prompt: Write a story about a meeting of a secret society….
available at Reedsy
Six elderly women, all carrying large knitting bags, five walking and wearing pink parkas, the last in line pushing a wheelchair with the sixth in a blue parka, filed out of the Senior Center restaurant. They passed by the tax preparer’s office and turned into the closed quilting store beside it. The store was closed, but open for them every other Sunday.
As they entered they removed their parkas and hung them on hooks by the door. Alinta went first, revealing a shock of white hair, and rich, red-brown skin, heavily creased by years and sun. Cho was next, revealing long, straight, dark grey hair, and warm, tawny skin, criss-crossed with wrinkles and lines, most notable being the deep creases on her forehead from from years of concentration.
Berta followed, her medium-length, yellow-grey hair and ivory skin showing beneath the blush of her wrinkled cheeks already bared before she entered the door. Behind her, Djeneba entered, removing her parka to reveal light grey dreads above a weathered, mahogany face.
Finally, Carmela entered, pushing Madeline in the wheelchair. Carmela removed her parka first, her wavy, dark grey hair still showing hints of black at the root, above a heavily lined medium beige face. She helped Madeline out of her parka, short white hair haloing the palest, most heavily aged face there. After wheeling Madeline to the large table in the center of the room, Carmela sat, pulling out her current project to knit among the others.
The quiet sounds of knitting were only interrupted for the occasional comment. “Whoops! Dropped a stitch on the last row.” “Now that I’ve got it memorized this cable pattern is fast.” “Djen, you think this sleeve is long enough for a seven-year-old, or should I add a few more rows just to be safe?”
This continued until Alinta cleared her throat. “Keep knitting ladies,” she said, “it’s time to start the meeting.”
The four others who had been wearing pink all replied with “Aye.”
Alinta smiled. “We’ve been looking for a new member for a while. I know we talked knitting over brunch, now let’s see if Madeline is right for the group, eh?”
“Well, I’m just an old granny trying to hang on,” Madeline said.
“I know your hundredth birthday was just last week,” Cho said, “but don’t count yourself out yet.”
“Correct.” Berta looked over her knitting at Madeline. “I’m interested in what you did before you were a granny.”
“Well,” Madeline said, “I guess it can’t hurt at my age. My last job was as an analyst with the CIA, until they forced me to retire. Morocco is so wonderful, have any of you ever been?”
“Oooh, sounds like a juicy job,” Carmela said. “What languages do you speak?”
“Oh, Spanish, Russian, Arabic, Pashto, a little German, some Korean, and I understand Icelandic, just can’t wrap my tongue around it.”
Djeneba asked, “Why did you join the CIA?”
Madeline thought for a moment. “I really thought I’d be helping people, making things safer, you know?”
Alinta reached the end of a row and flipped her work around. “How would you feel about doing something that really helps people?”
Madeline chuckled. “At my age? Not sure there’s much I can do.”
Alinta looked over her knitting, her hands never slowing down. “How old do you think I am?”
“Oh, well,” Madeline looked uneasy. “I don’t know, you seem young to me. Couldn’t be over 70.”
Alinta smiled. “I’m 396, no… 397 tomorrow. Cho is 284, Djeneba is 312, Carmela is 197, and Berta is the current youngster at 154.”
“Now you’re pulling my leg.” Madeline laughed it off. “But if there was a way I could make a difference, I’d do it until I fall dead.”
Alinta rapped on the table once, and the other four all answered “Aye.”
“Madeline, welcome to the club.”
Carmela pulled a small flask from her bag. “Time for tea?”
“Yes.” Alinta looked around the table. “Djeneba, when you finish that row could you?”
“You stay put, Djen, I’ll get it.” Cho said. “I’m working in the round so I can set it down whenever.”
Cho returned with tea service and set about making tea for everyone present. She accepted the flask from Carmela and poured a measured amount in each cup, which got a naughty giggle from Madeline. “Don’t tell my doctor!”
They continued knitting, sipping their tea, and watching Madeline as her posture straightened, her eyes brightened, and color flowed to her smoothing cheeks. “I’ve never felt so much energy! And the pain from my spine, it’s gone!”
“That’s just the beginning. You’ll stay with Carmela for a couple weeks, as your body heals and adjusts.” Alinta continued knitting. “By our next meeting you’ll be ready to join in for sure.”
“So, this stuff is great, but how does that…” Madeline cut herself short. The look from Alinta made her feel like she did when getting a raised eyebrow from her grade school teachers. Maybe she really was that old.
“If you haven’t already guessed, each of us represents a continent. I represent Oceania, Cho – Asia, Berta – Europe, Djeneba – Africa, Carmela – South America, and now you, Madeline, will represent North America. Just watch for now. Ladies, report.”
“More refugees from Sudan,” Djeneba said. “We’ve made some payments to Chad to take most of them in, Eritrea still doesn’t want to help. Ebola outbreak in DRC, nine cases so far, we’ve got Médecins Sans Frontières on the ground already. We still need to make a decision on the coup in Kukuana. General Kanoute has seized power and cut off all outside communications. We’ve got four freight containers of weapons impounded in Nigeria that he’s expecting.”
Alinta paused in her knitting, pursed her lips, then resumed knitting. “Buy the weapons from the Nigerian government outright. Send them to our rail yard in Burkina Faso. Tell the President and his loyalist troops where to pick those up. Any dissent?” When there were no responses she said “Thank you, Djeneba. And tell Eritrea that if they want to keep their loans they need to take the refugees. Next.”
Cho spoke up. “We finally have an ID on the Crystal Lotus Yakuza boss. He’s making moves in politics, and likely to be elected to the House of Councilors. Flooding in south Vietnam isn’t easing up. We’ve provided 1.3 billion dollars for recovery. Still waiting on the outcome of the trade summit in China.”
Alinta nodded. “It would be a shame if another newly elected Councilor was tied to the Yakuza. I believe the gentleman will meet a tragic end in an accident next week. The other clan you mentioned last meeting… Plum Blossom I believe, may be willing to help if the price is right. Any objections?” The only response was the quiet clacking of knitting needles. “Thank you, Cho. Next.”
Carmela cleared her throat before she spoke. “We finalized purchase of 9% shares of Banco Central do Brasil. We’re supplying 7 million dollars worth of weapons to Policía Nacional del Ecuador to help take down the cartels.” She paused. “Sorry, almost dropped another stitch. The revolution in Cordillera is all but complete. The last of the loyalists are pushed to the Peruvian border, out of ammo and food. The Peruvian Army is blocking their escape over the border, and they should be capitulating within the next few days. Which, of course, means the fountain and well are secure. I brought back twelve gallons with me.”
Alinta smiled. “Good news is always welcome.” She looked at Madeline and nodded toward the flask. “That’s what you’re drinking.”
“Like, the fountain of youth or something?” Madeline asked.
“Something like that. Next.”
Berta never looked up from her knitting but talked all the same. “Our Geneva bank is set to buy out three smaller banks in the U.K.. Germany has agreed to keep their deal as it stands. Spain and Greece are both looking for help dealing with the refugee situation. That would be 52 million dollars total.”
“How much,” Alinta asked as she turned her work again, “is that per refugee?”
“That’s assuming 500 dollars each,” Berta answered.
“Double it. Any objections?” When none were forthcoming she added “Thank you, Berta. I guess that means I’m next. The only big news for Oceania is the earthquake in New Zealand. We’ve provided 72 million dollars in aid to the government, and made another 22 million available for no-interest loans for rebuilding.”
Alinta carefully folded her knitting back into the bag and finished the last of her tea. “Don’t worry, Madeline. Over the next two weeks Carmela will get you up to speed with the technology, tools, and contacts, as well as your credentials to the bank. You know how analysis works, so we’ll leave that to you, and only offer assistance if you ask.”
Madeline stood from her wheelchair, for the first time in years. “This is… incredible. But really, it sounds like all you’re doing is moving money around.”
Cho smirked. “We’re playing politics. And these days, politics is money. Some of the previous members of the NDGKC figured out a long time ago that owning banks and having more capital on hand than the GDP of most countries was the best way to shape the world.”
“Wait, former members of the North Dakota Grannies Knitting Circle?” Madeline sat back down as her legs tired.
The ladies laughed. “No,” Alinta said. “That’s just a convenient name for us right now. NDGKC stands for Nameless Dominion Global Knights Cabal. In reality, though, we aren’t sure what the original name was, as it was in Phoenician, and likely changed multiple times over the course of the previous twenty-nine and a half centuries. In another hundred years, when this area is too built up and we move again, we’ll have to change the name again, so I wouldn’t worry overly much about it.”
As they donned their parkas and Madeline wheeled herself out the door Cho tapped her on the shoulder. “I’ll stop by Carmela’s on Tuesday with your new parka. I peeked at the size in that one, hope that’s okay.”
Madeline winked. “It’s only okay if you share the pattern for the cable on those sleeves. It’s adorable.”
#
Before going to Carmela’s place they stopped by Madeline’s apartment so she could pick up a few items. Nothing that would call attention to the fact that she was leaving, though, just things that she didn’t feel she could leave behind. It amounted to two knitting pattern books, twelve skeins of merino wool yarn in various colors, and an arrowhead she’d found as a young girl.
The two weeks that followed were hectic for Madeline. As her she watched herself grow younger, healthier, more vital, she planned her funeral. There was no way around it — as long as Madeline Richmond was alive, she would generate curiosity that was bad for them all.
She first got a new identity, Madeline McCarthy, fifty-five years old. Several online shopping sprees outfitted her with new clothes and a whole new look. A new US passport, driver’s license, Social Security number and Cordillera passport making her a dual-citizen followed. When she saw the pictures on her new documents she was shocked at how young she looked.
A Cordillera doctor, visiting Fargo for training, signed the death certificate. Natural causes — complications due to pneumonia. She and Carmela picked up an urn of ashes from the crematorium. There was no service, as Madeline had no living relatives, and left everything in her possession to the animal shelter in her will. She received a small entry in the local paper’s obituary column, and a plaque on the wall of the animal shelter with her picture and the inscription “In Loving Memory.”
At the end of those first two weeks it was time for another meeting. Rather than their regular meeting, the Knights took a charter bus to an out-of-the way cemetery outside Fargo. There, they reverently placed the urn of ashes in the niche assigned.
Madeline stood before her name on the plaque in front of her. “Whose ashes are those?”
Cho took a deep breath. “Our former sister, Mary Smith.”
“Her original name was Makkitotosimew — Algonquin for ‘She has large breasts.’” Alinta smiled. “She never liked it, and was glad to change it.”
“It was true, though,” Djeneba said, and the ladies shared a laugh.
“So how did she…,” Madeline couldn’t bring herself to say the word. After being ready for death to take her at any moment, her new lease on life made it difficult.
“She got tired.” Alinta placed a hand on Madeline’s shoulder. “Sometimes one of us is killed in an accident or other misfortune, but usually a sister just grows tired and goes.”
“But I don’t see how.”
“She stopped drinking the water,” Cho said. “About three years ago. She aged rapidly and died in her sleep last year. We’ve been holding her ashes until her replacement was found.”
“I can see your next question,” Alinta said. “She was born, near as we can tell, in 1598 or 1599. She joined the Knights in 1702. She was far older than I.”
“Carmella told me there’s never been a male Knight. Why is that?”
“The waters don’t work for men.” Alinta made a small gesture and they began the walk out of the cemetery.
Djeneba added “We don’t know why. We’ve been trying to figure it for the last two hundred years, with no answer.”
“But,” Cho started. She stopped at Alinta’s raised hand, and nodded.
They piled back onto the bus and Berta said, “We’re ready to go back now.” As the bus pulled out to take them the three and half hours back the ladies retrieved their knitting and started working.
Each sat in their own seat with their knitting bag beside them. Carmela turned to Berta. “Have Madeline show you what she’s working on.”
Madeline overheard and showed Berta the scarf she was knitting.
“That’s the cable that Cho was doing on those sleeves, right?” Berta scooted over to get a better look. “Did you double it?”
“I did.” Madeline beamed with pride. “I changed it up a little so they’re interlinked in-between.”
“Clever.” Berta looked back at her own work. “I’ll have you show me that when I finish this one. It looks fun.”
