Dragon Virus (7 page)

Steven let his chin sink a little more into his palms,
feeling the carpet rub under his elbows, and rolled over onto his side. He didn’t
know why he was being such a brat; he just woke up in a funk this morning and
couldn’t get out of it.

His father’s eyes were deep-set and heavy-lidded, making him
look as though he were always about to fall asleep, even when he was totally
alert. Steven had learned to watch his dad’s body, not his face, for clues.
Body language said he was exasperated, but not pissed. Not really.

“If you’re that bored, we could move the schedule up and
paint your little sister’s bedroom this afternoon,” his father suggested with
the air of someone imposing a chore.

His mother was seven months pregnant and they had finally
decided — without any basis except the way the baby was kicking, that it was a
girl. Not that it made any difference — they were still going to paint the
nursery pale green, same color they had used when Steven was born.

Same furniture, too.

All his old stuff, reused. It should have been weird, or
pissed him off, but instead it gave him... he didn’t know, some kind of
connection to the baby. Like it was his, too. Like he was part of the whole
process, instead of just hanging around on the sidelines.

Steven knew when he was being manipulated. His parents were
smart that way. And he was smart enough to see it, and not mind it. Much.
Painting was something he was good at — he had the patience to do it right, and
a steady hand for the details, and he enjoyed the results. He didn’t get much
chance to do it anywhere else. School and sports kept him too busy, and anyway,
it wasn’t like he was going to be a professional artist or anything. But this
was his gift to his baby sister.

Her room was going to be perfect for her.

He grinned at his father, his earlier funk shaken off that
easily, and unfolded his legs to stand up. And up, and up: at fourteen, he was
already taller and broader in the shoulders than his dad. “I’ll do the ceiling.”

“Wiseguy,” his dad said, his voice still sharp. But now he
was grinning, too. They’d all been grinning a lot, at really stupid things,
since his mom got pregnant again. The news had smoothed the lines in his mother’s
forehead, tempered his dad’s moods; even the weather seemed better.

The telepreacher was an idiot, Steven thought, following his
dad out into the garage to get the paint and drop-cloths. Babies weren’t
suffering, or a plague, or anything like that. They were great.

o0o

It took them two weeks to finish the room to Steven’s
satisfaction; he kept going back in to add one more detail, one more finishing
touch. ““Gilding the lily,” his mother claimed, but his dad seemed to
understand, shooing his mother off to rest, or pick out yet another pair of
onesies. The baby was going to have a wardrobe like crazy.

During dinner that Thursday, around sevenish, his mother’s
water broke. One minute everything was fine, and then his mother turned pale,
and started to laugh, a weird, high-pitched laugh like Steven had never heard
before.

His dad had, though, based on the way he moved.

“Steven, don’t just sit there gawping! Get the bags!”

Bags? He stared at his father, who was busy trying to haul
his mother out of her chair, then at his mother, who was laughing and crying,
and patting her tummy with one hand like she was soothing it, even as his
father was lifting her...

Bags. Suitcases. Baby. Now.

By the time his parents were to the car, Steven had already
loaded the overnight bag and thrown in his mother’s favorite pillow and a
couple of books from the nightstand too, just in case. She was still a month
from being due. But that would be okay, right? Eight months and a week was long
enough for the baby to be okay?

He didn’t dare ask.

“Good boy, Stevie,” his mother managed to say in-between the
gasping and laughing.

“I’m sorry, I think I made a mess in the kitchen….”

He couldn’t believe she was worrying about that, now. “I’ll
program the ’bot to clean up, and follow you to the hospital.” They only had
the one car, and the rail didn’t get all the way to the hospital yet, but
Steven could walk fast and not get tired. “Don’t do anything important until I
get there!”

His dad laughed, but his mom wouldn’t promise anything.

o0o

By Sunday, there wasn’t any more laughter.

His cousin Josh found him sitting on the outcrop of stones a
mile from the housing complex where they lived. The other boy stood for a
moment, waiting for an invitation. When none came, he folded himself compactly,
curled his legs under him and sitting down on a nearby rock. They looked out
over the road, two dark figures against the white rock. Traffic passed
sporadically below them, the sound of engines competing with crickets’
chirping.

“Tough break.”

Steven stared out over the highway, the stone cold under his
ass. “Yeah. That’s one way to describe it.” He didn’t believe in breaks. If he
did, he might believe he had jinxed everything, they had all jinxed it by being
happy, by thinking there was something good coming.

“What’re they going to do?” his cousin asked.

“Haven’t a clue.” Steven shrugged. “Maybe send her to Aunt
Marty. We’d be able to see her, then, at least.” Marty was his mother’s
half-sister, and had always kept in touch with his mother when the rest of the
family showed their disapproval of his father by not returning calls or
inviting them to family gatherings.

Josh was his cousin on his father’s side. Everyone on his
father’s side was Changed.

Dusk deepened further into a royal blue before Josh replied.

“The Wishnen’s did that. Send the baby to relatives, I mean.
Kid told them not to come back, when he was old enough. Not a good scene.” Josh
played with the frayed end of his jeans. A Jesusfreak had dragged him into a
rehab booth last month, left red paint handprints all over his new pair of
jeans. His mom was still pissed about that, like it was his fault or something.

“You think you’re doing a good thing but you’re not. Not
really. Everyone ends up hating everyone else.”

Steven’s hands curled, his fingertips leaving white
indentations in his palm. “What do you suggest, then, huh? Drop her in a trash
can and pray someone finds her in time?” He forced his hands open, then took
off his sunglasses and stared at Josh. The clouded white pupils of his eyes
were red-rimmed with stress and exhaustion. “She’s my sister, Josh. I sang to
her, every night before she was born. I promised her I’d teach her how to climb
trees, and ride a bicycle.”

He swallowed hard. “I wish my folks had agreed to the amnio
scan. I wish we’d known, from the very beginning.”

Knowing would have kept things from getting better, because
better ended up worse.

Josh gestured helplessly, not knowing what to say. His wings
were furled tightly at his back, giving him a hunchback shadow. The last time
they had stood on the rocks together, the membranes had been spread out to
catch the first autumn breeze. He had looked like a human kite, spindly bones
and translucent webbing. He had been laughing like a madman, and Steven had
pushed him over the edge, just to see him soar up into the sky, and hear that
laughter trail behind him like a tail.

“Come on, man.” Josh touched his arm gently, as though his
thin fingers could make an impression on Steven’s skin. “Let’s go home. Your
folks need you.”

“Yeah.” And that was the worst thing of all. Parents were
supposed to be the strong ones. But he was the one who was strong. “Yeah I
know. I just... give me a minute, okay? Tell ’em I’ll be there soon.”

He heard his cousin get up and leave, but the smell of his
worry remained. Like anything could happen to Steven out here, anywhere. Unlike
his sister, he could take care of himself.

Finally solitude and silence returned; leaving him alone
with the thoughts that had driven him out here in the first place. Thoughts
that chased each other in futile circles: never flagging, just... running
around in circles until they exhausted themselves.

“Oh, Bethy,” he finally whispered. “It’s not fair. It’s not
fair, baby. I was gonna teach you so much, so many things...”

He couldn’t teach her anything she needed to know. He didn’t
walk in the world she was going to have to live in.

Eventually he got up and went home. The lights were out,
except in the kitchen. He went up the stairs in the darkness, avoiding the step
that creaked, and paused outside the closed door, the one with the twining
roses painted on it, like something out of a fairy tale.

He had painted vines along the top of the walls and across
the ceiling that day, tiny rosebuds and tinier thorns peeking out from under
the leaves. The window had a tiny dragon perched on the edge, and a gnome
waited by the closet door. His mother had laughed, and his father had shaken
his head — “what if the baby’s a boy?” he had asked.

“Then I’ll paint a bigger dragon on the ceiling, eating the
roses,” Steven had said.

There would be no dragons for Bethy. Not now.

He went down the hallway and into his own room, closing the
door firmly behind him.

o0o

He woke up feeling like he hadn’t slept. The house was
still quiet, and he didn’t hang around to make any noise, grabbing a cereal bar
to eat on the way to school.

He met up with Josh and Susan on the front steps, same as
always, like nothing had ever changed. Josh met his gaze then looked away.
Susan hugged him, hard, but wouldn’t look him in the eye.

At least they were there. He nodded, not saying anything,
and they went inside.

The entrance hall was a total scene. Mondays were like that,
everyone had to tell everyone else about their weekend, the ones who’d spent
the weekend together talking louder than everyone else. Josh dodged a freshman,
who, jittered by the noise, accidentally released his knees too high and hit
the ceiling, coming back down with a meaty thump.

“Man, that’s gotta hurt,” someone said from behind them.

“Not really,” the freshman said cheerfully. “Mostly you just
feel stupid.” He bent down to rehinge his knees, testing them by bending
forward and back, blocking the hallway.

“Frogger.” Josh looked back as they walked around him, eyes
narrowed in amusement. “Haven’t had one of those around for a while. Bet Coach
has a few words with him before Thanksgiving.”

“No takers,” Susan said, shaking her head. “He’s been
looking for another Jumper since Maz graduated.” Froggers — Jumpers, if you
were being polite — were a clarified Change; you knew what you got when the kid
came out. No secondary surprises, like Josh, who had developed grappling
hook-like claws on his wings when he hit puberty.

Steven turned while walking to watch the kid, surrounded by
his friends while they waited impatiently for him to finish resetting his
knees. The Frogger might be coach’s darling for a few seasons, but unless he
was really good it wasn’t going to help him in the long run. College recruiters
were coming after Normals, not the Changed. “Minority recruitment” they said. “Government
requirements,” they said, and Steven’s father went on another rampage about
quotas and how he was going to sue the colleges, who were they to keep his son
from getting a scholarship….

Steven figured his grades were good enough to get him
wherever he was going. And if not, that Army recruiter kept giving him the eye.
They wanted his Change, bad enough to pay for it.

Someone careened into his path, colliding violently against
his bulk. “Watch it, man,” he said in irritation, shifting the book bag slung
over his shoulder and glaring at the offender. Josh’s wings flared slightly at
the commotion, an involuntary reaction that made the other student back up,
stammering excuses.

Steven pitied Normals for their useless, unChanged bodies,
hated them for their reactions to the Changed, ranging from fear to curiosity
to too-intense fascination, worried about them, for being so easily breakable.
But mostly he avoided them. Ignored them.

But that was before. Before his little sister was born. So
pink and tiny and helpless in her cradle. It was a physical pain to think of
her. So perfect. So Normal.

So doomed.

o0o

Homeroom was its usual pointless exercise. Steven and Josh
and his lady Melly sat in the back. So long as they didn’t cause trouble Mr.
Babcock pretty much left them alone.

“I’m so sorry,” Melly said. “Josh told me.”

Steven shot his cousin a glare of toxic proportions.

“Sorry man, but it’s not like you’re going to keep it a
secret. People gonna talk. That’s the way the world is.”

“The world sucks,” Melly said, her hand reaching out to curl
in his in commiseration.

Her skin was slippery-rough, like a snake’s, and she
shimmered faintly when sunlight touched her. A minor Change, but enough to mark
her.

“Yeah, suckage, there’s a news flash.” She’d gotten jumped,
back when they were in junior high. Group of Jesusfreaks, wanting to see if she’d
regrow a limb if they cut one off. She still carried a scar on her leg, a long
ugly slice. The docs tried to get her to repair it but she wouldn’t. “A
reminder,” she’d said. Steven hadn’t understood it then, didn’t now. Wasn’t the
kind of thing you ever forgot, was it?

Jesusfreaks and Thumpers, and government regs about minority
recruitments, they were all trying to turn the world back into what it had been
before.

Steven didn’t remember a world Before. Neither did his
parents. The Dragon was, simple as that. It had been around for generations,
digging itself deeper into their DNA, making Changes, and if nobody knew what
caused it, they sure as hell weren’t going to figure out how to stop it.

Every generation, and fewer and fewer Normals being born.

So why them? Why Bethy?