Lucy (18 page)

“Who are these creeps?” Amanda asked.

“I’m sorry,” Ruth said. “It makes me ashamed to be a Christian sometimes, the way these people act.”

As they looked out the windows toward the fence, they saw Harry gesturing and talking to a group of policemen, who turned and followed him to the gate. One of the officers unlocked the gate, and the group moved toward the plane.

Watching from the window, Jenny said, “Good work, Harry.”

Luke had already descended the stairs to greet him. They were talking now. He poked his head back into the cabin and said, “It’s all right. These officers will get you to your car.”

Ruth was standing, pressing a business card into Jenny’s hand. She gave one to Lucy and Amanda as well. “This is our office in Albuquerque. If you ever need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to get in touch. I’m quite serious about this.”

“Thank you so much,” Lucy said. “You’ve been ever so kind.”

“Goodbye, dear. Excuse me for not coming down. Be careful out there.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Harry embraced Jenny, then Lucy and Amanda. Luke said goodbye, as the police urged them forward, surrounding them. As they hurried toward the gate, something in the crowd caught Lucy’s eye. It was a lone protester. He was a young man with a buzz cut and a drooping handlebar moustache, dark tattoos on his arms, standing off to one side of the main group. He held a sign. Scrawled on a piece of poster board was the word “Euthanasia,” followed by the number fourteen. That was all, but the word and his sinister appearance had an effect on Lucy. He was different from the other people in the crowd. He was creating a disturbance in The Stream. Lucy knew: He was really dangerous.

The reporters began shouting questions through the gate. The police pushed on through the crowd toward Harry’s car.

“Lucy, what do you think of the new Senate bill?”

“We haven’t heard about it,” Jenny called out.

“Please just get in the car, ma’am,” one of the officers said.

Just as Lucy was nearing the car, a woman broke from the crowd and shouldered between two of the police officers. She leaned forward and spit in Lucy’s face. As the police were wrestling her to the ground, she shouted at Jenny, “Shame on you! For shame!” She was trying to grab a crucifix that dangled at her neck, but the police had already snapped on handcuffs and were dragging her away. Lucy stared after her with a forlorn expression.

“Come on!” Amanda shouted as a police officer pushed Lucy into the car. Harry took a white handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Lucy. She wiped the spit from her cheek.

As Harry sped away, quiet fell once more. Jenny asked, “What bill were they talking about, Harry?”

Harry sighed. “Steven Rhodes, the Republican from Utah, introduced a bill this morning defining a human being as having the genetic profile that was decoded from the human genome by the National Institutes of Health in 2003. It’s Senate Bill 5251. They’re calling it the Lucy Bill, because if it passes, she’ll officially be a nonhuman animal and won’t have human rights.”

“Jesus wept,” Jenny said.

Amanda and Lucy just looked at each other. Lucy felt tears well up in her eyes. She thought, Why do they hate me? She knew. She knew. The darkness of the jungle will always remain like sand and gravel beneath our feet. And the peril of cat and cobra will follow us even into this bright place that people have created. Lucy looked over at Jenny, then Amanda, who were both staring at her. She saw it in their eyes. The lost knowledge of what had been. The three stared at one another, their eyes flicking first to one, then the other, and they felt the love flowing back and forth in their shared understanding. Harry sensed it and turned around as they waited at a stoplight. Then four sets of eyes passed their silent messages back and forth. Lucy saw. They all saw: They had become a tribe.

24

“
DEAR LUCY
,” the letter began. “My name is Jeremy Levin. I am a thirty-five-year-old attorney from Philadelphia. I am generous, caring, intelligent, and have a good sense of humor. I like walks on the beach, ethnic cuisine, fine wines, and opera. I am especially interested in the environment, world peace, and global warming. I also like snowboarding and have a condo in Snowmass. I hope that when you turn 18, you will take my offer of marriage seriously, as I think I could give you the best possible life in this world. I would like to have the honor of helping to create the new race of people that your father envisioned. Please consider my offer seriously and write to me soon. I’m enclosing a photograph of myself so you can see that I’m not too hard on the eyes and that I like to keep in shape.”

It was signed, “Sincerely, Jeremy.”

Lucy sighed and put it on the pile. Jenny sat across from her and Amanda at the dining-room table opening another stack of mail. Amanda had the laptop open and was going through the messages and comments on Facebook and MySpace.

“Yuck,” she said. “Not that again.”

Jenny stood and looked over her shoulder.

“Don’t read it, Jenny.”

“Dear Lucy,” it began. “How RU? I wud rully luv 2 cam with U. Hit me up on Yahoo! 549Bigtoad. I have cam 2. Usually on Friday and Saturday nights & I have an honest 9 inches.”

“Yuck, indeed,” Jenny said.

They had stayed at Harry’s off and on since the world had discovered Lucy. But after their whirlwind tour, Jenny had brought the girls home, hoping for some semblance of normalcy.

Lucy picked up another letter. Jenny watched her as she read it. She saw Lucy’s face change and knew that it was one of the bad ones.

Jenny received her share of mail, too. Even Amanda was getting mail. “Dear Dr. Lowe,” one of Jenny’s fan letters began. “I’m a 59 year old widower in Toronto and believe that I could provide the missing ingredient in young Lucy’s life: A father. A young girl needs to be taken firmly in hand …” And so on.

Jenny had also received a letter that began, “You Evil Whore. I don’t believe there ever was a Dr. Stone. May you burn in hell for the sin of bestiality. You not only lay with a monkey, you allowed that demon child, spawn of Satan, to fester in your womb and then to enter our sacred nation when you could have left it to die in the jungle where you both belong.”

They made a separate pile for those kinds of letters. Another category of letter that she received was from teenage boys asking if they could date Lucy. Some asked if they could come and live with them and be Lucy’s brother.

“We have to stop reading all this mail,” Jenny said. “It’s not good for us.” Lucy handed her the letter she’d been reading.

“Do you know the 14 words?” it began. “Robert Matthews died a hero and a martyr to our Race. God rest his soul. If we can rob an armored car of $3.8 million and bring down the Alfred P. Murrah, then we can certainly find you. When we do, we have a quick and simple solution to your problem: Euthanasia.” It was signed, simply, “The Order.”

“Do you remember that guy? When we arrived at the airport?”

“What guy?” Jenny asked.

“Yeah, I saw him,” Amanda said. “Really spooky-looking guy. Tattoos and a moustache?”

“Yeah,” Lucy said. “And he had that sign that said Euthanasia and the number fourteen.”

“What does it mean?” Jenny asked.

“I don’t know,” Lucy said.

“I’ll Google it.” Amanda typed in the phrase. “Wikipedia says the Fourteen Words is a saying frequently used by White nationalists, Neo-nazis, and White Pride supporters. The slogan was coined by David Lane, an imprisoned member of The Order. The fourteen words are: ‘We must secure the existence of our people and a future for White children.’ The slogan was inspired by a statement in Volume 1, Chapter 8 of Adolf Hitler’s
Mein Kampf:
‘What we must fight for is to safeguard the existence and reproduction of our race and our people, the sustenance of our children and the purity of our blood, the freedom and independence of the fatherland, so that our people may mature for the fulfillment of the mission allotted it by the creator of the universe.’ Blah-blah-blah.”

“Jesus, they’re Nazis,” Jenny said.

“Wow, listen to this. Sometimes the slogan is combined with 88, as in 1488 or 8814. The ‘88’ stands for the eighth letter of the alphabet twice, or HH, which means Heil Hitler.”

Jenny said, “This would be comic if it weren’t so sick.” She glanced at Lucy and caught a look in her eye that she’d seen a number of times. It was a very brief glimpse into the world of the jungle and the true powers of her lineage. In that brief flash, Jenny saw that in a real fight—if she thought that she or Jenny or Amanda were in danger—Lucy could and would kill.

“Is this real?” Lucy asked.

Jenny tossed the letter on the pile of hate mail. “I think it’s possible. But I think it’s fair warning that we have to be careful from now on.”

Lucy passed her an invitation: Meet the provost at the university, where Lucy would be going in the fall. It appeared to be a chance for Lucy to meet some of her future faculty and classmates.

The phone rang, and Jenny reached for it. The caller ID displayed a number in New Mexico. Jenny pressed the button and said, “Hello?”

“Is this Jenny?”

“Yes.”

“Jenny, it’s Ruth. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“No, not at all. Hi, Ruth.”

“Fine then. That’s good. I just wanted to ring you up and tell you how delightful it was to meet you and the girls. I really have been thinking about you ever since.”

“Well, thank you, Ruth. The pleasure was all ours, I’m sure.”

“I took the liberty—I hope you don’t mind this—of having our lawyer put in a call to TSA. I think you’ll be getting a letter of apology for what happened at LaGuardia.”

“How did your lawyer do that?”

“Well, the man who refused to let you board wasn’t acting on any official policy. Evidently they’d had trouble with him before. Profiling or something. I think they knew that the incident was already an embarrassment and could wind up being costly if you decided to sue.”

“That’s so kind of you. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you don’t mind that I did that. I was very angry with them, and I acted a bit impulsively, I’m afraid. But I think it’s for the best. Anyway, I don’t think you’ll be having any more incidents now.”

“You did the right thing.”

“Good. Well, then. I got to thinking about that scene at the airport when we landed. And it occurred to me that you and the girls might like to get away someplace where you can be left alone. So I thought I’d invite you all out to the ranch.”

“The ranch?”

“Yes. Luke and I have a ranch in New Mexico. It’s very comfortable and there’s lots of space. We have two old horses. I like to swim and hike. I think the girls would enjoy it. I can come out and pick you up in the plane if you like. Anytime. Just think it over.”

“How generous of you.”

“Well, frankly, I could use the company.”

“I’ll definitely talk to the girls about it.”

“Good. Good. The ranch is a nice place to get away. You’ll all be completely safe there, too.”

“Thank you, Ruth. I’ll let you know.”

“Okay, then. Call me anytime.”

“Goodbye, Ruth.”

Jenny returned to the table, lost in thought. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to get away for a while. She was about to tell the girls when Lucy handed her a letter bearing the seal of the United States Senate. Jenny read it.

“What is it?” Amanda asked.

“They’re having hearings,” Lucy said. “They want me to come. Senator Martin Cochrain of Connecticut says he wants to protect my rights.”

“Well, good,” Jenny said. “Good for him.”

“Wanna go, Mom?”

“Definitely.”

Wherever they went people crowded around and pressed in, asking for autographs, snapping photographs with their phones. Lucy was able to read most of the people, who were simply curious, and clearly friendly. But there were outliers in the crowds, and Lucy could not help thinking about John Lennon, stepping out of his car in front of the Dakota on a normal evening, when a madman who thought he was Holden Caulfield shoved through the crowd and shot him in the back. Growing up in the forest, she knew what it meant to be careful and vigilant. But in the forest there were rules. Here it was wide open. There was no common language of intentions.

When Lucy first arrived in the United States, she thought she would never make it. When she met Amanda and settled in at school, she began to think that things would be all right. But she could no longer see into the future now. She couldn’t imagine how she would go forward—into college and life. Would she marry and settle down? Where? There had been a moment at the senior prom with Weston Temple when she thought perhaps she might.

Lucy had had such fun preparing for prom with Jenny and Amanda. They went downtown to shop, and in Bloomingdale’s Lucy fell in love with a sage green dress, which Amanda called her “gownless evening strap” because it showed so much back. Amanda was exquisite in red.

In the weeks before prom, Weston had taught Lucy how to dance. They practiced in the wrestling gym after everyone had left. Slick and sweaty from practice, wearing tights, they would hold each other. “Now, lady, just make your mind a blank and let your feet make that box. One, two, three, four …” She had a difficult time concentrating when he held her that way.

Then came the day of the dance. Amanda and Lucy slept in. After breakfast Jenny took them to have their hair and fingernails and even their toenails done. By evening they had showered and had done each other’s makeup. They stood in their bras and panties before the full-length mirror, their things scattered everywhere.

“There it is, cupcake,” Amanda said. “You are hot-hot-hot.”

“I want hips,” Lucy said, looking at her slim body. “My arms are too muscular. I want to be a woman.”

“Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.”

The dance was glorious. It took place in a great vaulted terrace, and a brilliant white light was spinning, flashing, randomly singling out faces, breasts, elbows, bare backs, buttocks, and torrents of blond hair. The room was air conditioned but the bodies all gleamed with sweat as they poured out their chemical messages. The hormonal aromas overwhelmed even the artificial perfumes as the couples twirled, clasped together in the dim light. On the stage the band leapt and sang. Lucy thought of those nights of the rain dance in the forest, when the elders would break branches and fling themselves about for all to watch, inciting them to join in.

With their small athletic bodies, Weston and Lucy fit precisely to each other, like two hands praying. Weston’s pelvis was pressed against Lucy’s, and she had no choice, it seemed. She pressed back as if she would simply tumble over backward if she didn’t equalize the strain of that invisible force between them. Then, just as she thought that she might pass out or explode from the whirling forces and chemicals and lights, it was over. All too soon the room brightened. And then they were just a random group of boys and girls once more, staring around them, blinking in the light, attempting to assess what had just happened.

Late, going home in the limousine with Amanda and Matt, Lucy thought, I could learn to love this life. I could learn to love this boy. She tried to imagine what her father must have been thinking when he decided to create her. Didn’t he think she might want all this? Lucy had blindly loved him because he was her father, her teacher. And now it made her sad and sometimes angry to think that perhaps all she had been to him was a piece of his great plan. But no, Lucy thought. She had fond memories of what a good father he had been, too. She knew in her heart that he loved her. It was in his notebooks, along with his deep and growing doubts about what he was doing. “What if I’m not there when she needs me?” he had once written. And on Lucy’s tenth birthday: “What a glorious child the forest has given us!” He loved her, of that she had no doubt. He celebrated her. It was so confusing. She wished that she could have crawled into his brain just once to know what it was like to be him.

The limousine dropped Weston off at his house, and on the steps they kissed. Weston pressed against Lucy, and she felt the same thrilling rush from her legs to her stomach that she had felt the first time they wrestled. It was all she could do not to throw him to the ground and jump on top of him, and that thought made Lucy laugh out loud right in the middle of their kiss. Then Lucy felt a tender sadness overtake her, because her laughter had clearly embarrassed him. He must have thought that she was laughing at his kiss. Lucy realized that she had completely destroyed the moment. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I’m sorry, Wes. I wasn’t laughing at you, I swear.” But he quickly muttered goodnight and went inside.

When she returned to the limousine, Matt and Amanda were kissing. They jerked apart as Lucy opened the door.

“Don’t let me harsh your mellow,” Lucy said.

“Way to pick up on the lingo, Lucy,” Amanda said.

“Nah, that’s okay, Luce,” Matt said. “You didn’t assassinate my penguin. Just surprised us, that’s all.”

The car dropped Matt off, and the driver took the girls home in the early-morning hours. Amanda and Lucy lay in bed, exhausted but unable to sleep. The evening had given Lucy a vision. She saw a shining beam of light that could carry her into her own future. She saw how she had truly come out of the jungle and into this crazy culture. She could see herself growing up and getting married and living a regular life.

But that had been months ago. Now she couldn’t imagine any of it. When word came out about who she was, Weston, poor boy, had phoned her. “Lady, I can’t see you anymore. I want to, believe me. But my parents threatened not to send me to college. They’ll take my car away. I’m sorry, lady.”

Lucy’s first thought was that Weston was shallow. But then she realized that he was a part of his own culture just as she was a part of hers. Their worlds were separated by an unbridgeable gulf that they had dared to cross. It was no good.

Amanda, too, had suffered. Her mother had all but disowned her. Her father gave her money, but she had effectively come to live with Lucy and Jenny after her eighteenth birthday. Lucy was glad for that. But she also feared that if Amanda continued on with her, then Amanda, too, might be doomed.