Clay's Ark (16 page)

weight did not seem to bother him.

"You're not a screamer," he said. "Good." He set her on her feet.

"Am I like your wife?" she asked timidly as they walked back.

"No," he answered.

"But ... do you like me?"

"Yes."

She looked at him uncertainly, wondering if he were laughing at her. "I wish you talked more," she said.

Later that night, Lupe tied Rane to a bed.

"We don't have bars yet," Ingraham said. "You should have gone with Stephen."

"Shut up," Lupe told him. "Tying people up is no joke. Neither is trying to send a kid to bed with a guy she doesn't even

know. We gotta find a better way. I'm sick of this."

Ingraham said nothing more.

Rane found no comfort in Lupe's sentiment. Tied as she was, she had to ask even to go to the bathroom. And she could

not sleep on her side as was her custom. She lay miserable and sleepless, twisting her wrists in the hope of freeing at

least one. The twisting hurt enough to make her stop after a while. Then she tried to reach one of her wrists with her

teeth. And failed.

By then she was crying tears of frustration and anger. She was totally unprepared for the sudden weight across her

stomach that knocked the breath out of her. This time she would have screamed if she had been able to.

She caught her breath, feeling as though she had been punched, then saw Jacob dim and shadowy in the darkness above

her.

"You can't bite the rope," he said. "Your teeth are too dull."

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Nothing." He stared down at her from the pose of a seated cat. "I came in the window."

Rane sighed, closed her eyes. "I think I'm glad you're here," she whispered. "Even you."

"Why don't you like me?" he demanded.

She shook her head, answered honestly because she was too tired to humor him. "Because you look different. Because

I'm afraid of you."

"You are? Of me?" He sounded pleased. He also sounded closer. She opened her eyes and saw that he had stretched out

beside her. She tried to draw away, but could not.

"You are afraid of me," he said gleefully. "I'm going to sleep here."

She could have called Lupe. She made a conscious decision not to. The boy was harmless in spite of his appearance,

and he did not understand that what she feared was not him personally, but what he represented. Most important, she

did not think she could stand to be alone again.

Sometime after midnight, when she had developed a headache from lack of sleep, he awoke and with unchildlike

alertness, asked if her arms hurt.

"They hurt," she said. "And I can't sleep and I'm cold."

To her surprise, he pulled her blankets up to her chin. "Bikers put a rope on me," he said. "They pulled me and said,

'Heel, heel!' "

Rane shook her head in disgust. Jacob could not help what he was. He did not deserve such treatment.

"Daddy hit some of them and they died."

"Good for him," Rane muttered. Then she realized she was talking about Eli, who might even now be raping Keira.

Confusion, frustration, and weariness set in heavily, and she could not stop the tears. She made no sound, but

somehow, the child knew. He touched her face with one of his hard little hands, and when she turned her head away

angrily, he turned his attention to her right wrist.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

As though in answer, she found her wrist suddenly free.

"My teeth are sharp," Jacob announced. He climbed over her and started on her left wrist. In seconds, it too was free.

"Oh God," she said, hugging herself with aching arms and numb hands. She made herself reach out to the child. "Thank

you, Jacob."

"You taste good," he said. "I thought you would. You smell like food."

She drew her hand back quickly, heard his gleeful laugh. Let him laugh. He had freed her. How the hell a four year old

could have teeth that cut rope was beyond her, but she didn't care. If he had been a little less strange, she would have

hugged him.

"Something is happening outside," he said.

"What?"

"People moving around and talking." He bounded off the bed and to the window. "They're your people," he said. He

leaped silently to the high window sill, then down the other side.

Then even she heard the noise outside-a car starting, people running. There was shouting, and finally what must be

happening penetrated her weary mind. Her people-her father and sister . . .

She got out of bed, taking time only to slip into her shoes and grab her pants and shirt. She threw both on over the thin

gown Lupe had brought her from her luggage and she went through the window. She would have climbed through it

naked if she had had to.

She got out in time to see the Wagoneer disappearing down the mountain road, stick people in hot pursuit. Her father

had left her!

She took a few useless steps after them, then turned without conscious thought and ran in the opposite direction-toward

the rocks she and Stephen Kaneshiro had stood on. Toward the road below where her father would almost certainly be

passing soon. It occurred to her as she headed for the steep incline that she could be killed. The thought did not slow

her. Either way, the stick people would not tie her down again.

PART 3: MANNA

PAST 15

Now Eli would become an active criminal as well as the carrier of a disease. Now, with the help of Lorene and Meda,

he would abduct a man. He would take Meda's father's Ford and go to what was left of old U.S. 95. Meda knew 95

from State Highway 62 to Interstate 40. It was desolate country, she said. No towns, almost no private haulers on the

road. Just a few daredevil sightseers, taking their chances among the bike packs and car families, and a few well-armed,

individualistic ranchers.

Eli worried about taking Meda along. She was four months pregnant, and he worried about both her and the child. She

was not an easy woman to become attached to, but the attachment had happened. Now he could not lose her. He could

not lose her.

Meda had always been physically strong, had taken pride in being able to match her brothers at hard work and hard

play. Now the disease had made her even stronger, and her new strength had made her overconfident.

She would not, she told Eli, sit at home, trembling and wondering whether her child's father had survived. She intended

to see that he survived-and, he thought, maybe get herself killed in the process.

Eli swung from anger to amusement to secret gratitude for her concern. There were still bad times with her-times when

she cursed him and mourned her family. But thess times came less frequently. Both the disease organism and the child

inside her were driving her toward him. Perhaps she had even begun to forgive him a little.

Now she helped him plan.

"We can hide here," she said, using an old paper auto club map. "There's a junction. A dirt road runs into Ninety-five.

There are some hills."

All four of them sat clustered at one end of the large dining room table. Lorene, who was to have the new man if he

lived; Gwyn, who was already pregnant again and in less immediate need of a man of her own; Meda; and Eli.

Covertly, Eli watched Gwyn, saw that she seemed at ease, uninterested in the map. A few weeks before, she would

have torn the yellowed paper in her eagerness to take part and get a man for herself. Now, pregnant by Eli, she was

content. The organism had turned them all into breeding animals.

"What do you think?" Meda asked him.

He looked at the map. "Damn lonely stretch of road," he said. "Anyone working here?" He pointed to a quarry that

should have been nearby.

Meda shook her head. "Too dangerous. What this highway really is at that point is a sewer. From what I've heard about

city sewers, the only reason they're worse is because they have more sewer rats. But the gangs here are just as

dangerous, and the haulers . . . body-parts dealers, arms smugglers-that kind. The few holdout ranchers are dangerous

too. If they don't know you, they shoot on sight."

"Dangerous," Eli said. "And close. Too close to us here. I used to see lights from Ninety-five when I went out at night."

When he went out to kill and eat chickens to supplement Meda's mother's idea of three good meals. "I think I saw lights

from State Highway Sixty-two, too. If we accidentally catch anyone important, I don't want search parties coming right

to us."

Meda gave a short, bitter laugh. "People disappear out here all the time, Eli. It's expected. And nobody's important

enough these days to search this country for."

Eli glanced up from the map and smiled. "I am. Or I would be if anyone knew I was alive."

"Come on," she said, irritated, "you know what I mean."

"Yeah. I hear bike gangs and car families can be damned vindictive, though, if they think you've hurt one of theirs.

Let's go up to I-Forty. If things are bad there, we could even go on to I-Fifteen."

"That far?" Meda said. "Fuel, Eli."

"No problem. We'll take the Ford. With its twin tanks it can go just about anywhere within reason and come back

without a fill-up."

"And there are more people on Forty and Fifteen," Lorene said. "Real people, not just sewer rats. I could get an honest

hauler or a farmer or a city man." She sounded like an eager child listing Christmas possibilities. In a moment, Eli

would have to make her hear herself. Left on her own, she could do a lot of harm before she realized what was

happening to her.

"The Ford's been to Victorville and back without fuel problems," Gwyn said lazily. She was from Victorville, Eli knew.

Christian had met her there, where she had worked with her brothers at their mother's roadside station. She shrugged. "I

don't think we'll have a fuel problem."

Meda looked at her strangely, probably because of her lazy tone, then spoke to Eli. "I assume you want to use Ninety-

five for going and coming."

"We can use it for going," he said. "If you think it's worth the detour."

She shook her head. "Car families set up roadblocks. Armored tour buses and private haulers just bull their way

through, but cars get caught. Especially one car alone."

"We'll use this network of dirt roads, then. I like them better anyway. You know the best ones?"

She nodded. "In good weather, some of them are smoother than Ninety-five, anyway."

"And the dirt roads will give captives the idea they're more isolated than they are. They won't be able to prowl around

and find out the truth the way I did until they've made it through the crisis period. After that, they won't care."

"Are you sure they won't?" Meda asked. "I mean . . . this is our home, but some stranger . . ."

"This will be his home."

Lorene giggled. "I'll make him feel at home. You just catch him."

Eli turned to look at her.

"You know," she said, still laughing, "this is the kind of thing you always read about men doing to women-kidnapping

them, then the women getting to like the idea. I think I'm going to enjoy reversing things."

Silence. Meda and Gwyn sat staring at Lorene, clearly repelled.

"We won't touch him," Eli told Lorene. "We'll leave it to you to give him the disease."

Lorene's smile vanished. She looked from Meda and Gwyn to Eli.

"He might die on you," Eli continued. "If he does, we'll get you another one."

She frowned as though she did not understand.

"We'll get you as many as necessary," he said.

"You don't have any right to make me feel guilty!" she whispered. Her voice rose abruptly. "This is all your fault! My

husband-"

"Remember him!" Eli said. "Remember how it felt to lose him. Chances are, you'll be taking someone else's husband

soon."

"You have no right-"

"No, I don't," he said. "But then, there isn't anyone else to say these things to you. And you have to hear them. You

have to understand what you are-why you feel what you feel."

"It's because you killed-"

"No. Listen, Lori. It's because you're the host, the vehicle of an extraterrestrial organism. It's because that organism

needs new hosts, new vehicles. You need to infect a man and have children and you won't get any peace until you do. I

understand that. God knows I understand it. The organism is a damned efficient invader. Five people died because I

couldn't fight it. Now, it's possible that at least one person will die because you can't fight it."

"No," Lorene whispered, shaking her head.

"It's something we can't forget or ignore," Eli continued. "We've lost part of our humanity. We can lose more without

even realizing it. All we have to do is forget what we carry, and what it needs." He paused. She had turned away, and

he waited until she faced him again. "So we'll get you a man," he said. "And we'll turn him over to you. You'll give him

the disease and you'll care for him. If he dies, you'll bury him."

Lorene got up and stumbled out of the room.

PRESENT 16

When Blake and Meda had gone, when Ingraham had led Rane away, Eli and Keira sat alone at the large dining room

table. Keira looked across at Eli bleakly.

"My sister," she whispered. Rane had looked so frozen when Ingraham led her out, so terrified.

"She'll be all right," Eli said. "She's tough."

Keira shook her head. "People think that. She needs to have them think that."

He smiled. "I know. I should have said she's strong. Maybe stronger than even she knows."

A woman carrying a crying child of about three years came into the house. The child, Keira could see, was a little girl

wearing only underpants. She had a beautiful face and a dark, shaggy head of hair. There was something wrong with

the way she sat on the woman's arm, though-something Keira could not help noticing, yet could not quite identify.

The woman smiled wearily at Eli. "Red room," she said.

Eli nodded.

The woman stared at Keira for a moment. Keira thought she stared hungrily. When she had gone into a room off the

living room and shut the long, sliding door, Keira faced Eli.

"What's going on?" she said. "Tell me."

He looked at her hungrily, too, but then leaned back in his chair and told her. No more hints, no more delays. When he

finished, she asked questions and he answered them. At one point, the woman and child came out of the red room and

Eli called them to him.

"Lorene, bring Zera over. I want you both to meet Kerry."

The woman, blond and thin, came over with her hungry eyes and her strange child. She looked at Keira, then at Eli.

"Why is there still a table between you two?" she asked. "I'll bet there's no table between that guy and Meda."

"Is that what I called you over here for?" he asked, annoyed. "Don't you want to brag about your kid a little?"

Lorene faced Keira almost hostilely.

Keira and the child had been staring at each other. Keira roused herself, met Lorene's suspicious eyes. "I'd like to see

her."

"You see her," Lorene said. "She's no freak. She's supposed to be this way. They're all this way."

"I know," Keira said. "Eli has told me. She's beautiful."

Lorene put her daughter on the table and the child immediately sat down, catlike, arms braced against the floor.

"Stand up," Lorene said, pushing at the little girl's hindquarters. "Let the lady see you."

"No!" Zera said firmly. To Keira, that proved something about her was normal. Before Keira's illness, she had been

called on to take care of little toddler cousins who sometimes seemed not to know any other word.

Then Zera did get up, and in a single fluid motion, she launched herself at Eli. He seemed to pluck her out of the air,

laughing as he caught her.

"Little girl, I'm going to miss some day. You're getting faster."

"What would happen if you did miss?" Keira asked. "She wouldn't hurt herself, would she?"

"No, she'd be okay. Lands on her feet like a cat. Lorene does miss sometimes."

"I never miss," Lorene said, offended. "I just step aside sometimes. I'm not always in the mood to be jumped on."

Eli put Zera back on the table and this time, she walked a few steps, leaped off the table, and stood beside Lorene.

Keira smiled, enjoying the child's smooth, catlike way of moving. Then she frowned. "A kid that age should be kind of

clumsy and weak. How can she be so coordinated?"

"We've talked about that," Eli said. "They do go through a clumsy period, of course. Last year, Zee fell down all the

time. But if you think she's agile now, you should see Jacob. He's four."

"What will they be like when they're adults?"

"We don't know," Lorene said softly. "Maybe they peak early-or maybe they're going to be as fast as cheetahs some

day. Sometimes we're afraid for them."

Keira nodded, looked at the child. She was perfect. A perfect, lean, little four-legged thing with shaggy uncombed hair

and a beautiful little face. "A baby sphinx," Keira said, smiling.

"Think you could handle having one like this someday?"

Keira glanced at her, smiled sadly, then turned back to Zera. "I think I could handle it," she said.

Zera took a few steps toward her. Keira knew that if the child scratched or bit her, she would get the disease. Yet she

could not bring herself to be afraid. The child was as strange a being as Keira had ever seen, but she was a child. Keira

reached out to her, but Zera drew back.

"Hey," Keira said softly. "What do you have to be afraid of?" She smiled. "Come here."

The little girl mirrored the smile tentatively, edged toward Keira again. She was a little cat not sure it should trust the

strange hand. She even sniffed without getting quite close enough to touch.

"Do I smell good?" Keira asked.

"Meat!" the child said loudly.

Startled, Keira drew back. She expected to be scratched or bitten eventually, but she did not want to have to shake Zera

off her fingers. Anything as sleek and catlike as this child probably had sharp teeth.

"Zee!" Lorene said. "Don't bite!"

Zera looked back at her and grinned, then faced Keira. "I don't bite."

The teeth did look sharp, but Keira decided to trust her. She started to reach out again, this time to lift the child into her

lap, but Eli spoke up.

"Kerry!"

She looked across the table at him.

"No."

His voice made her think of a warning rattle. She drew back, not frightened, but wondering what was wrong with him.

Lorene seemed angry. She picked up Zera and faced Eli. "What kind of game are you playing?" she demanded. "What's

the kid here for? Decoration?"

Eli looked up at her.

"Don't give me that look. Go do what you're supposed to do. Then you can take care of her! And if she doesn't make it,

you can-"

Eli was on his feet, inches from her, looming over her. Keira held her breath, certain he would hit the woman and

perhaps by accident, hurt the child.

Lorene stood her ground. "You're soaking wet," she said calmly. "You're putting yourself through hell. Why?"

He seemed to sag. He touched Lorene's face, then Zera's shaggy head. "You two get the hell out of here, will you?"

"What is it!" Lorene insisted.

"Leukemia," Eli said.

There was silence for a moment. Then Lorene sighed. "Oh." She shook her head. "Oh shit." She turned and walked

away.

When she had gone through the front door, Keira spoke to Eli. "What are you going to do?" she asked.

He said nothing.

"If you touch me," she said, "how soon will I die?"

"It isn't touch."

"I know. I mean-"

"You might live."

"You don't think so."

More silence.

"I'm not afraid," she said. "I don't know why I'm not, but. . . You should have let me play with Zera. She wouldn't have

known and Lorene wouldn't have cared."

"Don't tell me what I ought to do."

She could not fear him-not even when he wanted her to. "Is Zera your daughter?"

"No. She calls me Daddy, though. Her father's dead."

"You have kids?"

"Oh yes."

"I always thought someday I'd like to."

"You've prepared yourself to die, haven't you?"

She shrugged. "Can anyone, really?"

"I can't. To me, talking about it is like talking about the reality of elves and gnomes." He smiled wryly. "If the organism

were intelligent, I'd say it didn't believe in death."

"But it will kill me."

He got up, pushing his chair away angrily. "Come on!"

He led her into the hall and to a large bedroom. "I'm going to lock you in," he said. "The windows are locked, but I

guess even you could kick them out if you wanted to. If you do, don't expect any consideration from the people you

meet outside."

She only looked at him.