Cottonwood (31 page)

“What’s Fetch?” T’aki asked, leaning forward to offer his face for more swabbing.

“It’s a game. He’ll teach you.” Sarah opened the glass door a little wider, still smiling. Her face felt hot and brittle. She could smell the smoke from here. “It’s dark and the fence is pretty high. I don’t think anyone can see you.”

“Stay close,” Sanford said. “And play quietly. No squealing.”

“Yes, Father. Come on, dog!”

Out they ran together, where the first thing Fagin did, Sarah saw to her weary mortification, was teach the boy to pee on the fence post.

“I need a shower,” she said. “Can you…I mean…do you need anything or…?”

“Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m just…” She didn’t know how to end that without sounding unbelievably elitist, which she supposed she was, relatively. “I need a shower,” she said finally.

He made a curiously evocative gesture with one hand and crouched down in the kitchen to watch his son and her dog in the yard. “I’ll be here.”

Which made very little sense to her, but freed her to hurry to the bathroom, strip off her smoky clothes, and turn out a hot and tear-disguising spray of water.

Stupid, she was so stupid! What a great idea, to throw a party in their faces, just like it couldn’t possibly come back to hurt anyone! Because of her
stupidity
, people had been hurt, had maybe been arrested, could even have been killed! She’d thought, she’d really thought, that just because it wasn’t illegal, IBI couldn’t hurt her. She really was a fucking moron. Why would they need to hurt her, when they had a whole camp full of people they could shoot at will? They had driven armored cars down the middle of a crowded street, throwing bombs at unarmed people, at children. They didn’t need to hurt her, they just wanted her to see who they
could
hurt. They wanted to slap her mischievous little hands for her, and if they weren’t stinging enough already, they would be happy to slap her again.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah whispered, pressing her face to the tiles. “I am going to make a full and immediate apology. I’m going to agree with everything they say when they say the aliens started it. I’m going to take responsibility. I’m going to offer up my hands.”

The shower drummed, non-committal.

Sarah bathed her face, washing slowly and with head bent, for penance. She scrubbed the smoke from her hair and down the drain. She pulled on her threadbare robe and tied it shut and stared at herself in the steamy mirror. She wanted to see a child there, a scared and stupid child who was ready to cry her apologies, but she didn’t and she really didn’t know why not.

Because even the smallest good things matter.

“Oh bull,” she whispered. She touched the fading bruise under her eye, felt the dull throb of the cracked bone beneath, and then looked at her hand, the palm of her hand, where Sanford’s finger had lingered so long.

“It was worth it,” she said to herself.

That was the dead-wrong attitude to have.

“It was still worth it.”

Maybe, but she’d better not sound that way when she called IBI or the riots were never going to be allowed to stop. Nobody cared what the aliens did to themselves inside the containment walls. This was all about making sure Sarah Fowler learned her lesson. Had she?

“I can say I did.”

Kate had always told her she was a good liar. She hoped she could be as persuasive even when no one could see her huge, honest eyes.

Sanford was just as she’d left him when she returned to the living room in her warm cotton robe. His antennae twitched in her direction, but he didn’t speak, not even when she dialed the office, gave her name, and asked to be patched through to the Alien Incident division. It seemed a very long wait on hold, devoid of music, and when it was over, she was unpleasantly surprised to hear Mr. van Meyer on the other end of the line.

“I am so glad to hear you made it away,” he said by way of greeting, his voice coffee-dark with concern. “We thought you might have been trapped inside.”

“No, sir. Your security response team was very thorough.”

“I shall pass along your praise. Piotr will be pleased.”

“Mr. van Meyer—”
Here are my hands
. “—this is all my fault. It was my idea and I…I just thought I could throw it all together and I didn’t know what I was doing and I was way in over my head before I knew it. I’m so sorry.”

Sanford’s head turned slightly. That was all.

“
Ja
?” Calm. Mildly concerned. Waiting.

“I was only trying to help. The community center here in the neighborhood has all these events on the calendar and…I thought it was such a good idea. I’ve been having so much trouble getting all my census reports and I thought…I just thought a little party with my clients and their families could show them I was working for them. I just wanted to meet them and be…”

Sanford could hear her. He was right there, listening.

“…and be their friend instead of the enemy,” she said, her gut twisting. She wished he’d look at her, even glare at her. He just crouched there, silent, watching T’aki and Fagin running back and forth in the yard. She turned away, facing herself into the corner and shutting her eyes. “It all got out of hand so fast. It’s my fault, Mr. van Meyer. I take full responsibility.”

“
Nee
,
nee
, Miss Fowler, please to relax. You take too seriously these little unfortunates. These things happen.”

“Mr. van Meyer, there was a riot—”

“And is soon to be contained, dear girl. By morning, all forgotten. These things happen and is nobody’s fault. Piotr inform me of the incident and all your paperwork clearly state your intention. Your very good intention,
ja
?” A pause, like the stroking of his hand across her brow. She shivered. He said, softly, “But perhaps now you begin to understand, we are not friends with the bug.”

“Yes, sir.”

“IBI exist for two purpose, Miss Fowler, and that is to tend the bug and to police the bug. When zookeeper tend to bear, he may feel affection, but is never to be forgotten the danger. Zookeeper is not friend of bear.”

“Yes, sir.” She wondered if Sanford could hear van Meyer saying these things. She wondered if he could hear what she was agreeing to. His face gave her no clue as to his thoughts or feelings, but he watched her.

“You have innocent idea to recreate among them, but you do not understand the mind of the bug. You are too young, perhaps, to remember that in beginning, we give bug more freedom, we offer visa to leave camps and begin integration in human communities. This we do, as you do, with very good intention,
ja
? But bug recreate violently. There are skirmishes in street with humans, there are cars overturned, there are killings. The bug is not a gentle traveler of peace and illumination, Miss Fowler. The bug is bottom-feeding slum-roach who recreate with riot. It is not his fault. It is our responsibility to provide security,
nee
? Structure. Routine.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“
Ja
, and you will remember this. I was very young once, Miss Fowler. I tried to be as you are, a friend to the bug, but bug do not need friends. They need control. Tonight, a sad thing. You have tried to do good work and it lead to a terrible fire. We should be grateful no one was caught in this one.”

The words were a slap. She wondered if it was a deliberate reference to her parents, wondered how in hell he knew about that. Whether it was or not, it hurt.

“For tonight, a good sleep. Tomorrow, you come after work to the office for incident report with Piotr.”

“Yes, sir.”

“This mistake you make, you make with best of intentions. Now it is done. I accept your apology and hope you do not let this terrible thing take you away from us. I should hate to lose you. You do very good work.”

“Not yet,” said Sarah, wiping her eyes. “But I’m trying, Mr. van Meyer. I really am.”

Which were probably the only honest words in the whole conversation. She hung up, stood in her robe next to the phone until she realized she was trembling slightly, and finally turned to trudge back and get dressed.

Sanford had stood up and come silent as a cat into the living room. He watched her from the other side of the sofa. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Well?” she said dully. “Did I sound convincing?”

He walked around the sofa slowly, his eyes on her like she was a deer he was trying not to spook. When he reached her, he did the weirdest thing yet: he cupped her elbows in his hands, fanned his mouth-palps slightly and exhaled on her face. Softly. Deliberately. And looked at her.

Sarah blinked once, twice, and then burst out in an uncontrollable fit of laughter. ‘Oh jeez, kiddo, bipolar much?’ she thought, listening to herself in dismay, but wow, he
breathed
on her. What was she supposed to do with that?

Sanford, thrown by what was obviously an unexpected reaction, backed up behind the sofa again and stood there, loudly clicking and buzzing to himself and looking thoroughly embarrassed. She wanted to apologize—God knew he was owed one at least as good as the one she’d given van Meyer—but all she could think of was to exclaim T’aki-style, ‘I like your breath!’ and that just sent her off in renewed giggles.

Stammering something she hoped would at least sound contrite, Sarah clutched the neck of her robe and ran to her room, where she threw herself on the bed and smothered her face in a pillow until the hysteria had passed.

‘Dude breathed on me,’ she thought, wheezing her way to self-control. ‘First we fingered up each other’s hands and then he breathed on me. Oh, light the candles and break out the violins!’

That got her going again. She laughed into the muffle of cotton batting until her stomach cramped and her face felt sweaty, and she had to either stop and roll over or die.

She stared at the ceiling, breathing hard, arms and legs spread across her blankets, limp. She had an alien in the living room. She had another one running around in the backyard, playing with the dog and peeing on the fence posts. She could not stay here all night.

Sarah sighed and got up. She tugged on a pair of shorts and a baggy old tee, whispering vehement admonitions under her breath to discourage further crazy behavior. Her hair was still wet; she finger-combed it over her scar, patted it down and sat on the bed until she was sure she could behave herself. Then she got up and went out to see how else she could screw up before this night was over.

* * *

The dog tired out before his son. He knew he should not take pleasure in that, but by the amazed tone of Sarah’s voice when the animal came panting inside, he had to. His son, born in Cottonwood and fed by the labors of the Heaps, and yet able to overexert a healthy dog.

But T’aki’s own surrender was not long in coming, and soon after the animal had collapsed on the carpet to sleep, the boy came to where Sanford had found a way to crouch more or less comfortably over one arm of the sofa and watch television, and climbed up onto his lap. “I like this place better than our house,” he said. “Can we stay?”

“No,” Sanford said. “We are fortunate to be guests here tonight. Tomorrow, Sarah will take us home.”

She looked at him and in that look, he could see her trying to find a plan that would lead him and his son safely out behind IBI’s grasp forever, but she really was no good at planning. In the end, she said nothing, only paced away to another window and peered out into the empty streets. Waiting for IBI to come. He had already told her that if they meant to come, they would have done so by now and unless she gave them a reason to chase after her—if, for instance, she got into her van and tried to leave—they would likely leave her be, but she kept going back to the windows.

“Come and sit with us,” he said now, knowing that if she’d just be still, she would realize how exhausted she was.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” T’aki asked.

She looked at him and then at Sanford, calmly stroking his son’s seams. She came to the sofa and sat beside him. T’aki stuck out his foot boldly; she took it in her hand without looking away from the monitor and held it. “You get enough to eat tonight, jellybean?” she asked.

“Yes.” And at a warning glance from Sanford, added, “Thank you.”

“Oh jeez, don’t thank me for that nightmare.” She glanced away, jiggling the boy’s leg carefully in her grip as she looked out the window and over the white containment walls, where smoke still rose in the distance. “I’m sorry it didn’t turn out better, that’s all.”

They watched the television. A commercial advertisement interrupted the program: A human male gave shimmering stones to a female, to her evident surprise and delight. They pressed their mouths together. Sharing breath, he supposed, and thought of Sarah.

“Where is
your
mate?” T’aki asked suddenly.

She seemed as surprised by the question as the television-female by her stones. “I don’t have one.”

“Did he die?” T’aki asked, and Sanford gave him a click and a sharp stare.

“No, I’ve never had one.”

“
Never
? Why not? Aren’t you grown?”

Oh, tactless boy.

“Sure, I’m grown,” Sarah said, smiling down at him. “I’m plenty grown.”

“Are you too old?” T’aki asked doubtfully and Sanford clicked again, louder.

“You’re never too old for love, jellybean,” she said, and hummed a little, looking at the television.

“Father says there’s enough females for every human to have a mate. Sometimes more than one. I’ve seen pictures.”

Sanford covered his eyes.

“I don’t know, T’aki. I never really thought about it. I guess I just figured I had plenty of time. And then life got in the way.” She trailed off, looking at the monitor without really watching it, and stroking at the joints of T’aki’s toes while he chirred. “I guess…somewhere along the way, I just got used to being the sort of person who doesn’t have a mate.”

“How do you get used to that?”

“You get a dog,” she answered with a crooked smile.

That was that for perhaps five minutes.