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"Snowman-the-Jimmy can travel better out here," says the taller woman.
"He's travelling?" says Toby. "While he's asleep?" Could they be describing some dream they imagine Jimmy is dreaming?
"Yes," says the man. "He
is travelling to here."
"He is running, sometimes fast and sometimes slow. Sometimes walking, because he is tired. Sometimes the Pig Ones are chasing him, because they do not understand. Sometimes he is climbing into a tree," says the shorter woman.
"When he gets to here, he will wake up," says the man.
"Where was he when he started this travelling?" says Toby cautiously. She doesn't want to convey disbelief.
"He was in the Egg," says the taller woman. "Where we were, in the beginning. He was with Crake, and with Oryx. They came out of the sky to meet with him in the Egg, and to tell him more of the stories, so he can tell them to us."
"That is where the stories come from," says the man. "But the Egg is too dark now. Crake and Oryx can be there, but Snowman-the-Jimmy cannot be there any more." The three of them smile warmly at Toby, as if certain she's understood every word they've said.
"May I look at Snowman-the-Jimmy's hurt foot?" she asks politely. They have no objection, though they keep their hands in place and continue with their purring.
Toby checks the maggots underneath the cloth she wrapped around Jimmy's foot the night before. They're busily at work, cleaning up the dead flesh; the swelling and oozing are diminishing. This batch of maggots is nearing maturity: she'll have to get hold of some rotting meat tomorrow, leave it in the sun, attract flies, create new maggots.
"Snowman-the-Jimmy is coming closer to us," says the short woman. "Then he will tell us the stories of Crake, as he always did when he was living in his tree. But today you must tell them to us."
"Me?" says Toby. "But I don't know the stories of Crake!"
"You will learn them," says the man. "It will happen. Because Snowman-the-Jimmy is the helper of Crake, and you are the helper of Snowman-the-Jimmy. That is why."
"You must put on this red thing," says the shorter woman. "It is called a hat."
"Yes, a hat," says the tall woman. "In the evening, when it is moth time. You will put this hat of Snowman-the-Jimmy on your head, and listen to this shiny round thing that you put on your arm."
"Yes," says the other woman, nodding. "And then the words of Crake will come out of your mouth. That is how Snowman-the-Jimmy would do it."
"See?" says the man. He points to the lettering on the hat: Red Sox. "Crake made this. He will help you. Oryx will help too, if the story has an animal in it."
"We will bring a fish, when it is getting dark. Snowman-the-Jimmy always eats a fish, because Crake says he must eat it. Then you will put on the hat and listen to this Crake thing, and say the stories of Crake."
"Yes, how Crake made us in the Egg, and cleared away the chaos of bad men. How we left the Egg and walked here with Snowman-the-Jimmy, because there were more leaves for us to eat."
"You will eat the fish, and then you will say the stories of Crake, as Snowman-the-Jimmy always did," says the shorter woman. They look at her with their uncanny green eyes and smile reassuringly. They seem entirely confident of her abilities.
What are my choices? thinks Toby. I can't say no. They may get disappointed, and go away by themselves, back to the beach, where the Painballers can grab them. They'd be easy prey, especially the children. How can I let that happen?
"All right," she says. "I will come in the evening. I will put on the hat of Jimmy, I mean Snowman-the-Jimmy, and tell you the stories of Crake."
"And listen to the shiny thing," says the man. "And eat the fish." It seems to be a ritual.
"Yes, all of that," says Toby.
Shit, she thinks. I hope they cook the fish.
Story
While gathering up the breakfast dishes, Rebecca thought she saw a grim hatchet-face looking at her from under the trees. It seems to have been a false alarm, thinks Toby: no Painballers appeared, and, even better, no spraygun holes opened in Rebecca and no Craker child was yanked screaming into the shrubbery. Still, everyone's tense.
Toby asks the Craker mothers to move closer to the cobb house. When they look puzzled, she tells them it's a message from Oryx.
The day unscrolls without incident. No travellers return: no Shackleton, no Black Rhino or Katuro. No Zeb. Toby spends the rest of the morning in the kitchen garden, digging and weeding: a mindless exercise that calms her and fills the time. There are some chickenpeas beginning to sprout, and spinach leaves thrusting up, and the feathery tops of carrots. Her rifle is propped nearby.
