     “Yes, Doctor.”

     Dr. Garner checked Tip’s eyes and then probed several spots on his scalp. Tip felt no pain throughout the exam.

     The doctor then ran his hands through Tip’s hair, parting it. Tip knew that the doctor was checking the hair dye. If pale roots were showing, the doctor would have him come back soon and reapply the dying paste.
The doctor took a breath. “On the outside, you are healed. I’m not sure about the rest of you.”

     Oh, oh, thought Tip. Here it comes. He braced himself.

     Dr Garner stepped back. “Have you stopped taking the silver leaf?”

     Tip and certain of his friends also called silver leaf by another name, mind-blanking herb. No matter what it was called, the leaf was a powerful herb that calmed and stopped pain. The silver leaf also made his curse go away.

      “Have the headaches returned? Do you have any other type of pain in your head?”

      “The headaches are gone. And the other spot that was hurting is now just a bit sensitive, like a new scar.”

     The doctor pursed his lips. “The silver leaf has apparently helped you heal, as I had hoped.”

     Dr. Garner tilted his head. “Have you had any more nightmares?”

     “No,” said Tip, tensing his muscles.

     Dr. Garner’s eyes filled with sadness and frustration. “Now that you are off the silver leaf, they may come back. I wish you would let me help you.”

     Tip’s mother had taught him all about the healing herbs. He knew which plant to take for sleep and he had hidden it in several places.

     “I’m fine,” said Tip, raising his chin. “I fought the thing in my mind and I vanquished it.”

     “No you haven’t. You just buried it.”

     The doctor was right, but Tip couldn’t admit this. He couldn’t afford to.

     He had something in his mind, though he didn’t remember what it was. He did know that it was a secret so terrible that it was like a monster, crouching in a cage and waiting for an opportunity to escape and devour him.
With the blank space in his memories came guilt that was huge, like an entire hill plucked out of the ground. 

     The hill was hanging over his head, ready to crush him.

     For now though, Tip had the monster well buried. He would keep it caged until it shriveled like a plant put under a pot so that it did not receive light. 

     Dr. Garner shook his head. “You will not be fully recovered until you face whatever happened to you.”

     “But I don’t remember.” Tip tightened his lips and began swinging a leg.

     “I wish you would listen,” said Dr. Garner, extending his hands, palms up and fingers spread. “You were extremely lucky. Several other people who fell from that height were dead as soon as they hit the ground.”
Dr. Garner paced back and forth and then halted in front of Tip. He spoke slowly, emphasizing each word. “I’m not sure I should certify you for work.”

     Tip flinched. “I have to go to work. Blue squad needs me.”

     Dr. Garner crossed his arms and shook his head. “What if you have a flashback? What if you fall out of a tree again?”

     Tip raised his head defiantly. “I won’t. I’m stronger than the monster.”

     Dr. Garner’s eyes widened for a moment. He tilted his head. “Monster?”

     Tip tried changing the subject. “I find the trees soothing. And I need the work. The more I do, the better I’ll be.”

     “That’s just a temporary fix, Tip. You must let me help you face the monster.”

     “I can’t.”

     The muscles in Dr. Garner’s temples twitched. “We’ve had this discussion many times since you fell. I need a better reason than that.”

     Tip gestured with his hands, emphasizing each word. “I have everything under control.” He folded his arms across his chest.

     “You just think you are in control. The monster will be like a splinter left in the skin. It will fester unseen until it makes you sick.”

     “No it won’t.”

     “Stubborn, hard-headed,” began Dr. Garner. Then he took a deep breath and hooked his hands in his belt. “I hope you realize that if I don’t certify you for work, the camp officials may start asking questions we don’t want.”

     The doctor’s words hit Tip like a dropped barrel. His mouth fell open. If the rulers started nosing around, they might discover his other secret.

     Tip’s pulse spiked. “You have to certify me.”

     “Will you let me help you?”

     Tip grimaced. He felt trapped between bad choices. If he let the doctor help him bring the monster out, it might become uncontrollable. He could die. On the other hand, if the camp rulers discovered his secret, he would also die.

     Biting his lip, Tip twisted his hands together as he searched for a possible solution. He was determined to live. He would fight as hard as he could in order to survive.

     Finally Tip decided that he must tell Dr. Garner about what he was facing. He gestured for Dr. Garner to come close.

     Tip whispered in the doctor’s ear. “I was lucky. I escaped the early madness that strikes people like me. 
     Now I’m fighting off the later madness.”

     “I can help you overcome this.”

     “No you can’t. The madness is very strong. If it takes me, I’ll die.”

     “If you would face whatever happened, the madness would fade away.”

     Tip shook his head. “The madness comes out before I can remember. The only way I can stay sane is by keeping the monster caged.”

     Dr. Garner stepped back and rubbed his chin in his thinking gesture. Tip saw the doctor’s eyes brighten. “I’ll certify you for tomorrow only.”

     Relief flooded through Tip.

     Sitting down in the chair beside the table, Dr. Garner said, “You must come back after work tomorrow. Perhaps you’ll be ready to let me help you then.”

     Tip relaxed. Bringing the monster out wasn’t necessary. Given enough time, he could make the monster die. 

© 2003 Cathy Brunson. All Rights Reserved. 
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