In the Blood (19 page)

W
e headed home.

Back to my house, back to Faith Hope and Charity. The floater smelt of dirt and blood and the faint sour smell of clothes too long unwashed. I wondered if the floater would always smell of blood; if some unknown City journeyer would sniff the air and shiver, and not know why.

We sat at opposite sides of the seat without touching and watched the dappled flickers of leaves and bark and soil. It was a smoother ride going back. Now that the floater had come this way once, the return route was programmed. There would be no swerving or backtracking unless a new obstacle appeared in our path.

‘I contacted Michael,’ said Neil suddenly.

‘Yes?’ I said.

‘While you were talking to Ophelia. I told him we’d found the vampire. That he’d been…dealt with.’

‘So you think that’s the end of it?’

‘Yes,’ said Neil, still looking out the window. ‘That’s the end of it.’

‘Really?’

‘Of course,’ said Neil. He still didn’t look at me.

‘I see,’ I said.

More silence. ‘I can’t help wondering,’ said Neil after a while, still looking at the endlessly repeating landscape.

‘About Tam?’

‘Yes. Was he always like that? Or did all those months of Reality at the castle living and feeling like a vampire, with all his feelings programmed on high—did that change him?’

‘Probably a bit of both,’ I said. ‘I suppose it was his…tinge of insanity, I suppose you’d say, that attracted Doris in the first place. Danger is always just a little bit fascinating and I suppose they must have found it so more than most.’

The floater veered gradually and began to follow the dry bones of a creek, the swollen rocks hot-looking below us.

‘My work wasn’t like that,’ I said finally. ‘I didn’t make Realities like that. You can use the technology for good things as well as bad.’

‘Probably,’ said Neil vaguely. ‘Yes. Yes, of course you can.’ There was another pause. ‘If you could go back to making them, would you?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said honestly. ‘Yes, I think so. But they’d be different now.’

We watched the scenery again. ‘The Outlands isn’t really like this,’ said Neil finally. ‘You’ve…you’ve just seen a warped view of it these last few days.’

‘I know,’ I said gently. ‘I’ve seen Black Stump too, remember. And Faith Hope and Charity.’

‘Will you come home with me?’ asked Neil, looking me full in the face for the first time since we’d left Black Stump.

‘No,’ I said. ‘Maybe sometime. I don’t think I could face anyone just yet.’

‘Would you like me to come to your house with you?’ asked Neil.

‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry, Neil. No.’

He didn’t ask why, as I’d half hoped he would. He just nodded and turned to the window again, his big hands heavy in his lap, and I turned to my window and we each watched identical views till the first of the orchards came in sight.

‘Look,’ I said. ‘Apple trees. You’re home.’

‘Yes.’ said Neil. The floater drew to a stop outside the main building. I could see someone working in the precise rows of orchard beyond. They looked up as they saw the floater, then waved.

‘Take care, Neil,’ I said.

He nodded and got out.

I reset the controls and the floater rose again to take me back to my house.

T
he house felt empty. My footsteps echoed; all my movements seemed to jar the air. I made a cup of tea. The bread was stale, beginning to crumble. Three days old now and, of course, made without preservatives. I made some toast, spread it with Elaine’s jam and forced myself to eat.

A rose branch scraped at the window, thorny fingers scratching to come in, like Neil’s fingers had scraped the floor this morning at the castle.

Was it only this morning? The days shrank in front of me. Today had been filled with horror; but it also had been rich with feeling, alive. What would the days in front of me be like now?

I looked out the window. The shadows were stretching from the trees, purple on the yellow, shaley soil. The trees had looked like that before I was born, before the world I knew existed. They would look like that still when all of us were gone, an endless parade of leafy days, oblivious of the small doings of humanity, no start or end to them.

For some reason it was comforting.

I took my cup and plate to the sink, rinsed them and placed them on the rack to dry. Then I went back to the table and sat down.

I had to think. Not about who the vampire was. That answer was so clear now, I wondered why I hadn’t seen it before. But of course I’d been led away before I could see what was in plain sight under my nose.

I knew the answer. But proving it was something else. I could think of no way of proving it at all. You can’t just go up to someone and say, ‘I know that you’re a vampire’. Who would admit to something like that? Not when they’d gone to such great lengths to hide it.

Yet…perhaps there was a way to prove it. But I didn’t have the data and had no way of getting it.

I didn’t have the data. But Michael did.

But how to get it from him? For the millionth time, I longed for a Terminal: not necessarily to Link with, just to use. I couldn’t even get access to the City without Michael’s influence to get me a permit. And to get that permit I needed to contact him in the first place.

I could use the community’s Terminal, of course. But that would mean asking Neil to help, and then he would know what I was doing. Or I could ask Theo and Elaine, which would mean the same thing.

There was no way I could ask anyone in the community for help.

Go back to Black Stump and ask Ophelia to use their Terminal? She’d help me. But she would ask questions too and I didn’t want anyone asking questions, not till I was sure, not till it was proved.

Perhaps not even then.

There was a Terminal in the floater but I’d need help using even that…

It suddenly struck me. It was a desperate idea. But I
was
desperate, thick-headed from too much blood, too much emotion in too few days. I just wanted it all to end and if this was too outrageous…well then I’d have to think of something else, that’s all.

It was easier to take the floater to the Wombat, than hope the Wombat would visit me that night. Besides, he
might have already become discouraged, and not come down to the house at all. It had been two nights since I’d given him bread or carrots. Two nights is a long time for a Wombat.

He came out of his hut on all fours, looking more wombat than Wombat, except for his size, blinking in the last of the light as the floater drew to a halt. Floaters are quiet. He must have felt its vibration in the soil around him as he slept.

‘I need your help,’ I said.

He blinked at me again, raising himself slowly onto his hind legs as he saw who I was. His paws hung like hands.

I held out a piece of bread. And moved back into the floater. ‘I’ll give you this,’ I said.

He followed me, using his paws to help him pad up the stair, still half asleep. I gestured at the terminal. ‘Do you know what this is?’

No answer.

I flicked the switch on. The machine gave an almost imperceptible ‘beep’ and the Wombat jumped, startled.

I took a deep breath. ‘I need you to help me again. You helped me before, remember? I want you to think this,’ I said. ‘Do you understand? Just think these words—bridge river tree forest tree.’ I gave him the rest of Michael’s code as slowly as I dared. If the code words are too slow it doesn’t work.

For a moment I thought it had failed. Then all at once Michael’s image flashed onto the screen.

‘What the—!’ he exclaimed. ‘Holy heaven and hell, Danielle, what do you think you’re doing? What in hell’s name is that!’

The Wombat flinched away. I grabbed the loose fur
around his neck, then patted him reassuring. ‘Stay boy. Stay,’ I said. And then to Michael. ‘It’s a Wombat. A friend. He’s helping me. Michael, I need something urgently. Please.’

He looked at me suspiciously. ‘Danny this is ludicrous. You can’t use an Animal…Oh, for God’s sake then, what is it?’

‘Data. I need data, that’s all.’

‘Why aren’t you calling from the community?’

‘Michael, it’s a long story. And I don’t think I can keep this Link,’ I nodded towards the frightened Wombat, ‘very long. Please.’

‘Then you’d better tell me what you want,’ said Michael.

So I told him.

‘That’s all?’

‘I think that will be enough.’

Michael’s frown grew deeper. ‘Does this imply what I think it does?’

‘Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t know what you’re thinking any more, remember? Probably. I’ll tell you when it’s all over, I promise.’

‘I thought it was all over.’

‘Believe me,’ I said. ‘It’s not.’

For the first time since the Proclamation a look of concern for me flickered across his face. ‘Danny, you’re not putting yourself in any danger, are you?’

‘No. Well, yes, but…Michael, please, just the data, okay?’

‘You’ll have it in about three minutes,’ said Michael. ‘I’ll send it through on Manual, hard copy. You can break the Link if you like.’

‘Thank you,’ I said gratefully.

Michael hesitated. ‘Take care, Danny,’ he said at last.

‘Michael…please…one last thing?’

‘Yes?’

‘Could you patch me through to Mel? Just for a second. Just so I can see her.’

‘Danny, love…’ The old phrase must have come automatically. ‘There’s nothing to see. She’s well cared for. Trust me.’

‘I know. I do. But please.’

He hesitated. Then suddenly his face faded, and there was another, placid and empty through the rigid eye of the hospital monitor.

Mel.

‘Melanie,’ I said, but of course we weren’t Linked and even if we had been she wouldn’t have understood.

Michael was right. She was well tended. And I did trust him. In a strange way I knew that having failed us once, Mel and I could always trust him now.

The screen image faded, leaving a taste of tears and memory. I released my hold on the Wombat and handed him the bread. He began to nibble it, holding it in his paws. Halfway through he lost interest. The bread dropped onto the floor of the floater. He slid down on all fours as though he had forgotten I was there and padded across the hard dust to his hut and bed.

I sat in the silent floater till the printer beeped. Then I took my data and pressed the controls.

I
went back to my house. I hadn’t realised that silence could echo before. Humans aren’t meant to be alone and I was human, all but a tiny percentage of my genes.

For the first time I began to think about bringing Mel to live with me, or at least to stay for long periods of time. I could care for her, and while she couldn’t speak to me, at least her presence would be a bulwark against the lonely dark. I could even pretend that she might get better; enough to know me again, at any rate, to take pleasure in the small satisfactions of life.

She wouldn’t, of course. A wiped brain couldn’t regenerate. It would make no difference to Mel whether she was with me or not. But at least it would satisfy my need to fulfil my duty to her. I was human and humans don’t abandon friends.

And perhaps…I wondered why I hadn’t thought of this before…perhaps Dr Meredith would be able or willing to help. To do things beyond the rigid parameters of City possibilities. At least, I thought, she would try. Whatever modifications Dr Meredith programmed into her offspring, I was sure she had given them compassion too. It was something their ancestor was rich in.

I sat and thought and the moon rose, a silent yellow automaton outside my window. I made another cup of tea and dribbled the last of the milk into it, and sat with it at the kitchen table before I opened the pages that Michael had sent me.

Would Elaine bring me bread and milk tonight? Or even Neil? Neil would have told her everything by now.

Somehow I thought not.

Now I had my data I suddenly realised there was no hurry. If I was correct there was little I could do till tomorrow. If I was wrong then I had no idea where to go next.

I wasn’t wrong. Everything I had expected was in the pages in front of me. Everything I was afraid of was there.

I sat with the bitter pages in my hand and my tea growing cold and the last of the milk congealing on top of it, as though it shrank into a wrinkled skin knowing it was unwanted. I took my cup and tipped the remains down the sink. And then I went to bed and tried to sleep.

T
here was dew on the wattle trees that morning. I wondered if it was a sign of coming autumn, or just a chance moisture in the air. If I stayed here long enough, I thought, I would find out.

The air was brisk against my face and chilly in the shadows. The clouds whirled in small pulpy bursts across the blue. It felt strange walking over the hill to Faith Hope and Charity again. It was only the third time I had come this way but it seemed like the knowledge of the path had lodged deep into my bones.

I wondered if perhaps there might be such a thing as fore-memory: if I knew the path because I would tread among its wattle seeds a thousand times to come.

Again I paused at the top of the hill, and again I was struck by the neatness and prosperity of the scene below. If I had to describe a place of lurking shadows I wouldn’t have chosen Faith Hope and Charity. But few of us bring all we are into our faces. I supposed Utopias were the same.

I walked through the cow paddock, ignoring the curious stares, then walked up the track to the main building.

That was when I saw Neil. He was seated at a table under the trees, evidently still eating breakfast. Samantha sat next to him. They were talking so intently over their plates of scrambled eggs and mugs of cloudy apple juice they didn’t notice me until I was almost past them.

‘Neil,’ I said.

He glanced up. ‘Danielle! I didn’t expect to see you so soon.’ It was hard to read the series of expressions across his face. His eyes dropped to the papers under my arm.

‘I need to talk to Theo,’ I said.

‘He’s in his study,’ said Samantha, watching me curiously. There was less animosity in her voice today. I wondered if Theo was right and she had disliked me simply because she thought I made her friend unhappy. Or was I right, and today she was happy because Neil had turned to her now that I had spurned him yet again.

‘Thanks,’ I said.

‘Would you like me to come too?’ began Neil.

‘No. Thank you,’ I said. ‘I’d rather do this alone.’