“Grandmother sent me to New York City. I don’t think I can tell you why. Honestly, I don’t know you any better than you know me. So there’s a level of trust I need too.”

Albuquerque, finding the cel phone in the alley, and how she ended up at the campaign office.

“...This book asks much of its readers, starting with a willingness to accept things that he or she may find alien and possibly even heretical, things that require an active and engaged imagination. Those that possess this important trait may come to believe, as I have, that the human species is at the very dawn of an evolutionary renaissance, a word that I do not use lightly.

ChennaiUniversity, 1993.”

New Mexico.” Shaking with adrenaline, she simply stood there in the middle of the room, waiting for a response.

Chapter 4: Answers

New Mexico. We didn’t have much money. So the internet is still kind of mysterious to me.”

New Mexico.”

“Never mind.” The tall native woman turned and went inside with a sweep of long, black hair, leaving her friend on the sidewalk alone.

New Mexico, then weird stuff started happening. People have been calling my house, and I’m pretty sure our phone was tapped the last time I used it. There was this clicking noise... but anyway...”

Not knowing where else to go, she started walking up the street in the direction the main had pointed.

“Hey, you need help?”

A policeman walked up to her and smiled. Her hair hung in limp clumps, weighted down with drizzle. She was soaked through. “I... I kind of need somewhere to stay.”

“Runaway?”

“Sort of.”

“I can let you stay in one of the shelters tonight, but in the morning we need to sort things out with your family.”

“I don’t have any.”

The cop just stared at her, not sure whether to believe her or not. “Well I’ll check into that in the morning. Let’s get a hot meal into you right now, okay?”

That night was spent with some decent food in her belly in nerve-wracking circumstances. She was used to the silence of the desert at night, maybe a few crickets or the call of an owl. Staying in a room full of snoring, coughing, smelly people made it difficult to get any sleep. But under the warm blankets, safe and dry for the time being, she managed.

Waking early to the sound of people being roused and thrown back out into the streets for the day, Sparrow flipped back the blanket and scratched her head, then pulled a hairbrush and her only change of clothes out of her bag. She had to find work of some kind today.

“Do you know of anyone hiring in this area?” she quietly asked the disinterested social worker who was busy throwing people out. The large black woman laughed at her and shook her head. Discouraged, Sparrow took to the street with the rest of them. She spotted the cop coming back for her, so she slipped into an alley and, delicate as a spider, made her way silently up the fire escape to the roof. Heights had never bothered her that much, but then she had never been higher up than about three stories in her life. She looked down and thought of the smashed cel phone and felt a little ill.

Looking around at the other rooftops was far less unsettling, and was actually sort of interesting. She started noticing how many things there were to swing from, or run along, or climb up. Her muscles flexed – they wanted to try. But it wasn’t the time or place. She had to get money if she wanted to keep eating, her growling stomach reminded her.

She waited until the cop was gone, then she continued down the street toward the campaign office. Another bus went by with an ad for Nathan Petrelli, his handsome, smiling face seeming to look right at her. Sparrow had hoped to find a “Help Wanted” sign in some window somewhere, but by the time she reached the campaign office, she hadn’t seen a single one. This window, however, said “Volunteers Wanted.”

“Hi, I’d like to work for the campaign.” She hoped she didn’t look too bedraggled. The blonde at the desk was on the phone and put her “just a second” finger up, then ended her call.

“I’m sorry, what did you need?” The woman’s smile was friendly enough.

“I’d like to work here if there are any openings.” What am I doing?

Just then the handsome man from the ads pushed through the large glass doors, some paperwork in his hand. Sparrow stared at him – he was even more handsome in person. He didn’t see her – Nathan Petrelli was far too busy looking at the papers, then he was gone through another door toward the back of the room.

She looked back at the blonde and noticed that she had been watching him as well. “Handsome shark, isn’t he?” She laughed lightly and smiled. “Well, this must be your lucky day – a little part-time spot opened up last night. Pays eight bucks an hour, too. You know anything about working with wholesale vendors?”

“Well, as a matter of fact I do. A little.”

“No, you need to know more than a little, Miss...”

“Re... Parkman. Mrs. Parkman. Oh, I used to work with wholesale companies dealing with fleeces from my farm in New Mexico. A big operation.” She fudged just enough to not exactly be lying. She needed a job so badly, and fate had drawn her to this place, at this moment. It had to be part of something bigger.

“Well, we’ll try you out anyway. We’re kind of in a spot, what with the election coming up in a few weeks. Your desk will be over there behind that guy in the red shirt. You settle in, I’ll be over in a little while to show you the accounts and what we need done.”

Head spinning (nothing ever moved this fast on the ranch), Sparrow did as she was told, and was soon calling printers and campaign material vendors, following up on orders she hadn’t heard of an hour previously.

Taking a break before her next call, she was leaning back in her chair when she saw Nathan come out of his office holding two neckties, one red and one blue. He appeared to be consulting with Wayne, one of the campaign assistants, as to which one looked better on him. Just then, a dark-haired young man came through the door and smiled at the blonde behind the desk, who wiggled her fingers at him as he passed by.

How is it that there so many handsome men in this city? Sparrow hadn’t realized she had been staring at him until he stopped, turned his head, and looked at her. Their eyes met and something clicked. A connection made, a distant memory triggered. I’ve seen him somewhere before... She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but he looked away, shook his head with a curious expression, then continued to the middle of the room where he began talking with Nathan.

She got up and strode over to the woman who’d hired her. She was standing by her desk, busily looking over some paperwork.

“Emily, who was that guy just now?”

“Hmm? Oh Peter? That’s Nathan’s kid brother.”

Sparrow nodded slowly. Where have I seen that face...?

“Has he been on TV or something?”

Emily looked at her questioningly. “No, I don’t think so. Excuse me a sec, hon.”

She shrugged, then returned to her desk and watched Emily consult with Nathan on some detail within the stack of papers she held. The blonde walked off with a nod and the brothers moved out of the center of the room and toward Sparrow’s desk. Not wanting to look like she was eavesdropping, she shuffled some papers and began flipping through a catalog of yard signs, button and other campaign materials.

“...I need to figure out why this is happening to me... to us.”

Peter’s voice sounded urgent, but his brother seemed uninterested and distant. Sparrow was unable to hear any more, but watched as Peter pulled a blue book from his messenger bag and showed it to Nathan, the younger brother growing more and more animated as the conversation progressed. Finally the book was tossed roughly onto the corner of the vacant desk next to her. She didn’t dare to look at it while the men were standing so close by. It was none of her business. And yet...

“Pete, enough already.” Nathan looked out into the room to see if his raised voice had attracted unwanted attention. He leaned in closer, speaking more quietly, “I can’t do this right now.”

Peter, exasperated, stormed out of the building, Nathan returning to the work at hand, the book forgotten. As soon as he was out of the room, she took a quick look at the book’s cover.

Activating Evolution. Why would this be so important to those guys? Well, Peter anyway. And what was happening to him? To them...?

She skimmed the back cover, then jotted down the title and author. The phone rang on Sparrow’s desk, startling her. It was the banner printer again.

Later that evening, partly because she had nowhere else to go, and partly out of curiosity, she stood at the back of the room as Nathan took the stage, preparing to give a speech of some kind. She felt awkward and out of place – 24 hours ago she had been entering a homeless shelter... 48 hours ago (was that all it was?) she was running across the desert, bound for Albuquerque. The charismatic candidate began to speak, the usual platitudes and campaign promises about helping people wandering off the podium. One phrase cut through the rest, however, and grabbed her attention.

“We are all connected.”

Sparrow began listening more attentively, studying his face, his mannerisms. What he said next shocked her and, apparently, many of the people in the room as well. He described how his father had committed suicide, and how his brother had also attempted it just days before.

She caught sight of Peter, who appeared angry and agitated. Something wasn’t right. Was he embarrassed by his brother’s words? Or was it something else? She wanted to follow him, talk to him, try to figure out where she had seen him before... but it was not the time or place.

The next thing she knew, the speech was over, and everyone was either leaving or talking amongst themselves. She knew so few people in the office, she simply stood in the same spot at the back of the room, not knowing what to do with herself. Finally Emily found her.

“Some speech, huh? Geez. What a brave guy to talk about that kind of stuff. It can either sink a campaign or get a heck of a sympathy vote. Hey, what are you doing later?”

Sparrow looked uncomfortable. “I... um... nothing. I’m kind of new in town, actually. I just flew in from New Mexico the other day.”

Emily looked at her. “You have family here or something?”

She hesitated. “Uh... no. My only family is in New Mexico.”

“Then what are you doing here? Walking around looking for a job, no family... Well, I guess it’s none of my business anyway.”

Sparrow looked down, then, just as Emily started to walk away, she blurted out “I need someplace to stay.”

The blonde turned around, facing the native woman again, her blue eyes meeting Sparrow’s green ones.

“Actually, I kind of suspected you might.” She smiled warmly and pointed at Sparrow’s ever-present messenger bag. “Hey, as long as you don’t have a weapon in there or something, you can crash at my place tonight... hey... hey... don’t cry, sweetie.”

Tears of relief and fatigue swept over her, and she slid to the floor, her head in her hands. After she composed herself, Emily took her by the arm. “What you need is some food and some rest. Come on, let’s get to my place. It’s only a few blocks from here.”

“I don’t know what to say. You have no idea what this means to me.”

“Yeah, I do actually. When I got here I was kind of in the same straights, but I did have a boyfriend.” She put on her coat and they exited, the brisk night air pushing their hair back as they went through the doors. “But fat lot of good that did me – the creep was gone in like a week, leaving me stranded. I’m kind of paying forward what someone else did for me back then.”

After a scorching hot shower and throwing her dirty clothes into the stacked washer/dryer unit, Sparrow felt like a new woman. It took her thick hair hours to dry, but she was eager to creep into a real bed for the first time in two days, so she got in anyway with damp hair, curling up in the old Murphy bed Emily had lowered and outfitted with fresh sheets for her. They smelled wonderful.

“Hey, whatcha reading?” the blonde asked from the kitchen doorway.

“Oh, this is a book my grandmother gave me. It’s about Hopi Kachinas.”

“Those little doll things? Those are really cool, my mom had one from a trip she took to Arizona or something.”

“Actually, this is about the real Kachinas – the spirits the dolls represent.”

“Wow, how cool. Are you Hopi?”

“Yeah. Well, half anyway.”

“Cool! My grandma was like, a quarter Cherokee or something.” An overly long pause filled the room as Sparrow simply nodded politely in response. “Well, good night,” Emily finally said.

“Good night.”

She started to read, but she was just too tired. Before she knew it, morning had come and, with it, the work day at Petrelli campaign headquarters.

Chapter 3: Dark Places

A battered canteen flopped against her back rhythmically, bump-bump-bump in time with her footsteps as she ran. It was still half full, and that was good because it was still seven miles to Bluewater. The old messenger bag that held her essentials and the book Grandmother had given her felt heavy when she paid attention to it, but went unnoticed when her mind turned to other things.

What terrified Sparrow the most was the thought of traveling to New York City alone, without much money, to try and find strange people she didn’t know. The 16-year-old tried to remain brave in the face of such a challenge, but it was getting harder the farther away she was running from home.

She thought of sweet, wrinkle-faced Grandmother, always smiling, feeding the sheep or making tortillas. Tears stung her eyes as she ran, her newly strong, lithe body carrying her onward through the night.

Why did the Kachinas bless me so? Am I really that worthy?

Her thick black mop of hair suddenly loosened from its customary messy knot and flopped down onto her neck, startling her. Swallowing a shout, she waved her hands around her head thinking it was a bat, then realized what had happened. Relieved but newly tense, her heart pounding in her ears, she took the opportunity to slow to a fast walk and take a sip of water.

A few more miles of running and the lights of Bluewater were visible. She had avoided the roads, instead choosing to run through the desert itself on what dirt tracks she could see in the moonlight, and after hours of running alone the lights seemed overly bright and glaring. She slowed again to a walk and drank. Finally, after allowing herself to walk along a larger street, she spotted a bus route sign and followed it to the terminal.

“One way to Albuquerque please.” Her voice sounded strange and loud.

The computer spit out the form and she paid the attendant. She saw that she had made the last bus of the night with two hours to spare. Picking a spot on the cool grass just outside the bright lights of the terminal, Sparrow waited. It was too dark to read the book about kachinas Grandmother had given her, so she simply rested and tried to see the stars beyond the haze of the city lights. The only thing that could compete with them was the moon.

Soon enough the bus roared up, spewing black smoke into the night sky and dripping oil. The sides of the bus were filthy with road dirt and exhaust. Resisting the urge to run straight back home, she showed the driver her ticket and climbed aboard. The seats were comfortable, and she was able to catch a cat-nap before the driver announced “Next stop, Albuquerque... next stop, Albuquerque.” The loudspeaker crackled and buzzed with age.

Sparrow had only been to Albuquerque twice in her life, and never alone. Nervously, she cleared her throat. “Which way to the airport?” she asked the driver once everyone had made their way down from the steep, narrow steps.

“About two miles that way,” he pointed with his cigarette. She could feel him looking her up and down, so she merely nodded and tried to look as confident and purposeful as possible as she strode off in the general direction he had pointed. Once out of range, in the darkness next to a creek, she stepped behind a building and wept, hugging her bag tightly. She could feel the hard book inside, familiar and comforting.

The night was cold, so she rummaged inside and found a wool sweater her grandmother had made. She inhaled its fragrance deeply before putting it on. It was several hours until her plane left. Still behind the building in the darkness, a faint trickle of water from the creek nearby, she leaned back and dozed.

It seemed to her that no time had passed at all, but an incredibly loud roar woke Sparrow just as the sky was lightening. Drawing a deep breath and tasting the strange sooty smells of the city, she watched as the huge airplane flew lower and lower in front of her, finally disappearing behind some buildings in the distance. She was wearing no watch, but knew she had a couple of hours to get there based on what the sky told her.

She relieved herself behind the building, cleaning up with her cloth handkerchief which she rinsed in the stream. She washed her face and hands, then took a drink from her canteen. She could feel her stomach pinching a bit, but ignored it – she would break her fast on the plane where the food was free.

The airport was attractive and not too large – it looked something like a government building but with sculptures outside in the grassy areas. Entering, she was amazed to see all the artwork on display.

Is this a museum or an airport?

She nearly bumped into a white man in a dark suit and became so mesmerized at the sight of all the different people that she nearly forgot why she was there. She spotted a clock and then matched up her flight number with the ones on the big board – right on time.

Sparrow had just made it to the check-in counter when she heard a child behind her yell “Mommy! Is that a real Indian?!?” Not wanting to turn around, she caught the sympathetic eye of the woman behind the counter and handed her the boarding pass.

“Oh, you can go on through...” the woman squinted at her ticket “...Mrs. Parkman. You’ve been pre-screened.”

“Um... oh! That’s great.” She could hear a scuffle behind her back, then jumped as a clammy hand tugged at her shirt.

“Mommy! She’s a real Indian lady!” Even Sparrow’s generous mop of black hair was not enough to fully hide in and she could feel her cheeks reddening.

“I’m SO sorry for my son. Dammit Jacob, there’s no way I’m getting that truck for you now...”

She escaped as quickly as she could, moving toward the security checkpoint as fast as her long legs would take her. She could still hear the little boy’s tantrum from across the terminal. With a deep sigh, she got into line, then started reading all the signs.

“Take off your shoes, please.”

Startled, she clutched her bag close. “Wh... what?”

“Standard procedure. Shoes off, bag in the box, the canteen isn’t allowed.”

“But, the canteen is my grandfather’s...”

“Sorry, you should have read this stuff on our website.”

“We don’t have the internet where I’m from. Or a computer.”

“Sorry.”

She slowly handed over the old, battered metal canteen with the fabric covering that she had known since she was a child. The security agent grabbed it roughly, expertly twisted a name tag through the strap and tossed it into a bin. “You can get it back when you come back.”

But... I’m not coming back here.

Eyes full of tears, breath ragged, she swallowed and did as she was told, but slipped the kachina book out of the bag before putting it on the conveyer belt.

“This is sacred.”

Some things should just never be subjected to radiation.

She flipped through the book as she walked through to show that it was a real book with nothing hidden inside, then retrieved her shoes and bag on the other side. Without her canteen. Sparrow was suddenly extremely thirsty.

A story came back to her as she strode away from the security checkpoint. The story of a girl who encountered a wolf while in the woods. The girl’s grandfather had told her to leave behind something very important to her and the wolf would leave her alone.

She felt alone among the wolves. But she knew she was on a hero’s journey, a spirit quest, and she could not fail. She was special, her body told her that, and Angwusi, the spiritual leader her family had trusted for the past 60 years, had told Grandmother the same thing.

She made it to the gate with a few minutes to spare, looking at the time she would arrive in New York – exactly six hours. Plenty of time to relax, eat, and maybe get some sleep.

Settling into the small plane seat, her messenger bag under her seat, she closed her eyes and prayed. Sparrow never prayed. But this was different. The idea of flying was terrifying, and being thrust into this situation was doubly terrifying. She prayed for strength and protection. Then the plane lifted off the ground.

Six hours later and eight dollars poorer (she was extremely irritated to discover that food was no longer complimentary on airplanes as the TV had led her to believe), she finally landed at JFKAirport in New York. The noise and smell of the city were overwhelming. The air was heavy and sticky. How was she supposed to find these other special people that were like her? What was she supposed to do for work and shelter?

She began walking, wandering the streets for what seemed like hours, not knowing what else to do. Suddenly something crunched under her foot. A broken cel phone lay on the ground, the flip-down cover several feet away across the alley. She examined it and found the point of impact on one corner of the casing. Then she looked up – it had been dropped from a long ways up, probably from the roof of the building she stood next to.

“Strange...” She shook her head.

Who would use a cel phone at the very edge of a rooftop? Aren’t these things too expensive to risk that way?

Sparrow had to remind herself that she wasn’t back on the sheep ranch, even if she did look it. People in cities had money, and did strange things. Then something nudged at her mind, as if someone far away was whispering in her ear.

“Green probably means on,” she murmured. The casing was cracked badly, but the buttons were still there, and the screen looked like it could still be working. She pushed the green button. After a moment, most of the display lit up, the bottom third broken and dark. She pushed a few buttons randomly, not having used a cel phone before, and pressed the buttons with arrows on them. A few names scrolled up and down.

Some kind of address book maybe?

Pulling a scrap of paper and a pen out of her bag, she wrote down the ones she could read, ignoring meaningless ones like “Mom” or “School”. When she was finished, the list of names included “Simone,” “Nathan” and “Campaign Office.”

“Well,” she mused aloud to herself, “at least it kind of seems like I know somebody.”

Walking out of the alley, looking a little too intently at the paper, she nearly stepped off the curb and into an oncoming bus that honked loudly at her. She gasped as she jumped nimbly backwards, her hands rubbing against the unforgiving brickwork of the building behind her. As the bus turned the corner, she could see the advertisement on the side, which read “Nathan Petrelli: Real Leadership for New York” and featured the picture of a handsome, smiling white man.

She looked at the paper again, running down it with her finger as she read.

“Nathan.... Campaign Office...” Sparrow looked up again but the bus was gone. She began to follow it and found herself on a very busy street, filled with people in business attire, yellow cabs, street vendors and bits of trash. Even as night fell, the streets were packed and alive.

She found a newspaper stand just as the owner was starting to close up for the night.

“Where’s the campaign office for... um... Nathan...something...”

“Petrelli? About eight blocks from here heading that way,” he pointed with a fat finger up the street behind the stand. “Hey, this ain’t no directory assistance, you gonna buy something or what? I’m closing up.”

Her eye fell on a colorful comic book on the rack for some reason, the title 9^th Wonders jumping out at her, but she knew she was getting low on cash and shook her head. The man made a disgusted noise, then shuttered his stand. The damp air began to drizzle, chilling her to the bone. Even under Grandmother’s wool sweater she started to shiver. She had to find shelter.

Chapter 2: Kachina

The line had gone dead with a sharp click before she’d had a chance to say anything to Grandmother. Sparrow stood in the middle of the room, the phone buzzing an angry dial tone in her hand. Eventually it started beeping loudly, so she woodenly replaced it on the cradle and continued to stand there staring at it.

Becoming chilled with only a bedsheet wrapped around her, she slowly strode back down the hall to get dressed. Was it possible that her body felt even more strong and agile than the day before?

She threw on a tank top and cutoffs and went outside to feed the sheep who were calling loudly – Grandmother always fed them earlier than this. The stark desert sun already burned into her bare shoulders and she knew it was going to be a hot one.

Stepping into the cool of the large barn near the sheep pen, she saw out of the corner of her eye the last fleece on the floor, forgotten in the shock of what Mickey the shearer had tried to do to her. She remembered how she had fought him off, and as she ran through the events in her mind, she could almost feel her muscles re-living the entire event just as her memory did. Taking a deep breath, she bent down and expertly rolled the fleece up to keep it clean and compact for shipping. No unwanted hands on her bottom this time.

Sparrow tied the fleece neatly with a piece of baling twine, then set it with the others. She would call the distributor later. She was going to be busy for a little while.

A metal pipe, used many years before to help stabilize the old barn’s structure, spanned the distance between two sections of wall about 10 feet off the ground. Taking off her sandals, twisting her long black hair into a messy knot, and rubbing her hands in the dust as she had seen gymnasts do on the Olympics, she crouched down, then leapt up to catch the pipe.

Flawless. Just like in her dream.

Remembering the dream, she swung up and around, then stopped at the top and crouched atop the cold metal bar, balancing perfectly. Another memory came back to her, something she had seen on television a long time ago, and she began walking it like a tightrope, back and forth above the ground, her only companions the last of the sheep heading out to pasture and the creaking of the barn’s century-old timbers.

Tiny shafts of sunlight pierced holes in the tin roof and ancient wood siding. Dust almost made them look solid and alive as Sparrow balanced, swung and twisted.

Soon the metal roofing began to heat up in the unforgiving sun, radiating down onto her so that gritty sweat began to drip into her eyes painfully. With a final perfect “10” landing, she wiped her brow on the edge of her shirt and went inside.

After a refreshing shower and change of clothes, she called the wool distributing company that they had worked with since before she was born. Finally someone picked up on the other end.

“Hello, Southwest Woolery, how can I help you?” The girl’s voice was unfamiliar.

“Hi, this is Willowtree Ranch, I have another pickup for you.”

“Excuse me?”

Sparrow hesitated. “You know... Willowtree Ranch.”

She could hear papers being shuffled, then something falling off a desk and the phone being switched to the listener’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I can’t seem to find... this place is such a mess. Are you a new account?”

Growing irritated, Sparrow took a deep breath and continued in her most business-like tone. “My family has had an account with your company for over 60 years.”

What is that annoying clicking on the line?

“I’m sorry, I just can’t seem to find your file, Mrs... Mrs...”

“Redhouse. Sparrow Redhouse. But if it’s not under the ranch name, it’s probably under the name Redhouse...”

The line went dead. She looked at the receiver, then clicked on the hang-up button a few times. Getting a dial tone, she tried the number again. This time there was no answer, and no machine picked up either. A chill ran up her spine.

Behind her in the distance she could hear tires on gravel, so she hung up the phone and peered out the window to see the bus returning with her grandmother. Shoving her feet into her sandals, she sprinted to the end of the road to help the elderly woman with her things.

As soon as the bus was out of earshot, she couldn’t stand it any longer. “Grandmother,” she said seriously as they shuffled down the road toward the house, Sparrow easily carrying the heavy, battered old carpet bag. “what did Angwusi say?”

The Hopi elder stopped, then looked up at her granddaughter. “You can’t even wait until we get to the house?” She smiled, but it was forced, and the twinkle was absent from her eyes.

The teen rolled her eyes. “I thought you said it was important!” They started walking again at the older woman’s pace.

In hushed tones, careful not to look at her granddaughter, she murmured, “Your life is in danger. You must leave this place tonight. The genetics professor was murdered, and Angwusi told me that you are part of the reason he came to America from India.”

Reeling, Sparrow gasped and stopped walking, but her grandmother continued – they were almost to the first abandoned car on their property. A small bird hopped onto the peeling leather roof of the auto, then flew away, wings whirring. Sparrow caught up to her grandmother and put her arm around her as they walked.

“What...? Grandmother, what are you talking about?”

“Did you not hear me?” she said almost conversationally.

“Yes, I just...” Sparrow dropped her voice. “Something isn’t right. Not only what you said, there’s something different about me. I can’t explain it.”

Her grandmother took her time going up the walk to the front door, then murmured, “I know. Angwusi told me. You are one of the heroes, like in the old days, that will take us into the Fifth World. But, just as before, the evil ones will try to stop you, pull you down into their world.” Grandmother finally turned to look at her. “You cannot allow that to happen. But you have allies. There are others. Many others. And you must try to find at least some of them. But you must be careful because the evil ones are hunting them just as they are hunting you now.”

Sparrow thought she caught sight of a tear on her grandmother’s cheek. The ancient wrinkled hand grasped the knob of the front door, then stopped.

“No one is safe. No place is safe, not even this house. The evil ones might be listening. So I will tell you one last thing – Angwusi told me that you must go to New York City and find others who will help you, and you can help them. Now, not another word. You must pack. Jacob helped me pay for a ticket for you to get there.”

Panic rushed through Sparrow’s body.

Money! The fleeces!

“Grandmother, the wool place didn’t have our account records, and a new girl there wasn’t being very helpful even after I told her who I was. What are we going to do for money if they don’t buy our fleeces?”

The front door was partially open, but it was quickly closed again. Grandmother looked up at her, strangely pale behind the dark, weathered skin. “What?”

Lowering her voice, Sparrow related what had happened over the phone earlier, including the sudden hang up and not being able to reach the company again afterwards. She had never seen her grandmother look so ill, not even the day Sparrow had come home from school to find her mother had run out on them.

“Are you okay...?”

“This is terrible. They may have already found out where you live. You connected your name with this ranch’s name, and that doctor called here before, so he knew someone with your name lives here, and they killed him...” She turned even more pale and began to cry openly. “You have to leave right now. Your ticket is for the 9:00 morning flight out of Albuquerque, under your mother’s married name, not Redhouse. American Airlines. Here.” She dug the ticket out of her carpet bag. “You’re going to have to disappear until that flight can take you to New York City. I can’t even call the shuttle bus, because it’s just too dangerous. Do you understand?”

Sparrow nodded mutely. This was all happening too fast. Last month she was a 16-year-old high school dropout on a sheep ranch, and now... her life was in danger? She was supposed to help save the world? The girl stood up straight and brave, but felt like Atlas with the globe on her shoulders.

“Grandmother, I can run a really long way. I can probably run to Bluewater and then catch a bus to Albuquerque from there tonight. I’ll use mom’s married name so the tickets match. Oh, but what about ID at the airport?”

“It happens that I have your mother’s Social Security Card in my desk drawer. Also, the elder council will be... confusing the security people at the airport on your behalf.” A conspiratorial grin played at Grandmother’s mouth, her color returning somewhat.

Sparrow wasn’t surprised by anything any more. She accepted this improbability as she had come to accept her newfound abilities over the past few days, with a sense of wonder and purpose. These things were now to be expected, if not exactly understood.

All the stories Grandmother had told her over the years, the legends of the Hopi people... her people... came rushing over her. She was beginning to see her place inside them now and suddenly wished she had paid more attention during the Kachina dances.

The sun was lowering in the sky, the cool desert night beginning to creep up on the old farm, turning the front door and the silent two women standing in front of it a golden hue.

“Grandmother,” she said suddenly. “I need a book about the Kachinas to take with me.”

Nodding silently, the elder pushed open the door and tried to sound conversational. “It’s good to be home. Did you know they’re going to do the Wuwuchim ceremony soon? I think you should be in it this time.” Grandmother winked at her, then motioned for the girl to go pack a few things in her room.

Plucking an old book from under a collection of assorted purple bottles on a windowsill, the elderly woman said loudly, “Ah, there we are. I knew I had this book around somewhere. I think you should read this, it’s very interesting.” She slipped the Social Security Card and a quickly scribbled note reading “Wuwuchim – Masau’u -- Soquasohuh” inside the book, then walked into the bedroom and handed it to Sparrow. “But you know, I tell better stories.”

“I know you do.” Sparrow began to choke up, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m going to...”

But Grandmother quickly placed her hand over her own mouth, indicating that they should both be careful of what they said. “Never mind,” Sparrow said as she nodded sadly, the tears finally escaping down her cheeks. She could see that her grandmother was crying as well.

The older woman cleared her throat. “Well, I’m going to have some dinner. Come join me in a few minutes, my girl.” She made plenty of noise in the kitchen to help mask the sound of a bag being packed, then started to make some fresh tortillas. Sparrow appeared in the hallway, a few basic things in an old canvas messenger bag, her running shoes already on.

They embraced, their tears mingling as their cheeks touched one last time. “I’m going to say you ran away,” her grandmother whispered quietly in her ear, “and I’ll be telling the truth.”

“You’re so smart. I love you, Grandmother... so much.” Sparrow whispered as quietly as she could, her voice breaking and thick.

“I love you too, my dearest girl. Please be careful, and know that you go with the blessings and help of all the Elders and Kachinas.”

The embrace ended too soon for both of them, then Sparrow quietly slipped out the front door, the gathering darkness soon enveloping her, the bright star Sirius just coming over the horizon.

“I love you,” they both whispered to the shadows, neither of them knowing that they had said it at the same moment. They were in two separate worlds now.

After fixing a snack, she turned on the TV and adjusted the antenna to get a clearer picture. With only three channels available she had to be satisfied with whatever she could get, and tonight’s find was a Jackie Chan movie. She drew the crocheted afghan around her shoulders as the desert night chill began to creep into the house, too fascinated with the movie to bother putting on a sweater.

The martial arts actor was doing things that seemed impossible – running up walls, climbing up between two buildings, taking on several fighters at once and other stunts that kept her rapt attention.

How can someone actually do all those things? Sparrow thought to herself. They have to be some kind of Hollywood tricks.

After the film was over, the station showed a half-hour interview with several martial artists who showed how the stunts were done. Sure enough, real people with enough training and strength were able to do the same moves. That night, all of her dreams were filled with fantastic stunts, just like a Jackie Chan movie.

She awoke to the sound of a truck approaching, then realized with a start that it must be the shearer. She threw on her clothes and quickly swirled her thick hair into a rough bun before going out to meet him. Mickey was an expert and could shear a sheep in less than three minutes when he really got going. He grinned at her from under his battered cowboy hat, his pale skin burned reddish brown where his shirt didn’t protect him from the blazing sun.

“Hey there, little girl, where’s your grandma?”

She liked Mickey all right, but sometimes he seemed to like her a little too well, and she rankled at his overly familiar and diminutive ways of addressing them.

“Grandmother is visiting Uncle Jacob,” she answered, not feeling particularly talkative.

“Ah well, she’s too old to help me any more anyway. But it looks like you sure grew up since I saw you last!” He eyed her overmuch, and she drew her plaid flannel shirt around herself like armor.

Sparrow called the sheep and together they herded the flock into the holding pen near the barn. One by one the sheep that hadn’t been sheared the previous month were liberated of their thick, heavy fleeces, and she watched them gambol off like little lambs, butting each other as they ran around in the pasture.

“Hey, c’mere. I’ll show you how to flip ‘em over onto their back so you can start shearing.”

“Really?” She saw that he had the last sheep in hand and was motioning for her to come closer.

“Look, you put your thumb in their mouth, in this gap here, see? Then you bend her head back like this and she goes down. Then you can get her on her haunches,” he said as he demonstrated the technique. It looked easy. “Now you try it.”

Unsure, she did as he said, and sure enough, the ewe went down easily. She flipped it onto its bottom, exposing the belly to start the shearing process.

“Damn, girl, you been practicing?”

“Uh... no. Did I do it right?”

“Right? You look like you’ve been doin’ it right for about 20 years! Shoot...” He looked at her again, hesitated, then pushed his way in and took over handling the sheep, shearing it quickly.

Sparrow bent over to roll up the fleece and felt an unwanted hand on her bottom. Whirling around, she was confronted with Mickey’s wild, ice-blue eyes.

“I’m gonna get you down on your haunches, squaw.” Before she could react, his strong hands were all over her, forcing her down onto the barn floor. She struggled, her muscles flexing, and he was thrown off for a moment, but then he punched her in the face, stunning her and making her ears ring.

When she recovered a few moments later, he had already undone his pants and pinned her wrists with one incredibly strong shearer’s hand. He loomed over her, backlit in the doorway of the barn, ready to steal her virginity.

Without thinking, she whipped her knee up into his groin and then twisted out of his grasp. With one quick flip she was on her feet and landed a solid kick to the side of his head, knocking him out cold. She stood there, gasping for breath, making sure he was still down. When he finally began to come around, she assumed a martial arts stance she had seen on the previous night’s movie, ready to take him out again if necessary.

“Get the hell off my property,” she growled.

Still foggy, Mickey scrambled to his feet, grabbed his shears and his belt, then staggered to his truck and sped off, little rocks from under his bald tires flying in every direction. Shaking, Sparrow watched him leave, still in her fighting stance until even the dust cloud from his departing truck was gone. She finally relaxed enough to stand up straight and began mentally going over and over what had just happened. Like a sleepwalker, she checked on the sheep, then ran back to the house just in time to hear the phone ringing.

“Grandmother? Oh, I’m so glad to hear from you! I’m glad you’re safe at Uncle Jacob’s. Listen, Mickey was just here, and... and...” her voice faltered, then she burst into tears. Eventually she was able to describe what had happened, and there was silence on the other end of the line. Finally, her grandmother spoke.

“Tell me again how you got away.”

“I... I don’t know, I just kicked him and twisted out of his hands, then I kicked him again and knocked him out.”

“How did you know how to do that? The Sparrow I know has never fought anyone.”

“I guess it was a kung fu movie I watched last night or something, I don’t know.” Why does she want to know so much?

“Do you realize how strong his hands are? The hands of a sheep shearer?”

“Well, I guess so... but it must have been because I got him in the privates, because it was easy to get free.” Silence on the phone once again. “Grandmother...?”

“I’m sorry, I was just thinking. Well, I’m glad to know you’re all right. I guess we have to find a new shearer.” She tried to sound amused, but it wasn’t entirely successful. “I’m going now, I just wanted to let you know I was all right. Sparrow...” she paused, “please take good care of yourself.”

“I will Grandmother. I love you. Come home soon.” She sniffled and reached for a handkerchief.

“I love you too. I’ll be home as soon as I can. We’re going to see Angwusi in a little while. Goodbye.”

“Bye.” She hung up and the house was silent except for the whir of the fridge. Why is she in such a hurry to talk to Angwusi? What’s happening?

Sparrow knew that Angwusi was a respected elder who was strong with the Medicine. She went over the events of the past two days – the retelling of the creation story followed by what sounded like prophecy about the end of the world, then Grandmother’s sudden decision to go see Angwusi, then her being quizzed over how she got away from Mickey. It was all so strange and unsettling.

She made up her mind that running would help clear her mind, so she put on her shoes, grabbed her grandfather’s old canteen, filled it and started off. Over the past few months running felt so good to do, something she had never been interested in before, and she had worked up to handling 10 miles comfortably. Once in that trance-like state many long-distance runners drift into, she could let her mind wander and come up with answers at the same time.

The dust rose up behind her to mark her passing, and she no longer saw the sagebrush and stones around her. Her mind’s eye was focused on her life. Ten years ago, six months ago, two weeks ago... what was different? What was the same?

Sparrow flashed back to the chubby little girl who came home to find her mother gone, and her grandmother crying. Thoughts seemed to appear randomly in her mind as she remembered the last time she had been beaten up at school, called “apple” and “white girl” and far worse names. One of them had smacked her in the face with her own purse and they all spit on her as they left her cowering and crying on the cold tile floor. She could feel her muscles tense, and her pace picked up slightly.

Then her mind turned to the first time she had noticed her body changing. A lot of her friends changed at puberty, but not as quickly. She slowed her pace to a trot, then a walk, and took a drink from the canteen as she started on her return trip. Other memories drifted in and out of her consciousness as she ran, including the Jackie Chan film from the previous evening. He made everything look so easy, but she knew it couldn’t possibly be easy to run up a wall or do half the things he did in the film. It took years of intense training to even begin coming close.

She jogged back up to the barn and then slowed to a walk once again, taking another sip of water. She cooled down by walking around the outbuildings, one of which was a metal shipping container long ago converted to a shed.

Still in the haze of marathon running, without thinking, she ran toward the metal container just to see what would happen – and executed a perfect vertical wall run, flipping over and landing squarely on her feet.

The canteen slipped from her shoulder and splashed to the ground, forgotten. Sparrow froze and stared at the metal shed wall. Then she ran up it a second time.

It’s... easy. How can it be that easy?

She tried to remember some other moves from the film she had seen. She felt her muscles remembering. They wanted to try.

Nearby there were two sheds built only a few feet apart. Just as in the movie, Sparrow pushed against the opposing walls and worked her way up to the roof. Careful not to fall through the brittle, sun-bleached wood, she walked along the edges of the building, then somersaulted to the ground, again landing perfectly.

“A perfect freakin’ 10,” she muttered to herself. She looked down at her body, feeling almost as if she had been teleported inside someone else. This was not the overweight girl crying on the bathroom floor any longer.

She tried to think of some other things to try, but all she could remember were some basic martial arts moves, which she duplicated with ease.

“Huh...” she said, scratching her head and fluffing up her hair which had come free of its knotted bun. She stood for a moment, staring at the sheds, running the moves through her mind and feeling her muscles respond instantly. Not knowing what to think, she picked up the canteen on her way into the house. It all seemed like a dream.

She flipped on the TV and made herself a tuna sandwich while listening to the news. Nothing too earth-shattering was reported – the usual small crimes and human interest stories drifted out of the set as she ate. Then a commercial came on for a movie that would be on that evening. With rapt attention she watched the preview for The Matrix, the remains of her sandwich forgotten.

That evening she still had not heard from Grandmother, so she was a little concerned, but not overly so. Sparrow knew Grandmother was in good hands, and she was distracted with the prospect of the movie she was about to watch. Rather than curling up on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn, she moved the furniture out of the way and dressed lightly. She had an experiment to perform.

As the film progressed, she could feel her muscles unconsciously trying to reproduce what the actors were doing, and each commercial break was spent copying the moves that would fit in her tiny living room. Some scenes were impossible according to the laws of physics, but a close approximation came to her body easily. Everything she saw was learned instantly, without practice.

After it was over, she couldn’t resist going outside and trying other things out. Under the single yellow lamp near the barn’s entrance she spun, twisted, jumped and somersaulted, just as she had seen. It was all flawless. It was almost as if her lithe body had a mind of its own, an onboard computer that perfectly executed whatever was programmed into it.

After 45 minutes of heavy gymnastics, she stopped, but not due to exhaustion – simply because it was well past her usual bed time. Her mind whirling as it tried to understand what was happening to her body, it took another hour to finally fall asleep. Sparrow’s dreams were filled with martial arts maneuvers and secret missions, as well as a visit from Grandmother.

“I have seen Angwusi. You must get home, my dear girl.”

“Grandmother? What are you doing here?” In her dream she was on a rooftop in New York City, looking out over the evening city lights as a dark rain fell. When she heard her grandmother’s voice, she turned around to see her briefly, but then the old Indian woman turned into a handsome young white man in a trenchcoat. He just stood there, silently, looking into her eyes. “Who are you...?” she stammered, frozen, unsure if she should attack or run away.

Without a word, he took her by the hand and they both flew off the rooftop, like she had seen many years ago in a Peter Pan movie. Finally, he spoke quietly in her ear.

“I can do what you can do. And there are more of us.”

She could feel herself somehow pushed away from him, and he soared up and away from her into the night sky as she began to fall backwards. Her body picked up speed, falling faster and faster, but by instinct she twisted so that she could see where she was going, then she angled herself so that she caught a flagpole to slow her fall, swinging around it like Spiderman in a hurry. She twisted again and somersaulted onto a rooftop, landing squarely and easily on her feet like a cat.

Sparrow woke up with her heart pounding and a thousand questions, the desert sunrise just starting to come in through her bedroom window. Suddenly, the phone rang, preventing her from exploring what was racing through her head. She ran to get it, bedsheets trailing behind her down the hall.

“Hello?”

“It’s me. I have seen Angwusi, and I must get home, my dear girl. I’ll be back this afternoon with some important news.”

Sparrow Redhouse: Into the Fifth World

by Willow Polson

Chapter 1: The Journey Begins

Lifting her green eyes to the sky, Sparrow sat in her favorite tree and watched the clouds slowly drift by. A hummingbird was trying to find some moisture inside the holes left by a woodpecker, so she watched him try for a while before swinging gracefully down to the ground.

She landed, catlike, in the dry grass, then straightened and surveyed the horizon. The intensely blue sky, despite its beauty, was growing deadly hot, and she knew it was time to get home for lunch. Grandmother would have some burrito filling ready for her, and she hoped that some nopales would be in the pantry as well. Sparrow loved those tangy strips of cactus in her burritos.

The walk home was long and dusty. Her sandaled feet kicked up the red earth and she took her time, thinking about a lot of things as she walked – reflections on her past and present. She was only 16, but her tall, large frame and wild mane of shiny black hair piled up in a messy bun made her look older. She had done a lot of maturing in the past few months and weeks. She looked at her hands and arms, which were strong and muscular. It seemed like yesterday that she had been a plump little girl still watching the ceremonies from afar with the smaller girls and old women. 

She never saw herself as a dancer before, so she had never tried. Her culture was only a passing interest anyway – all the complicated stories and costumes and ceremonies and dances were too much to keep track of, even with Grandmother’s constant harping on them all the time. And her other side wasn’t even Hopi, it was a mix of half Irish, a quarter Spanish and the other quarter Chumash. Some of the other kids faulted her for it, especially her green eyes, which were used as an excuse to tease and harass.

Lately, though, she had changed. Her body wasn’t so plump with fat, and she had grown much taller and more muscular. But, at 16, she figured these sorts of changes were to be expected. At least she wasn’t getting beat up after school any longer. Some of the kids almost seemed afraid of her and had been avoiding her. Sparrow smiled and clenched her fists in mock triumph at the thought.

The dusty trail ended at a very modest house with plaster walls surrounded by sheep pastures, old cars and outbuildings. The unforgiving sky baked the dirt hard and dry, the lack of trees making it difficult to go outside during most of the day. Only the sunflowers growing on the east side of the house gifted the area with bright, refreshing colors and movement.

“Oh, there you are.” The old woman got up stiffly from her weaving and headed into the kitchen. “I was beginning to wonder if I should eat this myself!”

Sparrow laughed. “Now, you know that you... oooh! Nopales!!” She jumped up and down then kissed her grandmother on the top of the head. The grey-haired woman smiled brightly.

“Ohhh, my dear girl. I know what you like. Now, let’s watch the news while we eat our lunch. Which is quickly becoming dinner.”

Sparrow didn’t mind the lighthearted jab and smiled back as they sat on the well-worn couch and flipped on the TV. She rotated the rooftop antenna with the switch, listening to the motor grind until they could finally get a decent signal from Albuquerque.

“...finding the car completely burned out. Police tell us there are no suspects related to this strange crime, and luckily no one was hurt.”

“Oh darn it, I forgot the hot sauce. Be right back.” Sparrow got up and flipped her sandals toward the front door as she walked to the kitchen.

“...In national news, genetics professor Chandra Suresh of the University of Madras was found dead in New York City. His most recent accomplishments include work with the Human Genome Project, where he was working on some new research theories regarding current and future human evolutionary paths.”

Sparrow found the bottle and brought it back to where they were eating. After the weather, which predicted temperatures in the low 100s, her grandmother turned off the set.

“I have a story to tell you today. Now stop, don’t roll your eyes at me. I know you’ve heard this one before, but I want to tell it again. It’s important.”

She rarely heard her grandmother take on such a serious tone, so she sat back and listened attentively, one muscular leg folded under herself and the other hanging off the sofa.

“Now... I know you’ve heard the story of our emergence into the Fourth World. Dawa told the good people to find another place to live to leave the evil ones behind. So they sent the birds to find the hole in the sky, then they caused the plant to grow up tall so that the special people, the warrior gods and magicworkers and other good people could climb up into the Fourth World and learn to live like regular people. All this I have told you before.

“This world is full of spirits – those that make the plants grow and the rain fall, those that bring us shells and stones, those who try to trick us and those who try to teach. In our kivas we put a hole in the floor to remind us where we come from, the world below. And we must realize that we are close to the time of the Fifth World, which will come through fire.

“Now, listen to me carefully. The world is full of evil these days, Granddaughter. And I believe that there are gods walking among us once again, prepared to take our people up into the Fifth World. I believe this time is very close. Many Indian nations are seeing this, and many holy people from all over are getting together and talking about these things.

“Climate change, terrorism, diseases, wars... the elders teach us to also watch the heavens for changes, like eclipses and planets aligning, circles around the sun and moon...”

Sparrow cleared her throat. “Okay, so why are you telling me all this right now?”

Grandmother looked sternly at her. “You need to listen more and talk less!” she snapped.

Stunned, the girl reddened and stared at the elder with wide eyes. Grandmother had not spoken so sharply to her in many years. “I... I’m sorry,” she stammered as she looked down at her hands.

After a long silence, the elder began speaking again. “There are strange things happening all around us. In the sky, all over the world. And right here in this house.”

Sparrow looked up, puzzled.

“I got a phone call a week ago asking for Sparrow Redhouse. From that very man who they just said died in New York. That genetics professor. He said he had your name on a list because you gave blood and signed a consent form for some kind of genetics program. But I know you’ve never given blood, and you’re underage so you didn’t sign any kind of consent form. So I have to tell you something that your mother didn’t want me to tell you, but she’s not here and may never come back, so it’s my responsibility to tell you this thing.”

The girl stared at her grandmother, green eyes meeting obsidian black.

“Sparrow, your mother had a twin sister. You were named for her, but she died years ago when you were younger and you never knew her. I think this doctor fellow was looking for her. But now he’s dead, and she’s dead. The whole thing just feels strange and wrong to me. I don’t know why, it’s just something you had to know, and I think it has to do with this coming world change.”

The phone rang in the other room, and, still speechless, Sparrow went to get it. She was faster than her grandmother who often had trouble getting to her feet these days.

“Um... hello? Yes... oh, that’s great. Tomorrow should be no problem. Thanks. Bye.” An odd feeling of dread lifted from her, one she hadn’t realized she was carrying until after she hung up the phone. “It was just the shearer, he’s coming tomorrow to take care of the rest of the sheep.”

Her grandmother was still overly quiet.

“Grandmother...?”

The old woman looked deep in thought, her eyes far away. Then she came back to herself. “I have made a decision. I am leaving right now to visit my brother.”

Shocked, Sparrow simply gaped for a moment, then recovered. “But... why right now??”

Her grandmother slowly got up and shuffled to her bedroom and started to pack. The teen followed her down the hallway, anxiety all over her face.

“Grandmother... what’s going on?”

“I need to talk to Jacob, and we need to consult with Angwusi. I need you to stay here and work with the shearer, I know you’ve watched enough to be able to help him this time, and you seem so much stronger now this year...” Sparrow felt herself being analyzed and became somewhat self-conscious. She turned away.

“I’ll call for the shuttle bus to come get you.” She knew better than to interfere with her grandmother once she got one of these spiritual notions into her head. There was no answer as she walked back down the hall toward the phone, just the sound of things being packed.

After a while, the county shuttle bus arrived at the end of their long driveway. The hot sun seemed to have no effect on the old woman.

“Please call me when you get to Uncle Jacob’s. I want to be sure you get there okay.”

The shiny dark eyes looked up at her granddaughter, the hint of a tear in the corner of one. “You are very precious and special to me, Sparrow. I’ll be fine, but I’ll call you anyway.” She smiled, her leathery, wrinkled face so familiar and comforting. They embraced briefly, then she helped her grandmother up the steps and onto the bus.

They waved at each other, and the bus was gone in a cloud of red dust. Sparrow had rarely been left alone, so walking back to the house in the half twilight was a bit lonely and strange. She fed the sheep, who had come into the barn for the night, then watched the bats swirling around in the darkening sky, their high-pitched squeaks all around her. An odd feeling was in the air, like the rain that evaporates before it hits the ground.